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The Stanley Cup

We had a few steps in front of my house growing up that wasn�t a porch, more like a stoop, except I never said the word �stoop,� I thought it sounded trashy. My neighbor Jen said, �stoop� but she also ate iceberg lettuce and her mother served glass dishes of fruit cocktail with their dinner and that wasn�t my thing. Plus, they called dinner �supper� and that wasn�t my thing either. Oh yeah and instead of calling it a �couch,� they said �sofa,� and theirs was one that had plastic on it.
I grew up with the inclination that my family was better than everyone else�s. My first glimpse at star fuckery was when we lived next door to famed hockey player, Bobby Nystrom. He was an Islander and during the early 80s they were in their glory days. They even won the Stanley Cup. During a Stanley Cup party they filled the cup up with jellybeans. I can remember my father lifting me to sit inside the cup and everyone ooohing and ahhing and �look how cute.� This would come to be a story I would tell at parties for years afterward, trying to impress my friends.
Michelle Nystrom was his wife. She had thick black curly hair and long red nail polished nails. She was the type of woman who didn�t care much for children. She also wore high wasted jean shorts and espadrilles. I remember sitting on my stoop and she walked over to say hi. She had a small mosquito bite on her ankle and I remember her scratching it with her long red finger nails over and over and over until the skin was raw. Did anyone else see it? I was small; her ankle was just in my line of vision. She scratched until it started to bleed. Just a small red dot nothing major, but I bet it felt really good.

9:50 p.m. - 2005-12-31

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history - mystery