Lit’l Princess

Take ‘em down! Old-timey fox hunting. Motherfuckin sailboats hanging over bed. America flag shit, like in a frame. Stupid drawings by Brat. Scribbles in frames. Take ‘em down, I tell Kim, and she’s laughing, watching, waiting to see what I do. Ten-year-olds—that’s what we are, best friends since second grade. She has little boobs that stupid boys like. Maybe she thinks she’s better. She wears dorky Sears clothes. She has horse nostrils and blond hair like a block. She throws up when we drink Berben and Sherry we find in mom’s cabinet. She has a greezy father. I don’t really have a father. We weren’t good enough. My baby fat’s growing out. I have a sweet face. I have brown hair and hippy braids. I love my overalls. There are mirrors in the Longtin bathroom. His and her Longtin. I make Kim laugh. Brat cries in her lit’l pink crib. We laugh so hard. Take ‘em down!

Back to the Longtin fridge. Shove in fingers. Mac’n’cheez, mashed potatoes, grape jelly, peanut butter. Lick the tops. Yucky Kroger ice cream. Stupid vanilla. Spit your spit. Laugh and laugh. In the bedroom, we find stupid necklaces, ugly rings, crazy lady earrings, money in drawers. Things to be hidden. Rectol gel. Glammer Lady doouche. Things to stick in our holes. Better than pens. Boom boom boom. I make fun of Mrs. Longtin walking. Stovepipe legs. Clomp clomp clomp. In Maxi skirts that short people should never ever wear. Mrs. Longtin has a bun at the back of her head. Freezing teacher face. Needs to go Ba-zerk! I scrunch up my eyes. Beat-y eyes. Mr. Longtin’s a nerdy dork. He follows Mrs. Longtin. Doggie-man.

One time, a couple months ago, on the way to babysitting, we found some tiny chewy rubber things on the ground. When we got to babysitting, Mr. Longtin had to eat before he left. Plop plop plop. We put the tiny chewy rubber things inside his spagetti sauce. Chew chew chew. Like grisly meat. Mr. Longtin chewing, wondering, swallowing. We ran outta the room, our giggles exploding.

Kim’s x-sited! How will I fill in the blanks where we took down the pictures and mirrors? She watches me. What’ll I do? Guess who’s Lucy? Who’s Ethel? I’m holding Brat’s chewed-up crayons. Don’t eat them stupid Brat! I love to make Kim laugh. I bring back memories. Like when Kim helped me mess up Mr. Timmer’s car in the middle of the night. Fancy snobby car. Scratch it up. We used the pocket knives I stole from the store where I told Kim to get the man at the counter’s attention. Act like lost. Cry for daddy. Kim’s daddy is ugly and greezy. He’s got a big nose. Little pieces of hair get pulled over his head that looks like an egg that got dented. He says Kim is his little princess.

Buffet. Yummy. We used to smell it on our street in front of our stupid fake-french apartments. Fried chicken and steak. Things I really love. We watched through big windows. Buffet table. Men in fancy clothes. People on trips. Go in. Get a plate. Follow me. Move along. Fried chicken, macaroni, fish fingers, turkey stuffing, spagetti and noodles. Things I love. Mashed potatoes, french fries. Cakes and pies. Our mouths go POP! German chocolate. Chocolate ice-box. Stuff it in. Don’t throw up. Ignore dorky man walking to our table. Tell him we’re only nine and have no money. Kim’s mom not answering the phone, Kim starting to cry. The man had a greezy face. My mom came to get us from work. Really mad. We were sposed to be at school. Kim and me are fatties. My mom maybe thinking this.

Most times, we never get caught. Like when I showed Kim how to steal the mail that’s outside the apartments for the mailman to pick up. Paula Snookers put stupid little hearts on her envelopes. She’s in high school and stuck up. She called Kim a big nose at the pool. Her letters are stupid. I love you Mike. Blah blah blah. A kid at school said it’s a federated crime and we could go to jail. Cool!

Red and blue crayons. Kim can’t wait, her eyes are watching what I do!

I was seven when Mrs. Longtin first came to our apartment. After that, someone told Mr. Meeks we had four cats and two bunches of baby kittens. Mr. Meeks sent a letter. He found cat shit in a building a zillion miles from ours. Get rid of two big kitties. Get rid of kittens even though we’d been trying hard to find them homes. Or be evickted! That’s what the letter said. We got rid of mom’s two cats. I cried so much. Mrs. Longtin said I was over-waiting. She boom booms in her maxi skirt. Black clunky shoes. Someone told Mrs. Longtin my sister had an abortion. Mrs. Longtin told my sister that god would forgive her and made my sister cry.

Back at the wall. Press hard. Real hard! Write big! In the blank squares. “Fuck You!” and “Motherfucker!” I write in squares. Kim puts the fox hunting pictures back up, covering the words. I write “Dirty Asshole!” behind some old-timey mirror. I write “Eat Shit!” and “Suck your Dick!” on the bedroom wall before Kim hangs the boat pictures back. Laugh like crazy. We fall on the bed. I write “Fat Slob Booger Man” and “Ugly Bitch Big Nose” under the his-and-her mirrors. Brat cries, bouncing in her cribby-thing. Give her Jelly-Beans?