The Innocent One

The Innocent One

You ever get accused of doing something you didn’t do? Well, I have. And it ain’t too grand, Stan! The only thing worse is getting grounded for something you didn’t do. It hurts. Really! I know. You get this real bad feelin’ right in your gut like you ate too much candy before breakfast the mornin’ after Halloween.

That feelin’ stays there ‘cause no one will believe you.

                          Ain’t that great!

Like maybe once you did do something and didn’t get caught. Maybe sometimes you did. And this time you really didn’t do a darn thing, but everyone thinks you did.

Then your dad says, “Go to your room, son!”

You ever notice how they always call you son  when they’re mad at you.

Well, anyway, you’re sittin’ there in your room —like I am right now. So I can think about my actions for awhile.  Only I didn’t have any actions! CAN YOU HERE ME DOWN THERE?! I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING! CAN YOU HEAR MEEEEEEEE?!

I guess they can’t. They’re all watchin’ TV havin’ a good time and I’m stuck up here. It’s not fair!

It’s a good thing they didn’t hear me.  Dad would make a special trip up here to give me one of those man-to-man conversations with me. “Vinnie, you’re 8 years old and you have to take your punishment like a man.”

And I would look at him nodding my head, but I wouldn’t hear a word he said. Why? WHY? You ask. Well . . . I don’t know why. “Cause I’m mad. That’s why!

I’m sittin’ up here lookin’ at a spot on the ceiling from when the roof leaked last summer. And the more I look at it, the more it looks like the shape of Bart Simpson’s head and neck. I ain’t kiddin’. But I don’t wanna talk about that, okay?

Where was I? Oh, yeah. I said I was mad, right?

And I’m sittin’ up here while everyone else is downstairs watchin’ TV. Yeah, that’s it. Well, it burns me up.

               What did I do to deserve this?

I’ll fix ‘em. I’ll runaway. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. See how they’d like that.

They’ll come up to my room tomorrow morning and yell, “Vinnie, Vinnie, time to get up, dear.” That’s my mom for ya. “Rise and shine, my big boy. Time to get up. It’s already past six.”

Then when I didn’t come down they’d send Becky. When she walked in I’d have a picture of her boyfriend Todd on my dresser. And I’d have a black marker mustache on him. HA! 

She’d scream and the family that wrongly punished a really good kid... (ME) would find an empty room.     And a note:

    My dear ex-family,

I know that this will be hard for you, but I’ve decided to runaway.   I really didn’t take Becky’s music player.  I know you found it in

my room, but it wasn’t me. Got it!?

Maybe Grandma put it there. You know how forgetful she gets. 

Or maybe Becky left it there herself when she was having one of

her a secret conversations with Toddsie-Woddsie.

Maybe Baby Matt climbed outta his crib and did it.

You never believed me that time I told you I found

him at the head of the stairs about to have his first

lesson at the Jackie Chan Falling School. I saved his

life. Look, if you wanna know what I think, maybe it

was a ghost that did it. All I know is it wasn’t me.

But you won’t believe me.   All I can say is goodbye,

adios, so long. Love, Vinnie

     PS. I’ll write when I can. (I doubt it seriously.)

     PPS. Don’t worry about me.  I’ve got nine dollars saved.

     PPPS. You lost a good son.

     PPPPS. A real good son.

     PPPPPS. Me, that’s who!

Boy, that would fix ‘em.  Mama would be crying and Dad would say, “I shoulda been nicer to that boy.  He was the best son a dad could ever have.  Who will I take to batting practice, now?  Who will I teach the restaurant business to?"

Then they’d all turn to Becky and blame her.

“It’s all your fault!” Mom, Dad and Baby Matt —all at the same time... ‘cept Baby Matt... 'cause he can’t even talk that good.

They’d probably call the police. Everyone would be looking for me everywhere. Ha! I’d be on the front page of the newspaper:

FAMILY SEARCHES FOR FAV

SON TO BEG FORGIVENESS

But I’d be long gone, probably to Timbuktu —wherever that is.  But wherever that is I’d be there.  All by myself. I could get a job.  Yeah, that’s what I’d do.  I’d show ‘em.

I’d start at the bottom ...a roadie for some rock n’ roll band.  A cool one.  But I’d work my way up to lead singer.  People would be screamin’ for me everywhere I’d go.  But nobody would recognize me ‘cause I’d dye my hair and have a real weird hair-do, like one of those all-messed-up-on-purpose kinda hair-do’s.

The fan magazines would interview me and ask, “Tell us about your parents, Mister . . . uh, what’s your name?”

I’d tell ‘em . . .”The Innocent One.” Yeah, that’d be a great name. “And I’m an orphan from,” where can I be from? . . . uh, I know, “from Germany.”

“Will you speak some German for your German fans, Mr. Innocent One?”

“No, I just lost my accent and I don’t wanna get it back,” I‘d say.  (Perfect answer!)

Boy, that’d be so great!  Me, the lead singer in the number one rock n’ roll band in the world.  I could probably afford a zillion music players.  I’d buy a hundred of ‘em and send ‘em all to Becky, just to show her.

No.  Scratch that.  Then they’d know it was me and I was all right.  I don’t wanna let them off the hook that easy.  Naw, make ‘em sweat. 

They did it to themselves.  They had a son and they blew it Big Time!  Too bad, so sad, I’m glad!

Okay, so here I am on TV about to receive my Grammys ...and an Oscar, too, for my latest album and video.

—First time ever they gave one guy both at the same time.

I go to accept and say, “I’d like to thank all my fans for believing in me.  You’re the best!  And you guys in the band, I couldn’t have done it without you.  And my parents, I wish I could thank you, but I can’t ‘cause you never would believe me when I told you that I didn’t touch Becky’s music player.

After I did that speech on TV and my face was everywhere they’d find out it was me.  Then they’d all come to my house.

“Vinnie, is it okay if we call you Vinnie, Mister Vance?” my dad would ask.

I‘d say, “I don’t know, Andy.” Boy, that would hack his berries callin’ him by his first name.

“We just came over to say we’re sorry for the way we treated you, son... I mean, Mister Vance. And we realize now that it was a ghost —just like you said. We didn’t believe you ‘cause Becky talks on the phone too much. But she couldn’t help it ‘cause she’s a teenager.  Please, can’t you find it in your heart to forgive us so we can come live with you?”

And Mom would plead, “I’ll make French toast and let you have that cereal with all the extra sugar and preservatives in it.”

And Becky would say, “I’m sorry.  You were the best brother in the world.  Here, you can have my music player, Mister Vance, and I’ll only talk an hour after school with Todd.”

And Baby Matt would say . . . uh something.  I’m not really mad at him. 

Then I would say, “Nobody’s perfect. I forgive you.” We’d all be so happy again. All I wanted was for you to believe me.

“Vinnie! Vinnie!” my dad called from downstairs.

(Uh-Oh) I could hear him coming up the stairs.

“Yes, Dad,” I yelled and went to open the door. When I looked out, he was at the head of the stairs walking towards my room.

“I made a special trip up here to see how you’re doing and to have a man-to-man talk with you.  You’ve been kinda quiet,” he said and closed the door.

Oh, criminey, I said to myself, but then to him I said, “Great, Dad.”

“Been thinking everything over?” he asked.

“Yes, Dad.”

“You have to admit that story about the ghost was pretty far out there, huh, son?” He smiled.

I nodded.

“We were just trying to get to the bottom of this. We’re a family and we have to learn to respect each other’s things,” he said as he stuck his finger at me.

“But, Dad . . .”

“No buts about it, son.  You have to agree with my basic premise, don’t you?”

“Which one is that?” I asked.

“The one I just spoke of: We, as a family, living together, have to respect each other’s property,” Hands on hips.

 “Yes, Dad.”

 “Good, let’s put this behind us. Come on, down and watch TV with the rest of the family, Vinnie.”

 “Cool!” I said and started out the door.  When we got to the stairs I turned to him and asked, “Dad, man-to-man, do you believe in ghosts?”

 “VINNIE!”

 “Okay, I’m sorry, Andy... Say, you don’t mind if I call you Andy, do you?”

 “You’re pushin’ your luck, kid.”

THE END