A little Punjabi girl with long black hair and denim coveralls, triggered this feeling of déjà vu:
“The year is almost over; I’ve hardly had time to fly my kite or make a party dress for my magic skin doll. And, doncha know the roof on my tree house still has a big hole in it. Why is it that everything I love goes away, but what I can’t stand hangs around forever? I think I’ll go to Willard’s Drugstore, and have a cherry phosphate. Sitting at the counter helps me figure out stuff.”
© jb
An excerpt from Tharon Ann
“Titties, toenails and boyfriends is all girls talk about. Yuk! I’m invited to a bunking party at horrible Kate Eldred’s house down the street. I told Aunt Lucille I don’t like sleep-overs cuz all girls talk about is titties, toenails and boyfriends, oh, and what size stupid brassier they wear. Best put a gun to my head than make me wear one of those stupid girly things. Another thing, I jus as soon eat dirt than paint my toenails red. I swear! Whenever Kate talks bout boys, her left eye twitches. First I thought she was goin blind til I figured out she was boy-crazy. Anyways, Aunt Lucille says I’m goin whether I want to or not.
This is the worst night I ever spent on earth. Theys six girls exactly like horrible Kate’n all they do is talk my brains out bout titties, toenails, and boyfriends. When I bring up the subject of baseball, they jus look at me weird-like. Next thing y’know they askin me what size brassier I wear – so I hike my t-shirt over my head’n yell out, “Look at these babies! Mosquito bites don’t need’um I’m thinkin folks say titties when they already wear brassiers, but if they don’t – they come right out’n say bosoms … or mosquito bites.
One girl says they gots titty creams that makes’um sprout like corn stalks. I already know this from an ad I saw in a funny book that says if a person rubs titty cream on they chest ever night, in no time that person will grow big ones. I’m thinking it’d be a whole lot easier to jus cut pictures of titties outta Aunt Lucille’s magazine’n glue um to my chest. But then I’d miss the bonus part; a real good exercise that comes in the mail with the titty cream. I’m supposed to stand in front of a long mirror, stretch out my hands to the side’n bend my arms back’n forth to my chest, repeatin ten times, “I must, I must, I must develop my bust.” or somethin like that. Anyways, the company who makes this stuff wants one dollar’n fifty cents plus stamps. I can sure see me askin Aunt Lowee for that kinda money, jus so I can grow titties. Ha! Ha! Anyways, I got more important stuff to do than think bout stupid stuff like titties, toenails and boyfriends. Who wants’um anyway? Bet yur bottom dollar not me! m thinking to build myself a tree house at the end of summer when I go back home to Little Rock. I’m gonna sit up there all day til school starts, drinkin lemonade’n shootin peas outta my sling shot at boys when they pass by. Grandpa Leo says I cud probly wup’um all if I got a mind to – which is good to know in case one of them tries to pull somethin. I think all this talk about titties, toenails, and boyfriends is makin boys more horrible than usual. YUK! YUK! YUK!
Mister God, please make Kate Eldred’s titties grow so big she got to be pushed through the door. I’m ashamed to talk like this but I hate her guts.”
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