A Disneyland

DISNEYLAND

Thankfully, I get cancer one day. Actually it isn't cancer, but only
head lice. At least Step daddy says its cancer. That day Mrs. Angle
sent me home from school with a note that read, "Virgil has lice. I
have lice. My entire class has lice. Keep the boy home. Sincerely Mrs.
Angle." I didn't know it at the time, but head lice = vacation.
Of course, Step daddy thinks its a miracle. "Ah hell don't worry we'll
shave your head and have you back in school in no time. Hell, you might
even get a free vacation out of it." He says as I sit down in the
chair, and he trims my scalp as close as he can with hedge
trimmers.
"But Daddy I don't want my head shaved, cause all the kids make fun of
me, even if we do get a vacation," I struggle.
"Ah hell tell em some time traveling Nazi came and got ya." Of course
he doesn't even realize I've already used the Holocaust excuse
before.
The only way to get a free vacation is the Make A Wish Foundation; and
Stepdaddy knows all about the Make A Wish Foundation for free
vacations. Before my own mishap Stepdaddy took chemo treatments 3 times
a week in hope he might get it. Of course, I know, and Stepdaddy knows,
that what he needs is a kid. What he needs is me. "Must be all this
asbestos in the house giving us tumors." He explains like we're blood
brothers or something. The hairs hang in the air like angel feathers
before falling.
" Stepdaddy you don't have cancer and I don't either."
"Well I know that " Stepdaddy says as I struggle in the chair.
"Then why are you taking chemo?" I ask as the patches of hair gather
around my feet in greasy clumps. "Well I figure prevention is the key!"
Then he chuckles like a rat. It's just another one of his schemes. He
takes dialysis every week; because he had a kidney taken out for sell
on E-bay. The current bid is 5,000.
For years now Stepdaddy has been the master of the free vacation.
Actually, the last vacation we won was when Stepdaddy substituted
cocaine for flour in the county bake off; and the judges couldn't get
enough. The prize we won equaled an all expense paid trip to Universal
Studios where we toured the studios of "Touched By an Angel".
Unfortunately, I got 'touched' in a back lot by one of the angel
extras, and suffered from depression problems afterwards. I told
Stepdaddy, but he didn't do anything about it; cause the angel was
drunk; and he said I was dressed sexy.
Usually the experiences to make a quick buck are even worse, like when
we tried to fix the Special Olympics for a free trip to Washington D.C.
I tried to warn him that just because some of the special kids played
with themselves in public didn't mean the Special Olympics could be
fixed. He didn't listen. "Ah hell don't you want to be no. 1. Everybody
wants to be no. 1 and what better way is there to be no. 1 than by
beating a bunch of kids who can't spell as well as you can." I try
forgetting the past as much as I can.

The next day with my shaved head I repress it all. I return home to
Stepdaddy who waits with a smile. In his left hand is an application
for the Make A Wish Foundation Vacation; and in the other hand is a
shiny jar with a cute kids picture on the front of it. "What's that?" I
ask as the jar sparkles like the hope diamond in the afternoon light.
"That's your cancer kid jar. Were gonna need some spending money when
we get to Disneyland. The make wish foundation doesn't pay for all the
Mickey Mouse collectibles I want."
"But that's not my picture!" I say.
"Hell no that's not your picture. You don't think they would send a kid
on vacation who has a harelip scar. Mickey mouse doesn't hug kids with
cauliflower ears, or harelip scars. Besides, Blind Gary, the kid from
down the street, who beat you in that Special Olympics race, is
competing for the Make A Wish Foundation vacation too. From what I hear
he's pulled out all the secret weapons. Supposedly he's caught M.S. You
don't have M.S."
After I wash up, we take my sick kid jar down to the local
supermarket, where I place it among all the other sick kid jars. There
are at least 15 at the service desk in the supermarket, all covered in
different colors. Blind Gary has a jar, and already it's full of
quarters. "Shit that kid means business." Stepdaddy says as we sit mine
down beside it. All the sick kids sit in front of their jar and taunt
those who don't contribute. "You're going to hell," they scream at the
old women who pass by. There's even a lady there with a crying baby,
who thinks it might be a manic-depressive. She pops her Prozac, one by
one, into the baby's mouth, as she raises money for me. "All he ever
does is cry," she says, as a man tries explaining it. "The baby is just
hungry that's all. It wants to eat from your breast." The young mother
blushes as someone drops a nickel in her jar. "Well it sounds like
pervert stuff if ya ask me. I tried it once and my husband says if he
sees me and the baby having fun he's suing on grounds of adultery."
There's even a kid with one arm who sits with his mother outside the
supermarket. They have a gallon bucket; and all they do is argue. "I
told you not to stick your arm out the window of the car. I told you it
would get cut off, but you didn't listen." The one-armed little boy
looks pissed. "Besides," his mother adds. "What are you going to do
with all those long sleeve shirts I got you? And how are you going to
tell time if you can't wear a wristwatch watch?" Stepdaddy and I never
argue. I like my chances to make a little spending money for the
vacation. They're all a bunch of vampires. This whole city is full of
vampires, one fat vampire after another.
In the first hour my sick kid jar fills up quick, and I think of all
the collectibles I'm gonna buy at Disneyland. I watch 5 different
people drop coins ranging from nickels to quarters into the jar. Step
daddy and I sit in our lawn furniture with flip-flops on, and watch the
competition fall behind us. That is everybody except for Blind Gary.
Blind Gary has a big fluorescent sign with flashing letters that
say-SICK-SICK. No matter what, we can't catch Blind Gary; and we hate
him for it. People read the story on his sick kid jar and write checks.
Taped to the inside of his jar is his story. Hello, My name is Gary and
I'm blind. Last year I bought a Seeing Eye dog from a man.
Unfortunately after I bought it we realized it was blind. I hate to get
rid of him though. Please contribute and help me buy a Seeing Eye dog
for my Seeing Eye dog Herb, so Herb can lead me around. I'm not
sympathetic as I run up and write dirty notes and stuff them in Blind
Gary's jar. I don't mind writing bad things about blind people because
they can't read them.
Of course, Step daddy knows a thing or two about being blind, or half
blind rather. Stepdaddy laughs after I put the dirty notes in Blind
Gary's jar. My reward is a little game we play. "Can I play marbles?" I
ask. Stepdaddy coughs and suddenly his glass eye pops out of its socket
and lands in his hand. I get down on the floor and shoot it across the
floor. Then I go get it. For some reason Stepdaddy is restless. "You
know what time it is?" He asks as Blind Gary's jar fills up to the lip
of the jar and flows over. I hand him back his glass eye, and he
squeezes it back in.
"No" I say bored.
"YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS?" He says again as he jumps in the air. "YOU
KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS?" He repeats. There is silence.
"ITS MILLER TIME!" He jubilantly shouts until my ears hurt.
"But you don't have any money Stepdaddy"
He looks at me. " That doesn't matter. I'd do anything for the
champagne of beers." Slowly, I watch him as he tiptoes over to the
counter where the Kroger employee of the month, Gay Nelson, turns his
back and answers a phone. Gay Nelson actually isn't gay, but because
his father is such a homophobe everyone calls him Gay Nelson. It got so
bad that Gay Nelson's father nailed all the closets shut with a nail
gun so none of his children could come out. Sometimes Gay Nelson fakes
gay, but only because that helps him fuck more chicks. "Girls are a lot
more comfortable to let you suck on their tits if they think you're a
flamer," Gay Nelson told me once. Of course, Stepdaddy doesn't care. He
waits, for a second at the counter, and looks both ways.

Suddenly like a fox, Stepdaddy picks up Blind Gary's jar and puts it
beneath his arm like a gun fighter. Gay Nelson's back is still turned
but somehow with perfect peripheral vision he whips around and stares
at Stepdaddy. "Run!" I scream from the lawn chair as he jumps on the
intercom. "Security-Security! Someone is stealing the cute blind kids
money jar." Then, like an angry mob of linebackers the crowd gathers
around Stepdaddy as he busts against the automatic doors, which
immediately lock Fort Bragg style. "Theif-Theif," the crowd taunts as
they gather around with their buggies full of spaghetti sauce,
cucumbers, toilet paper, and St. Johns wort. Stepdaddy smiles nervously
as a woman rams her buggy into his shins, and they pop like bamboo.
Then everyone stops. There is a silence. Suddenly everyone turns around
and looks down aisle 3. "WHO IS IT?" Somebody screams. And who is down
aisle 3 but.....
"ITS BLIND GARY!" they shout like a chorus of cheerleaders. It's Blind
Gary shopping for decaffeinated coffee. Like a cat Blind Gary throws
down his leg crutches and runs towards Stepdaddy at full speed, until
his leg braces crunch against the concrete supermarket floor. ITS BLIND
GARY! Then, like a deer, he leaps into the air, and Kung Fu's Stepdaddy
directly in the chest. Stepdaddy falls back and cradles both arms
around the sick jar. "Hey how did you run up here if you're blind?"
Step daddy shouts in between the lightning fast fists of Blind Gary.
Stepdaddy's head opens up like a fat mouth, and spits blood. "O hell I
just fake blind to cop feels," Blind Gary shouts as he grabs the boob
of the lady next to him, and simultaneously kicks Stepdaddy in the hand
as the jar falls, and busts against the floor like a bomb. Then, one by
one, the nickels and dimes shoot like bullets across the shiny tile;
and the crowd forgets about Blind Gary's lies, and chases after the
coins. Quickly, Blind Gary takes off his leg brace and starts beating
Stepdaddy against the face until his flesh looks like Edward James
Olmos. I hide my face and see images of the free vacation gone. I see
Disneyland, and Mickey Mouse hugging children, as they push pennies
into their pockets. Stepdaddy yells at a woman as she steals one of his
molars. The other teeth lie on the floor like unpopped popcorn kernels.
I see Mickey Mouse butt fucking little boys, and laughing. With
machineguns, Goofy fires into the crowds of people in Mickey Mouse hats
who all die laughing. Daffy Duck pulls out machetes and cuts off the
arms of happy fathers; and then he takes the arms and beats them with
it. Then Daisy Duck, Chip, and Dale search through the pockets of the
dead as everyone waits in line for the Matterhorn Screamer. I see
Stepdaddy bleed. I feel my hair growing back in. I see Disneyland.