Dear Diary,
Today Mrs. Petrosky told me I had big buck teeth for a girl. You can imagine my confusion to this sudden comment about my teeth. First of all, buck's are very massive and dangerous animals. When I lived at Magnolia Manor, this regular customer, Marvin, used to come straight from hunting to see us at the Manor. He always came in wiping the sweat off his brow with a piece of tattered red and black checkered flannel. One day I asked Marvin why he used this torn piece of shirt, I asked, "Marvin why is that shirt so torn, and why do you hang on to it lika ya do?" He told me all the great moments life should be kept with sanctified objects so that you could always remember the greatness you endured." I told him that was nice, but that his piece of flannel smelled quite awful, like a dead animal brought in by the cat and left to rot. Then Marvin told me about how once, a long time ago, when he was hunting, he came across the largest buck he'd ever seen. He drew up his palms along the side of his ears to show the great massiveness of the buck's antlers. His fingers shook as he eyes widened with his mouth and he said, "The largest buck any one man has ever seen, the largest buck any one man has shot," and then he held up his flannel cloth and shook it in his fist, beginning to scream, "And here I have the very shirt I wore, never washed, never lost, the shirt that I wore when I took glory for myself with my old Remington 870." Here he started to sputter and spit with such velocity, that Darcy Lou had to hush him up and lead him to the back rooms.
But no matter, I decided I was tired of the Petrosky's and that what I really wanted was to return to a glorious moment of my own life. I pulled out the card Miss Brenda gave me, I decided this was my sanctimonious object, and went into the Petrosky's living room where the only telephone for the whole house sat atop a mahogany table with a rose carved in the middle of its smooth top. I picked up the black handle, and put my finger into the numbered slots, bringing each number around in a circle so that the numbers chimed like content dragonflies as they were dialed.
The phone rang five times, before a voice came on the phone and after a gruff deep, Hello, asked, "who is this, what do you want." I told him my name, Bellaray, that I only wanted to speak to Miss Brenda cause she was the nicest lady I had ever met and that I really just wanted to come down and probably live with her cause I had no where else to be at the moment, and I thought it'd be mighty nice, why she baking hot Cinnamon roles, and me doing just about whatever she wanted me to--cause that would please me to no end.
The voice wasn't very happy with my answer. He told me, no, I was not welcomed and in fact I should stay away. Then he hung up the phone.
I decided this could only lead to one conclusion, that Miss Brenda was in deep trouble. I figured this to be the case, cause sometimes Auntie Mary Joans called up clients to collect payments, and got a similar deep voice on the phone warning her to keep away. Auntie Mary Joans said that that's just what happened when people gambled away their money and spent it without reason--that then angry people come and take away parts of these gamblers' lives and whatever else they please. But I was worried for Miss Brenda, cause I never knew such a nice lady to have such a nasty habit.
That's why I decided to run away from the Petroskys, and to help Miss Brenda escape from the angry men. Diary, it may not be the best decision of my life, but at least I don't have to feed the chickens tonight.
From a Wendy's Restaurant somewhere between here and Miss Brenda's
Love,
Bellaray Dave
Dear Diary, Miss Brenda isn't Home
Dear Diary, Ferret Flu Smells like Poopy
Dear Diary,
Sorry I haven't written in a while. But you have to understand how horrible it is to come down with the Ferret Flu. I know you've heard of this, it's been all over the news. It's like the bird flu, and swine flu, except it comes from ferrets.It all started the other day when Mrs. Petrosky had to pick up some potatoes and kale from the grocery store. Being a sometimes nice lady, she asked Lulu and I if we would like to ride with her to the store. Since we hadn't been off the chicken farm, except to go to Cotton Plains Middle school, in the three weeks that we'd been here we said, "yes ma'am!" We all jumped in the orange truck and drove thirty minutes to the nearest town, which is called New Lazarus-population 897. Well whadyaknow! Right next to the little grocery store with the rusty doors and falling sign, was Timble Gin's Pet Store.
Mr. Gin, as it turns out, was suspected of murder in the late 80's when a lonely old lady was brutally attacked with an apple cutter. They know it was an apple cuter because supposedly the guy that killed her tried to slice her stomach into neat little wedges. Turns out that the lady was very plump and so all it did was slice into her belly fat. She died when the apple slicer was quickly removed, by an unknown guy, causing her to stumble backwards in pain, land on a toy truck that was her grandson's, and roll backwards into the stair banister, flip over it smacking onto a chandelier, and crash to the floor with such momentum that the floorboards caved in around her. However, she didn't die until later that evening, after this unknown guy had runaway, a huge tornado rolled through town. However, she being stuck into the broken pieces of floorboard was unable to seek the appropriate shelter and thus died.
Since the tornado was what killed her the defense of Mr. Gin argued that even if he had been the one to try and cut her belly with an apple slicer, what killed the old lady was the faulty banister which the lady knew about sine she had just recently called a repair man to fix it. Therefore the defense argued the lady committed suicide and Mr. Gin was freed.
And now Mr. Gin owns his very own pet store to which local children are strictly forbidden from entering because the parents fear for their babies' lives. Lulu and I not being local children did not know this. Mrs. Petrosky not feeling the gravitational force to keep us close to her bosoms, did not care to tell us. So naturally, we asked Mrs. Petrosky if we could go play with the puppy inside and pet the cute baby kittens that the white poster in the window said were free, not including tax. After Mrs. Petrosky said yes, we ran into the store like it was a candy shop and saw the parrots, snakes, and even a baby naked mole rat, but we weren't really enthused until we saw the ferrets.
Mr. Gin was pretty nice for a murder suspect. He let us hold the ferrets and told us they were from the native lands of Alaska, or Argentina--something like that, and that they had magical powers to ward off evil spirits. He told us they didn't carry fleas and could even be potty trained to use a liter box. I really wanted one.
But then Mrs. Petrosky came in with her bags of potatoes and kale and said it was time to go and that no we couldn't get a ferret, because ferrets eat chickens. We all climbed back into the orange truck and drove thirty minutes home, leaving the town of New Lazarus--population 897 behind.
It wasn't until I got home the Lulu and I started feelin really horrible. We couldn't eat the potatoes and kale Mrs. Petrosky had fixed for dinner, and it wasn't even because they looked like beetles crushed into green pulp. Our backs begin feelin really awful, like rocks had been jammed inside, and are heads starting feelin like anchors on a ship. Mrs. Petrosky sent us to bed but Mr. Petrosky refused to call the doctor until the next morning to make sure we weren't just trying to get out of feeding the chickens.
Next morning, we we're so sick with the ferret flu we couldn't even lift our arms. Mrs. Petrosky said we smelled like nasty rodents, and said we had to stay home from school until the Doctor said we weren't infected anymore.
So Diary, you see it's not that I didn't want to write in you, it's just my pencil wouldn't stay in my hand.
Have to go,
Bellaray Dave
Dear Diary, Te Quiero Español
Dear Diary,
Hola! Me llamo Bellaray. Me gusten los gatos!
Diary, Diary, Diary! Today this señora, Señora Juanita, came to Cotton Plains Middle School and taught us Spanish! She comes every martes and jueves, which is Tuesday and Thursday, for second period F.U.N. class! F.U.N stands for "Fulfilling Uppermost Necessities." Everyday we have a different F.U.N period that rotates between music, gym, art, and Spanish--my favorite. Did you know that once upon a time Texas was not America, but is was Mexico. I learned this in history. And did you know that Taco Bell is not bonafide Mexican food. Señora Juanita said that not only is taco bell not "authentic," whatever that means, but the cute little small dog that also speaks Spanish is not really a Mexican dog. Señora Juanita said that in Mexico city--which is cool because the city is named after the entire country--no one serves cheese or sour cream on their tacos! But I don't mind because cheese makes my stomach all grumbling because I am "lactose intolerant."
Speaking of tolerance, I think the Petroskys are meat intolerant. That or they're what Auntie Mary Joans calls "vegetarian" because I never see them eat any meat. More so, the other day this hen, Halinka, disappeared and the only clue we had to her disappearance were these canine paw prints imprinted in the mud. What was crazy is that Mr. Petrosky cried and even dug a grave for the bird, and placed her nest inside the grave! Then he told Lulu and I that it was all our fault his chicken had been eaten, because apparently the latch to the hen house had been left unlocked, allowing any creature to push its way inside. Mr. Petrosky became so enraged that he began to speak in the same tongue as Mrs. Petrosky, shouting at her with bites of english like, "orphans", "no good", and "no respect for cooking."
I didn't like his yelling so I silently practiced counting in spanish in my mind. "Uno, dos, tres, cuatro" until I got all the way to treinta-cuatro. Then I started going over the animals we learned today, "el conejito, el gato, el perro." Thankfully by the time I got to days of the week he had calmed down and told us to go finish our homework at our desk in our room. I don't think I have ever been so happy to do homework!
I have to tell you a secret, Diary. Sometimes, late at night when I can't go to sleep, I crumple Miss Brenda's piece of paper with her number written on it, and I pretend that I'm still at her house that smells like Dennys and leather. And I pretend that she didn't call the orphanage, but that she just sent me to a babysitter like Auntie Mary Joans use to do with me. I like to think that when I wake up in the morning, the babysitter will be gone and I'll be at Miss. Brenda's house waiting for her to get back from her second job at the western store--filling up on cinnamon rolls and waiting to go to Wal-Mart.
But every morning I wake up to the smell of sludgy kasha and the crackling alarm of the young rooster.
You're really my best best friend,
Love,
Bellaray Dave
Dear Diary, Welcome to Cotton Plains Middle School
Dear Diary,
Mrs. Petrosky woke Lulu and me up and five-thirty this mornin so that we could catch the school bus at seven forty-five. She needs to go to school too, cause her english is as jagged as a cottonmouth's scales. She says, "Oifwekn a bisl bulbe! Oifwekn! Uup Uup!" I definitely would not have uuped myself out of bed if she hadn't pulled back my covers and opened the curtains. She even started pinchin my cheeks, all the time yellin "foiler bulbe" and stuff that sounded like she was speakin in tounges. I finally got outta bed cause I was afraid she was gonna throw snakes on me or catch on fire or somethin.
I was hungry but Mr. Petroksy was standing in the kitchen, tapping his foot and pointin his finger, "chickenz" he says. So Lulu and I rubbed are eyes and went to the chickens where we proceeded to get our ankles and fingers attacked by angry beaks. We came back, even hungrier, to the smell of roasted coffee and burned porridge. Mrs. Petroksy plopped a spoonful of this nasty looking cow poop into two wooden bowls, slid in in front of Lulu and I and said, "Ayite-tyor kasha." It was better than boiled eggs--that's all I have to say.
It seemed like the whole day had gone by when Lulu and I had finally dressed and boarded the school bus. But the sun was just wakin, even though we were jumpin with all are coffee, and so we sat like all the other kids-quiet and sleepy til we got to school.
Oh my good lordy the school was the nicest thing I'd ever seen! A big brick building with blue metal doors and yellow tile that made me want to permanently reside there. Guess what, Diary, they serve food at school--for free! And it's not that yucky boiled egg and cabbage garbage! At eleven forty-two exactly, Mrs.Kinders makes all the students line up and silently walk into the lunch line where you can get as much food as you want. I got chicken nuggets, mashed potatoes, turnip greens, corn on the cob, warm butter bread, and a bag of potato chips cause I like the way they crunch against the top of my mouth.
But you probably wanna know about the kids. I must admit I don't think these children are very nice. Mrs, Kinders made Lulu and I introduce ourselves, and me being the oldest I went first, naturally. I told them I'd runaway from home, where a nice lady named Miss. Brenda brought me home and took me to wal-mart, but then sent me to the orphange where I met Lulu and I was happily in school there until I went to live with these crazy people from Russia that didn't like the color red. Mrs. Kinders didn't even let me talk about the chickens. Anyways, all the other kids laughed and called me a hobo and after that Lulu said she had to throw up, but she didn't really she's just what Sister Kate calls shy.
But i suppose that's all okay cause I quite like being best friends with you and Lulu. Oh yeah, Lulu and I decided we were best friends. No worries, you're my number one best friend.
Mrs. Petrosky is screamin in her tounge-words again. She does that alot when she's burnin dinner.
Farewell,
Bellaray Dave
Dear Diary, I wouldn't Call This a Mansion
Dear Diary,
Guess where I am right now! Yep, I'm sitting on my bed in the Petroskys mansion. Except, I wouldn't exactly call this a mansion. Mansions are supposed to have big windows and drive-thru driveways, and moats around the entire house. This house doesn't have any of that. Mrs. Petrosky wears this scarf over her head all the time and doesn't wear any makeup. Mr. Petrosky wears overalls and a plaid shirt. They look a little bit silly, but I guess that's how people from Russia are. Oh, They're from Russia. They told me that they "Come to America to make better life for zemselves" and get away from the color red or something. But I really don't understand how you can runaway from a color. I mean even the chickens on their chicken farm have red in them. Yes ma'am these people have a chicken farm! Right when they drove their old orange truck up to the house, Mr. Petrosky says to Lulu and I, cause they took Lulu too, "I show you chickens."
He didn't just show us his chickens. He introduced us to each hen and rooster. "zis von iz Gala, zis von iz Dima, zis von is Halinka, zis von is Igorek" I was like holy lord please speak english! And then Mr. Petrosky showed us how to collect the eggs from the hens without them getting aggressive, and how to take the dirty shavings and replace them with clean shavings, and how to feed the birds without them pecking each others eye balls out. And all this has to be done twice a day so that the birds feel well enough to produce "vonderful vite eegs."
After Lulu and I learned about stupid chickens the Petroskys made lunch, but I don't think Mrs. Petrosky really knows how to cook. She made boiled eggs with pickled cabbage and put a big vile of vodka in the middle of the table. Lulu and I looked at each other, both thinking, "where's the fried chicken and green beans." I was hungry so I picked around at an egg but only ate the white part.
Well, Dinner wasn't much better, and after dinner Lulu and I had to go check on the chickens again. Except without Mr. Petrosky. I don't think those hens like us very much. When we tried to take their eggs they pecked our fingers, and when we tried to rake out the dirty straw they attacked our ankles.
But tomorrow Lulu and I get to go to a real school for the town's children! I'm going to wear my new clothes from wal-mart and bring my purse. I am even going into middle school, sixth grade, with Lulu. Lulu is the right age for sixth grade, but I'm just not smart enough yet to go into high school. But that's okay with me because I've never been to sixth grade before and I sure would hate to miss it.
Diary, I have to turn out the lights now, Lulu really wants to go to sleep. I can't wait to tell you all about school.
Love,
Bellaray Dave
Dear Diary, I'm Getting A Home
Dear Diary,
Today I had to wake up extra early and take a shower because these people are coming to look at me. And if they like me guess what, Diary, they are going to take me home to their big beautiful mansion and serve me snails and fish eggs--Lulu said that's what rich people eat. Oh, and their names are the Petroskys and they don't have any kids. Mr. Dimmelkanops said that they are not able to have kids and that's why they are coming to look at me! Oh lordy Jesus I am so Happy I could just pee in my pants! I can't believe I might get both a Mamma and Daddy in one day!
Oh my gosh they're here!
Bye Diary,
Bellaray Dave
Dear Diary, Hello Gorgeous
Dear Diary,
Oh my good lord guess what! Today Mr. Dimmelkanops took me to get my hair cut! And it wasn't like when I get my hair cut at Magnolia Woods where Erma Mae gets out the kitchen scissors and cuts off my hair at my shoulders. This was a bonafide hairdresser. I bet you didn't even know I knew that word, bonafide. Sister Kate taught it to me today when I told her I liked this place. She said "Yes, my dear Bella(It really annoys me when she doesn't call me by my full name), this is a bonafide residence for children whom are less fortunate than others." I didn't really understand that so then she said, "A bonafide orphan home--we get are cost covered by the government" I still didn't understand her so I asked what bonafried meant and she said, "B-O-N-A-F-I-D-E. Bonafide, real." Well I just thought that was the stupidest word in the world. I mean I ain't a plastic doll am I? Of course this place is bonafide, we're eatin, breathin boys and girls.
Anyways, Erma Mae is most certainly not a bonafide hairdresser. She always leaves my hair all snaggedy and uneven at the ends. The hairdresser I went to, Candy Westin, looked like her name. Her hair was a poofy mound of teased blond hair and she had purple and green eyeshadow on and yellow nails to match her blue and yellow top against her navy trouser pants. At first I thought she was tall, but it turns out she was just wearin these like steps on her feet, these great hot pink shoes with little pointy heels that pinched her toes into a triangular point.
It looked painful but she said they were her most comfortable pair. And then she began to cut my long mouse brown hair that looked like tangled yarn. When she was finished I looked so good. It was short, she called it a bob, but it rounded it out my skinny cheeks and made my greens eyes pop like the stuff all the girls at Magnolia Woods drink on New Years.
Before Mr. Dimmelkanops drove me back to the orphanage, Candy took out this sticky pink stuff and put it on my lips and made me look pretty. I quite liked lookin in the mirror. That is till Mr. Dimmelkanops said we had to get back before Dinner. Oh ma good lord dinner is always get in the way of my good times.
Dinner was disgusting. Dinner was not bonafide. Dinner was the same nasty meat I've had since I've been here, and that's been a whole week! But that's okay, I have a friend now, her name is Lulu Begopsy, and after dinner Lulu and I like to sit sorta by the TV but not really close enough to watch it, and make up little stories as we color people and animals with crayons.
Don't worry, Diary, you're still my best friend. But I sure am glad to have Lulu. Well, Lulu's done using the bathroom so we're gonna go sit sorta by the TV. Bye Diary!
Truly,
Bellaray Dave