‘Sup?

My name is Liz. I need direction. I overuse commas. My house is a mess, my hair needs a trim and I have no marketable skills: It’s fun here, you’ll see!

Got a question, comment, proposal of marriage? Great! Email me at liz@theproductivecough.com

Contact Me, Folks!

Got a question, comment, proposal of marriage? Great! Email me at liz@theproductivecough.com

Show Your Love

February 25th, 2010

The Fort- Part II

Those of you who visited the site yesterday and did not sustain devastating head injuries may remember the story I shared with you about the Fort, a hollowed out bush in the corner of my parents’ back yard. Features of the Fort included: Quaint dirt-and-leaf floors, ample shade, old tree stump on which to balance a tray full of hot dogs, backyard view, and one full chainlink wall. Today, I offer you the second of my most vivid memories of the time spent there.

Whenever Louie or I had friends over, we would bring them to the Fort, treating it like a staging area for whatever we had planned for the day. One late afternoon, after a full day of play, Lou’s friend – we’ll call him Floyd – was in there with us, waiting for his mother (let’s call her Inga). She was up on the porch with my mom, chatting. She had arrived 15 minutes earlier to pick Floyd up, but was side-tracked by my mom’s boring Lady Talk, so we had some extra time to play. Inga had also brought Floyd’s sister, who we will call Rüdy (yes, with an umlaut). Rüdy was nine years old, a year older than I, and was fond of her power over the three of us. It wasn’t always pleasant watching the way she treated Floyd, but we invited her into the Fort anyway.

We played rather peacefully for awhile, and then Rüdy decided she needed to use the bathroom. The Fort was in the very far corner of the yard, and down a hill. Getting to the bathroom, while necessary, seemed like a huge mission when you would prefer to be sitting in the dirt, ordering your little brother and his friends around. Realistically, it only took about 45 seconds to get there. Still Rüdy was quite annoyed that nature was calling at that particular moment.

The clever, head injury-free reader will notice two things. One: The features of the Fort, as described above, do not include an en-suite bathroom. Two: I’m using fake names. Which can only mean one thing… Get it? You don’t? Yes you do- you just don’t want to get it. Let me spell it out for you:

She crapped in my yard.

No lie. Rüdy, daughter of Inga, sister of Floyd, removed the necessary garments, lowered herself to the ground and, without requesting privacy, moved her bowels in the dirt in front of the Fort.

And then, she turned, still squatting, and said to me, “Go get me some toilet paper.” I didn’t move right away. I was trying to wrap my little brain around the speed at which she had shifted from Street Person to Civilized Girl. “Friend,” I thought, “you just pooped in my yard. You want to use toilet paper?” Now we were being civilized?

Yet, so deep was my astonishment, that I began hiking up the hill toward the house to retrieve some TP anyway. When I got to the bathroom, I tried to sneak in and out as quickly as possible so as to avoid any MomWrath. However, I was unable to locate a fresh roll, and was forced to sheepishly ask, “Mom, where’s the toilet paper?”

She couldn’t be fooled. She knew the TP Status of all bathrooms in the house. There should be no need for a replacement yet. Inga knew this too, and so two suspicious mothers turned from their chat on the porch to ask, “Why…?”

I was trapped. The fact that I’d looked for the stuff first and asked for it only after coming up empty-handed had been a dead giveaway. They knew something was up, and now we were all gonna get it. Then I realized- Louis and I wouldn’t be in trouble. Neither would Floyd, I don’t think. Anyway, I was willing to risk that. The only one to blame was Rüdy. So, I took a deep breath and said: “Rüdy pooped in the yard.”

I don’t remember what happened after that, but I’m sure it involved a chorus of shrill, “WHAT?”s.

Also, it’s the last memory I have of hanging out in the Fort.

4 comments to The Fort- Part II

Leave a Reply

You can use these HTML tags

<a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>