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September 04, 2001
Biography of a Vixen (part 1)
Well, I was weeding through computer files trying to find my resume and I found a biography that I wrote my first week of college. It was an assignment so that we could find out more about each other, ourselves and so the prof could see how screwed up we really were. I tried to make mine sorta light while being twisted at the same time. Some of them were really disturbing. I actually got scared of one chick after reading hers. Anyways, I figured, since I have nothing better to post and the biography is one big rant, I'll post it here (did I hear you say "I'm not reading that crap." Fine, don't). I'm posting it in three or four parts over a few days. It's long. I think this actually the rough draft, because I've found a few grammatical mistakes, but whatever. You guys aren't grading me. The ending is, considering my college situation now, quite laughable, but I'll post the original one anyway.
The little girl who grew up to be different
Nineteen seventy-seven was a big year for my father. It was a year that would change his life forever. It was a year when his entire world would be shaken and turned upside down. Yes, my friends, it was the year that Elvis Presley died. My dad was a huge Elvis Presley fan. Some even said he thought he was Elvis. The death of the King brought great sadness into his heart. Oh yeah, he had a baby girl that year too.
He didn’t seem to care too much about the baby girl amongst pilgrimages to Graceland and prayers to Elvis. He cared so little, in fact, that while the baby girl was barely in woom, he went out and conceived another kid. The second child was better! It turned out to be a boy. However, the first child ended up with the better bargain because her momma kicked Elvis out on his blue suede shoes and told him to find himself a place at the Heartbreak Hotel.
Don’t fret, I wasn’t that bad off. Who needs a father anyway? Especially one like that. Ick. He actually wanted to name me Elvis. What kind of person would do that to a kid? The little girl had a good mom and great relatives and that’s more than some kids have.
Some of her earliest memories are of playing with her little niece. She was born when the little girl was only 3. The niece’s mom was only 16. They had lots of fun times together.
“Nobody wants you here. You’re stupid.” The little girl said as they sat in front of the TV watching “The Monkees” one afternoon.
“Nah uh, you’re the stupid one!” the niece replied.
“Then why did your mom and dad leave you? They don’t love you. Mom doesn’t either. She just feels sorry for you. You killed Grandma you know.”
“That’s not true!”
“Ah huh”
“Nah uh. Just for that, I’m going to kiss Davy Jones.”
“No you won’t” the little girl cried, she was going to marry Davy and that little brat couldn't kiss him.
“Ah huh” the niece began to kiss her pillow and call it Davy.
“You’re gross”
So, they went on arguing and fighting. The neighbor kids would eventually tire of them calling each other names and smacking each other around and start to take sides, normally siding with the little girl over her niece (of course, the little girl used to smack them around too. She was quite the bully). The neighborhood kids were another source of fun times for this little girl. She met her first best friend one-day while playing in the street with her niece.
“Hello!” a little boy with big eyes called out. He was riding a cool little tractor that the two really wanted to try out.
“Hi” they said, staring at each other. They didn’t want to be rude, but they knew the boy came from the house where the demons lived. The little girl’s mom had told her that the people who lived there did drugs and worshipped Satan. She was scared that Satan would get her too.
“What are you doing?” the boy asked. Noticing the girls were drawing on the street.
“Just drawing stuff” the little girl replied.
“What’s your name? I’m Sparrow,” he said getting off of his tractor to come look at the chalk drawing.
“Sparrow? That’s a dumb name” the little girl accused.
“My parents ran over a sparrow on the way to the hospital and named me after it. I don’t think it’s dumb.”
The two became best of friends for years after. They would run around the neighborhood causing terror, build tree houses in the woods, fight, fight with other kids and do all sorts of fun stuff. Many a fun days were spent trying to get rid of his sister and her niece (once even leaving them in the woods while the two ran off laughing). They would eventually distance themselves from each other, for various reasons, to the point that they don’t even say hello when they see each other anymore. However, they had fun times growing up. Sometimes, in my mind's eye, I think I can still hear the faint “Can you come out to play” that was shouted in my window every morning.
Posted by vixen at September 4, 2001 06:07 PM
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