Thursday, April 10, 2008

Little Me

Liz at has a post up today about her daughter writing on the wall, which made me think of my own graffiti days.

When I was maybe 5 or 6, the neighbor mom next door was Myra. Not only do I hate that name, but she had a moustache, and was a naggy whiny sort of person. I know it was back in the 80's, but I am pretty sure that you could get some sort of bleach paste or even tweeze. Anyway, I got the brilliant idea to write "I hate Myra, Jeremy" on the piano in orange marker. Since the piano was next to a table which was next to a couch, my crime went unnoticed for a very long time. Until the furniture was rearranged.

My parents brought in my brother Jeremy for a inquisition. Since "his" signature was clearly written on the piano, and he didn't care much for Myra either, he was found to be guilty, despite his pleas of innocence. But then, right before the spanking, one of my parents questioned why he would sign the message, especially since he is 3 years older than I am, and would surely have known better. All eyes turned towards me.

I am pretty sure I was spanked, but since my parents didn't much like the neighbors either, I probably got off lighter than had I scrawled another name. I was such a cute kid.

Where I live now has a little pencil graffiti on the hallway, and I just like it enough not to erase or clean it off. Some angry little dyslexic person had written "bicth" at about hip height, and I kinda like it. Plus, whoever did it was at least smart enough to use erasable pencil rather than orange permanent marker. So while their spelling may be lacking, at least the medium was well thought out.

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