Awfuls

Jamey Awful’s Birthday Party Adventures: Tales of the Mean Turkey and Bugeater

Awfuls chasing turey
Awfuls chasing turkey

 

Awfuls in Pigpen
Awfuls in Pigpen

(Continuation of story of Jamey Awful’s birthday party, without a doubt, the most fun I ever had in my life.  If he gave a party today, I’d be there!)

Jamey’s birthday party was incredible. There was no sappy “Pin the Tail on the Donkey”, no party hats, just fun, fun, fun. Mama Awful didn’t concern herself with us, leaving us on our own.  Of course, we ran wild, ripping through mud puddles, jumping out the barn loft, and robbing chicken nests.  We splatted eggs against the side of the barn and climbed into fig trees breaking off a branch or two. My sandals were long gone and the skirt of my dress ripped from the waist band.  The sash ties were mud-caked.  From the look on Mother’s face when she walked over to get me, I could see she was not happy, not even going in for coffee like she usually did at neighbor lady’s houses. “I ought to tear you up for running wild like that, losing your shoes and tearing up your new dress.”


“But Mama, we was just playing.  We didn’t mess up nothing in the house!” I protested.  I usually got in trouble for meddling with people’s whatnots when we went to visit, a terrible wrong.

“ Don’t dispute my word!” she hissed through clenched teeth.  “”You’re never going over there again!”  My heart fell.  Surely she didn’t mean it!

I figured Mother would forget after a few days, but no……….No visits to the Awfuls. If they noticed they were being snubbed you couldn’t tell. We were always ready to play with them if they rambled through our yard on the way to bigger and better things. During this time Daddy brought home a huge, mean turkey, to fatten for Thanksgiving. He was a monster jumping, spurring,  and flogging us with when we had to feed the chickens and gather eggs. He even got bolder and started flying over the fence to attack us in our own territory. We stayed as far away as we could, but he ambushed us if he caught us off guard.

My personal favorite among the Awfuls was Junior who enjoyed a special claim to fame. He ate bugs and other strange items. He ate his first bug on a dare and liked it, saying it tasted like peanuts. From that time forward, he was generally known as Bugeater. The kids in the neighborhood took pride in finding the biggest, strangest bugs for him to eat. Bugeater did have standards, refusing to eat worms.

Before too many days, we were lucky enough to have Jamey, Bugeater, and Davey pay us a call. “Where’s that bad turkey?  I wanta see it.” demanded Jamey.  

“He’s out in the chicken yard but you better leave him alone! He’s real mean!”  I pointed out.  I watched them head for the chicken yard, wanting no part of that turkey.

Sure enough, that old devil turkey flew at them, ready to do battle. They screamed and ran like crazy, but not in the cowardly way we had. “Whoo whoo!  Turn turkey run!” they shrieked, chasing him all over the chicken yard, flogging him with their caps and sticks.  The terrorized turkey finally escaped up into the trees and stayed there till they sauntered off.  

“That ol’turkey ain’t so bad,” Jamey said as they banged the gate shut on the way out.

”Wait, where are you going?  Don’t you want to play?”  I liked them even better now.

”Nah, We’re going crawfishing over in Donnie Parker’s ditch.”  Jamey replied, ruining my day.

That turkey’s spirit was broken.  He never bothered us again. I liked those kids even better than ever after that.

I gave Mother a little time to forget before asking to go to the Awfuls. One golden day, she had a headache and wanted to rest on the sofa until her head felt better. We played quietly for a few minutes till she went to sleep. “Mother, can I go play with the Awful’s?” I whispered.  She didn’t say no, so off I went.

The Awfuls had the best place in the neighborhood. Overgrown bushes tangled into the fence so the yard was a jungle, a great place for adventures. Tall grass and junk in the yard made it easy to hide. We chased the sleeping hound dogs out of the abandoned cars and played cops and robbers. We pulled broken boards off the barn for fort-building. Best of all, there was a big tree with low-hanging branches by the front door. “Look at this!” Jamey shouted.  I followed  the boys up the tree and through a window into the attic. From there, we dropped through a hole into the living room ceiling and sneaked behind the furniture into a back bedroom where daft, old grandma was in the bed.

“Aigheeeeeeee!” she screeched, clutching her blankets like she’d seen a ghost. 

“Y’all git out’a there!  Don’t git your Granny stirred up.  I got a headache” yelled Mama Awful over the TV.

They showed us a secret way out through a hole in the floor of her closet. Pelting each other with dirt clods from their bare yard, I’d never felt so free.

Eventually, Mother came stomping over.  “What are you doing over here?  Don’t you ever go off without asking!” she said.  “I’m gonna tear you up!”

“But Mama, you said I could go!” I whined. dreading a switching.  “ I asked when you was layin’ on the couch.” I told her.  

I could see she remembered. “You knew I was asleep.  Don’t you ever pull that again.” she threatened. Sadly, that was my last visit to the Awful’s house.

Not too long afterward, the Awfuls showed up with little Becky Awful in tow. She was about three and overdue to join their traveling show. Daddy was unhappily cleaning out a clogged septic line, bailing nasty stuff into a wheelbarrow.  Not in a great mood, he sent the Awfuls on their way, not noting that Becky had remained behind playing quietly off to the side. She was making mud pies with clean white sand and septic drain sludge. As soon as he saw her, he howled for Mother. “Kathleen, get this kid out of here!  She’s playing in this excrement(paraphrased) and nasty as a pig!  Do I have to do everything?”  

“Bill, I didn’t know she was out there.”  Mother washed Becky a little under the hose and led her home.  Becky was so filthy and smelly it would probably have been easier to get another little girl than to try to clean her up. As it turned out, that wasn’t a problem. Becky showed up two days later in the same malodorous outfit.

Since we couldn’t visit the Awfuls anymore, we had to make do with whatever crumbs of joy they tossed our way. My parents had their noses out of joint because Mr. Awful had shut his pigs up in a small lot between our house and theirs. Not surprisingly, it really, really stunk. Mother had us helping her hang laundry on the line when we heard a huge ruckus next door. It seems Mr. Awful had noticed Jamey’s missing birthday shoes.  “You boys get out there and find them shoes or I’m gonna tear you up.  We ain’t got money to waste on shoes.”  he roared. I could have told him where one of them was, but Mother shushed me up. The boys made for the pigpen, wading around, looking in the muddy black hog-wallows seeking the lost shoes. Of course, it wasn’t long before Bugeater slipped and fell, then Davey, then Jamey. They forgot about the shoes and were streaking through the pig mud. Mud showered everywhere. The beleaguered pigs cowered in the corners, trying to save their bacon. Eventually, Mr. Awful came out in the yard to check the progress of the shoe search. Finding them in the pigpen meant big trouble. He pulled a spring of grass and threatened to switch them if they didn’t find the shoes.

“No don’t whoop me,” whined Jamey. Then the other boys chimed in.

“He backed down. “ Well, I won’t whoop you, but you gonna have to git a bath before bedtime.

It did my heart good to see they could get in trouble. It’s hard to live next door to kids with a perfect life.

Our Awful Friends

Freedom at the Awful’s  Illustration by Kathleen Holdaway Swain

Mother was a cruel beast of a woman who rarely allowed us out of our own yard.  I felt so deprived when free-range children passed our house in pursuit of adventure.  Sometimes we were able to tempt them in with our tire swing, zip line, or huge barn, but invariably greener pastures called and we were left morosely watching them amble off to Donnie’s or Joey’s house.  Sadly, we’d pine as the motley crew and their retinue of dogs disappeared down the dusty road.  It wasn’t that we didn’t have wondrous opportunities on our own place;t we just hated being left behind.

Once we accepted our sad abandonment, we didn’t waste time whining to Mother that “We don’t have anything to do.”  I only made that mistake once and Mother set me to hanging out diapers, dusting, and washing woodwork.  In fact, she was mean enough to assign jobs to break up fights.  It’s terrible growing up with a mother who turns human nature against innocent children.

At any rate, a family neighboring us raised their fortunate children with a complete lack of supervision.  Those kids roamed long after dark, before daylight, dropped in for meals all over the neighborhood, drank out of from the neighbor’s faucets, rode the neighbor’s cows, and generally led a charmed life.  Though their name was Offut, I misunderstood it as Awful.  In her frequent dealings with these children Mother reached the conclusion Awful was an excellent name.  She was particularly offended when we came home from town and found them in the house making Kool-aid.  The Awful’s had little understanding of private property and had often had Kool-aid with us, so of course they felt free to help themselves, even if Mother had been careless enough not to leave it in the refrigerator.  Her attitude baffled our uninvited guests.  I think the syrupy floor and Jerry’s standing on the counter helping himself to a pack of Daddy’s cigarettes off the top shelf also ruffled her feathers, but she was the crabby type, after all.  The loss of cigarettes were of particular concern.  A carton cost two dollars and eighty cents, a significant portion of her fifteen dollar grocery budget.  At any rate, she took an unreasonable stance and forbade them to enter the house again when we were gone.  I don’t think they found it particularly disturbing since a couple more packs of cigarettes went missing before Daddy found a better hiding place for his stash.  

Our Awful Friends Part 2

I had only been out of the bathtub about 10 minutes when this picture was made.  After that birthday party, this dress was never the same.  I never saw that little purse again.I first became aware of the Awfuls on the occasion of Jamey Awful’s fifth birthday.  I was probably about four and totally ignorant of what birthday parties entailed.  I only knew that Mother ruined a perfectly good day by calling me away from my sand pile to take a bath in the middle of the day, an unheard of event.  I was disturbed especially since she insisted on washing the sand out of my hair.  I’d just spent a good portion of the morning pouring sand on the top of my head, enjoying its powdery coolness showering down on my shoulders and the back of my sundress and saw no reason for her outraged reaction.  “I told you not to get dirty.  We have to go somewhere today.”

As far as I was concerned, sand was clean.  Mud was dirty.  Axle grease was dirty.  Chicken poop was dirty.  Sand was white and dusted right off.  It was not dirty.  At any rate, Mother filled the tub with water and sprinkled in a tub with Tide Powder and plunged me in.  That was what passed for bubble bath at our house.  I would have been content to spend the afternoon there, but she washed my hair and hurried me out, ruining another good time.  Then she brushed my stick straight hair and stuffed me in a fluffy petticoat, a white fluffy dress with red and blue polka-dots, white socks, and sandals.  Worse yet, I had to submit to a photo session.  Mother was a novice with a camera making me pose forever, staring into the sun.  She’d gone to a great deal of fuss making matching dresses for me and Phyllis for Easter and was extremely proud of the effect.  Too bad the confection was wasted on me.  When she’d said Easter outfit, I’d envisioned a cowboy getup.

Then she walked us over to the Awful’s house.  I doubt Mother knew Mrs. Awful, since we’d never been to her house for coffee, even though they only lived a couple of houses over.  I guess the poor woman was scraping the bottom of the barrel to find enough kids for a party, since I was a year younger and Phyllis was a couple of years older and neither had ever laid eyes on Jamey. 

Mrs. Awful met us at the back gate.  There were a dozen or so kids running round in the yard, so once Mother made Mrs. Awful’s acquaintance, she headed home, promising to be back for us in a couple of hours.  Mrs. Awful ushered us in the back gate and the fun began.  I was in Heaven!

Our Awful Friends

Freedom at the Awful’s  Illustration by Kathleen Holdaway Swain

Mother was a cruel beast of a woman who rarely allowed us out of our own yard.  I felt so deprived when free-range children passed our house in pursuit of adventure.  Sometimes we were able to tempt them in with our tire swing, zip line, or huge barn, but invariably greener pastures called and we were left morosely watching them amble off to Donnie’s or Joey’s house.  Sadly, we’d pine as the motley crew and their retinue of dogs disappeared down the dusty road.  It wasn’t that we didn’t have wondrous opportunities on our own place;t we just hated being left behind.

Once we accepted our sad abandonment, we didn’t waste time whining to Mother that “We don’t have anything to do.”  I only made that mistake once and Mother set me to hanging out diapers, dusting, and washing woodwork.  In fact, she was mean enough to assign jobs to break up fights.  It’s terrible growing up with a mother who turns human nature against innocent children.

At any rate, a family neighboring us raised their fortunate children with a complete lack of supervision.  Those kids roamed long after dark, before daylight, dropped in for meals all over the neighborhood, drank out of from the neighbor’s faucets, rode the neighbor’s cows, and generally led a charmed life.  Though their name was Offut, I misunderstood it as Awful.  In her frequent dealings with these children Mother reached the conclusion Awful was an excellent name.  She was particularly offended when we came home from town and found them in the house making Kool-aid.  The Awful’s had little understanding of private property and had often had Kool-aid with us, so of course they felt free to help themselves, even if Mother had been careless enough not to leave it in the refrigerator.  Her attitude baffled our uninvited guests.  I think the syrupy floor and Jerry’s standing on the counter helping himself to a pack of Daddy’s cigarettes off the top shelf also ruffled her feathers, but she was the crabby type, after all.  The loss of cigarettes were of particular concern.  A carton cost two dollars and eighty cents, a significant portion of her fifteen dollar grocery budget.  At any rate, she took an unreasonable stance and forbade them to enter the house again when we were gone.  I don’t think they found it particularly disturbing since a couple more packs of cigarettes went missing before Daddy found a better hiding place for his stash.  

Most Awful Christmas Ever

One year, the Awfuls made sure their parents had the most awful Christmas ever.  Like the rest of us, they couldn’t wait for Christmas.  As always, they starting finding their presents about a week before Christmas.  Every day one of them showed up with something new.  One day, Froggy had a brand new basketball.  The next day, Jamey had a new baseball and glove.  On Christmas Eve morning Davey  buzzed by on a beautiful new Spitfire Bike with a horn.  Boy did that make me mad!  I had asked my Mother for that very bike.  She said Santa didn’t have enough money to bring me a bike.  That didn’t make a bit of sense!  Why would money matter to Santa?  She stammered around a while and finally said parents had to help Santa with expensive things.  Huh, it didn’t look like Santa needed too much help at the Awfuls.

This year, Froggy’s mom made up her mind the kids wouldn’t find their gifts before Christmas.  For the first time they could remember, they learned about rules.  Mrs. Awful kept an eye on them every second they were in the house, only letting them play in the living room or their bedroom.  Well, they could go in Crazy Granny’s room, but she screeched every time she saw them, so no luck sneaking around in there: no chances to dig under their mom’s bed or prowl  through  cupboards and closets, no long afternoons in the attic.  She kept them outdoors until dark unless it was cold or raining.  It was nice seeing them suffer the way the rest of us did.  I heard she even made them do a few chores.

The week before Christmas, the Awfuls played with a collection of rag tag leftover toys just like the rest of us.  No one had had caps for cowboy pistols for months.  My old red wagon had a broken handle and couldn’t be pulled, only pushed.  I couldn’t sucker Billy into pushing me very long, so we had to take turns.  We had jumped on Phyllis’s pogo stick so much the stopper on the end was gone and it buried up in the dirt instead of bouncing.  Billy’s cars had most of the wheels off, so they weren’t good for much.  Even the Tinker Toys were worn out.  Daddy had backed over our big tricycle, so it was a goner.  Things were looking pretty bleak.  We all needed Christmas!!

The Awfuls were still empty-handed Christmas Eve when a miracle happened.  Becky was climbing the Christmas Tree after the cat for the hundredth time when the tree-stand broke, dumping Becky, cat, and tree all out in the floor.  Becky would have been fine if she had fallen on her head, but she fell face first and knocked out a tooth and bloodied her nose.  You never heard such caterwalling in your life.  By the time Mom and Pop Awful got in there, it was exciting.  The tree was spread across the room, the terrified cat was zipping around the room, and Becky was a squalling bloody mess.  Crazy Granny chimed in from her room, so it was quite a party.

Mom and Pop Awful grabbed Becky and left instructions for the kids to mind their grandparents while they took Becky to be repaired by the doctor.  This shouldn’t be too hard since Granny was wacko and Grandpa was deaf.  Grandpa went straight to sleep. This was just the chance they had been waiting for.  They searched the closet and dressers in Mom and Pop’s room first. Nothing there, so  they checked the attic.  It was spooky, but empty.  They checked all the kitchen and bathroom cupboards……nothing.  Finally, they thought to check Crazy Granny’s room.  Of course she shrieked, but Grandpa kept snoring.  Bonanza!!!!  Granny’s closet was full!   They pulled out bats and balls, puzzles, a tricycle for Becky, scooters, erector sets and more.  It was everything they’d asked for.  They started playing with their toys, and realized Mom and Pop might be home soon.  They were about to pack everything back up when Froggy had a wonderful idea.  “Let’s give Mom and Pop a big Christmas surprise!  Let’s hide all this stuff.”  They barely had time to hustle the packages to their room and slide them under their beds before Mom and Pop Awful and snaggle toothed Becky got back from the doctor.  Mom gave them all their supper and rushed them off to bed so Santa could come.  No boys had ever gone to bed more enthusiastically.

They tried to stay awake for the fun, but finally drifted off.  Awakening to Granny’s screech, they realized the search was on.  Sneaking to their bedroom door, they heard Mom Awful’s panicked whisper.  “They’re gone!!!  All the presents are gone!!!!  Someone must have stolen them.  What are we going to do???

Pop Awful was sure Mom had just made a mistake.  “They can’t be gone.  You just forgot where you hid them.  You were worried about the kids finding them again.  Let’s just think and keep looking.”  They looked everywhere….all the closets……under the beds……the attics.  Nothing! The Awfuls peeked from behind their door, stifling their laughter as they watched Mom and Pop tear the place up, looking for the missing presents.  Just then, they heard a fateful, “quack, quack, quack” as Becky’s little wind up duck marched  out of their room, straight up to Mom and Pop.  They ripped the door open saw the presents spilling out from under the bed, bicycles all over the room, and their Awful Christmas started.

The World’s Best Birthday Party! (Part I of II)

Reposting an older story to introduce part II.  I loved playing with these kids.  Illustrations by Kathleen Swain.

Water play at the Party

Water play at the Party

Freedom at the Awful's

Freedom at the Awful’s

The Awfuls were awesome. Even though their name was Alston, the neighborhood mothers thought Awful was a better fit. We all envied them as they roamed the neighborhood with a freedom we only imagined. They weren’t mean; Continue reading →

World’s Best Birthday Party(Part II of II)

Awfuls chasing turey

Awfuls chasing turey

Awfuls in Pigpen

Awfuls in Pigpen

(Continuation of story of Jamey Awful’s birthday party, without a doubt, the most fun I ever had in my life.  If he gave a party today, I’d be there!)

Jamey’s birthday party was the most fun I’ve ever had. There had been no “Pin the Tail on the Donkey”, no party hats, just fun, fun, fun. When my mother walked over to get me, I could tell she was not happy. She didn’t even go in for coffee like she always did at neighbor lady’s houses. Boy was I in trouble with my ruined party dress, lost shoes, and muddy self. She said I could never go to the Awfuls again.

I figured Mother would forget after a few days, but no……….No visits to Continue reading →