O Little Town of Mitchellville

by Jennifer Foor

  The sounds of voices are coming from below, sending me into a panic. If my parents find us up here playing around with their precious equipment we weren’t going to get shit for Christmas.

  Scouring the attic, frantic for an excuse to be up here, I made a dash for the farthest corner to uncover old Christmas decorations. Colt followed my lead, speaking in a whisper. “What are we doing?”

  Conner is peering down the open stairs to see who it is, while the two of us start digging through old stuff to come up with a good reason we’re where we aren’t supposed to be.

  My mom’s voice is loud and threatening. “Tyler Mitchell, get your ass down here right this minute.”

  “Stupid Randa,” Colt says under his breath. “She’s such a tattle pot. I’m going to cut her hair off while she sleeps.”

  Chuckling, I find something I can use as my excuse. It’s an old train set that we used to put under the tree. I can’t remember the last time we used it or why we stopped. “I’ll be right down, Mom. I’m getting something.”

  “What’re you thinking?” Colt asks.

  “We’re going to tell them we’re using the train and doing our own Christmas scene with it. It’s mine anyway, so she won’t get mad about it.”

  “Says the guy who looks scared shitless.”

  Conner announces. “I’m going down now guys.”

  “Whatever, chicken shit,” I say as he goes.

  “How are we going to get the other stuff down without them seeing?”

  Colt has a point. Mom is waiting for us to come down. She’s going to want an explanation. I give my cousin a once over and then myself. I’m wearing a hoodie sweatshirt, while Colt has on a flannel that buttons up. There’s no way he can hide something underneath.

  I hand him the tape. “Put this in your pants. I’ll stick the camera in my hoodie and use part of the trains to make it look like that’s all I’m carrying.”

  “If she searches you, we’re dead meat.”

  “She won’t, dude. We got this.”

  “I don’t know how I let you talk me into this. I’m the oldest so it will fall on me when we’re caught.”

  Colt was right and I knew it. He may be the oldest, but I was always the plan maker. He was the muscle. Besides, Colt wasn’t that big of a guy until his mid teens. This particular year he was still scrawny and only a couple inches taller than me.

  “Tyler, I’m not going to say it again!” Mom was becoming more agitated. She was asking Miranda what we were doing, and our cousin was stumbling on her words. “Get your butts down here now!”

  I pointed toward a blanket that was covering a heap of gifts. They hid them some place different every single year as if it worked from keeping Santa a secret. We’d obviously known the truth for years and I’m sure by this point Colt had been told. He was in middle school. “They think we’re checking out the gifts.”

  “Maybe we should say that’s what we’re doing.”

  “No. They won’t suspect the movie. Trust me.”

  “You’re just a kid. I’m an idiot for going along with this.” He hands me the tape. “Do this yourself. I’m out of here.”

  I listen to Colt climb down the attic stairs, while shoving what I need down my pants and in my hoodie. “This is bullshit,” I mumble. To be honest, I don’t know why I said it. My mother had some kind of super hearing on her.

  “Young man, get your ass down here right this minute! I’m going to go get your father.”

  It was the one thing that always lit a fire under my ass. I could feel the recorder falling down in my underwear, but I kept moving, hoping the large oversized sweatshirt camouflaged it.

  Mom takes me by the arm once I’m within reach. “Boy, I outta tan your hide.”

  “I was looking for this,” I explain while holding up a part to the train set. “Colt and I wanted to set it up. Gosh, what’s the big deal?”

  Her finger points right at me, only inches away from touching my face. “If I find out you were routing through those presents for the family, your ass is grass, got it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Yeah?” She warns.

  “Yes, ma’am. I get it.”

  I’m not sure why it was so easy, but Mom let me go back out with my cousins. It wasn’t until we were in the barn, upstairs in the hay loft hidden, that I pulled everything out and spread it on the floor.

  Colt shook his head and laughed. “Damn. I can’t believe you went through with it.”

  “No help from you three. What the hell? I shouldn’t even let you be a part of the project.”

  Miranda flipped her hair and rolled her eyes. “If you don’t let me, I’ll tell my mom what you’re really doing, Ty.”

  “That’s why no one likes you,” I counter.

  Conner starts to approach me to take up for his sister, but Colt holds his arm in the way and flashes him a look of disapproval. “Let’s just get this shit over with. I’m freezing my balls off and my girl wants me to call her tonight before we turn in. I don’t have time to be messing around with you three turds all night. Plus, I know your little asses are going to get us caught.” Colt was a player if I’ve ever seen one. He had all the girls on his jock. Again, my idol back then.

  Keep in mind, I’m around ten years old. My school is constantly calling home because I can’t sit still and never stop talking. I got suspended for duct taping this kid to the sliding board on the playground. Another time, I got referral for slapping a female classmate on the ass to be funny. I also got caught French kissing at my locker in fifth grade and was written up for that. I’m not exactly a well behaved child, and my parents know it.

  Colt was probably a terrible role model. He didn’t get in trouble as much, but I wanted to do what he did at his age, while being younger.

  I suppose it’s a lot like the twins. When Colt and I were together there was bound to be the making for some big event that would result in a punishment of some kind.

  Much like the way I looked up to Colt, Conner followed us around willingly. Miranda had no choice. She was either playing alone, or tagging along.

  After slipping by my parents and organizing everything in the barn, we drew up an outline of our epic video.

  This was before Jackass was ever a television show. I often wonder if they copied us and got rich off it. Assholes!

  Our plan was to dress up in our Christmas clothing, which back then was mostly corduroy and flannel that was red and green in color, then do a couple kick ass stunts that would entertain and impress the family.

  As an adult I can see how ridiculous this plan was, but we live and learn.

  Colt insisted I go first because it was my idea. He figured out how to load the film in the old machine and get it to record while I planned the first scene.

  The clip would be simple. Wearing a Santa hat, I was going to ride a hog, yes the dirty animal, through the pen for as long as I could. We had some huge hogs, so I figured it would be easy and not piss my dad off too much in the process.

  Had I ever ridden a hog?

  Once.

  Did it go over well?

  I was cleaning shit out of my ears for a week.

  It’s another story for another time.

  So here I am sitting on the hog’s back ready for Colt to tell me to go. Miranda and Conner have a trough of scraps and they’re steady calling the hog to come and get them.

  All of a sudden it starts screaming and dashes for the food. I slip off within a second of sitting down and land in a huge puddle of muddy water.

  That’s not the best part though. It’s not even about me.

  Miranda was wearing a skirt and tights. Her hair was in two blonde pigtails. Conner got scared of the pig and let go of the trough. Miranda was cornered and suddenly tackled by this huge animal three times her size. All the hog wanted was the scraps, but it shoved the trough and Miranda down in the shit filled pen. She screamed and cried, but we were all laughing too hard to help her.

  She ran into the hous
e to tattle, so we went to the next location to hide and proceed with our flick.

  The parents never came looking, and to this day Miranda swears she didn’t tell.

  The next scene was of Colt. We were in the barn in the hayloft. We’d thrown all the blankets on the couch below and he was going to jump down on top of it.

  I filmed while Conner stayed below watching. Colt dove down and landed on the couch, but it happened with a loud crack. Like slow motion, the back of the couch separated from the front.

  We all rushed down and stood there staring. Then we butted a table up against it to keep it together and ran out of there as fast as we could.

  Knowing we were really in deep shit, we decided to stay off farm animals and furniture.

  We made Conner write Merry Christmas on the barn in dog crap. We recorded him puking. He still gags when we bring it up.

  Colt recorded me singing while mooning the camera the whole time.

  We lit a pile of trash on fire and ran around shirtless in the freezing cold.

  Then we put Vaseline on the front door of the house and waited for people to try to open it.

  We paid Conner five bucks to shit in the top of the toilet tank in the barn bathroom. Then pinky promised never to tell who did it.

  We only showed the aftermath of the flush with a lot of laughter from the three of us.

  Just as we were about to do another scene, we heard someone calling for us. We hadn’t even gotten a chance to watch it over.

  It’s not like we expected to be Spielberg. We were kids for Christ sakes.

  Fast forward to Christmas night. We’d just finished dinner and the adults retreated outside the barn to set up the projector. Colt volunteered to get the movie going. We slipped our movie in place of the one they’d picked to watch that year.

  Then we sat back and eagerly awaited the reveal.

  Ten seconds into the movie we knew we were going to be punished. I don’t know why, but my mom of all people convinced my Dad to let it play, probably because they wanted all the evidence before the smack down.

  The upper decker finished it off, and as one of the adults hit the flood lights, the remainder of the original 4H video started to play.

  Except it wasn’t a 4H video. It was a hardcore 1970’s porno. Imagine our surprise when naked women with full bushes and men with thick stashes were involved in a group orgy.

  We only saw a minute of it before someone yanked the cord out of the wall.

  We still don’t know what happened or who it was in the video. The kids were banished from the barn and went to bed.

  If you ask me, I think it was my grandparents. Dad has never admitted it. I tried to find it when I was first married to show Miranda again, because she could barely remember. All traces of it existing are gone.

  They are taking it to their graves.

  Perverts!

  The clock says it’s three in the morning. After rubbing the crust from the corner of my eyes, I scan the dark room knowing nothing is moving. Beside me, Miranda has this smooth, low-humming snore. It’s actually cute, nothing like how loud I can get. I’d deny it if she hadn’t recorded me and played it back as proof.

  Maybe I’m different from other people, but when an idea pops in my head I need to pursue it immediately or I’ll forget.

  First, I need to share my thoughts with my wife to get her approval. Writing about some topics could be off limits, especially when I’m leaving this for my children and the rest of the family after I’m gone.

  She’s going to be irritated that I’ve woken her, so I have to do it gracefully. At first I drag my finger through a patch of hair that’s blocking half of her face. Her nose scrunches, but she’s doesn’t stir. Then I decide to just go with it even if she slaps me. I take a piece of her hair and use the end to tickle her nose. Her hand comes up and swats it away. It’s impossible to keep from laughing, so I turn my head to prevent from being loud.

  Repeating the same process, her hair tickling the right nostril, she rolls over with her face in the pillow. This time I have to change up the strategy of my plan. I take another lock of hair and shove it into her ear, circling it around. She snorts in her sleep and mumbles something that makes no sense in the English language.

  One thing my wife hates is a wet willy. Drawing up the saliva in my mouth, I bring my face down close to her ear, but hesitate. Preparing for the repercussions needs to be well thought out, or else I’ll end up with a sore jaw. Even at her age, I know better than to mess with my wife without paybacks. She’s the only person who can handle me.

  Throwing caution to the wind, because I’m going to forget the whole point to waking her up if I don’t do it soon, I bring my tongue down and lick up her entire cheek. Before I’m able to pull back, her eyes fleet open. I’ve awaken the monster and she’s about to unleash the kraken on my ass.

  My hands go up in the air and I back away before she’s able to strangle me. She’s wiping her wet face when our eyes meet. “Ty, what the hell?”

  She swats me and I back away with a chuckle. “I need to tell you something, babe. You wouldn’t wake up.”

  “What’s wrong? Is it your father?” She starts to get up in a panic, until I grab her to keep her in bed. “No. Dad’s fine. Everyone is okay.”

  “So then why did you lick me?”

  Shrugging, the grin plastered across my face shows my guilt. “You smelled good for starters.”

  She growls and throws her head back down on her pillow. “That better not be the real reason.”

  “I woke up with a memory I want to include in my Memoir.”

  “And you think you needed to wake me up? Can’t I just read it later?”

  “It’s about me and Van.”

  She sighs. I can tell she’s not in the mood the discuss this, but she gives me an answer anyway. “Ty, I don’t give a shit what you put in that book. If it lets me sleep without being licked, go for it.”

  “I thought you liked it when I licked you.”

  She places both palms over her face. “Oh, for shit’s sake. Call Van and ask her. Just let me go back to sleep, or else!”

  Her threat was heard and taken into consideration. I grab my cell off the nightstand and walk out of the room with my balls still attached. I know who wears the pants in this family, and it’s not me, at least not at the moment.

  I’m still laughing it off when the phone connects and begins to ring. I get her voicemail, but leaving a message isn’t enough. I’m not going to waste my time writing it, if she’s going to get pissed I included it.

  I dial Colt instead. He’s a light sleeper and at this hour he’s liable to think it’s an emergency and worry if he doesn’t answer.

  “Hello?” His voice is hoarse.

  “Hey, dude, what’s up?”

  “Something better be on fire or wrong for you to be calling me at this hour.”

  “I need to talk to Van?”

  “Why? Is it the kids? Your dad?”

  “No. Damn. Why does there have to be a problem?”

  “Because no one in their right mind calls people in the middle of the night to shoot the shit.”

  “Like I said, I need to talk to Van.”

  “She’s sleeping and I ain’t waking her for your ass.”

  “Fine, then you’ll just have to read about us in my memoir. Don’t get your panties in a bunch, it’s an old story about our lustful romps. Back before you stole her.”

  “I’m hanging up now, asshole.”

  In the background of the call I hear Van’s voice. “Who is it?”

  Colt answers her. “Who else is an asshole?”

  “Ty? Give me the phone. I’ll get rid of him.”

  It hurts my ego, but only for a second. The fact that they’re now both awake sort of amuses me.

  “What do you want?” Van also sounds groggy. What is with people needing time to wake up? Wasn’t the phone ringing enough to jerk them into awareness?

  “I need your permission to write a
bout a memory of us.”

  “Are you freaking kidding me? I’m hanging up now.”

  “Okay, but I’m doing it. Don’t be pissed later on.”

  “Goodbye, Ty.”

  “Hello?” The line goes silent. I look at my phone and see that the call has ended.

  “Jerks,” I say out loud.

  When I go back in the bedroom to find my laptop, Miranda has cocooned herself in all the covers, leaving none for me. It’s my punishment.

  After getting the device and my pillow, I head back out to the living room. It’s time for some coffee. This is going to be a good one.

  Santascaping

  Back before Van left me for my cousin, before her boobs were even half of what they are today, I called her mine.

  While others teased that she was built like a guy, I saw an innocent beauty in her. The truth is, she wouldn’t give anyone else the time of day because they’d made fun of her or pissed her off at some point. I, on the other hand, was always around to lift her spirits. It wasn’t until middle school that I realized she would be my ultimate conquest. It took a long time for her to say yes to me, and even when she did, it wasn’t like she ripped off her clothes and gave me her V card.

  Nope. That took a whole lot of wet dreams, cold showers, and even more begging. Oh, and the dry humping. As embarrassing as it was for me, Van never mentioned knowing half the time I’d come in my pants and had to sit in it until our night was over. My poor mother is the one who got the shit end of it. She had to wash those sticky, dried up cum drawers of mine. I watched this show one time about the world’s dirtiest jobs. Cleaning up after someone else’s sex juice has to top that.

  Don’t get me started on what my twin boys did when they were in their teens. That’s a whole other story I’ll get to later. Just a hint, it involves a teddy bear and lots of odd socks.

  To be honest, I’m glad Van made me wait for sex. I’m not known for being the best boyfriend to her, but her first time was epic. At least, that’s how I see it. We lit candles and shared our feelings. I knew if I screwed up she’d back out and after months of blue balls, I was willing to be anything she wanted me to be.