The Story of My Life..........So Far

A few years ago my classmates and I were asked to supply a short accounting of our lives for a class reunion 'keepsake booklet'. Hahahahahaha....yeah, right. Knowing that the person in charge of this project was really more interested in measuring our social status against her own, I wrote this summary and sent it in. It didn't make it into the booklet. That's okay. I didn't make it to the reunion, either. hahahahaha

I was born under the Jesus Saves sign that hung above the door of the East Side Rescue Mission in Flint, Michigan. Soon afterward, my mother was dragged to the gutter and shot for giving birth to a child with stuck out ears and also for leaving a stain on the sidewalk. My father, not wanting to succumb to a similar fate, escaped on a motor scooter to the badlands of Montana where he lived the remainder of his life disguised as a rodeo clown.

As for myself, I was not tightly wrapped, so I escaped my swaddling clothes, rolling downhill until I fell into the Flint River where I was buoyed up by the toxic fumes of the runoff released by the downtown General Motors plant up river. I traveled several miles downstream in this fashion, eventually coming to rest upon a raft made of empty beer cans held together by old fishing line and carp guts.

I was pulled from the water by a group of fishermen who knew the value of empty beer cans which are worth a dime apiece. Ten of them will cover the cost of a dozen fishing worms. I soon realized men were willing to purchase fishing worms rather than dig for them themselves because they are usually too busy emptying beer cans in order to throw them in the river.

So, I supported myself by selling red wigglers.

I made a comfortable living until I attained the age of seventeen when it was discovered by the fishermen that I was an actual girl. I learned that while men were silly enough to buy a dozen worms for a dollar, they were even more willing to buy other things from me at twice the price plus I didn't have to dig in the ground and get dirty.

While I was pondering this career change, a handsome man rode up in a white Dodge Charger.

“Oh, wow,” I said, “Are you Prince Charming?”
“Yes, I am. I know who you are, too. You are jailbait.”
“I’ll wear high heels. It will make me look older.”
“Well, okay. Hey, you look pretty clean, except for your hands.”
“I accidentally fell in the river last night. Usually, I’m a dirty girl.”
“Will you marry me?”
“I can’t sell enough red wigglers to support a husband. Do you have a job?”
“Yes. I am a mechanic. I can fix anything that isn’t broken.”
“Well, okay, I'll marry you. Where did that kid come from?”
“I don't know, but look, there's another one.”
“These kids sure do eat a lot.”
“Yes, and I expect one day they will need clothes, too. And we can't live under the overpass forever.”
“I have a house in the country. Let’s go live there. I will plant flowers and you can sit in the shed every weekend and drink beer and make sawdust with expensive power tools.”
“Hey. Where did those kids go?”
“I don't know, but it sure got quiet all of a sudden.”
“Ah! Who are you? You sorta remind me of a dirty girl I once knew.”
“Ah! Who said that? Oh, it’s you, the Fartist formerly known as Prince…Charming.”
“Hey, when did you get old and saggy?”
“About ten years ago. I thought you noticed.”
“No, I didn’t. According to the Husband Manual, page one, I don’t have to notice anything. Ever.”
“I hate that book. By the way, you got saggy, too.”
“I did? Where?”

THE END