Stupid Mexican Tomato Plants

"HELP!" I screamed as the yellow plastic tarp went over the top of my concrete block enclosure. I could see through the space between the bricks and could tell that the hippy-chicks weren't exactly too happy about what the boys were doing, but not one of them came to my rescue. 'STUPID Mexican tomato plants,' I cursed silently in head. Smoking the leaves like they had been doing all morning, must have deadened the part of their brain cells that had to do with love or compassion.  I had no other theories as to why the girls would have allowed my older brothers and the other long-haired members of the Wolf Pack to torture me like this.    None of this made any sense.

Puke Breath - my brother who had a brain like Poindexter, pulled out his slide-rule and made some calculations as the motley crew laughed and stacked a couple more strategically placed blocks on the top edge of IGLOO over the yellow tarp in order to hold it in place over me.

Edna the grouch next door wouldn't save me, my dad was off selling Real Estate (which was a convenient escape) and Mom was probably up in her room watching Gun Smoke too far away for my cries for help to be heard).

The black scabby cat sat in the window as if mocking me and my older sister was off somewhere with her neighborhood minions, who were under her control.

As the 7th born and baby boy I was the least powerful member of my tribe, even though I had a sister three years younger than me.

The birth order was  Boy
                                Boy
                                Boy
                                Boy
                                Boy
                       First GIRL TQOTW  "THE QUEEN OF THE WORLD"  Made sense right?

For the first four years her feet didn't even touch the ground. With our long history of sibling torture, my Dad say that if one male offspring were to every laid even a single finger to one hair of her head  - then we were as good as dead (Section 106b of the Viking Code).   And that's the way it was.

       Then another   boy  that was me... nothing special. Just another boy. Had enough of them already and by the time I had a brain we had already added a couple other older boys to the mix... "strays" my dad called them.

So it went like this   Boy   1st born
                               Boy   2nd born
                      other Boy
                               Boy   3rd born
                    other   Boy              Pinky pictured to the right                                              
                               Boy   4th born
Several Stragglers:   males
                              Boy   5th born

   TQOTW    GIRL     (must have been an immaculate conception or something).

           Just another boy  That's me ... boring... yawn...
               Another GIRL     Couldn't touch her either- see Section 106b above.

I couldn't lay a finger on her under pain of death and mortal sin. 

So I was on the bottom of the rung...10 down or something like that and I was told that we had enough boys already... so if one (that's me) happened to mysteriously die - who would give a rip!  

I didn't even have power over my little sister...pretty sad right? I was the omega ωμέγα runt of the Wolf Pack completely powerless even over a girl 3 and a half years younger than me. And here I was - stuck in a pit in the backyard completely and utterly lost. Let me tell you, we were not the Lennons (who lived across the street) by any stretch of the imagination.
             

Kleghorn screwed the sprinkler onto the end of the hose.  Flea-Bait turned it on and Puke Breath carefully positioned it so that every time it sprayed in my direction - besides watering the inside of old boats - the tops of some rusted cars that had been cannibalized for parts, a couple old engine blocks and a stack of old tires it sprayed the top of the yellow tarp that had been draped over the open hole on top of the "Igloo of Death" held in place by well placed construction blocks.   

They left!  I didn't see much sense in the hose, and the sprinkler, and the water since they had put the plastic over the top, which was actually protecting me from the imitation rain. I though it was meant as a form of noise torture. You know, like the old Chinese "Water Drip" torture. It was maddening - I'll give that to the brilliant boys. I think the sound of that water hitting the plastic tarp some eight hundred thousand times might cause me to eat one of my arms off, but thankfully I had no access to eat my arm off, because all four of my appendages had been bound in an old itchy rope and buried in the pit.
  

The good news was I couldn't chew off one of my arms and the rooster they let out couldn't gouge my eyes out with his 4 inch razor sharp talons.  

Life isn't all bad.... I guess.

"Help!"  "HELP!"    Nothing.  I was alone and the universe didn't seem to care.  Live or not, I felt a little piece of me die inside...the part that cries and has feelings. I was becoming a less human and more of a unfeeling robot.  "Stop in the name of love"

I was going to die and nobody cared.  I was going to die and never truly know what it meant to love or be loved... I wanted to know. 

                                                                                 Android People  Stop in the Name of Love

The hippies troglodytes were talking about the Yellow Submarine and here I was stuck in my own yellow sub marine cave of death. Yet, I didn't realize how brilliant they were until I figured the whole madness out and realized just how bad it was about to get. Yes, it still got worst...

I Should Have Stopped at Three Laps

Thank you, to all who are tracking with my Blog and I want to welcome the people from the last 10 countries to my story!

Welcome: Nepal, Lithuania, Saudi Arabia, Czech Republic, Belarus, Colombia, Cambodia, Ecuador, China and Thailand!  

Captains Log: Star Date October 12th 1968.  It is two days after Detroit Tigers won the World series and the morning after the very first telecast from outer-space - that was really cool!

A lot had been happening on our street over the past couple of years. One of the significant developments is that the older Lennon boys down the street had gotten bitten by the "Long-Haired-Hippy-Bug." This infection must explain they reason they were migrating towards our house and I also think those "Mexican Tomato Plants" had something to do with it. That was like the proverbial "crack in the dike" which was followed by the flood waters of defection of Lennons down to and including the youngest girl - Annie. Annie was just around 9-years-old at this time and I can assure you that she had nothing to so with those skunk-smelling plants hidden in our backyard. Innocently, she just followed Karin to the black-hole of chaos at our house.

Chewbacca...no longer had his lunch breaks at the same time Karin, Annie and I ventured off the Saint Mark's campus for lunch everyday at our house. Though subjected to whatever mess, whatever creatures were loose and running around (maybe an escaping rattlesnake or something tame like guinea pigs, or something disgusting like Chewbacca's house-guest, a gross pigeon with a parasite that lived on top of the refrigerator! Did I already say "gross!"? GROSS!) At least Annie was safe from Chewbacca's cruel "Template of Torture" Chewbacca and the Terrible Templates). So, Annie was on today's short list of those invited to go and swim at the McElliot's built-in pool!


In the last year, Ralph had replaced "Gherhing the Great" as my new "Bestest" friend at Saint Marks. My buddy Gherhing had turned a corner. He came to school a month ago in what he affectionately called his black pointed "Beaner-Shoes," I didn't like that word very much, but he said the hard pointed tips were really good for getting into fights with. He talked about all the race fights that were taking place over at Mark Twain Jr. High School and how he couldn't wait to get involved. (No sir,  not me - I didn't feel like I wanted to invite any more conflict into my world than I was already dealing with at home so the two of us began to drift apart).

Ralph, like most of the other guys in the 7th grade, was about a head taller than me and had hair on his lip already like Ricky Arredondo. The nuns at Saint Mark's grammar school weren't too keen on Ricky's mustache and brought his parents in for a conference and told them they had to make Ricky shave it off.  The rumor around school was that either Ricky or his dad told Sister Superior that Ricky would shave off his mustache "When Sister ChaCha shaved hers." That was the latest rumor that made all of us kids laugh and will likely turn into a trend in the future like - "No Shave November!" or something like that.  

On the list with Annie and Ralph was Tommy from next door. It happened to be a Saturday that Tommy wasn't grounded. Tommy's mom, Mrs. Blaser, didn't particularly like the idea that our pool had always been green and mosquito infested, which she feared would spread the contagion of all the "A" ending words: Diphtheria; Malaria, Diarrhea and Ebola! (I think the reason my parents actually wanted us to eat that moldy, old sourdough bread was for antibiotic medicinal properties in fuzzy green penicillin. "Pshaw" - the Blasers might be susceptible to those diseases, but none of us Dahlins were ever going to get Diphtheria or Ebola because of all the moldy bread we had to eat).   

Anyway, Ulrich (against his will) was commissioned to walk us over to the McElliot's pool, which was just past Ricky's house - down Zanja a couple blocks and close to Venice high school. Ulrich was 15 and had his reputation to consider. Begrudgingly, he led us down the alley route, so that no one would see him with a bunch of little kids like us. It was a scary time and his job was to get us there safely, but we have to be extremely quiet and very careful "not to act like little kids" - he said. (I think it was because he "woke up on the wrong side of the bed" again).

Though we were in the middle of an October "heat wave" the water could have been warmer. Surprisingly, Ulrich stuck around longer than he needed to. After we changed into our swim suits he made sure to baptize us by throwing all of us into the unwelcoming temperatures of the pool water. Even more odd, was the fact that he even encouraged us in a game of "how many laps under water."  Pshaw - This was cake. It was me against three 9-year-olds and Ralph...and I was practically a fish. First Annie, then Tommy, then Kjersten, then Ralph! Kjersten nearly did two full laps. Driven by ego, Ralph made it all the way to two laps, just to prove he could beat a 9-year-old girl. (It nearly killed him though so I was glad that an older person like Ulrich was there, just in case one of the other kids drowned or something. I knew that if Tommy Blaser or Annie Lennon had drowned that neither mother would have liked that very much).

 Then it was my turn!  I had to beat my little sister and I HAD to beat Ralph.

One lap
Two laps...
...on my way to Three laps!  Ulrich had done three laps one time... if I could just touch the wall and turn back the other direction I would beat his record.  

I was already out of breath and should have stopped there...but I had prove myself and kept going. My stomach convulsed against me as if in rebellion, but I was determined to press on and win - as though this was something that really mattered.

For me it was like the Gold Medal of the Mexican Olympics was at stake...

At the Olympics this past summer was a 18-year-old hot shot by the name of Mark Spitz who had already won 10 world records. Mark Spitz had won 2 Gold Medals at the Olympics... and I WAS MARK SPITZ!

Four laps...I was making it... It might kill me but I was doing it. FOUR LAPS!  I'm sure it was Lennon record... a Blaser record... Dahlin record... a Venice record and quite possibly a WORLD RECORD! If I were to drown there was an older kid to rescue me - so I had nothing to lose.

Completely out of air, I was barely able to touch the end of the pool but somehow managed to make it all four laps when I shot up from the deep end...like a submarine -kaboom! Urgently surfacing from the depths of the deep I emerged with my mouth opened wide - gasping - and desperately sucking in volumes of air!  That is when heart sank - realizing the terror that awaited me.  Instead of the accolades of the crowds and the cheers of adoring fans; instead of a pat on the back and words of congratulations from my friends (which had motivated me to pursue this dangerous task) I received nothing of the kind. Instead, i was welcomed with the terrifying epiphany of knowing this whole thing had been a diabolical plot just like the time I was betrayed by Dooh-Dooh Pants with the insidious "Hamper of Death" scheme  Betrayal and Hamper of Death. In this case it was Ulrich. He was crouched in the hopeful anticipation of this exact moment in time - running from one end of the pool to the other with each lap waiting for me to emerge. Like an cunning animal of prey that had been patiently waiting for the timing to make his attack.

Bent low to the water's surface...Ulrich inhaled mucus through his nose cavity and with precision, launched the largest, greenest, thickest loogie ever recorded in the history of mankind - right down the center of my mouth - NO... right down the center of my throat - striking my uvula on the way down.

All the contents of his nasal passages ended up with all the contents of everything that was gurgling in my stomach. I was not Mark Spitz... He was Ulrich spits.  My gold medal was a loogie the size of The Beatles Yellow Submarine"      WHICH TRIGGERED MY....

Superpowers!

Vomit!  Hello?  I tried my best to direct the blast of steamy plasma on to Urich, but unfortunately I missed. He was no dummy and knew that it was coming and the second he launched his lethal warhead he had quickly retreated in order to avoid the gooey retribution. The warm confetti of Friday Fish Sticks (Catholics and Fish Sticks ) and the meal-worm laden oatmeal (that's a Dahlin thing) made quite a mess on the pool deck changed the complexity of our morning!

This was only the "Tip of the Iceberg." The five of us were alone and none of us were equipped to handle the tragic bloody episode that was about to happen next.

"If you think you're going to die, pray, 'Oh dear God, I love you and am sorry for my sins'" 

                                                  Sister Edith Mary

                                                                                           (My 7th grade teacher at Saint Marks)