I was bored. “Eddie and I could have been out in the creek,” I thought. I hoped The Old Man would either find a good couch soon, or give up on the search until the following weekend. I asked “when can we go home?”
Feenie was just about to yell something at me. She adjusted the rear view mirror so she could get a better view of me. She got a better view, alright. I had my right index finger in my nose and I was twisting it around. I don’t remember any pressing need to have my finger up there. Nothing of any significance needed to be picked out. I just had a habit of picking my nose, especially when I was bored.
She pulled her shoe off, climbed over the seat and cracked me on top of the head with the heel. I threw my hands up immediately to fend her off. The top of my head throbbed in pain. She smacked me about the head and face five or six times with the heel. Eddie pleaded with her to stop, while James demanded she do so.
She stuck her finger to my nose and poked it, screaming “how many times have I told you if I caught you doing that, worms would come out of your nose? HOW MANY?”
I had picked my nose hundreds of times before, and never once did I see a worm come out. I knew she was just trying to scare me, but I also knew I had better answer her question, or I’d get it again with the shoe. “A lot,” I said, still rubbing the top of my head.
“You’re damned right, a lot!” she yelled. “So why in the hell do you keep doing it? Huh? ANSWER ME! Why do you keep picking that stupid little beak of yours when I tell you to stop the shit?”
She paused and stared. The car grew silent, each of my brothers awaiting my answer. Nervous anticipation filled the air when any one of us got in trouble, especially when it boiled down to a kid-versus-Feenie confrontation. We all understood that the severity of the punishment directly correlated to the answer given.
She developed a two part procedure to instill and keep discipline in the family. First, she gave the offender a severe beating. Following the beating, she meted out a “teach-you-and-your-brothers-a-lesson” punishment. The beating was a guarantee, and it came courtesy of whatever object she could find nearby that would inflict the most pain in the shortest time. Her “lesson” punishment, when she had time to implement it, was often worse.
“I don’t know,” I said, continuing to try to rub out some of the pain from the knot forming on top of my head.
She yelled back angrily “you better give me a better explanation than ‘I don’t know.’ And you have thirty seconds to do it. The clock starts now. I’m waiting.”
I glanced over at my brothers, hoping one of them could help conjure up an answer that would make the impending punishment less severe. Each was trying to come up with something – anything – to ease the tension. Unfortunately, thirty seconds meant exactly that – thirty seconds. It may have meant slightly less, but it never meant one second more, especially when she was as angry as she was then. Time had run out.
Furious, she asked again “well, why do you constantly pick your nose when I tell you not to?”
I timidly offered nothing better than “I don’t know.”
“‘I don’t know’ is all used up. It’s been laid to rest. I know, because I personally killed it and buried it yesterday,” she shouted. “Rules say that you can’t use an excuse that I already killed. Pretty soon, there aren’t going to be any left for any of you little bastards to use.”
She told The Old Man to stop the car at the nearest dumpster. I had no idea what she was planning, but I was relieved when the dumpster we pulled up next to was completely empty.
Undeterred, she ordered him to find another. She was determined to teach me a lesson, shouting “I don’t care if we have to drive to every dumpster in this whole damned town; you’re going to stop picking your nose.” Stupid Sunday afternoon! If it was any other day, she likely wouldn’t have had enough time to see it through.
We stopped at the dumpster behind Duke’s. It had a few boxes and some garbage, but she decided against that one. All the while, I continued to wonder what she was planning. I thought “was she going to put me in a dumpster and make me live there?” If so, I figured I’d just get out once they drove away.
Next, we went to the one behind the Tygart Hotel. I was thrilled to see that one empty. It sat in an alley, where no cars ever came through. I didn’t know why, but she wasn’t quite as menacing when there were lots of cars or people around. James later said it was because “she didn’t want the whole town to know what a psychotic bitch she really was.”
I wish I knew what was going on inside The Old Man’s brain. He had to know how deeply she terrified us at times. And he had proven on occasion he was both willing and able to stop her. Every once in a while, when she would beat on Lee badly, he would immediately put a halt to it. Once, when he came home and found her still beating Lee with switches even though Lee’s legs were bleeding, he told tell her to sit down and calm down, or he would put those same switches to her ass.
My brothers were growing anxious as we made our way from dumpster to dumpster. James told both Feenie and The Old Man to “give it up. The whole damned town is against both of you. They emptied all the dumpsters, knowing that you two psychos would try something.”
I knew he was trying to deflect their collective anger onto him, as he often did in those situations. In the midst of heightened tensions, he frequently said things so offensive he left my parents no choice but to immediately focus their anger toward him. While his rants often absolved the original offender of punishment, he often found himself condemned to harsher punishment than the original offender would have received.
That particular afternoon, they remained undaunted. Though James continued to hurl insults at both of them, they just continued on, seeking a dumpster that met her exacting requirements. I was amazed they were able to restrain themselves.
We stopped at one behind the Kwikstop. It, too, was full of mostly empty cardboard boxes. The one behind Hedrick’s tavern was filled with boxes and empty beer cans. The one behind the Five and Dime had only boxes. Though she seemed to like what she saw at the one behind Scottie’s, with the city park packed full of people, all potential witnesses, they decided against that.
All in all, twelve dumpsters had been inspected and turned down for one reason or another. I began to believe that no matter how hard they searched, they would be unable to find the one to satisfy her needs. “Perhaps someone up there was looking out for me,” I thought, staring at the roof of the car, but envisioning the open sky.
Unfortunately, my elation was short-lived. They finally found one that she seemed to be happy with, behind Wilfong’s Market. She told The Old Man to park the car. Wilfong’s was closed, like most businesses were. Again, stupid Sunday afternoon!
Reaching through the rolled down window of the rear door on the driver’s side, she grabbed me by my ears. I resisted, but I think she would have gone so far as to physically pull my ears completely off of my head. In pain, I allowed myself to be pulled to the door. She threatened to jerk me through the window by my ears if I didn’t get out. Not wanting to suffer a life without ears, I complied. She told the rest of the kids to get out of the car.
I snickered to myself as she tried in vain to lift the metal lid of the dumpster. While she had no problem opening the lid, her slight frame – all four feet and eleven inches of it – didn’t allow her to get it all the way up until it flipped over so it rested against the back of the dumpster. After three unsuccessful attempts, she yelled at The Old Man “Bill, get this goddamned lid up now.”
After The Old Man rushed over and did as commanded, she began sorting through heaps of nasty garbage. Worry quickly began to overtake me as I witnessed her sorting through it. Though she wasn’t averse to getting dirty, she had, in the past, avoided it when possible.
She finally found what she had been looking for. Resting near the top of the dumpster was some old chicken in a half-open foam container. It gave off a horrible stench, but I could handle it. I had smelled stuff that nasty be
fore. Try cleaning up deer guts on a warm November day, and you’ll understand I could stomach pretty much anything that dumpster had to offer.
I thought she was going to make me take a good whiff of the rotten meat to teach me my lesson. I felt a little relieved inside. I figured I’d put on a little act, letting her believe I was sickened by the smell. I reckoned I might even gag a time or two to sell it.
“No,” I thought, “the show will have to be more impressive since there are several of us together. Simply making me sniff some rotten meat’s not all she’s gonna do.” All the kids had smelled worse stuff than what was in that dumpster.
A sobering silence filled the air as she stared at me. She seemed to enjoy the moments leading up to the actual punishment. Jeff said it was “psycho time, a time when she gets to play her mind games.” I have to say it was effective that day. While James would have met her stare with an equally uncompromising glare, I glanced away.
I caught a glimpse of the chicken. Infested with what must have been a million maggots, I silently hoped she wasn’t going to make me eat these gooey, crawling larvae. Sure, I had eaten worms and insects before, but I did it on my terms. If I lost a biggest crawdad contest to Eddie, I might have had to eat a fishing worm. But the terms were agreed upon beforehand.
“Grab some,” she screamed, pointing to the maggots.
“How many?” I asked, already fairly certain of the amount that would be needed.
“Grab a handful of maggots now, you little son-of-a-bitch!”
I reached in and grabbed a handful. I tried to stay away from those that were still on, and in, the chicken skin, figuring the chicken itself was rotten. I showed them to her. Still not knowing what she had planned, I began to cry. “Is this enough?” I asked.
Without answering, she said “now put ‘em in your nose.”
Eddie was crying, begging her not to make me do it. James was no longer just mildly upset, he was growing furious. He turned to The Old Man and shouted “Geezer, you seriously going to put up with this shit?”
Feenie shouted to James “you’d better shut the fuck up, or I’ll have Bill put a belt to your ass.”
“Your time is comin’, woman!” James shouted back, moving out of arm’s length away from The Old Man. Little doubt ever entered our minds where The Old Man’s loyalties lay on matters regarding Feenie’s disciplinary measures. If she demanded it, he would have beaten any of us to a bloody pulp. She had the final say, period.
Surprisingly, she paid little attention to James. Instead, she focused on delivering the punishment she set out to deliver a short time earlier. She shouted at me “I said put ‘em in your nose, NOW!”
Knowing I’d immediately get pummeled if I didn’t do as told, I quickly shoved the whole handful into my face. I held my mouth and eyes closed until those that didn’t make it into my nose fell off my face. A couple made their way into each nostril. I cried “I can’t breathe!”
She quickly responded “if you can talk, then you can breathe. You best leave them there until I tell you to blow your nose.”
She lectured my brothers, declaring that they were witnessing what was to be the unchallenged punishment for anyone she caught picking his nose from that moment forward. Though vividly illustrated by the events occurring directly in front of them, if I was in any of their shoes, I would have found the lecture a bit hypocritical. The Old Man picked his nose at will. Not only that, he wiped it anywhere he damned well pleased. And I don’t remember her once lecturing him about it.
After about ten seconds, I started to gag. When I felt one of the maggots attempting to make its way into my brain, I immediately blew snot and maggots out of my nose.
James grew even angrier, and began making physical threats against her. She could still take him, but it was getting harder by the day. He was solid, built like an oak tree. He worked from the time he was seven, loading flour into vats down at the bakery. Ironically, the backbreaking job she made him work to bring in more Bingo money prepared him physically for the eventual showdown that changed the family dynamic forever.
She took off her shoe and whacked me across the face. Thankfully, the toe end struck me. “Did I tell you to blow? Get another handful, put them up your nose, and so help me, if you blow them out before I tell you, I will beat you to death!”
I grabbed another handful. Knowing the blow-maggots-get-smacked cycle would continue until I did as I was instructed, I had to think of a way to get through it.
“Wait,” I thought. “I could do it if I imagined they were rice.” I had put a few pieces in my nose before, and felt no ill effects. In fact, I remembered once challenging Eddie to a “how-many-grains-can-we put-up-our-noses” contest, which I won, thank you very much, with thirteen pieces to his meager ten.
With that in mind, I pushed another handful to my face, careful not to open my mouth until all, except those that went into my nose, fell off. I just kept thinking “it’s just rice, nothing wrong with that.” I managed to keep them in, but my eyes watered.
“Stop your damned cryin, NOW!” she screamed, standing directly over me. Though she still towered over me and all of her younger children, I knew there would come a day when I would outgrow her. James was almost there already.
James yelled everything he could think of to distract her. Although he was doing his best to deflect her attention towards him, I think it would have probably have been better for me if he had just let her finish her punishment.
She turned again to my brothers and shouted “you little bastards want to look like this, just let me see you pickin’ your stupid little beaks!”
After thirty seconds passed, she allowed me to blow them out. “Next time, they stay in there all day! You understand?”
Crying, I replied “yes ma’am.”
I wondered how long it would be until she caught me again. After all, she tried in vain to make Eddie quit chewing on his shirts. She beat him mercilessly. She cut holes in his shirts and made him wear them to school. She soaked them in vinegar. Once, she cut up a shirt, soaked it in soapy water, and made him chew it until he puked. All that, and still today he chews on his shirts.
As soon as we got back in the car, she took off her shoe. I braced for another beating, so I quickly curled up in the fetal position. But she smacked James across the face with it, screaming “you better never talk to me like that again, boy! I promise it’ll be the last time. AM I CLEAR?”
James did not answer.
“I SAID, AM I CLEAR?”
Still no answer.
She smacked him again across the face with the shoe. “Answer me, you little bastard!”
He just sat there staring at her…through her. I think she sensed James would not answer her, no matter how many times she hit him. She put her shoe on and told The Old Man to drop her off at Granny’s house for a bit.
After she got out of the car, James glared at The Old Man. He said “grow a set of balls, Geezer. I’m telling you now that I won’t take much more of her shit. One of these days she’s going to lay a hand on me, and I’m going to mess her up! Won’t be long off, either. Fact, if you weren’t in the car just now, I would have smashed her face in”
The Old Man quickly countered “and that will be the day you die, because I’ll choke the life out of you with my bare hands.”
“Don’t matter,” said James, “at least I’m going to bust her up before I go.”
The Old Man quickly grew annoyed, declaring “that’s enough shit for one day. I can only handle so much shit, and I have reached my fuckin’ limit. Now, I don’t want to hear another goddamned peep out of any of you!”
Sensing the anger in his voice, we all remained quiet for the rest of the ride home. Once we got there, The Old Man told Jeff to look after us. He left and went back toward town, to get Feenie.
Eddie asked me how I was doing. I told him I was ok. He said “Mike, we can’t let this go. That wasn’t right. Parents shouldn’t treat their kids like she does. James is pissed o
ff. He’d probably beat her up in the morning when The Old Man goes to work, but you know when he gets like this, The Old Man won’t let him stay here. So it’s gonna just be us and Lee. We should do something!”
The following day, after we brought in the water and hoed the garden, Eddie and I hit the creek for a few hours. We made our way back home late that afternoon. Feenie was getting ready for Bingo, so we stayed in the back bedroom until she was about ready to leave. She barked a few orders, then left.
Chapter 4: Bees
Later that night, when Feenie got home from Bingo, she came into the bedroom, yelling. Before we knew what was going on, she jerked Eddie and me up out of bed. I wasn’t fully awake when the pain from the battery strap slamming against my legs registered. Through my crying, I asked her “what did we do?”
Although she beat us far more than we felt we deserved, I assumed she had a reason, at least in her mind, to merit a beating. Although there were countless times when we had no idea what we did, or might have done, to trigger an angry outburst, she insisted that if we listened, did precisely as we were told, and kept “our damned mouths shut,” she wouldn’t have to beat us. She liked to cite that old axiom “children should be seen and not heard.”
She shouted “I told you two to fill the wash tub so Lee could wash the clothes.”
I really didn’t remember her telling us to do that, but she insisted she told us earlier, before she went to Bingo. I thought “funny, Lee doesn’t remember her telling him to wash clothes, either.” He got his beating before she jerked us out of bed. He was still sniveling, even as Eddie and I were winding down our loud wailing.
Three Minutes More Page 3
