Surviving Agent Orange by Gretchen Bonaduce

Author:Gretchen Bonaduce
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rare Bird Books
Published: 2018-08-06T19:21:55+00:00

P is For Pie

(Not the P You Were

Expecting I’m Sure)

Now that Danny was a father, he wanted to get in shape and start living a better life. I supported anything positive that Danny came up with. Trading off the drug addiction, Danny decided to work a fitness addiction instead. He’d work out for hours and hours and try to eat sensibly. Well, the eating sensibly was going to be difficult for me. I’m the kind of girl who eats candy for breakfast and a big piece of pie for lunch.

I did my best to buy only healthy things and cook nutritious meals for Danny. But sometimes I could not resist the urge to buy something special for myself. In Chicago, during the fall, you could go to the apple orchards and pick your own apples. Some of these places had the most beautiful and delicious apple pies you’ve ever seen. I wanted one. I knew this was forbidden contraband, but my desire for a piece of that pie outweighed my promise to not buy junk. My plan was to make the pie a traveling pie and move its location from hiding place to hiding place.

One day I heard my name bellowed from the basement.

“GRETCHEN! GRETCHEN!!!!”

Oh shit.

I knew that tone could only mean one thing.

I ran down the stairs, clutching our baby, Isabella, in my arms. When I reached the bottom of the stairs, Danny just stood there with the pie in his hands. I ran toward him, and in the smoothest move I could manage, I slid Isabella in his arms and removed the pie from his hands.

He and Isabella started to chase me. We ran around the pool table and all over the basement while he yelled at me to return the pie to him. He wanted some, and I had better give it to him. I had to think fast. What could I throw on the pie that would make him not eat it! I looked for the ashtray to dump cigarette butts on the pie. No luck. No ashtray on hand.

I ran toward the garbage can. I was going to dump the garbage can on the beautiful pie. He blocked me.

Uh-oh. He’d pushed me to the limit.

I had no choice.

I threw the pie on the ground and sat on it. I started to pee on the pie.

Everything went silent for a moment. Then we erupted into uncontrollable laughter. I had successfully stopped him from eating the pie. The next day he told the story on the air and it became legend. It also became code to our friends for “being broke”—i.e., “I’m so broke I don’t even have pie to pee on.”

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