Life Lessons

It’s not my fault thought little Billy in the back of his dad’s ‘04 Mustang
as they drive home from the parent teacher meeting. The soft leather
interior seemed to melt around him, and hug him.  He really needed to be
hugged right now.  His dad still laughing hysterically in the front seat,
thought the whole thing was funny as hell.  Wiping a tear from his eye he
says, “Well, I think we should keep this between us.  And because I feel
partly responsible buddy, I ‘m only gonna ground you for the rest of the
day.”
But it’s not my fault!
“I know.  But you should know better Billy” replies his dad.
Know better than what? Billy thought he was always supposed to tell the
truth, and that’s exactly what he said.  After all, he got the information
from daddy, and daddy would never lie to him.
“All right little buddy,” says his dad in between laughs “we’re home.
Remember, not a word of this to your mom”.
Ok.
The two walk through the messy garage Billy’s dad had promised to his mom to
clean up so many times but “never got around to it”.  Walking past the
massive big red tool set that daddy used to work on his favorite car; a
cherry red ‘65 Mustang 500GT.  His dad turns around as they reach the white
imitation wood door and says “I’m sorry little buddy.  I guess I shouldn’t
have told you what I did.  And I wouldn’t have if I knew what you were
actually asking.  But anyways...like I said, most of this is my fault, so
let’s not talk about this around your mom ok?”
Ok.
“Good boy.”
Billy walked back to his room and his dad went back to his study.  Making
his way slowly up the stairway, Billy tried to understand why he was in
trouble.  It’s not my fault...daddy said so himself.  Why is Mrs. Dawson
blaming me?  His feet stomping on the stairs as he went up.  The white walls
did nothing to calm his mood.  Opening his door, he dropped his backpack on
the ground by his bunk bed as he entered.
Well at least there’s no homework today.
He closes the door and goes to sit at his own desk just like what daddy’s
probably doing right now.  The solid non-laminated “real wood” desk that
always felt smooth and cool to the touch. Sitting in his weirdly angled
black plastic chair that was guaranteed to help him with his “pasture”.
Billy looked around his room.  At the cowboys and Indians wallpaper.
Woody’s a cowboy.  At his big plastic toy chest.  Woody’s in the toy chest.
At his bunk bed.  The bottom bunk is for sitting.  The top is for sleeping.
  Over to the his dresser with all his clothes.  Daddy had made it for him a
long time ago.  The various toys and radio and CD’s on top of it.  And back
to the desk in front of him; ordered online on Target, which Billy had
helped daddy assemble.  It’s not my fault...
Billy decides to climb up to the top bunk where one of his best friends was
waiting.  Up to his bed with the Toy Story sheets.
Buzz!  Billy climbs over to him, grabs him, and lays down on his bed gazing
up at the ceiling.  Holding Buzz in his arms as he looks up at the ceiling.
Daddy had painted the ceiling.  Daddy said it was his “Sister Chapel”.  Up
at the ceiling with all the stars and “constipations.”  It’s not my fault
Buzz cries Billy holding the Space Ranger tight in his arms.  Stupid Jake...
this is all his fault.  It had all started yesterday...
Everybody was playing at indoor recess because it was raining outside.
Indoor recess was always so boring.  Who wants to play board games like
Monopoly or Sorry if they could be out playing soccer on the wet muddy
soccer fields?  Now that was fun.  Ok...maybe the girls wouldn’t like
it...girls ruined everything.  It’s because of girls that we have to get
cootie shots.  And Jake said that it’s also because of girls that Santa
Clause, and the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy stop visiting you after
you grow to 10.
Stupid girls.  I wish there were no girls on “erf”.  It would be a better
planet without them.
Anyways, Jake told Billy and his friends that he was his family had gotten a
new pussy and that she was the fuzziest, cutest thing ever.  When Billy
asked what a pussy was, Jake made fun of him and said his mama was a pussy.
And that Billy was a pussy for not knowing.
Of course I know, Billy said back...I was just making sure you knew.
“Oh yeah what is it then?  What does it look like?”
....
“Ha, see? You don’t know. Stupid.”
I’ll tell you tomorrow.
“Yeah right dummy.”
I will, I promise.
“Fine then I’m gonna ask you in front of the whole class tomorrow so you
better know.”
Fine, I will!
Billy didn’t really know though so that night he went back and asked his
dad.
Daddy?
“Yeah little buddy.”
What’s a pussy?
“W-w-w-what?”
I said what’s a pussy?
“Billy, you’re not even in high school yet...why do you.... (I swear...kids
are growing up faster and faster. Jeez)... Do u really need know?”
Yes.
“Ok...well a pussy is...well it’s where...you know how you have your little
pee pee?”
Uh huh.
“Well, girls like mommy don’t have that...instead they have a pussy.”
Oh ok.  Thanks daddy.
His dad breathed a sigh of relief.  “Sure thing little buddy.  Anything
else?”
Oh yeah, what does a pussy look like?
“(I had to ask...I could have left  well enough alone but nooo...dammit...)
well, the...how can I...well the pussy looks different before and after
sex.”
Sex?
“Yes sex.”
What’s sex?
“Alright pick one, what do u wanna know about sex or pussy cuz I’m only
explaining one.”
Ok I’m sorry, tell me about the pussy.
“Ok.  Well, before sex...a pussy is like a beautiful rose beginning to
blossom.”
Ooooh.  And after sex?
“Well Billy...little buddy...have you ever seen a bulldog eating
mayonnaise?”