talks to his teacher. “You don’t have to do this,” she tells him right before the show. But just then the doorbell rings and it is Mr. Hamster, bringing Jeffrey an old felt hat. “Who in the world was that little man?” Dar asks, closing the door. Jeffrey tries the hat on in front of the hall mirror, bending the brim first this way, then that. The hat is perfect. Showtime!
On the way into the auditorium, he sees Sean Robertson and Max Gruenwald and tells them a mean joke, meaner than they are. Why did Helen Keller have a burn on the right side of her face? — She answered the iron. — Why did Helen Keller have a burn on the left side of her face? — They called back. Sean and Max have white, startled, pimply faces. Jeffrey sweeps past them down the aisle to the front, where he is directed backstage into the greenroom. There are a dozen contestants. He goes on ninth, following Rob Acton’s band and Tiffany Bell doing acrobatics and Lydia Wang who is widely considered a child prodigy on the violin. Lydia wins, of course, but Jeffrey will take second place, and he is the one who will get a standing ovation and be hugged by the voluptuous Miss Hanratty to the envy of all as she smashes his face into her huge breasts so hard he sees stars in front of his eyes, a harbinger (word) of things to come.
Big Girl
H ow did this happen?” the woman asks me so soft I have to lean up in the chair to hear. “When did it start?” A good question. But when does anything start? How far back do you have to go? I was a big girl, now I’m a big woman. My life has been different because of it. Many avenues of opportunity are closed off to a big girl. You can’t be a majorette, for instance. You can’t be a cheerleader. You dress and undress in the shower stall at gym class. You stand in the back for group pictures. If you ever get elected to anything, it’s always treasurer. I never had a date in high school. Boys didn’t even notice my big breasts because I was big all over, like the Pillsbury Doughboy, remember him? On the packages of pizza mix and cake mix? I have opened a number of those packages in my time, I might as well admit it. Obviously I’m not a picky eater. Everybody has to be something, I reckon, and I’m a great cook. I tell you that in all honesty. I’m known far and wide for my cakes, my three-cheese lasagna, my chicken and biscuits, and especially my chocolate pecan pie — Billy’s favorite.
Used to be his favorite, I should say! During the first six years of our marriage, Billy gained forty pounds, which he complained about, but he didn’t really mean it. He needed to beef up some.He looked better than ever, in my opinion. Maybe I should have paid more attention last spring when he went out and bought that diet stuff at the Whole Earth Store in the mall and said he was going to get back in shape, but I just thought, isn’t that nice? A man has got to do something, after all, even a man that has got hurt and laid off, and they say walking is good for anybody, though it makes me short of breath, personally. I worked overtime while Billy walked. He walked all summer long.
It never occurred to me to wonder if he had a destination.
“Mrs. Sims, when did you start doing this?” the woman asks again. Her name tag says “Lois Rubin.” She’s one of those skinny, flat-chested women who wear turtleshell glasses and pull their hair straight back with a barrette and go around writing on clipboards. She’s not from around here. I bet she grew up rich. She’s rich now, big square-cut diamond ring plus a nice chip-diamond wedding band on her left hand. She’s just another do-good rich lady down here at the jailhouse occupying herself while her surgeon husband screws a nurse. Oh Lord! Now where did that come from? As a big girl, I’m used to hanging back and not just saying whatever pops into my head, the way I keep doing ever since they brought me in here. I swear, I don’t know what has got into
On the way into the auditorium, he sees Sean Robertson and Max Gruenwald and tells them a mean joke, meaner than they are. Why did Helen Keller have a burn on the right side of her face? — She answered the iron. — Why did Helen Keller have a burn on the left side of her face? — They called back. Sean and Max have white, startled, pimply faces. Jeffrey sweeps past them down the aisle to the front, where he is directed backstage into the greenroom. There are a dozen contestants. He goes on ninth, following Rob Acton’s band and Tiffany Bell doing acrobatics and Lydia Wang who is widely considered a child prodigy on the violin. Lydia wins, of course, but Jeffrey will take second place, and he is the one who will get a standing ovation and be hugged by the voluptuous Miss Hanratty to the envy of all as she smashes his face into her huge breasts so hard he sees stars in front of his eyes, a harbinger (word) of things to come.
Big Girl
H ow did this happen?” the woman asks me so soft I have to lean up in the chair to hear. “When did it start?” A good question. But when does anything start? How far back do you have to go? I was a big girl, now I’m a big woman. My life has been different because of it. Many avenues of opportunity are closed off to a big girl. You can’t be a majorette, for instance. You can’t be a cheerleader. You dress and undress in the shower stall at gym class. You stand in the back for group pictures. If you ever get elected to anything, it’s always treasurer. I never had a date in high school. Boys didn’t even notice my big breasts because I was big all over, like the Pillsbury Doughboy, remember him? On the packages of pizza mix and cake mix? I have opened a number of those packages in my time, I might as well admit it. Obviously I’m not a picky eater. Everybody has to be something, I reckon, and I’m a great cook. I tell you that in all honesty. I’m known far and wide for my cakes, my three-cheese lasagna, my chicken and biscuits, and especially my chocolate pecan pie — Billy’s favorite.
Used to be his favorite, I should say! During the first six years of our marriage, Billy gained forty pounds, which he complained about, but he didn’t really mean it. He needed to beef up some.He looked better than ever, in my opinion. Maybe I should have paid more attention last spring when he went out and bought that diet stuff at the Whole Earth Store in the mall and said he was going to get back in shape, but I just thought, isn’t that nice? A man has got to do something, after all, even a man that has got hurt and laid off, and they say walking is good for anybody, though it makes me short of breath, personally. I worked overtime while Billy walked. He walked all summer long.
It never occurred to me to wonder if he had a destination.
“Mrs. Sims, when did you start doing this?” the woman asks again. Her name tag says “Lois Rubin.” She’s one of those skinny, flat-chested women who wear turtleshell glasses and pull their hair straight back with a barrette and go around writing on clipboards. She’s not from around here. I bet she grew up rich. She’s rich now, big square-cut diamond ring plus a nice chip-diamond wedding band on her left hand. She’s just another do-good rich lady down here at the jailhouse occupying herself while her surgeon husband screws a nurse. Oh Lord! Now where did that come from? As a big girl, I’m used to hanging back and not just saying whatever pops into my head, the way I keep doing ever since they brought me in here. I swear, I don’t know what has got into
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