Daddy's by Hunter Lindsay

Author:Hunter, Lindsay [Hunter, Lindsay]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780982580882
Publisher: Featherproof Books
Published: 2010-06-30T20:00:00+00:00

NOTE

I wrote my sister this note about all the things I hate. Gorgons, it said. And how people go nutville any time the moon throws a shape. Nasty ass Nilla Wafers. The smell of crotch, which only seems to come wafting out from my sister’s room. Football players and especially football players who spend time in my sister’s crotch-smelling bedroom. The way the cable box gets all warm so Daddy knows when he puts his hand on it I been watching my shows instead of doing my papers. Cats, but not kittens. Arm hair. Cutting the grass on Sundays ’cause Daddy didn’t have no sons. Thigh chafe. Sun-In. Hair that has Sun-In in it. Hair from my sister’s head and finding clumps of it in the drain or in a tangle breezing around the bathroom floor. Anything orange-flavored. I hate, I said, and then I corrected myself by crossing out hate and writing despise above it, but not crossing it out so much that she couldn’t still see the word hate, I despise shit in other people’s teeth. Namely peppercorns and chewed-up bread products. But then I got specific and said Shit like them threads, them filaments, I said, that get left behind and flutter from between your teeth once you bite into a orange slice and have swallowed down all the juice and loose pulp, because my sister sure did like a good orange slice. The words loose and pulp coming anywhere near each other, come to think of it, I said. And also, the smell coming from the kitchen drain. That spoon that got caught up in the kitchen drain that I keep getting stuck with which is surely mangling up my lips with every bite of store-brand breakfast whatever. Lip chap. People that don’t brush the mung off they tongue. The sound of two tongues meeting somewhere in the middle, like slurp-slap, slap-slurp. Any song by that one guy. Any song that could be described as a song to get kissing to. Any boy that makes any kind of noise loud enough for me to hear as I happen by my sister’s room on my way to none of your business. Any boy says Jesus like anyone else’d say Mark or Dave. Thick lines of dirt in some fingernails. How cologne smells like toothpaste and rubbing alcohol. How Daddy walks around shirtless. How I can’t help but notice the swirls of hair around Daddy’s nipples. How Daddy has nipples in general. The word nipples or any word starting with the letters N-I-P. How Momma farts when she’s doing her exercises and no one reacts. The VHS that’s been sitting on top of the TV since last summer labeled For Adults Only. Adults in general, and how they seem unaware of things like fate and magic and daughters who are losers and music that is current and candy that ain’t Hershey’s. How God is I guess an adult too.

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