To any newcomers, be warned: these 'cute' stories usually contain either bad language or remarks about sexuality, uttered from the mouths of babes. Today's anecdote is again me and my eagerness to explain things as a child. Some of you surely recall the 'fuck' incident.
Today's contains a term that I never use now, as many of my friends are homosexual. At the age of eight, however, I had no such luxury or insight into the lifestyle. I apologize in advance if the words below offend. You can stop reading now and save your precious eyes.
Let me set the scene:
My family had recently moved from Texas to a mountain top in Colorado. I am not being colorful here. We lived off an old dirt road in the middle of nowhere. Denver was about 45 minutes away up a twisty highway that ran through Black Hawk. When I was a kid, it was still a tourist trap town with gold panning and burrow rides being the boon of the economy. Now it's full of casinos and beggars.
But I digress.
This twisty highway had little in the way of scenery as there was a rock face to one side and a river on the other, and once you've lived in mountains for a while, they all start to look the same. My sister and I sat in the backseat of our two-tone brown Ford Escort, my father drove, and my mother silently smoked and brooded(her favorite way to spend her time).
Quite randomly, my sister of nine asks, "Mommy, what's the difference between a fag and a faggot?"
Neither parent spoke. I, in my old soul wisdom, decided it was because they did not know. Always on the lookout for a chance to showcase my superior intellect, I chimed in with, "Oh! I know!"
"Yeah?" my dad asked, looking at me over his shoulder. "What is it?"
"A fag is a boy, and a faggette is a girl," I stated quite matter-of-factly. "Like Smurfs and Smurfette and cigars and cigarettes. Right?"
Again neither parent spoke for a long moment, then my father said, "Yup."
I, of course, beamed at my own awesomeness. No one had to TELL me anything because I, in my spectaculousness, was able to deduce the answer myself with my keen powers of observation.
Okay, guys. That's story four. Don't any of you have moments like this? Or was my childhood really as warped as I suspect it was?