Senseful ramblings of an incoherent nature from a delusional schizophrenic (or my views on current events)

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

The Wheels on the Van....

There once was a young lad by the name of Abraham. I say once because while he still lives on to this day, he is no longer a young lad. He is now middle aged by health standards because I honestly dont see him living past 50. As he was a young lad he was shaped like a pear, which is an odd shape for young lads. Most lads dont become pear shaped until after college when all the boozing and lack of exercise catches up with them. But his pre-pubescent pear shaped body, which I can only imagine turned into a manly watermelon shaped body, is not what will put the now unyoung non-lad into his early grave.

No, Abraham had a mouth on him that just wouldnt quit. Im not sure where he learned his twisted words. Im also not entirely sure why he had such an extensive vocabulary, especially for a young lad, but he did. As his years go on I can only conclude that his repertoire of dirty words has increased. Sooner or later, with an emphasis on sooner (or perhaps already), his words are going to get him into some proverbial hot water.

I am not sure what first drew me to Abraham. We were on the same van during my first year of Arrowhead Day Camp and at the beginning of the camp year I sat in the front of the van because I was new and young. Abraham sat in the front of the van because he would frequently yell things out the window to passing cars and pedestrians when he sat in the back of the van.

The first thing I noticed about Abraham, other than his pear shaped body, was his noticeable lisp, which when added to his mouthiness only made him more hated by adults. Abraham was a year older than me at the time, so in my eyes older meant wiser. In other words, he was a quasi-idol to me at the time.

Abraham had fairly dark skin because his parents were straight off the boat from Israel. Because of the influence of his parents language, he also had a little bit of an Israeli accent if you were really listening to him, although most people were too enraged by what he said to them to notice these things.

He had Moe shaped, jet black hair (more recently known as the "Pete Rose," and favored among "the gifted") that was never brushed and rarely neat. He always wore black t-shirts with black shorts that came to below the knee, even though the style of the time was short short running shorts and belly shirts, even for guys. His parents were probably trying to hide his pear shaped body, nothing wrong with that. He also always wore the whitest of white sweat socks pulled halfway up his calf, although one usually fell down by the end of the day.

Needless to say, after Abraham and I became somewhat close I started to sit in the back of the van with him. He taught me most of the curse words I now know and love to use. He also taught me the value of yelling obscene things out the window, and after that first week of sitting back there with him I was a seasoned pro.

In the morning the van would pick my sister and I up early on in the route and Abraham got on the van last. I eagerly waited for him to get on the van each and every day so the fun could begin. At the end of the day I would get dropped off first and the van would pull away with Abraham yelling something dirty out the window to me and my sister.

One time when my father got home from work early he waited for us at the end of our driveway. After we got off the van Abraham yelled, "You dirty pig fucker," out the window at my father, thinking that the van would pull away quickly. Unfortunately for him the driver sat there for a little while to let my father stew on what just happened. Before I could turn around completely and say good bye with an equally dirty remark my father jumped on the van and ran down the isle towards the back where Abraham was standing.

Abraham quickly climbed behind the back seat before my father was able to reach him. I first heard my father yelling at Abraham, telling him that no one of his age should use that kind of language. Then I faintly heard Abraham pleading with him to be left alone. My father exited the van smiling and proud of himself as a father should be.

The van drove off

Abraham yelled out, "you fuck dirty pigs, asshole."

My father actually called the van driver and got Abraham's parents telephone number. He called them and told them about their child's bad behavior. His parents then proceeded to yell at my father and called him a bully for coming after their son.

My dad told me never to sit with Abraham again. But I did.

For the next two weeks Abraham had to sit in the front seat because of the stunt he pulled with my father. While he couldnt yell out the window anymore because of his proximity to the driver, he still was able to annoy all by picking his scabs and his nose and putting it on all the little girls in the van, after which he would let out this menacing laugh, "heh, heh, heh, heh, *weez."

One of the days during his two week punishment I sat next to Abraham, as always, and he asked if I was able to roll my eyes up into my head. I had no clue what he was talking about so he showed me. After practicing the technique for a few days I finally got the hang of it and was proud to show off my new found talent to Abraham.

The next day on the van I showed him that I was able to roll my eyes back, so he thought we should have a contest to see who could hold our eyes back the longest. Not giving a thought to how we would judge the winner I said ok and we rolled our eyes back and held them there.

After a few minutes neither of us said a word so we just kept going and going. After about 5 minutes Abraham started squirming around a bit then started yelling, "MY EYES ARE STUCK, MY EYES ARE STUCK!!!" I unrolled my eyes and looked over towards this pear shaped young lad. His head was tilted backwards and he had tears streaming down his plump cheeks. He was using both of his hands to try to get his eyes to roll back out from the back of his head by quickly rubbing his nubby fingers over his closed eye-lids and his now stuck eye balls.

Abraham's screams startled the driver so much that she veered into oncoming traffic before quickly adjusting the van and pulling over to the side of the road. She quickly got out of her seat and turned around to assess the situation. Once she realized that Abraham was the problem she moved me out of the way and tried to calm him down.

The driver took Abraham off the van and poured some water into his eyes as all of us other kids watched from the opened van windows. He finally calmed down and his eyes straightened out. Unfortunately for the van driver the story is not over. After correcting his eyes he suddenly vomited all over the driver.

The rest of the ride to camp that day was quiet and smelly. To this day I couldnt tell you why Abraham's eyes got stuck in the back of his head, although he might have just needed to calm down.

Abraham and I continued to harass people for the remainder of the summer. The next year we both ended up on a bus rather than a van and the yelling, and pestering, and learning (on my part) continued.

Im not really sure what happened to Abraham after that, although I can only surmise that he got kicked out of quite a few high schools and probably a few colleges as well. He is probably a carpet salesman now, or maybe he owns Dr. Denim, who knows. All I can do is thank Abraham for the wisdom he entrusted with me and the skills he passed on.

Im going to have to look for his epitaph in about 20 years.


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