Excerpt from "You Can't Take the Bronx Out of the Boy"

A rough draft of a story from "You Can't Take the Bronx Out of the Boy" This part of the book comes after several pages on my dad. Please read this and let me know if I need to make any changes (typos, grammer, etc.). Remember the book is being written from Cameron's perspective.

"...You see Grandma, I left out all the bad stuff my dad told me about grandpa – I didn’t mention anything about Grandpa walking around the house in his boxer shorts while friends were over or the awful smell that lingered in the house after he spent hours in the bathroom with the newspaper, and I didn’t even mention the poo story. What’s the poo story? You know…the poo story…the story about how grandpa traumatized my dad and helped make him a neurotic, schizophrenic…I mean…a confused young man. Ok, I guess I’ll have to tell the story but it’s your fault - I didn’t want to tell it.

The poo episode happened one day when Aunt Chris and my dad were building a fort in the woods behind their house. There was a large wooden board in the back yard and my dad wanted to use it for the roof of their fort. There were only two concerns with using the board; first, it was theoretically their dads and so they had to ask his permission before they used it (they were raised to respect their parents), and secondly, Tipper dropped a load on the board one afternoon – in other words there was poo on it. As they worked on their fort Grandma Hand stepped out on the front porch and called, “Chris, Kenny, it’s time for dinner!” When they heard their mother calling them for dinner they dropped what they were doing and ran into the house. They ran upstairs into the bathroom, washed their hands, and came running down the stairs excited to tell their parents about the fort they were building. This night was a special night because Grandpa came home from work early and he was able to eat dinner with them. Most nights Grandpa wasn’t home for dinner and so the kids and Grandma ate dinner in the kitchen but when Grandpa was home they ate in the dining room and they used their best china.

That night Grandma made spaghetti and meatballs for the kids – a meal they all loved - she made liver, onions, and bacon for Grandpa and herself. As soon as Grandpa sat down at the dinner table my dad and Aunt Chris began to tell him about their great fort, “Dad, it’s great you have to come and see it – you’ll be so proud of us. We found a lot of wood and nails in the woods, we used them to build our fort, and we’re already almost done with it.” Grandpa must have had a long day at work because he wasn’t his normal funny, talkative self but the kids didn’t really notice – they were too busy telling him about their fort. He just said, “That’s good kids.” My dad continued on, “Dad, we can be done with our fort by tomorrow but we need a roof. There’s a big piece of wood in the back yard and before we use it we thought we should ask you first.” My dad was so proud of himself for being so responsible – he didn’t just take the board, he asked for it first. What a well mannered boy he was! He continued on, “So can we use it dad, can we use it? The only thing that’s wrong with it is it has some poo on it.” Oh my gosh, this was the wrong thing to say. Grandpa threw his fork down, pushed his chair away from the table and screamed, “I can’t believe it! I can’t believe you are talking about poo at the dinner table! How can I eat my dinner with you talking about poo?” He got up and stormed away from the dining room table!

My dad sat there dumbstruck with his eyes wide open, his chin quivering, and his stomach in a knot. He thought to himself, “I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to talk about poo, I talk about it all the time. ‘Mom, I have to go poo.’, ‘Mom, my stomach hurts I just went loose poo.’ ‘Ma, Patricia went poo – she needs her diaper changed.’ ‘Mom, I wiped my bottom but my finger went through the toilet paper and I have poo on my finger’. He talked about poo more than he talked about food – he didn’t know poo was bad – how could something with such a nice name be so bad? The name was so nice they sometimes said it twice – they referred to it as poo poo – why couldn't he use this word at the dinner table? After this episode my dad became extremely self conscience and second guessed everything he said, I mean, he didn’t know what subjects were ok and what subjects were taboo? To be 100% sure he didn’t upset his father again he immediately took all other bodily functions out of his vocabulary – he no longer talked about pee, snots, boogers, puking, spitting, and farting? He considered taking other words out of his vocabulary like, underwear, bras, panty liners, and toilet paper – but he wasn’t sure – oh the pain he must have felt! To make things worse he was reminded of this horrible experience everyday – in the morning after the paperwork was done, he turned around, flushed, and watched his poo twirl down the toilet bowl…with his tears following close behind...."

Now this is fine literature! This will be required reading in high school along with Huckleberry Finn and War and Peace...Now, go get a tissue ;-)