Read Online Conceived Without Sin by Bud Macfarlane - Free Book Online
Authors: Bud Macfarlane
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of course, and I didn't get an allowance ever again. He never held it over my head, though. I guess if you're a screw-up, you don't mind it as much in others, especially the onesyou love.
"There was an article in the Asbury Park Press the next day. School started a couple of weeks later, and all the kids in school knew about it. The whole town must have been talking about it. The article had a lot of stuff about the dock and the boats. No mention was made of the Mary in the woods.
"Anyway, I was a hero. The other kids thought it was cool. Even the disapproving looks fromthe teachers had a kind of jealous 'I wish I could cut a bunch of things down' quality to them. Maybe I imagined that. I wasn't proud of myself, but I enjoyed the attention. You can guess the rest. Butch Hobbs called me Buzz that first day back to school and it stuck. Even Dad called me Buzz.
"So that's why they call me Buzz. I earned it. I cut things down. What do you think, Donna?"
"What doI think? I'm sorry," Donna replied. "I missed the part after you said you lived in Waretown. Could you start over?"
Sam laughed. Buzz laughed even harder. The omelettes were long gone. It was coffee time. Buzz got up to get it.
Donna spoke up. "Why don't we all tell a story about when we were kids? I remember hearing on the radio once that your first memories can tell you a lot about your personality."
Sam was quite uncomfortable with the suggestion.
Buzz brought the coffee to the table, and noticed Sam's discomfort. He decided to cut down that discomfort by putting him on the spot.
"Why don't you start, Sam?" Buzz suggested…
Chapter Three
1
Something about Buzz's kitchen felt old-fashioned. There was no microwave oven or electric can opener. Not one pot hanging on the metal hooks above the stove had a teflon coating. The building was old, and the kitchen had a vague smell, barely detectable, from decades of fried eggs and bacon.
It was a place for coffee and conversation, not a place for eating fast and rushing off.
They sat around an old formica table with a stainless steel trim edge. After some prodding, Sam began his story. Buzz lit a cigarette and was surprised when Donna asked to bum one. Buzz put cream in Sam's coffee. Sam took a sip and a deep breath. He wasn't sure what he was going to say, then the Red Memory came to him…
"…three years old or so. I was in the backyard with a friend. I was standingon the picnic table. We had a large yard in a development. I don't remember many details. My friend from next door, Timmy Goldblum, was making something with loose bricks next to the picnic table. I don't know where they came from. I remember that the grass was really green. It must have been sod and my parents had just had the house built. It was after dinner, but the sun was still out because itwas summer.
"Timmy noticed me and told me not to jump off the picnic table. I remember that I wasn't planning on jumping off the table until he told me not to. Then, I just had to jump.
"So I jumped, and I was proud of jumping over Tim and the bricks until I landed, head first, into a brick which I hadn't seen beyond Tim's pile. I cut my forehead up pretty bad, and started to bleed. I've heardthat head wounds bleed a lot. It took twelve stitches, and you can still see a scar if you look closely.
"'What a schmuck!' Timmy cried out, disgusted, and even now, I can remember he was excited. Don't ask me to translate what schmuck means in Yiddish.
"I climbed to my feet, and looked up at the house. It was red. The grass was purple. The Thunderbird in the driveway wasn't beige anymore. Itwas a bright red!
"Timmy was trying to hold my hand, but I wouldn't let him. I was crying for my mom, running faster and faster toward the house. I knew I was in trouble, but I was afraid that I was dying. I was confused, too. And happy about the red. Of course, I was too young to realize that the blood coming off my forehead had gotten into my eyes and tinted everything.
"My
"There was an article in the Asbury Park Press the next day. School started a couple of weeks later, and all the kids in school knew about it. The whole town must have been talking about it. The article had a lot of stuff about the dock and the boats. No mention was made of the Mary in the woods.
"Anyway, I was a hero. The other kids thought it was cool. Even the disapproving looks fromthe teachers had a kind of jealous 'I wish I could cut a bunch of things down' quality to them. Maybe I imagined that. I wasn't proud of myself, but I enjoyed the attention. You can guess the rest. Butch Hobbs called me Buzz that first day back to school and it stuck. Even Dad called me Buzz.
"So that's why they call me Buzz. I earned it. I cut things down. What do you think, Donna?"
"What doI think? I'm sorry," Donna replied. "I missed the part after you said you lived in Waretown. Could you start over?"
Sam laughed. Buzz laughed even harder. The omelettes were long gone. It was coffee time. Buzz got up to get it.
Donna spoke up. "Why don't we all tell a story about when we were kids? I remember hearing on the radio once that your first memories can tell you a lot about your personality."
Sam was quite uncomfortable with the suggestion.
Buzz brought the coffee to the table, and noticed Sam's discomfort. He decided to cut down that discomfort by putting him on the spot.
"Why don't you start, Sam?" Buzz suggested…
Chapter Three
1
Something about Buzz's kitchen felt old-fashioned. There was no microwave oven or electric can opener. Not one pot hanging on the metal hooks above the stove had a teflon coating. The building was old, and the kitchen had a vague smell, barely detectable, from decades of fried eggs and bacon.
It was a place for coffee and conversation, not a place for eating fast and rushing off.
They sat around an old formica table with a stainless steel trim edge. After some prodding, Sam began his story. Buzz lit a cigarette and was surprised when Donna asked to bum one. Buzz put cream in Sam's coffee. Sam took a sip and a deep breath. He wasn't sure what he was going to say, then the Red Memory came to him…
"…three years old or so. I was in the backyard with a friend. I was standingon the picnic table. We had a large yard in a development. I don't remember many details. My friend from next door, Timmy Goldblum, was making something with loose bricks next to the picnic table. I don't know where they came from. I remember that the grass was really green. It must have been sod and my parents had just had the house built. It was after dinner, but the sun was still out because itwas summer.
"Timmy noticed me and told me not to jump off the picnic table. I remember that I wasn't planning on jumping off the table until he told me not to. Then, I just had to jump.
"So I jumped, and I was proud of jumping over Tim and the bricks until I landed, head first, into a brick which I hadn't seen beyond Tim's pile. I cut my forehead up pretty bad, and started to bleed. I've heardthat head wounds bleed a lot. It took twelve stitches, and you can still see a scar if you look closely.
"'What a schmuck!' Timmy cried out, disgusted, and even now, I can remember he was excited. Don't ask me to translate what schmuck means in Yiddish.
"I climbed to my feet, and looked up at the house. It was red. The grass was purple. The Thunderbird in the driveway wasn't beige anymore. Itwas a bright red!
"Timmy was trying to hold my hand, but I wouldn't let him. I was crying for my mom, running faster and faster toward the house. I knew I was in trouble, but I was afraid that I was dying. I was confused, too. And happy about the red. Of course, I was too young to realize that the blood coming off my forehead had gotten into my eyes and tinted everything.
"My
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