Oops Upside The Head!

When I was little I hit another kid in the head with a brick. Hmm. Maybe I should offer an explanation to this. That was a really bad way to start a story. Ahem! So one day I was hanging out at my Grandma’s house sitting outside pissed off because it was my brother’s graduation but my mother wouldn’t let me go. So off we went to 47th and Central to play in the dirt until they returned.

I should point out the difference between Grandma and Grandmama. Grandma was a sweet old lady that never yelled, got angry, or hit any of us no matter what we did (and we did a lot!). Grandmama wouldn’t waste a second laying hands on you and saying things like “Boy, you as slow as molasses!” I loved them both but one would lay the smack down and one wouldn’t. the one that didn’t, Grandma, probably should’ve though. Especially with sociopaths like me with access to bricks.

So there I am, little Dante, sitting in the yard playing with mud and water making these little bowls. Its fun. Take a little mound of first, poke a little hole in it, pure a little water, and let it dry. Voila! You have a dirt bowl. Anyhoot, so I was minding my business doing this ghetto pottery when a rock almost hit me. This dirty ass kid was giggling. I told him “Don’t hit me with anything.” So what does he do? He hits me with a rock. I stand up and he starts dancing.

Dancing, I say!

The nerve of this little dirt bomb. I pick up a brick (its 47th and Central, what do you want me to say?) and while he’s still dancing around I nail him right in the forehead with a brick. I would have loved to see the look on my face because that damned thing turned to dust. His head swelled up instantly and he started screaming. I knew not to run. I was at safe Grandma’s house. If I ran to the other one’s she would’ve smacked the shit out of me.

This kid goes and grabs his mother. I wish I could show you a picture of this woman. Remember Bunsen and Beaker from The Muppets? She looked like Beaker if he was spray painted black and had to wear Coke bottle glasses. Her hair looked like she wrapped her body in coat hangers and went dancing in a lightning storm. She came over and started yelling that I hit her son. I didn’t "hit" her son.

I wrecked his shit!

Her: “He hit him with a rock!”


Me: “No, I didn’t.” (technically it was a brick, not a rock)


Grandma: “Hmm.”


Her: “I’m gon’ tell yo mama when I see her.”


Me: “Okay.” (knowing Laverne don’t like her)


Grandma: “Okay.” (waits till she leaves) “Dante, don’t do that.” (taps my hand)


Me: “Okay.” (finishes playing in the dirt)

What is the moral of this story? Fuck if I know! Don’t hit me with rocks? Yeah, that’s it.