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Saturday, July 31, 2010

Installment 8 - Crazy Talk

Dix Hill

Lunacy was such a source of pride in Visitation County that satisfaction practically oozed as people lamented Aunt Betty's reality fugues and Cousin Bo's various personalities.  Nervous breakdowns, schitzophrenia, and all the available manias were such sure-fire chitchat starters, that adults at cocktail parties spoke of little else.

Mannerly lunatics remained at home, looked after like pedigreed pets, regardless of any mortal danger they might have posed to themselves or others, mainly for bragging rights.  Stints up at "the Hill" were only the last resort when some nut became such a nuisance that the complaints of envious neighbors grated the family's last nerve.   In those cases, the inmate puffed with smug joy for the conversational mileage this was going to provide later on.  

Even though wild squirrels in the family tree were as common as the Cherokee ancestry they all bragged having, no matter how blond or how black, the folks who came up short regularly lied while those blessed with a gracious plenty were coyly modest. The McCrarys, for instance, could afford modesty.

Before they started letting "Batboy" bivouac on the Hill, neighbors had to admit that Lester McCrary was a good contender for the asylum if not 1313 Mockingbird Lane.  If he wasn't lurking in the window wearing a vampire cape and plastic fangs, shining a flashlight up under his chin, he was skulking in the shrubbery out front, waiting for anyone to stroll by so he could jump out at them, jabbering some jibberish in their faces that only he could understand, or tending to his "pretend" graveyard behind the kitchen.  This was all cute and endearing when he was a little kid, but when several neighbors' kitties went missing, and there seemed to be a matching number of fresh dirt mounds by the McCrary's place, a delegation was formed to have a word with Batboy's parents.  Nothing definitive was discovered in the play-graves, but there was a small bag of lime on the porch that Mr. McCrary insisted he had been using around the hydrangeas to achieve their spectacular blue.  The delegation had to admit they were the deepest azure on the block, and they left with no more than the promise that Batboy would be examined in Raleigh by Dr. Pediaditakis, and they'd follow whatever the doctor ordered.  

Martin was just as eager for Dr. P. to put Batboy up in Ashby Hall for a week as the neighbors were, and get him out of his hair, but the good doctor just put him on some stelazine, and opined that his maladjustment was due to something in his home-life that Mr. and Mrs. McCrary were never willing to discuss with others.  In an effort to avoid further confrontation, they rewarded his crazy behavior with a decommissioned Jeep mail truck and weekly bags of quarters from the bank which Batboy could carry down to Jupiter's Den, out of sight, out of mind, and out of trouble.

At Jupiter's Den, Batboy sprouted roots to the Bally Wizard pinball machine and met the already infamous Randy the Rabbitnapper.  The two of them came up with a plan the Daily Times captioned the "Cottondale Kitty Caper," where they catnapped Blackie, a pitiful, decrepit black panther that Cottondale High had bought cheap from the Ringling Brothers as their team mascot. According to the article, what originally appeared to authorities to be a typical schoolboy prank between rival schools, turned out to have started as Rabbitnapper's newest scheme to score ransom money after enjoying "Old Puss's musky charms" for a few days. It was further reported that "when Lester McC., 14, showed up for the heist in his decommissioned mail-truck carrying a bag of lime and two shovels in the back, Randy R., 15, knew he'd been out-classed," and evidently ran home to tattle to his daddy.

It took days for the police to be bothered with having to investigate, since Randy's dad didn't exactly rush right out to alert the press.  In fact, the discovery of the near-dead panther in a stairwell of the abandoned Galilee Orphanage was made by a group of men who claimed to be itinerant stage performers, preferred to remain anonymous, and offered no explanation as to why they were in town at all, much less what they were doing at the orphanage.  They were happy to split the fifty dollar reward offered by Cottondale High without further ado about it, though, and were on their merry way.

The Cottondale Kitty Caper was a clear violation of Randy Rabbitnapper's juvie probation for prior rabbit-napping.   Supposedly, he was to take the class bunny home one weekend, but the following Monday he didn't come to school and, taped to the front door, there was a note made of letters cut from the Visitation Times headlines, demanding $15.83 in cold currency to be sent across the Five Points Municipal Gardens pond.  The bunny would then be sent back in the same boat.  Maybe he thought they'd use a radio controlled boat, but how the rescuers would know where to direct the boat, or how Mr. Flop-Ears would be prevented from tipping over or leaping to his death is an eternal mystery.  Principal Hawkins and two Parks and Recreation employees closed in on Rabbitnapper in the nick of time.  What he got instead of $15.83 was an afternoon in juvenile hall, followed by a belt-whipping from his mama, a ten-day suspension from school, and probation.

This being Batboy's first real brush with the law, and him being a minor, all charges were dismissed in lieu of him spending the rest of that summer break at Dix Hill.  He loved it so much he determined to make it a regular thing. Martin had to ride along with his parents on visitation day, which he disliked after the novelty wore off.  He and his friends had visited other people there plenty of times before, and the friends were glad to ride along with Martin's family.  They'd "ditch the fam," as they called it, and sneak down to the basement looking for the dusty torture equipment that was rumored to be stored there, Motsie's idea, or skip like Dorothy and friends on the Yellow Brick Road down to Potters Field and count dead crazy people's graves, over 900 of them, speculating over what had killed them, Vincent's favorite, or sit on the west slope over the railroad tracks smoking pot and playing Truth or Dare, as Martin always loved. 

6 comments:

  1. kimstewart98@yahoo.comAugust 3, 2010 at 7:44 PM

    Bibi- You are Brilliant! What a gift you have!

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  2. cissy anderson beckertAugust 4, 2010 at 7:48 PM

    This is good!

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  3. Y'all are both sweet as all get-out! Next chapter, I want to write about some truth or dare. What's the wildest truth or wildest dare you ever saw? You can say it was "this friend," LOL. Was the point always to end up making out? Or was that just me? Suppose you lost? Or won? What were the stakes?

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  4. Oh, good GOD, FranK! No WONDER you went into comedy! That is the exactly the stuff that gives us our special Southern quality, somewhere between jaded and hysterical. This really belongs in a story... Thank you for sharing. <3 I LOVE your comment; the best one yet! <3 Dayumn!!

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  5. Excerpt from nc gov't .pdf:

    The cemetery had declined due to erosion, vandalism and the elements of time. Garbage trucks drove over the cemetery edges to reach the next door landfill. The landfill closed in 1972. At this time the hospital physical plant manager, Dave Davis, noticed that erosion had exposed wood he felt sure were caskets. Markers had slid away from depressions in the ground that suggested graves. There were no trees except for a few pines. Employees used kitchen forks to poke the ground locating caskets that had drifted. Staff covered the exposed coffins with soil and seeded the area and a chain link fence was installed along the boundaries. However, due to financial restraints the cemetery was neglected. Many of the graves were unmarked. With the passage of time, many graves had deteriorated significantly so that the graves had collapsed leaving depressions in the soil. Boundaries were difficult to identify. Until 1991 the only grave sites with tombstones were those of people whose families had the means and desire to have a marker built.

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  6. You do know that I could delete your comments, right? But I won't since I already wrote about you, my psychopathic pernicious narcissist ex husband in Peru, Your ignorant comments will serve as perfect illustrations of your cowardice and cruelty. The fact that my adult daughters want nothing to do with you is no one's fault but your own. I speak for all of us when I tell you that we take great comfort Knowledge that internet harassment Is the worst you are able to do since you are stuck in Peru and not allowed to come back to the United States anymore. Apparently you are unaware of the ease with which even a teenager here can trace your ISP even when you write an anonymous email or use an alias such as John McBride. It all goes back to you, Elio Alvaro Flores. What a loser you are, after all your vain bravado. Now go look up all those big words, and then do the world a favor by dying alone. I may write a humorous epitaph for your grave if I decide to give you even that degree of importance in my day. Depends on whether I have more important plans... like getting a pedicure or taking a peaceful nap. Ha I laugh!

    ReplyDelete