Bee Man Version 11

Andrew is our little writer. For as long as I can remember - (which clearly doesn't go very far back being that the kid is only 7 years old) - he's been coming at me with stacks of paper asking me if I can staple it together for him....cause he made another book!

Well, earlier in the school year, he created his first character book. Bee Man, he called it. Bee Man is a superhero who saves the day fighting Bee Evil and his "eeee-vill" ways. I have no idea what inspired Andrew to create this character, but he's very much a huge part of Andrew's life right now. He writes book after book, he takes them to school and reads them in front of this class. He plays Bee-Man on the playground with his sidekicks Bee Evan (Andrew's BFF) and Bee Jai-Dee (Andrew's little sweetie). Except Jai-Dee doesn't want to play Bee Man very often because she wants to play with her girly friends. So, usually it's just Andrew and Evan. Which Andrew doesn't like very much at all. But I explained to him that most girls their age want to play with other little girls....and it's usually jump-rope or hopscotch, not pretending to be super heroes flying around trying to avoid "giant spatulas."

I'm rambling.

Just before Christmas, I told Andrew that we could "publish" one of his books, and that is exactly what we did! He did all the writing and illustrations - which crack me up! I just purchased the first copy and it should be here within a week. So, if any of you out there want your very own copy of Andrew's first published book - just click on the button below to purchase it. He will earn a couple $$ for each book sold, which will help him purchase more book making supplies.....and by book making supplies, I mean candy.

Okay, maybe a mix of candy and book making supplies.

Alright, I'm not gonna lie. I told him he has to save all his Bee Man money to buy me a diamond necklace.

That's another lie.

But he would be super stoked if anyone acually bought his book.

You never know? He could end up being the next J.K. Rowling. And this first edition could be worth a bagrillion dollars someday...

Yes, that's a real number.

....yet again, another lie.

Sorry.

For all the lying.

Yeah...I did it. Jealous?

My friend Kathy's latest Writer's Workshop post triggered a memory somewhat similar to the one she described.

Here's a little back history:

When I was a kid, my parents took every July off work. During that month, they would drive all over the state visiting family. The summer I was 15, they finally told me that I didn't have to join them, and they took off on their adventure. Leaving my older brother Clinton, and I alone at the house with strict instructions to follow.

1. No friends in the house. (My dad owned guns. Lots and lots of guns. And he didn't want any of our stupid friends getting a hold of them and using them for target practice. Among other things.)


2. Curfew was at 1o:oopm. Sharp. My parents made it clear they would be calling the house each night to make sure we were both home at that time. What they didn't know is that as soon as I talked to them, I was gone for the rest of the night. Unlike me, my older brother followed the rules. Blech!


3. Absolutely no driving the awesome brown 1982 Subaru station wagon - aka The Sube - they left behind. Well, this rule was specifically for me - I didn't have my license yet, but Clinton did. But he had his own truck, so he wouldn't need to drive The Sube anywhere.

And that car was awesome. It looked like this - but it was brown, with a cow herder on the front and (the best part) it had a CB antenna that actually reached heaven. I'm not kidding. You could just flip that radio on and direct connect with God. It usually went something like this:

Me: "Breaker, breaker - Jehovah Jireh, you gotta copy?"

God: "Jehovah Jireh comin' in loud and proud. What's yer 20 (location)? Bring it on back."

Me: "I'm rolling down the BIR - just checking to see if there are any black n' whites (cops) ahead? C'mon."

God: "Nope, it's lookin' like you've gotta clean shot. Go ahead and drop the hammer all the way to 128th."

Me: "Thank you kindly, Big Wheel. Catch you on the flip-flop. Over and out."

That rig was awesome.

Back to the summer of 1993. I was 15, with a learner's permit, passed driver's ed with flying colors (ha, ha Kathy!) and just waiting to turn 16 in a few months. I got up that first morning my parents were gone and saw the keys to The Sube just chillin' on the hook. I knew in that instant what I was going to do. I was going for a joy ride!

So I called up my friend Trudy and asked her what she wanted to do for the day, cause we had wheels and I was coming to get her. She was down, so I hopped in The Sube and turned on the forbidden rap station, cranked it up as high as it would go (which wasn't very high at all - being that the one speaker was the size of a walnut), rolled down the windows and sailed up the long gravel driveway. I still remember that rush when I turned on to the main street - it was awesome! Trudy lived a good 10 miles from me and we rolled back and forth between our houses, friends houses - wherever we wanted to go all week long. Sweet freedom!!

It was a great week - it gave me a taste of what life was going to be like in a few months when I got my license. But as for that week, I knew the fun couldn't last forever. Right before my parents were due to come home, I rolled The Sube down the long gravel driveway returning from it's final trip out. My older brother was outside and as I got out of the car he says to me:

Clinton: "Um, you know that Dad wrote down the mileage before he left, right?"

Me: ...(gulp)..."What?"

Clinton: ...(grins devilishly)... "Yeah. He did this to me a couple of summers ago when I had my learner's permit. He told me after he got home. Buuuut - unlike you, I got props for NOT driving the car anywhere without a license. You're sooooooo busted."

Oh.

Crap.

Me: "Uhhh......no, I'm not. I will, uh......(thinking).....just.......(more thinking)......(Ah ha! I had it!).....drive the car around the neighborhood in reverse to get the mileage back down."

Clinton stares at me blankly. Then he busts out laughing at me!

Clinton: (still laughing) "Good one, idiot! Go ahead and try that and see how it works for ya."

Me: "It doesn't work? But I thought I saw on Ferris Buellers Day Off......"

At this point my stomach starts turning into knots. I knew, I just KNEW my dad was going to kill me. This was by far the worst thing I'd ever done in my entire life - and now that life was about to be over. I was gonna die. Unless......

Me: "You have to tell Mom & Dad that you drove the car to B-Town to get parts for your truck."

Clinton: (starts laughing even harder) "No, I don't!"

Me: (in a tiny voice) "Please?"

Clinton: "Nope."

Me: (whining) "Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeese????"

Clinton: (shaking his head) "Uh-uh."

Me: (demanding) "PLEASE!!!"

One thing I know about my brother, he H-A-T-E-S confrontation/conflict. And I had every intention of taking full advantage of that. I see him start to waiver. I see defeat flicker in his eyes. But he wasn't ready yet.

Clinton: (sighs) "No, you did this to yourself."

It's time to pull out the big guns.

Me: (yelling loudly now) "But Dad is going to kill me. You know that! He's going to do anything and everything to make my life a living hell - and then he's gonna beat the crap outta me. He's gonna BEAT ME! And I'm gonna DIE! And you have the power to stop this. And you're just going to let me DIE??? What did I ever do to you?? PLEASE! DON'T! DO! THIS! TO! ME!"

I can see him squirming. He starts to walk away. But I drop down and grab a hold of his leg. He continues to walk away, dragging me though the gravel. He tries to shake me off, but it's no use. I'm not letting go.

Me: (still yelling. teeth clenched.) "C'MON!!"

He stops and scowls at me. He's pissed. And that also means he's gonna give me what I want.

Clinton: "FINE! But you owe me. BIG!"

Me: "Okay, I'll do whatever you want! Just name it - and it's yours. Thank you, thank you, thank you!!! I love you!!!"

When my parent's came home, the first thing my dad did was go check the mileage in The Sube. I ran and hid in my room. Waiting.....

Dad: "ALECIA!!!! Get out here, RIGHT NOW!!!"

(gulp)

I saunter out of my room, trying to be all innocent and casual like, but not too casual - because then he might be on to my deceptive ways.

Me: (squeaky voice) "Uh, yeah, Dad?"

Dad (head cocked to the side, his eyes burning into my soul) : "I didn't tell you this, but I wrote down the mileage before I left for our trip. I wanted to test you to see if you'd drive the car. And you put over 100 MILES ON THE CAR WHILE WE WERE GONE!!!"

At this point he's towering over me and his face and big ol' bald head is turning a reddish purple. He's shaking. He's about to lose it. I look down. I can't stand it.

Me: (taking a deep breath) "No, I didn't! I swear it! Clinton was driving the car this week because he was working on his truck and he needed parts from the auto shop. Ask him! I promise!"

And that's exactly what he did. I stood behind my dad while he grilled Clinton about the mileage. I was glaring at Clinton as hard as I could. My eyes were being very clear. They spoke to my brother - they reminded him of the deal we made. They threatened him with conflict should he decide to go back on his word. Lots and lots of loud, obnoxious conflict.

And thank Jehovah Jireh Almighty - he took the blame. And spared my life. He is the reason I am still alive today.

Thank you Bubba!

BTW - I called my dad today to see what year The Sube was, so I could google search a picture of one like it for the blog. Then I told him the truth about what I did all those years ago. He just laughed. A nervous laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.

Yet another reason why I love being an adult.