Self-described struggling writer C. J. Gorden uses a “Kick Ass Prompt of the Week,” a.k.a. KAPOW, to help writers produce. On July 30, the KAPOW was to write a first person piece in the voice of a child. My response is below.
Brat
by Fay Moore © 2012
See that girl standing under the tree? That’s my spoiled brat sister. Our housekeeper always says my sister’s the baby.
“You can’t expect her to do this or do that. She’s the baby.”
I get so sick of hearing it. If my sister takes my softball and leaves it in the rain, I’m not supposed to get mad at her because she’s the baby. If she comes in my room without permission, I’m supposed to be happy about it because she’s the baby. If she follows me and my friends to the ball field, I’m supposed to watch over her because she’s the baby.
Baby, schmaby. She’s a brat. Why can’t she play with that curly-haired girl next door? Why is she always following me around? She always wants to go where I go. Me and my friends don’t want her following us.
If she’s along, we can’t sneak up on my teacher Miss Marple’s house and peek at Miss Marple in her bathing suit. The wood fence around her swimming pool has four knot holes close together that are just the right height for us boys to press our eyeballs to and watch Miss Marple rub suntan oil on her legs and stuff. Miss Marple can’t see me, but I can sure see her. If that brat sister of mine is along, I can’t sneak a peek because she would tell on me, sure enough. Mom would ground me for a week.
And I can’t throw eggs at cars either. Or rub limburger cheese on door knobs. Man, that’s fun.
We boys rub limburger on old Mrs. Lender’s door knob. We know she gets home from work around four o’clock, so we hide in the tree fort across the street and wait. You should’ve seen her face the first time we did it. When her hand hit that slimy stuff, she jerked back like she was snake bit. Then she put her fingers to her nose and smelled them. Whew. Her expression was priceless. No way we could get away with cheesing anybody with my sister around.
Dad would take me by the shirt and walk me over to Mrs. Lender and make me apologize. Then he’d make me clean her door knob and wash down the door. Next I’d get stuck cutting her grass for a month, for free.
And it would all be because of my stupid sister. Yeah, she’s a brat.
C.J. Gorden’s blog can be found here: http://cjgorden.wordpress.com/2012/07/30/mondays-kick-ass-prompt-of-the-week-kapow-7/#comment-101
Fay Moore: I Want To Be a Writer 
Oh, man, Fay. I think I knew that kid! Good job! I could just see him hiding with his hand clapped over his mouth so he didn’t giggle in anticipation while he watched old Mrs Lender reach for the door knob. The rationalizing about accountability was also pure child. That inner child of yours is closer to the surface and more accessible than you thought. That’s a good thing.
Thank you, thank you. You have given me a free walk on cloud nine. xoxo
Adorable!
Somewhere in life, did you know that kid?