"Ouch! Fuck, shit, piss, hell, god damn, mother-fucker." Once again Penelope had stubbed her toe. "Fuck, shit, piss, hell, god damn, mother-fucker." This was Penelope's chant when ever she stubbed her toe, which was quite often. Maybe two or three times a week. "Fuck, shit, piss, hell, god damn, mother-fucker," she sang out loud again and again until that immediate pain subsided into a warm sensation.
Penelope was in kindergarten studying her ABC's under Ms. Blatz, an unenlightended teacher who required mostly memory work from her students and the silliest art projects. Penelope was headed home from school after being chastised by Ms. Blatz for writing a mirror image of the letter "b." Penelope was within one block of home when she crossed the street and slammed her right foot smack into the rise of the curb.
"Fuck, shit, piss, hell, god damn, mother-fucker," she cried out at the top of her lungs.
This by-product of her physical awkwardness was enough to catch the attention of Mrs. Peru who looked up and seeing it was Penelope said, "And a fine day to you, too, Penelope."
When Penelope got home, her Father was waiting for her in the studio. "Well, hello my little Penelope." Her Father pronounced her name accenting the first syllable. This of course sent Penelope running into his arms with glee.
"Oh, fine Daddy. Is it all right if I make my 'b's' backward?"
"It's just fine with me. You know sometimes I confuse my 's's' for my 'z's"
Penelope looked around the room at the walls covered in pictures of male nudes. She finally located the new work. "Tell me about that one, Daddy?"
"Oh...I don't know. I guess it's me, accept my head is on backwards. It's kind of a state of mind piece."
"Daddy, it happened again." She sat down in the model's chair illuminated by the 100 watt, full spectrum lamps and began to untie her left shoe. "I just didn't see the bump."
"Let me see dear." He helped her pull off her thick wool sock revealing four toes with Band-Aids and a little toe with out, but the new abrasion was obvious. He went over and got another Band-Aid and said, "Well now, Penelope, you've got a complete set. You know, I'm not much for scrapes and bruises. All I can do is keep applying Band-Aids and more Band-Aids. Accept. Then he knelt down in front of her and kissed her little, little boo-boo. As far as coaching you on some prevention method I'm at a loss. But your Grandma Joan is pretty nimble. Would you like to ask her for some assistance?"
"At least we can have a good cry together. I'll call her, and you can take me over? Daddy? Keep up the good work."
***
"Grandma Joan, Grandma Joan?" Penelope screamed as Joan opened the front door.
"It's so nice to see you Pen, darling. I baked some snicker doodles right after you called. They'll be out in a minute. Come on in."
Grandma Joan's house always felt like home to Penelope. She missed a woman's influence in her life. "Dad's out in the car reading a playgirl. He thinks he needs help on his male figures."
"Is that so. Hmmm?. You know your Father's a great artist. And his most recent work, his focus on the male anatomy, he'll be remembered for that. I keep asking him for a picture to hang on my wall." Her voice trails off. "I think the doilies frighten him. Anyway, how many times this week?"
"This is the second and it's only Wednesday. I took your advice about cursing until the pain is gone. How's this?" Then at the top of her lungs. "Fuck, shit, piss, hell, god damn, mother-fucker! I collected them from school and around and strung them all together myself."
"Yes, that's quite creative of you." At a loss all of the sudden. "You know Pen, I was thinking...Would you be a dear and get that German dictionary off the shelf? That's right, the red one. Now bring it here, please? Okay, stand up straight, with your tookus in and your shoulders back. Now look off into the horizon and tilt your head forward a bit. I'm going to place this dictionary on your head. That's right! Feel proud as if your on stage and everyone is looking at you. Now walk about the room. Let your peripheral vision guide you past any obstacles. That's great honey. You know you remind me more and more of your mother everyday."
"She had blond curly hair like mine." Penelope runs her fingers through her hair.
"Okay, dear, you can take the book off now and put it on the table. I think the cookies are done. Be right back."
Penelope sat there quietly looking at the room and decorations. The Hummel figurines and Meissen Porcelain, all the antique furniture, and the old yellowed landscapes. Everything seemed to be appropriate to Penelope. Not one thing out of place.
"Here we are. Now I want you to practice with a book at home."
"Oh, yes Grandma Joan. Can I take a cookie to Daddy?"
"Yes honey. Now run along. Oh, and Pen? Try 'Gott im Himmel.'"
"Thanks Grandma Joan." And with the cookies she ran outside at light as a dove to the car window, banged on it and shouted, "Gott im Himmel, Daddy, try one of these."
1990
© Donald Grube, 2010
Penelope was in kindergarten studying her ABC's under Ms. Blatz, an unenlightended teacher who required mostly memory work from her students and the silliest art projects. Penelope was headed home from school after being chastised by Ms. Blatz for writing a mirror image of the letter "b." Penelope was within one block of home when she crossed the street and slammed her right foot smack into the rise of the curb.
"Fuck, shit, piss, hell, god damn, mother-fucker," she cried out at the top of her lungs.
This by-product of her physical awkwardness was enough to catch the attention of Mrs. Peru who looked up and seeing it was Penelope said, "And a fine day to you, too, Penelope."
When Penelope got home, her Father was waiting for her in the studio. "Well, hello my little Penelope." Her Father pronounced her name accenting the first syllable. This of course sent Penelope running into his arms with glee.
"Oh, fine Daddy. Is it all right if I make my 'b's' backward?"
"It's just fine with me. You know sometimes I confuse my 's's' for my 'z's"
Penelope looked around the room at the walls covered in pictures of male nudes. She finally located the new work. "Tell me about that one, Daddy?"
"Oh...I don't know. I guess it's me, accept my head is on backwards. It's kind of a state of mind piece."
"Daddy, it happened again." She sat down in the model's chair illuminated by the 100 watt, full spectrum lamps and began to untie her left shoe. "I just didn't see the bump."
"Let me see dear." He helped her pull off her thick wool sock revealing four toes with Band-Aids and a little toe with out, but the new abrasion was obvious. He went over and got another Band-Aid and said, "Well now, Penelope, you've got a complete set. You know, I'm not much for scrapes and bruises. All I can do is keep applying Band-Aids and more Band-Aids. Accept. Then he knelt down in front of her and kissed her little, little boo-boo. As far as coaching you on some prevention method I'm at a loss. But your Grandma Joan is pretty nimble. Would you like to ask her for some assistance?"
"At least we can have a good cry together. I'll call her, and you can take me over? Daddy? Keep up the good work."
***
"Grandma Joan, Grandma Joan?" Penelope screamed as Joan opened the front door.
"It's so nice to see you Pen, darling. I baked some snicker doodles right after you called. They'll be out in a minute. Come on in."
Grandma Joan's house always felt like home to Penelope. She missed a woman's influence in her life. "Dad's out in the car reading a playgirl. He thinks he needs help on his male figures."
"Is that so. Hmmm?. You know your Father's a great artist. And his most recent work, his focus on the male anatomy, he'll be remembered for that. I keep asking him for a picture to hang on my wall." Her voice trails off. "I think the doilies frighten him. Anyway, how many times this week?"
"This is the second and it's only Wednesday. I took your advice about cursing until the pain is gone. How's this?" Then at the top of her lungs. "Fuck, shit, piss, hell, god damn, mother-fucker! I collected them from school and around and strung them all together myself."
"Yes, that's quite creative of you." At a loss all of the sudden. "You know Pen, I was thinking...Would you be a dear and get that German dictionary off the shelf? That's right, the red one. Now bring it here, please? Okay, stand up straight, with your tookus in and your shoulders back. Now look off into the horizon and tilt your head forward a bit. I'm going to place this dictionary on your head. That's right! Feel proud as if your on stage and everyone is looking at you. Now walk about the room. Let your peripheral vision guide you past any obstacles. That's great honey. You know you remind me more and more of your mother everyday."
"She had blond curly hair like mine." Penelope runs her fingers through her hair.
"Okay, dear, you can take the book off now and put it on the table. I think the cookies are done. Be right back."
Penelope sat there quietly looking at the room and decorations. The Hummel figurines and Meissen Porcelain, all the antique furniture, and the old yellowed landscapes. Everything seemed to be appropriate to Penelope. Not one thing out of place.
"Here we are. Now I want you to practice with a book at home."
"Oh, yes Grandma Joan. Can I take a cookie to Daddy?"
"Yes honey. Now run along. Oh, and Pen? Try 'Gott im Himmel.'"
"Thanks Grandma Joan." And with the cookies she ran outside at light as a dove to the car window, banged on it and shouted, "Gott im Himmel, Daddy, try one of these."
1990
© Donald Grube, 2010
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