Boil the Bitch

Today, I had the opportunity to overhear the culmination of a dispute between two siblings, one aged 14ish, the other aged 12ish. The fight ended extremely abruptly, and I only heard the final utterance, courtesy of the 14ish-year-old, which was shouted at a volume to ensure maximum bystander discomfort and chagrin. It followed an exasperated, enraged huff and it went just like this:

"I'M GOING TO BOIL THE BITCH!"

And I thought to myself, "What an artful turn-of-phrase from such a young, inexperienced one. Such a novice in the world of angered profanation. Such a greenhorn. A mere rookie vulgarian. And yet, I was impressed. She could just as easily have said, "I'm going to kill the bitch," but that is just so common, isn't it? There's no panache, no flair, there's just no goddamn joie de vivre about that exclamation. A 14-year-old girl, a hopelessly awkward-looking one at that, who screams out "I'M GOING TO BOIL THE BITCH!" in a public place is, to me, someone who is really sinking her teeth into the balls of life and, goshdernit, ain't lettin' go either. I wanted to go up to her and shake her hand and tell her, "Hey-- you're going to be tempted to commit suicide in high school-- but, don't. Just go goth your sophomore year and do lots of drugs, because, honey, the real world needs you. If this is the creative venom you're spewing at 14-- you've got to become at best an attorney. At worst, you'll be one fucking funny blogger."

Just how do you go about boiling your sister, I wondered. I'll bet she knows.

This little incident today got me thinking about the host of inappropriate things I said as a child. Some of them I even said to my sister. I can remember one time we were fighting outside of our house, just after dusk in the summertime. Neighbors were outside, sitting on their porches, walking their poodles (people didn't have labradoodles or goldendoodles or cockadoodles in those days) and watching the fireflies light up the Pennsylvania night as I screeched the following gem,

"WHY DON'T YOU GO DIP YOUR VAGINA IN DUCK-SAUCE!?!?!"

We must have just had Chinese food. I was ten.

At age 12, I made the mistake of singing some the lyrics to "Doo Doo Brown" by 2 Hyped Brothers & A Dog at the top of my lungs in the house when I didn't know my mother was at home. That earned me a strong talking to. By the way, if you'd like to lodge a complaint on my behalf regarding the insidious corruption of minors, apparently you can reach Mr. Brown via telephone at 1-900-976-DOO DOO.

At age 6, I casually announced at dinner that I hoped my mother's pregnant friend's baby would die. Said friend was a guest at this particular meal. Though no duck sauce was present, I was wearing a three-piece suit and clip-on bowtie at the time. I suppose my parents were crossing their fingers that my aberrant behavior would confine itself to my wardrobe preferences, but, sadly, it was not to be. My mouth could not be controlled from a very early age and, obviously, it has only gotten worse as I've learned my vocabulary. In the ultimate twist of fate, I was named the child's honorary godfather.

On the subject of pregnancy, another friend of my mother's was having difficulty conceiving a child. Also eating dinner (fortunately, the this other friend was far away from our house, definitely out of hearing range) when I, busily shoveling food into my mouth asked curtly, "What is she, blocked?" Age 8.

It's a pity, isn't it, that I couldn't, as a child, perpetually shovel food in my mouth. Would have solved a lot of problems, and maybe I wouldn't still be forty pounds underweight for my height.

While I'm not particularly proud of my the behavior and total lack of consideration I showed for others during my youth, my complete absence of any kind of couth, I at least know that I was the kind of kid people who lived in a home where people probably wanted to be a fly on the wall. I want to be a fly on the wall at Boil Bitch's house. I think that would be fun. I mean, if you have to be a fly, you might as well eek out your petty little existence where you're going to hear some real gems.

Duck sauce. Jesus Christ. Kids say the darndest things.