Four-Eyes

I’ve been reviewing the last several posts, particularly those about my Mom, and while everything I’ve written is genuine and real, I can’t help but feel that I’m leaving something out. You see, in addition to being a great editor, educator, and believer in people, Mom also had a wicked sense of humor. Matter of fact, I’d swear many of my evil supervillain proclivities were inherited from the Ol’ gal. While we’re all still trying to get over the unexpected loss of our mother, Baby Bro, Sis and I have taken a vast amount of comfort in sharing various Mom exploits. Today, I’ve decided to share one of my all-time favorite “Wicked Mom,” stories.

Start your engines!

Start your engines!

 

Four-Eyes

My childhood is peppered with various hilarious encounters where my Mother, the ruler of our youthful universe, was wildly inappropriate. Sure, most of the time she was believing in people and fostering children’s dreams to take flight, but every once and awhile, Mom would take a page from the bad guy playbook, case in point, she had “sworn enemies.” There was no exact equation to deciding who was on her “sh*t list,” often people were completely oblivious to the fact that she was in a blood feud with them, Repair men, haughty next door neighbors, “the idiot at church,” no one was safe from her arbitrary anger…even children.

I don’t remember Four-Eyes’ real name, maybe it was Noah, Michael, or something equally charming and unassuming. The fact is, his name didn’t matter. At 9 years old and chock full of mischief, the kid never stood a chance. Mom gave him the nickname “Four-Eyes” and while I’m pretty sure she never called him that to his buck-toothed, freckled face, it stuck. The funny thing was, MY MOTHER WORE GLASSES HER ENTIRE ADULT LIFE. She herself had “four eyes!” Anydivineirony, Four-Eyes lived down the street from us and across from the bus stop. Each morning while driving us to school, she would encounter him, and every day he’d have a new slight ready to taunt her with.

Four-Eyes’ crimes against humanity included, running out and standing in the middle of the street when people were driving through, flipping everyone off, and when my mother was passing by he’d usually pretend to be hit by her car. Mom was not alone, thanks to his morning shenanigans, just about every adult in the neighborhood hated Four-Eyes. His minions, a gaggle of school-aged children waiting for their bus, laughed at every escapade. The little brat was mad with power, and his f*ckery escalated.

One Christmas, Four-Eyes got a badass RC car, we knew this because he played with it NON-STOP during the Holiday break. All-day everyday, Four-Eyes fooled with his RC, making various ramps and jumps, taking the blasted thing all the way up and down our lengthy neighborhood drive. When the harsh chill of January blew into our lives, it could only mean one thing, school was soon to be back in session. The first day back from the extended break, Four-Eyes was out in the street taunting cars as usual, only this time, his beloved RC car was right there to aid in the torture.

Car after car was stopped dead in their tracks as Four-Eyes would make his RC car dart out into the street and weave a web too complicated for well-meaning adults to cross, while a huge improvement from him physically stopping cars by standing in the middle of the drive, the RC car was far more insidious. It had speed and agility on its tiny side, and Four-Eyes was an adept torturer with his beloved Christmas gift.

When it got time for Mom’s drive by, Four-Eyes treated her to a 2 minute game of cat and RC mouse, complete with his goofy cackle and short little finger flipping her off. She glared at him and confided in us, “that little jerk, next time he screws me over, I’m gonna get him back.”

Perhaps Four-Eyes’ parents caught wind of his nonsense, or the kid felt a chill of reckoning on the wind, because for the next several days, he refrained from his usual antics and merely flipped off each car as it passed. Finally, his “good” streak ended. On a frigid and gloomy day in February, Four-Eyes met his 34-year-old match, our Mom.

The day started as any other, we fumbled through sleepiness and made our way out to the car, ready to catch whatever school threw at us that morning. As we approached Four-Eyes’ House, he met us in the street, his RC car deftly swooping in and out between Mom’s stopped car tires. After about 30 seconds of his peeling evil laughter and several flip offs, Mom decided to she’d had enough and ever so gently, drove over the beloved toy.

Oh what a satisfying crunch it made! Four-Eyes’ face fell and his blood began to boil as he let out a primal scream, “MYYYYYYYYYYY CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRR, YOU RAN OVER MY CAAAAAAARRRR!” Without missing a beat, Mom rolled down her window and said, “Oh darn, sorry about the accident. Should we exchange insurance cards?”The glee in her voice was palpable, after endless turmoil and curbside taunting, Mims was victorious, her 9-year-old opponent, much like his RC car, was crushed.

And that, my friends, is the story of “Four-Eyes.” Sure, the old gray mare was the cruel bully in this situation for purposely breaking a child’s toy, but Mom said it best as she drove away, “the little jerk had it coming.”