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Learning to Fall: don't tell.
I don't think I could be more embarrassed or mad at my momma right now. Oh sure, if maybe she made me wear girl's clothing and sent me to school in a dress, then I'd be more upset, but that's about the only way.

Ya' see, last night when we got back from scraping and caulking and priming old plaster work and new patched stuff that Dad and Gill did between getting soused and looking at old Playboy magazines, Momma was right there ready for us, all worried that we might be hurt or something, 'cause it was way later than we should've been out. And she was worried that Terry's momma was gonna call and get upset, so it was like she had this bee in her butt and was ready to kill Dad only it wasn't Dad that she killed. It was me.

When she hugged me and was about to send Terry on his way home she smelled some beer that must've spilled on my shirt and when she did she grabbed a spatula and made me pull down my pants to spank me like I was a little kid or something and she made me do it right in front of Terry. At first I thought she was joking but then she laid into me with her hand swinging that spatula like she was up all night getting mental on chocolate the way she sometimes did when it rained all day and she didn't want to clean the bathrooms or the kitchen for the fifth time that day and like she was out of cigarettes and didn't have anything better to do than wail my butt like a designated hitter.

Like I said, at first I thought it was funny, but then it hurt so much I cried a little right in front of Terry who used to think I was the toughest friend he had, but in fact, I am the only friend he has so that might not make me so tough after all. Terry went right home and then this morning promised that he won't tell, but that his silence would cost me.







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