Mission Impossible, Part 3

What's a girl to do once her reputation is, um, soiled?

Lorna’s reputation was hanging in  the air after the church fart incident. Could she recover it? Did she want to?  Let’s see…

I was beginning to see that my  Mission of becoming a Perfect Child was kind of like chewing Jello—the more I  tried, the more it just slid away. In impeccably anti-Perfect Child fashion, I  got frustrated.

The Perfect thing to do would’ve  been to grin and bear my frustrations. Being only human, stress would build. It  was only a matter of time until I would either ker-splat or ka-boom from  the internal pressure. Most of the time, I swallowed up my feelings with a  chaser of something sweet.  But there  were times when I just had to let things out of my system. Trouble always  followed.

Enter cuss words. Some adults and  Bad Children could swear with aplomb.  I  stayed away from them, living a wholesome, G-rated life.

About the dirtiest words that came  from my mouth were darn it, gosh, and  (if the circumstances were truly ugly) stupid-head.  I knew some words were Bad just by their emphatic delivery. Their precise meaning was lost to me and I was fine with that.

So many 4-letter words, so little self-contol...

I heard the widest variety of cuss words on  the school bus. I believe those yellow monstrosities to be the portal through  which Satan traverses between Earth and the Underworld. Innocence is lost and  crime bosses are trained on school buses. I first heard the “F-word” on my  school bus and knew it was Bad just by the way it hung in the air–like  my fart in church, only way worse because it kept getting repeated.

There came a time in my 13th year that I was furious with my older sister for some reason.  She stormed out of the trailer in her typical  I’m-having-the-last-word style.  This time I was  determined that I was going to have the last word and it was going to be a doozy.

I took a deep breath and formulated  the Grand-Pooh-Bah of all cuss words in my head. F…F…Fu…Fu…F…”  That’s all that came out. I was convinced I had developed a stutter.

The "F-word" was stuck in my mouth.

Another deep breath.  Another try.  Success!

I said the most evil of Bad Words.  No one heard me—not even my sister.  Well, I suppose God heard.  If I could have hit “rewind” then “erase,” I  would have.  I felt as dirty as the word—I lost my linguistic virginity and there was no going back.  Saying it brought no satisfaction. If I  tipped from grace by farting during the Stations of the Cross, saying the  F-word catapulted me to Hell. I was a goner before I ever got to be an up-and-comer.

I swore off of swearing, hoping I  stopped my path toward corruption before the Devil and I got engaged.

Then something dawned on me. I was 13 years old. I had options. Mom had  fewer worries about my sisters. My Mission needed rethinking.

There must be a way to keep a Good Girl image AND live a little. As Mom  always said, “Lorna, you’re such a smart girl…”

Ellie May was blonde and not as dumb as you might think. Her weapon was pretty obvious. I was blonde, smart and I kept my weapon concealed.

What scheme was teenaged Lorna  cooking up? Stay tuned…

~ by Lorna's Voice on July 8, 2011.

12 Responses to “Mission Impossible, Part 3”

  1. I will read your story ASAP.

    As sor the “F-bomb” I still can’t get used to it being used so casually virtually everywhere. I don’t think I will (or will want to) get desensitized to it. When a word is used for everything, it loses all meaning.

    And thanks on your comment about the story’s transition. My memoir is still a priority even with this blog taking us a ridiculous amount of my time!

  2. Al, you and I are kindred spirits!

  3. OK. I jacked it all the way back up to the top!

    And I’m glad I’m not the only one who spends hours fine-tuning my posts. It’s a labor of love I guess. And yes, it’s my dog too who finally tells me “enough is enough!

  4. Ironically, I dislike that F – bomb word soooooooooo much. I find my granddaughters saying it all the time. They are young adults – I must add. BUT …. it’s like there are no other words in the English language that can punctuate feelings of frustration and anger. I always tell them it is so un-lady-like: to no avail.

    I do like the transition in this story. I can’t wait to see where it’s going.

    Very nice story , Lorna …

    Toodles, Isadora

    P. S. – rop by and read my story “Love and Rage” … would love to hear your opinion on this future book I’m pen-ing

  5. I appreciate your accolades on my story-telling abilities. I can only tell them so well because they happened to me. I don’t have an active enough imagination to make this kind of stuff up. And it takes me a ridiculous amount of time to write these stories, or should I say to edit them. The cushion on my chair needs to be replaced because I spend hours sitting on my butt while I whittle and fiddle with my sentences, paragraphs, and essays. Scrappy begins to cop an attitudes after about 5 hours of being ignored…

    As for my bi-lingualism, I rarely swear and people around me would stop in their collective tracks if they heard me utter the F-bomb. So, get your jack out and raise that pedestal you put me on just a smidgeon. No need to wash my mouth out with soap! Of course the next installment may place me at Ground Zero, so hold off on adjusting that pedestal…

  6. Well, since I began reading this Mission Impossible series, the pedestal I imagined you on keeps getting shorter and shorter. Still got some ways to go yet to get to my level but I’m guessing that will all be revealed in future episodes. Can’t wait.

    Since we now know you are bi-lingual, you should learn how to properly use your new found verbiage. Try http://www.nlpmind.com/fuck.htm, it should be invaluable for future posts.

    By the way, you are one great story-teller and writer.

  7. The F-bomb seems almost like a rite of passage for any child growing up, a time to test the limits of the universe. We say it and wait for all of our ex-Sunday school teachers to march in with sharpened staves and loaded Bibles. Our elementary school teachers to spring through the windows, wielding rulers.
    Of course that doesn’t happen. We feel really free saying it for awhile until we utter it in front of our parents.

  8. Yes, the F-bomb is, indeed, one of the most versatle words in the English language. I think it can also be used as a conjunction in some situations…

  9. I like that word way too much. I wish I liked a lot of things as much as I like that word. It’s a coming-of-age when you are actually old enough to use that word whenever you see the need and in front of whomever you want. I remember being in an Irish Pub in New York with a friend, when someone at the table behind us said, “Help us settle an argument. Is F..k a noun or a verb?” We ended up in a pretty lengthy discussion concluding the word was indeed both, and an adjective, and adverb, possibly a preposition. A very versatile word. LOL

  10. I can be a clever girl…and you are a clever man for catching the pun.

  11. The f-bomb, the word my wife hates almost as bad as the GD-bomb. Looking back I think that you are correct in your sense about the yellow bus being Satan’s vehicle. Can’t wait for the next story.

  12. I love your comparison between saying the f bomb and making the f bomb in church.

    Wonderful.

Silence can be just what the doctor ordered. You know I'm a doctor, right?

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