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Creative Nonfiction

HELLO, WE ARE STUCK UNDER THE SNOW WITH THREE FEET UP TO THE CAMAROS WINDOW. YES, IM WORRIED.The snow is falling and its getting harder and harder to not get cold. We cant open the windows even. The white fluffy snow is on top, the hard packed snow,is underneath. The car is to the roof in a snow bank, on the side of the road. The ditch.


I had to calm down, my friend said so. I was clastrasphobic, and this was not cool. I had to be home by two. This wasnt looking good.

I started getting really grouchy then thought, maybe he wont like me if im too owly. So i tried to cool it. This being hard after a few beers.


So what do you do when you have twelve beer in the car its 12:00 at night and you cant move an inch? GET DRUNK! And get drunk we did. This was in the days before cell phones and my two oclock curfew was going down the drain. I knew my mother would be livid.

Okay so im a little upset we arent going to make it to our friends house for drinks. We have to drink them in the car.

So we get into this conversation,about what its like to be a kid. This is three beers each. Still not thinking about how we are going to get out of this jam, when day breaks. So he tells me how hard he had to work on the farm. That he thinks he should get his parents whole inheritance when they pass on, because he did all the work on the farm. He says his sister didnt ever have to do anything. This i know is him feeling sorry for himself , because i remember his sister doing all the housework around his parents house. She cooked and cleaned. In harvest season she even missed school. We get into a small argument about this, because he states that the farm work was ten times harder. Slopping pigs, feeding chickens the scraps of the house, feeding cattle hay. Then driving the tractor endlessly. Personally i think that men should work harder. My father always did. My mother didnt even cook.

I on the other hand grew up with maids. I was waited on hand and foot, with a silver spoon in my mouth,so he said. I agreed. I never worked for anything a day in my life. My mother was a debutaunt. My father the owner of over thousand oil rigs. Lived all over the world, and i couldnt believe i was stuck in this car with this whiney farm boy. Even though he was kind of cute. I had known him for two years. He had the nicest car in town, and he liked me alot.

He kept wanting to kiss me,and the sun was starting to come up at 6: 00 am. I wasnt game. The beer made me feel superiour to this guy. Im sixteen, and im all that and a bag of chips. My mother has already( with tears in her eyes) asked me not to fall in love with this boy. No one is going to take me for a ride and stick me in the middle of the ditch then kiss me. No one.

So the suns up now. We both start digging our way out my window. Me with my hands, and him with the snow wind shield duster. I even got upset because i broke a nail. I had just recieved a manicure that previous afternoon. My mother and i went together. We did manicures and pedicures, as a girl thing,together, every two weeks. She loved to have this time with me, because i would tell her everuthing about my days that had just gone by. She will love this one, and probably get upset that we drank the beer inside the car. Oh well, she will get over it. I was actually wondering once we got out who would drive. I think ill leave out the part to my mother, that i drank six beer. After all, a lady doesnt drink more than two drinks. Although it was six hours. I suppose he could drive. I was still feeling drunk at seven in the morning. after we dug ourselves out of our coffin in the ditch.

Standing on the side if the road for another hour. It being 8: 00 by now, finally a farmer came riding down the dirt road that had the ditch that had us in it like a capsule.

He wanted to know if we needed help. Well im pretty sure we couldnt help ourselves, i felt like saying. My drunk turning into a bitchy one!

The farmer had what they call " chaw" this being a snuff type tobacco, that you put in your bottom lip and spit it out. It was really grosse to watch him slurp and spit continually. My friend had done it in front of me once, him, trying to look like a hayseed to me. He did this because i called him farm boy for a nick name. He thought it was funny,that day but i secretly did too. He hasnt done it since.

So back to the farmer, we said " yes we need help, look". He was laughing so hard at us stumbling around. Our hands bright red, from digging ourselves out of the window.

He hooked up the car did a wheely on the tractor and my male friend put it in neutral and POP. We were out of our snow cave. We looked at each other and said" we better get home, now that we are out of our tombe."

Well unfortunatly i was never allowed to go out with my farm boy again. My mother forbade it.

The next mani pedi that we got together was a silent one. I got the bright red colour that she says is only for hussies. This is me reaching out to be a sixteen year old. Red nail polish.

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December 06, 2023 02:55

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