I Remember
Posted: Tue Nov 01, 2011 7:28 am
I remember one time back when I was in jail for something I to this day maintain my innocence on I was cellmates with this really tall and beefy guy named Paul. We got to chatting as you do when you've fuckall else to occupy your time and eventually became pretty decent friends. Well, as decent as you can be when you're in the pokey, but you take what you can get, you know? Anyway he was a pretty stand-up guy and seemed decent enough so we got to talking about what we were accused of doing. I've told you my story before so I don't have to go into that but his story was so far out there; I mean like I know my alibi was shaky as hell but to hear this man talk you'd think he was some figure out of tall tales your grampa's grampa told his kids. Real crazy stuff, you know what I'm saying? In order to do it justice, I gotta tell it the way he told it to me, so bear with me because it's kind of long. Not so long as you'd make a book out of it or nothin', but long enough that you're gonna be wondering when I'll get to the fucking point already.
So.
Paul.
He was born in some shitty log cabin way the fuck out in Who Knows, Missouri to a poor couple of dirt farmers who had the misfortune of inadequate foreknowledge regarding just what kind of child Paul was going to be. You see, I wasn't kidding when I said Paul was a tall and beefy guy. In fact, I may have understated just how large this man was. A standard jail cell has something like eight-foot tall ceilings, and Paul had to hunch over when standing in it. Dude was mondo-sized, no two ways about it. The thing is, he's always been big; his poor sainted mother had no idea what she was in for. Paul's parents had prepped for twins because of how big the old lady's belly was getting, but all they got was big ol' Paul tipping the scales at 25 pounds and measuring in at nearly two and a half feet long. For those of you who've never known this stuff, that's about the size of a one-year old child.
Thankfully Paul's old man was handy with a saw and hammer, and he managed to convert the two matching cribs intended for bouncing baby twins into a mostly symmetrical supercrib that creaked when Paul wriggled (as infants are wont to do). The clothes weren't so easy to rejigger, but a little clever work on Ma's part with a needle and thread and the great sacrifice of the nursery curtains meant that Baby Paul was able to keep clothed in a style that tastefully complemented the wallpaper. Of course, a boy the size of Paul was going to need more milk in a day than Ma could give in a week, but luckily the ramshackle farm had an equally ramshackle old milch cow named Daisy who could keep pace with the seemingly bottomless pit that was the terminus of Paul's stomach. In short, life was going to continue on for the Bunyan family, even if it was a little odd to the outside observer.
And odd it certainly seemed! For Paul was a hearty tyke, and by his first birthday he was big enough to roughhouse with the ornery old bull kept in the south paddock, and at age five he was pulling the plow for the spring planting. This latter activity brought the young lad's family to the attention of Child Protective Services, and thus began the path to the jail cell from which he told me this tale. You see, rather than calmly explain to the prim government lady in her severely cut navy blue suit that this activity was in fact the child's idea and was being performed with full supervision, Pa Bunyan threatened to blow off her head if she stepped foot on the property as "Tools of the State were unwelcome" on his stead. Even then, had he diligently filed his tax returns every April he could make a case that he was a responsible citizen but alas! he had not. So it was that Paul, at five years old (and just as many feet tall) was taken into the custody of the State of Missouri, pending completion of Parenting and Anger Management courses by his parents.
The shock of losing her baby boy sent Ma Bunyan into a deep depression which kept her from helping Pa Bunyan on the increasingly run-down and decrepit old farm, and Pa's fierce temper prevented the hire of farm hands capable of helping. One hot and dry summer the barn was struck by lightning and caught fire. Fueled by the abnormally dry hay stored inside it burned to the ground long before anyone was able to come help extinguish it, and with it died the remaining few hopes and dreams the Bunyans had of life ever returning to normal. This final blow was enough to send Pa into an apoplectic fit, and he died right there on the spot while screaming his rage at an unfair world. Ma died shortly thereafter, having lost the will to live. All very sad stuff. Of course, when Paul caught wind of this news his heart broke in two, and he cried so hard half an inch of tears coated the floor.
Life as a Ward of the State wasn't too kind to Paul. At seven years old and seven feet tall, he was too big for the beds in the children's section of the Institution that the State of Missouri placed him, but also far too young to spend his days in the Adult section. The solution to this problem was as straightforward as it was absurd. Paul was to spend his days with the children, and his nights with the feeble-minded adults. And so Paul went about his life as best he could, until one day with his oversized feet Paul accidentally tripped another child who was running through the halls. No amount of apology or explanation could sway the stony faces of the Institution Staff, and so they decided that for the safety and health of all the other children Paul was to be exiled to the Adult section entirely.
[WC 1,063] will pick back up after sleep
So.
Paul.
He was born in some shitty log cabin way the fuck out in Who Knows, Missouri to a poor couple of dirt farmers who had the misfortune of inadequate foreknowledge regarding just what kind of child Paul was going to be. You see, I wasn't kidding when I said Paul was a tall and beefy guy. In fact, I may have understated just how large this man was. A standard jail cell has something like eight-foot tall ceilings, and Paul had to hunch over when standing in it. Dude was mondo-sized, no two ways about it. The thing is, he's always been big; his poor sainted mother had no idea what she was in for. Paul's parents had prepped for twins because of how big the old lady's belly was getting, but all they got was big ol' Paul tipping the scales at 25 pounds and measuring in at nearly two and a half feet long. For those of you who've never known this stuff, that's about the size of a one-year old child.
Thankfully Paul's old man was handy with a saw and hammer, and he managed to convert the two matching cribs intended for bouncing baby twins into a mostly symmetrical supercrib that creaked when Paul wriggled (as infants are wont to do). The clothes weren't so easy to rejigger, but a little clever work on Ma's part with a needle and thread and the great sacrifice of the nursery curtains meant that Baby Paul was able to keep clothed in a style that tastefully complemented the wallpaper. Of course, a boy the size of Paul was going to need more milk in a day than Ma could give in a week, but luckily the ramshackle farm had an equally ramshackle old milch cow named Daisy who could keep pace with the seemingly bottomless pit that was the terminus of Paul's stomach. In short, life was going to continue on for the Bunyan family, even if it was a little odd to the outside observer.
And odd it certainly seemed! For Paul was a hearty tyke, and by his first birthday he was big enough to roughhouse with the ornery old bull kept in the south paddock, and at age five he was pulling the plow for the spring planting. This latter activity brought the young lad's family to the attention of Child Protective Services, and thus began the path to the jail cell from which he told me this tale. You see, rather than calmly explain to the prim government lady in her severely cut navy blue suit that this activity was in fact the child's idea and was being performed with full supervision, Pa Bunyan threatened to blow off her head if she stepped foot on the property as "Tools of the State were unwelcome" on his stead. Even then, had he diligently filed his tax returns every April he could make a case that he was a responsible citizen but alas! he had not. So it was that Paul, at five years old (and just as many feet tall) was taken into the custody of the State of Missouri, pending completion of Parenting and Anger Management courses by his parents.
The shock of losing her baby boy sent Ma Bunyan into a deep depression which kept her from helping Pa Bunyan on the increasingly run-down and decrepit old farm, and Pa's fierce temper prevented the hire of farm hands capable of helping. One hot and dry summer the barn was struck by lightning and caught fire. Fueled by the abnormally dry hay stored inside it burned to the ground long before anyone was able to come help extinguish it, and with it died the remaining few hopes and dreams the Bunyans had of life ever returning to normal. This final blow was enough to send Pa into an apoplectic fit, and he died right there on the spot while screaming his rage at an unfair world. Ma died shortly thereafter, having lost the will to live. All very sad stuff. Of course, when Paul caught wind of this news his heart broke in two, and he cried so hard half an inch of tears coated the floor.
Life as a Ward of the State wasn't too kind to Paul. At seven years old and seven feet tall, he was too big for the beds in the children's section of the Institution that the State of Missouri placed him, but also far too young to spend his days in the Adult section. The solution to this problem was as straightforward as it was absurd. Paul was to spend his days with the children, and his nights with the feeble-minded adults. And so Paul went about his life as best he could, until one day with his oversized feet Paul accidentally tripped another child who was running through the halls. No amount of apology or explanation could sway the stony faces of the Institution Staff, and so they decided that for the safety and health of all the other children Paul was to be exiled to the Adult section entirely.
[WC 1,063] will pick back up after sleep