Little Stephen yelled in a fit of tiny kicking wooden-peg legs. "Grandma, I don't want to go!" She was silent and started him down the brown-capped basement stairs towards the cushy couch - amid the spiders and the silverfish. Each step was a thud of tripplets composed of bare feet and black knee socks. She held him around the elbow in a clamp of neccessity and iron. Grandma didn't want to scare him, but saw no sense in spending the cash on a white-coat mustache dentist. That loose tooth should come out now while there was still a roll of quilted paper towels in the cupboard above the kitchen counter. In an amalgam of woman and struggling boy - they undulated out over the cold concrete floor where the washer hummed and the dryer thumbed through beauty shop towels and garden gloves, charcoal trousers and pot holders - shower towels and dish rags - and Grandpa's flannel shirt shot up with grease stains. Young Stephen relented the tired struggle and settled on the cushion like a calf. Grandma straightened her dark blue sweat pants and enveloped him like a mist. He lay back in the makeshift dentist chair and closed his marble eyes. She reached into his fog mouth, took hold of the tooth, and snatched it right out. It hurt, he cried. His tongue searched the spot where the tooth had been - and he tasted the blood of a Grandma's love.
they stroll across the hot concrete parking lot - dodging empty bags of funyons and pancaked pepsi cans - they're holding hands in hats his big ol' beard and her long black braided ponytail jean shorts and jean shorts they stop at his deep red big rig he opens the door with a fuzzy arm and they pause - a passionate kiss amid other semis smoking out smoke and sweating tar - lumbering around the parking lot - lurching and laying it out, "aowwww!" the kiss breaks so she starts up the stairs - he watches her legs - she gets comfy in the high chair and he stands down below admiring her like a prize horse - of course he's the one on the floor - so he closes the door on his high fashion queen - walks around on top of it all and climbs into the silver chariot's driver seat and off they go towards passion, adventure, and danger.
it was snow on the outside and grandma on the inside. dad and his new lady-friend in command of grandma's own old car - driving everyone to laporte city for their supper. stephen, charles dante, and grandma: clunked up and clattered in the back - stacked sideways - conjoined in a flood of winter coats and stocking caps. grandma had a squirrel mane around the back of her neck. it was top - notch. this was the first meeting of the new girlfriend. everyone assumed the polite position and employed their best civil manners. the destination for the night was 'dave's chicken house' - for loads and explosives of fried chicken and frenched fries - the old squeeze red ketchup baby bottles and the big tank of yellow fish next to the cash register when you first walk in. the rain-soaked shingle roof that had collapsed and then been cuddled from above by a brand new saint of a ceiling. that red brick building. and then the antique store in the backroom - filled with the bric-a-brac and knick knacks - tin trains - spoons with states - china dinner plates. the box of lps - christmas and country - chipmunks and partridge family. lamps and postage stamps already stamped - porcelain cats and rubber dogs - a box of checkers and a set of homemade lincoln logs - rings and polished rocks - pencil patched post cards and coffee mugs. so they grew near - a beeline for the chicken house. the car - slowly straining through deep mashed potato snow - amid the chit chatting and small talking - afloat as a boat. it was going well for the new girlfriend with her new impressions. everyone was very polite and asked the proper questions. though, as time went by - a stomach in the backseat began to growl like a badger. it twisted and wrenched - it dreamed of chicken skin and deep dark gravy. the tremors from the organ shook up the spine and struck the head like a frying pan. so, with hands folded and a beautiful smile - grandma proclaimed to them all:
"i'm so hungry i could eat the asshole out of a skunk!"
saturday night and they all sat and posed for the digital camera. under the christmas lights they didn't think about christmas time - but laughed and said 'hello-oh!'. the children ran c0mbs across their heads and brushed toothpaste against their teeth. soon they tried liquor and some began to think/wonder why the time was moving so much quicker.
i won't be using capital letters for most of this. i don't care for them much. sometimes i feel they are necessary, but not in this arena. i use capital letters in emails to my mom and dad. and to work. goodnight, moon.