Holden's American Childhood
When I was in kindergarten, it was the desire of every kid in the class to be able to play in the playhouse, a cramped little space about the size of a large cardboard box, but desirable indeed. Why this was, I wasn't sure. Maybe the thrill of having your own house (or pretending to) is just something common to everyone. Most of the time, I didn't finish my work fast enough to be able to be the first one in there. Most of the time, I would get to the playhouse, and Doug Schmutz and his various girlfriends would already be in there, playing house, or whatever stupid game kids like to play in playhouses.
On one particular day, I had trouble finishing a worksheet, and ran to the playhouse to find Doug and some hoochie in there. I began to cry. Tears of fury. And this is the part that may or may not be true. Only you can decide. In my fury, I went out and grabbed a jug of gasoline and some matches. Then I came back, doused the house in gasoline, and threw in a match. Then I barred the front door.
"HOLDEN, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" cried Mrs. Woods, my teacher, as Doug and his girlfriend screamed and cried inside the house, pounding on the door for someone to let them out. The flames spread quickly throughout the house.
"Something I should've done a long time ago," I replied. Man, I was evil. Such an evil kid.
Mrs. Woods attempted to open the door, but she couldn't. She was too weak. She had tyrannosaurus rex arms, so she couldn't really use her arms. The other kids just stood around and watched, helpless, as Doug and his girlfriend burned alive, screaming and crying.
The fire department arrived eventually, but it was too late. The playhouse was a pile of rubble. The charred corpses of Doug and his girlfriend lay in the middle of it. I didn't care. I had no conscience. In fact, I wasn't even watching anymore. I was coloring a worksheet about fish.
FISH!
Later that day, my girlfriend Jessica called me and asked if I wanted to play. "I can't, because I have piano lessons," I said. She was distraught, but she said we could play another time.
That's MY American childhood. Take that and shove it in your pipe, Annie Dillard!
On one particular day, I had trouble finishing a worksheet, and ran to the playhouse to find Doug and some hoochie in there. I began to cry. Tears of fury. And this is the part that may or may not be true. Only you can decide. In my fury, I went out and grabbed a jug of gasoline and some matches. Then I came back, doused the house in gasoline, and threw in a match. Then I barred the front door.
"HOLDEN, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" cried Mrs. Woods, my teacher, as Doug and his girlfriend screamed and cried inside the house, pounding on the door for someone to let them out. The flames spread quickly throughout the house.
"Something I should've done a long time ago," I replied. Man, I was evil. Such an evil kid.
Mrs. Woods attempted to open the door, but she couldn't. She was too weak. She had tyrannosaurus rex arms, so she couldn't really use her arms. The other kids just stood around and watched, helpless, as Doug and his girlfriend burned alive, screaming and crying.
The fire department arrived eventually, but it was too late. The playhouse was a pile of rubble. The charred corpses of Doug and his girlfriend lay in the middle of it. I didn't care. I had no conscience. In fact, I wasn't even watching anymore. I was coloring a worksheet about fish.
FISH!
Later that day, my girlfriend Jessica called me and asked if I wanted to play. "I can't, because I have piano lessons," I said. She was distraught, but she said we could play another time.
That's MY American childhood. Take that and shove it in your pipe, Annie Dillard!
posted by HLR | May 11, 2011
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