Carrot- Top


It was strange – all the ooohs and aaahs after the loud thump was heard.

I saw him, he passed right by the window on his way to the cement. He said nothing but thump!

We all rushed to the windows. Through the red splatter on the glass we saw him.

He lay quiet, face turned from us, blood his pillow.

One girl fainted – two threw up.

The boys, faces pale were being “men” about it.

Our teacher quickly closed the shades but it was too late. The memory fixed.

They let us out early that day.

“Now you go straight home!” they said.

I rushed home to tell everyone but I told no one.

I was alone.

No one was home much.

It was 1949, I was five.

I wasn’t a latchkey kid.

We didn’t lock the house.

I was a lonely kid.

They called me Carrot-Top. It hurt.

I can’t remember my father’s face.

I wanted to go to my friend’s house down the block. They had a new RCA console color TV. It came with a little statue of a dog listening to a record player (“His Master’s Voice”).

I wanted a dog but mom said no. “You won’t take care of it.”

I couldn’t go outside. Mom wouldn’t allow me to but she wasn’t home but she said I couldn’t leave the house if no one was home but I was alone.

I was lonely.

I wanted a friend.

One day we moved.


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