Swearing: A Bedtime Story - 2

By John Grochalski

"Christ! That's taking the whole damned novel out of its historical context!"

"What's context?"

I sighed and calmed down. "Forget it, kid. I'll buy you the Huck Finn book and your mommy can keep buying you books by Medusa."

The kid was quiet for a second or two. "Uncle Ray, you smell like beer," he finally said.

"Well, that's because I just drank a beer," I answered.

"You drank beer all day. And remember when we got the pizza and we waited in that place and that man and woman were kissing?"

"Yeah I remember. I wish you'd forget."

"You drank a beer and watched them."

"Free entertainment."

"Beer tastes yucky," Junior said.

"Oh yeah? Are you some kinda expert or something?"

"Daddy says it's yucky. He says beer will make you fat."

I looked down at the spare tire hanging over my pants. Then I caught the sag of my eyes in a mirror on the wall. "Sometimes you're daddy is a smart man, kiddo. Beer will make you fat. Don't ever drink it."

"I won't," Junior said, emphatically. "Maybe you shouldn't too."

"I'll try." I said. "Now what're we going to do about a story?"

Junior shrugged. "Dunno. Those books are all the ones I have. Uncle Ray, why don't you tell me a story?"

I thought for a second. I didn't have any good stories because nothing even happened to me. The only tales I could tell were about bars and other drunkards, losing a lot of jobs and the occasional loose woman. I thought harder. I really wanted to find a tale and impress the kid, you know? Knock his socks off. But I had nothing. The most I could do was tell the kid about a fantasy I had of killing my boss. But then I'd be stuck with Junior and his nightmares for the rest of the night. No good. Then I thought about my pop… and football. The perfect story came to me.

"I have a story," I announced.

Junior clapped. "Yeah! What's it about?"

"Do you like football?"

"I do. I watch the big game with daddy every Sunday. And next year I'm going to join the peewee leagues… if I get bigger. But right now we play football in the yard."

"Good," I said. "Well I have a story about football. It's about your daddy and me, and grandpap."

"Grandpap? Really?"

"Sure."

Junior smiled and snuggled into his sheets. "I love grandpap!"

"I know you do. You ready for the story?"

"Alright. Anyway this one time your dad and I were playing football in the yard. We were little kids. I was twelve and your dad was nine. He was the running back and I was on the defense." I thought for a second. "I think Joey Dipesto was there too. He was the linebacker or something, I…" "Uncle Joey?" Junior asked.

"Is that what you call him?"

"Yeah. Daddy says Uncle Joey is like a brother, but not quite."

"Sure he is," I said.

"Okay. So it was me and Uncle Joey playing on defense. You daddy was playing running back. He was running in slow motion and we were tackling him in slow motion. We were trying to do it like those clip shows that come on before the big game. Anyway this one play your dad came straight on and rolled over my back. He grabbed my ankles and I tripped and fell on top of him. Well I guess your daddy didn't like my clumsiness very much and he got mad. When I stood back up, he threw the football at me. The damn thing cracked me right in my ear. It hurt like hell, kiddo. I grabbed the football and tossed it right back at your daddy, but I missed him. But it didn't matter because he started to cry.

Junior's eyes widened. "Did you hurt him, Uncle Ray?"

"The ball came nowhere near your daddy. I think maybe he was playing fake hurt."

"How do you know?"

"Well…because he was smiling at me while he cried."

Junior frowned. "Uncle Ray, this isn't a very good story. Could we read the Medusa book?"

"Sure kid, in a minute. I guess this isn't a very good story. But I want you to hear the end of it. Do you want to hear the end?"

"I guess."

"That-a boy, Junior! So your daddy was on the ground pretending to cry, and I was standing over him. Uncle Joey was probably standing off to the side. The next thing I know the backdoor opens and out comes your grandpap, charging like a bull. All two hundred and fifty pounds of him. Well, your grandpap came charging out of the house. I'd never seen him move so fast. He ran right over to where your daddy, Uncle Joey, and me were standing. He didn't stop. Your grandpap didn't stop running until he smacked right into me. He hit me so damn hard I flew across the yard and landed with a thud. I saw stars. I lost my breath and it felt like I was dying. Then grandpap said, "How does it feel to have someone smack you around?" I couldn't answer him. I just lay there wheezing and crying until the old man went back inside the house. He didn't even check on your goddamned daddy. Grandpap just went back inside the house."

"Why?" Junior asked. He looked a little scared.

"The big game was on and I guess grandpap didn't want to miss any more of it."

"What did daddy do?"

"He walked over to me. Then he and Uncle Joey started to laugh. They thought I looked real funny on the ground, like it was a big joke. Pretty funny, huh?"

"I don't think so, Uncle Ray," Junior said. "I think grandpap was mean to do a thing like that."

"Me too. And thanks for saying it," I said.

"I still don't think it was a good story, though."

"You know what? Neither do I. Let's get that Medusa book."

So I read to the kid. I read him the whole Medusa book. Then I read the book by the actor, and then the one by the comedian, and then the one by the jock. The kid liked that one. It was a better story about football. I liked it too. Still, I didn't think Junior would ever go to sleep. Finally I opened one of those Harry Potter books, the first one, and began reading all about poor Harry and his miserable orphaned life. This must've bored Junior because he fell right to sleep. I kept reading. I read until Harry Potter found out he was a wizard and then got to go to school and have friends. It was too much to believe.

I got up off the bed and put the book away. I tucked Junior in. The kid looked like a little angel. I shut off the lamp and on the way out of the room I stopped by Junior's desk. I took out my wallet and put a dollar on the desk. I gave him fifty cents for the two swear words I said and another for the bad story. I made a note to buy the kid Huck Finn. Then I shut the door, leaving a little bit of light, and went downstairs to clean up the beer bottles before his parents got home and started badgering me about looking for a job.

© John Grochalski 2009

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