It's Just Abbey

Something rather amusing has been happening to me lately. Whenever I am around my parents or family I start to remember random childhood memories. Okay, that’s not the fun part. The fun part is that when I remember them out loud parents don’t remember them the same way I do. My memory tends to have me very victimized and oh so tiny or just very naive. Much like a famous scene in A Christmas Story.

When we first realized that I have a REALLY slanted view of reality I started to think back and recount my childhood from my very first memory. As I did I unearthed one of those memories I really wish I could bury. One of those stories that end with people just shaking their heads at me. Maybe they react that way because I am weird little creature or because we shouldn’t be talking about these stories. We repress them, lock them away and throw away the key.

Let me set the scene for you. I am in fourth grade. I am very impressionable. I am very sheltered. Now, I have already heard my first dirty joke. It was a terrible joke about a 3 piece bathing suit (yeah, I know) with the punch line, “If I put a quarter in the slot and push the button will the bells ring?” It isn’t worth completely telling so just let your imagination fill in the blanks. But you remember those days? All dirty jokes were precursored with “Guys?! You wanna hear the dirtiest joke EVER?!” And everyone crowds around and the joke is whispered. It is secret and taboo.

One day I was sitting at lunch and casually a boy tells a joke. Everyone laughs and giggles into their chocolate milk. I didn’t get it. I wasn’t even sure it was a joke. I thought he was just talking. But not one to be left out of a good giggle fit I played along. No one wants to be the lame-o kid saying, “I don’t get it!!” So I just spent the day confused and upset. I didn’t get a joke! What if this was an important joke? Something fundamental to my childhood. Oh god oh god oh god.

I went home and ran into the living room and confronted my mother and father. I asked them, without any explanation, if they got jokes. My dad just kind of nodded and I busted out the joke.

So a fly is cruising along the river and there is a cat sitting on the river bank. The fly sees something and dives to the water. As the fly dives a fish jumps up really high to eat it. The fish eats the fly and splashes into the water. The water splashes all over the little cat on the bank. What is the moral of the story? Every time a fly drops a pussy gets wet.

My dad looked at my mother. She returned his gaze. Without a moments hesitation they reply that they didn’t get it either. Did I tell it wrong? I shook my head no. My dad just shrugged and said he didn’t get it and it was clearly a lame joke. I agreed and was relieved I wasn’t dumb for missing the point of that joke. It simply meant I had a sense of humor. I high brow sense of humor. I marched up the stairs and never thought a think of it again. Well, until today.

As I look back on that now I am almost horrified. I still barely swear in front of my parents at the tender age of 24 and yet when I was 10 years old I said the phrase, “When a fly drops a pussy gets wet” to them straight faced.

I can only imagine the fast mental conversation my parents had when they made eye contact.

I don’t have the guts to recount this to my parents because either they will remember and never let me live it down or they won’t remember it and just give me a perplexed look. Much like the look my mom gave me when I told her I named my plant Patrick.

I’m not sure what I would do if my sisters Lauren and Taylor spouted that joke at me. I’m 100% sure I would start laughing then lock them in the basement from the evils of the world. Then I would hunt down the twisted little kid who told them that joke and drop kick him halfway across the county.

Speaking of which… I don’t remember seeing that kid much after that little incident… I never really questioned why we moved in the middle of my fourth grade year. Okay Abbey, maybe repressing memories is a good idea…