"My Sister, Our Hero"
Mama! Mama! He's drunk again!
Old truck coming up our dirt
road, held there by hitting
the ditch on either side and
bouncing back. Lucky drunk bastard.
Truck never did think of smashing
into a telephone pole.
We all scattered like scared mice.
All but Annie. She was in the back
yard reading fourteen-year-old girl
stuff: "Gone With the Wind." We
hollered, we did. Ran past her into
the corn field. Figured she would
be behind us shortly. Mama was.
Old truck didn't stop in front like
usual. He drove straight through to
the back screeching to a halt just a
few spare inches from where Annie
was reading.
He got out of the truck, hatred glaring.
"Ya stupid cunt bitch, gonna jus set
thar and get killed? Serve ya stupid
bitch self right. One less lousy mouf
ta feeeeeed." Then he went down on his
knees puking.
We watched in horror. He was going to
kill her. Annie shut her book. Got calmly
up off the ground, lifted up that two-pound
heavy hardback and slammed it down on our
beloved father's head...
Don't (slam!)
you (slam!)
ever (slam!)
beat (slam!)
me (slam!)
or (slam!)
threaten (slam!)
me (slam!)
again! (slam!)
Useless (slam!)
drunk (slam!)
bastard! (slam!)
I'll (slam!)
send (slam!)
your (slam!)
stinking (slam!)
ass (slam!)
to (slam!)
hell! (slam!)
Annie called out to the corn field:
"It's all right. Ya'll can come out."
He never did hurt Annie again; and us
less if she was around.
© 2005 Morgan LaFay
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