For superkitten
*
Jan. 18/08
Dear Diary,
I turned eighteen today. Daddy got me this computer for my birthday, gift, hoping it would somehow help with my schoolwork. To explain, my grades have been steadily slipping. It started last year, before the Christmas exams, this growing inability to understand some of the more advanced concepts in Math, Science and Biology. After bringing my report card home for Christmas, I had to listen to some stern words from Daddy about buckling down. During the second term, my marks in the rest of my subjects started to follow the same downward trend, save for English and Home Ec..
By this time, it was pretty clear that I wouldn't be graduating and, worst of all, the kids started making fun of me. Even Janice, my one time best friend, (my only real friend) now calls me 'airhead' like the rest of them. I suppose it wouldn't be very cool for her to be seen treating me nice, even though I never did anything to her to deserve this. I thought I was a good friend.
But, I don't think it's just my grades. I look younger than I am, I'm kind of short (five-two) and I have this stupid voice that really makes me sound younger, but I can't help those things. I sound stupid when I try to talk older and they made fun of me for that, too.
This, my second senior year, isn't proving to be much better, even though I've been dropped down to level three in all my trouble subjects. This year's Christmas report card was about the same as last year and, when I showed Daddy, that's when he really flipped out. He started yelling and stuff, telling me how I had to have an education in order to get by in life and that he couldn't take care of me forever and all that, but he doesn't know how hard school's gotten for me.
Well, I totally broke down, crying and everything. I told him how hard I'm working, how all the kids now make fun of me, (not about my new nickname) and what a nightmare school has become for me. In fact, I kind of threw a little tantrum and he had to calm me down, saying that it was alright and that the other kids are just assholes and all that.
And I honestly don't know what's wrong. I just can't seem to understand what the teachers show us anymore. I sit there with no idea of what they're talking about and fight back tears when I'm given a test and I don't know any of the answers. I try so hard. Sometimes, I think I'm just distracted by my constant horny, but I masturbate all the time and I still can't concentrate, or understand, so that can't be it. And why am I still doing okay in level one English, but so stupid in the rest of my classes? I just don't get it.
At least he's not mad anymore, not even when I told him that they were putting me in level four (also known as 'the crayon crew') for the rest of the year, so that I might actually have a chance to graduate this time around. I'm sure
that
will really help my popularity. How humiliating!
So, now I have this computer to help in some way I'm not aware of. I decided to start this Diary, just to get some use out of it.
My name is Kathleen Hale (Daddy calls me 'kitten') and my father and I live alone because my mother ran out on us as soon as I was born. My birthday is January eighteenth, I have long, mousy brown hair, blue eyes and an average body, meaning I'm not exactly on the cheerleader squad.
I don't know what else to say.
I have two kitties, Ms. Lulu and Mr. Toodles. Lulu is spayed, so she can never be Mrs. Toodles.
I'm not starting this with 'Dear Diary' anymore.
Jun. 06/08
WOW!! You'll never guess what happened today! Daddy picked me up after I got home from school, taking me out to get groceries with him and to ride along on our usual Friday errands, but we had to go back to the cement pipe plant where he works, telling me the pay stubs were late from management, grumbling about the 'chicken shit union' constantly putting up with that kind of thing.
Daddy's forty-two, but like I already wrote, he's one of those ageless looking men. He kind of makes me think of Clint Eastwood in those old western movies, except he's taller and a little broader, his attitude more like Eastwood's character in
Unforgiven
. Sort of one of those 'take no shit' older guys that look like they've been everywhere and done everything, so you better not mess with them, but he does have a soft side that comes out a lot when we're at home.
Anyway, I'm sitting in his truck in the dirt parking lot, waiting for him while he's in there. I had the window down because it was hot and I'd taken my jacket off, leaving me in my light T-shirt, and suddenly I notice these three guys coming out of the plant. They were about my father's age and one of them was pretty big. They noticed me, one of the smaller ones subtly gesturing with his hand.
Next thing I know, they're standing at the window talking to me! They seemed pretty friendly, especially the big guy, telling me he was a friend of Daddy's and asking my name. I told him, a little overwhelmed by their attention. Next, he asked me if I was still in school and how old I was, actually looking at my chest! I flushed and stammered my age and where I went to school, but then I saw Daddy coming.
I have to admit, I was pretty excited. I mean, they came right over to talk to me! ME!! But the expression I saw on Daddy's face as he walked through the gate must have had some effect on mine because the three men turned around, saw Daddy coming and then said hastily polite goodbyes before walking away, each man to his own car.
Daddy walked right up to the window, dusty, dirty and pretty intense. His big hand resting on the side mirror, he asked me what was going on and I quickly told him because, as I've also said about him, he's pretty strict when it comes to respect and me obeying him. He immediately strode off after the three men, his work boots stirring dust with each confident step.
He chose the big guy, following him right to the other side of his blue sedan where, after seeing that Daddy was approaching, he waited. Daddy walked right up to him and a few words which I couldn't hear were exchanged before he punched the big guy right in the face! Yes! Not only that, he kept punching and punching while this big guy seemed to be in a daze, slowly going to his knees, then disappearing below the windows of his car, presumably to the dirt while Daddy's right fist repeatedly helped him there. I can still see his elbow jutting up in the air, his arm with that big, rough hand at the end driving downward over and over.
So, he finishes with him and turns around, walks to the front of the guy's car and stares at the other two. I mean, it was this cold stare that would have even made the devil back down, I swear! The other guys get in their cars and take off, he comes back to the truck and I'm thinking I'm in BIG trouble.
But am I? No. Instead, he hops in, takes the old, blackened rag that he uses to check the truck's oil with from under the seat and, without a word, wraps it around his gouged knuckles. Once he's done with that, he start's the truck and we're moving out of the lot.
He looks at me with that little grin he uses when he doesn't want me to be upset and says, "Any man that tells you he's a friend of mine is a liar."
Like I said, WOW!! I mean, first of all, those guys were actually flirting with me, even though I was too nervous to get that at the time until just before they left. But, even more interesting, is Daddy's comment. He never brought any friends home, never went out, but I naturally expected him to have friends at work.
Jul. 09/08
Sorry I missed you last night, I was staying at Aunt Peggy's house. Daddy was out of town on a sewer pipe laying job.
Aunt Peggy is great. She still loves to play board games and stuff, like she always did, and I had a great time, like I always do. And I had to wonder about her again, like always. I know I've mentioned this before, but it's so odd how she, like Daddy, has that ageless quality to her, not at all looking her forty-four years, yet she's so different from him. Where Daddy is often like an old grouch with the vitality of a young man, she's a lot more laid back in some ways, yet with the vitality of an old woman.
She presented herself like she usually does, in that ratty old, blue housecoat with her long, oily hair hanging down her back and front as we sat in her gloomy living room, the drapes pulled closed like most of the other rooms in the house, even though it was daylight outside. She's actually put on some weight in the last few years, the signs of this in her face as well as her hips. Her green, tired looking eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot as usual, but warm and playful as her full lips parted to smile, promising my destruction on the black and red battlefield between our well arrayed army of checkers.
Sometimes it's hard to imagine she's his sister. It's not just her apparent lifestyle, but her forward and likeable way and I wish I could hang out with her a lot more, but Daddy says she likes her space.
