Hi, I’m Alexander Ford; please just call me Alex. And yes, it’s Ford like the vehicles: however, I hate fords! I’m somewhere between the ages of thirteen and sixteen, I don’t
give my exacted age do to the fact that the whole world is full of perverts and I don’t need one of them stalking me down. I’m writing to tell you something about the month of August.
First, I hate August! It’s hot and miserable and no one likes it. Secondly, I have to
spend the complete second week at my dad’s. It wouldn’t be that bad if he lived anywhere
else other than where he does!
You see, he lives in a field, a field! He has an old, off-white mobile home parked in the middle of five acres, of what once was, a cow pasture. Now, I’m not against living in the country. I love the out doors, away from the traffic and the noise. However, when I say county, I don’t mean a grass wasteland, with only two withered willow trees, and a large, old walnut tree that drops walnuts the size of you head if you try to sit under it.
Mom says that I exaggerate about the place, and maybe I do a bit. But I haven’t evened given you the worse of it. You see, Dad owns six dogs; one is an old hound dog that he bought sometime while he and Mom were still married, two others are some mix between a blue-tick and a beagle, two more are rat terriers, and the last one is just some mutt that no one knows anything about. Now that you know about the dogs, I’ll tell you why I don’t like them. It’s my job to feed them, I’m lucky that I still have both my hands! Also for some annoying reason they are obsessed with barking, all night! Then if I leave something outside, say a shoe, time morning they’ll have it devoured.
Then there’s the yard, well field. Dad likes to have the whole field mowed. I don’t know why, it’s not like he ever goes outside. Well as you can guess, that’s my job also. Before I go any farther let me ask you; have you ever mowed a field with a push mower, in August? It’s not fun is it? The heat alone is enough to kill you! Then, there are the walnuts! If you don’t pick them up before you mow and you hit one, the mower will throw it back out at the speed of light and it will somehow orbit the mower and hit you! One day after mowing, I had so many bruises on my legs that I could hardly walk back to the house. After that I learned to pick them up before mowing, but there are always a few that manage to hind in the grass until they see the mower. (No, they don’t really have eyes)
Now that you understand the outdoor situation let me tell you about the mobile home. If I had to choose one word to describe it, the word would be small. It’s about thirty feet long, give or take a few feet. It has one bedroom, one bath, a kitchen, and what’s left of a living room. The bedroom is Dad’s so I get what’s left of the living room.
You might be wondering way I keep using the term “what’s left of a living room”. Well, a few years back there was a bad storm, the window leaked and the water rotted the floor under the it, or so the story goes. The floor’s covered with a rug and I’m not suppose to walk on it. However, I once looked at it and it didn’t look like it had rotted do water, it looked like it had caught on fire once, but I guess I won’t ever know the truth, not sure if I want to either. On the other side of the room there’s nothing but junk. Dad never throws anything away! Therefore, it all ends up on the far side of the living room. The massive mound of junk is mad up of; old computers, broke TV sets, boxes of old stuff that’s not worth anything, and so on and so forth.
I sleep on an old, musty, green, flower patterned couch that looks as though it had just
shot clear out of the 70s and into Dad’s living room. At night just as I’m starting to fall asleep I start hearing mice racing down the vents. I’m not scared of mice; they just get on my nerves! Also, if I turn on a light after dark there will be a bug darting in every direction!
Now the kitchen, it wouldn’t be that bad in there if it weren’t for ants. I can swear to you that the ants in that kitchen are big enough to fix themselves their own plate! Everywhere you look, there’s an ant! Then when I get something out of the fridge, they all come running as though I’m suppose to feed them!
I don’t think I should tell about the bathroom, someone might die of shock. Instead, I’ll tell you about the things I do around the house. I do all the chores! And if I forget or just don’t do a chore, I get my TV privileges taken away, Dad has cable television, something I never get. Then if I’m just plain out lazy and don’t do any of my chores, well I am kicked outside for a day. I hate being kicked outside, when that happens there’s no going back in until the sun sets. I can’t even go in the use the bathroom! I have to stay out where in 105° with no shade, unless I wish to be hit with walnuts. Therefore, I mostly do all my chores.
Though it hardly rains in August, in never fails to storm once while I’m there. Okay, I have to admit that I’m a bit of a chicken when it comes to storms. But I have good reasons to be, when it storms while you’re in a mobile home it’s as if all hell breaks loose! The wind starts blowing, the house start shaking, it sounds as if the roof is being ripped off, and then as you think it just couldn’t get any worse the electricity goes out! During this time Dad watches TV, and when the storm grows louder so does the TV! That is until the power goes out.
If you haven’t already guessed, my dad’s kind of a bum. He lives off his disability cheeks, that he gets each month do to his “injured” leg. Yet I’ve seen him run like a champ when there’s a wasp in the house! Like my fear of storms, Dad’s deathly afraid of wasp, so it’s my job to make sure they don’t get in the house.
Anyhow, back to the storm situation. The main thing I don’t like about storms is the next day. It’s so humid that it feels like there’s no oxygen left, and surprising enough the grass has grown! That means back to the old push mower and walnuts!
Therefore, as you can see, between the heat, the field, the dogs, walnuts, mice, bugs, old couches, nameless chores, storms, and wasp, August is the worse month! And now ladies a gentleman, you know why I hate the month of August.
x x Kaka
