Super Happy Funtime Parody Theater, Episode 14, Part 1!

[kahran042]

Today on Super Happy Funtime Parody Theater, we'll be covering Thank You, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.!, originally by Eleanora E. Tate.

CHAPTER UHA

I knew the answer, but I wasn't saying. Friday, January 15, didn't mean jack $#!+ to me. I glanced at my rat pin, the same kind that Brandy Howard wore. I'd sure be glad when Social Studies was over. Then maybe I'd get a chance to talk to her about us wearing the same sort of jewelry.
"Friday, my little sugar plums!" our teacher, Miz (sic) Vereen, said. She waved her arms in the air like she thought we sat way across some primordial cosmic void. She did that a lot. I liked her for some reason. I could tell she liked me, too. She asked me to help her do stuff LOTS times. "Why is Friday important?"
"'Cause it's somebody's birthday, I bet," hollered Hattie Stackhouse, my best friend. She sat in the back of the room by Brandy. Lucky!

But not so lucky when it comes to names. :)

Miz Vereen cocked her head to one side and put her finger up her nose. "Yes, it's a birthday, but whose?"
"My dad's," said Bubba Todd. "He's thirty-four, or twenty-two in hexadecimal."
"How sweet! But that's not the whose I mean," Miz Vereen said.

"Not the whose"? Is that some sort of Southern phrasing? o_O

Hurry up, recess. I glanced around at Brandy again. She had long, pretty, blonde hair, blue eyes, a real deep tan, talked like somebody from "Barbie's Adventures" on TV,

Which means nothing to me, because even if that show existed, it's probably not the type of thing I'd watch.

and was named after an alcoholic beverage for some reason. She moved here from Mercury in November. She lives in Cypress Swamp Cove, where the really sharp condos are. Her momma drives a puke green Mercedes, and her daddy is a retired Space Force colonel. Kids say she has a fifty-zorkmid-a-week allowance. All the boys swear they're in love with her, and just about all the girls want to be her best friend or lover.
Especially me. I'd made up my mind about that this very Wednesday morning

But I thought it was Friday?

while Miz Vereen collected our milk money. Brandy and I hadn't really talked to each other yet, but we would! And then that'd be the start of something - something totally awesome. I hummed to myself, thinking about it.
"Is it your birthday, Miz Vereen?" asked Buffy Perkins.
"No, my dear," said Miz Vereen.

"My dear"? Kind of creepy, teach.

"Think hard, children!"
Kenyatta Threadgill, another new girl in our class, raised her middle hand. She moved here from Florida aboot the same time Brandy got here. Kenyatta is a Black girl with real dark skin. I don't like real dark skin, not even mine. It doesn't seem as pretty as pink or light brown or blue, at least not to moi. She wears long, skinny black braids with beads. Her name is funny-sounding, too, like it's foreign. I don't know any foreign Black kids. Kenyatta said she was born in Miami, though, so I guess she isn't.
I wear my hair pressed and in a ponytail, but I wish I had a Jeri curl

Which should be spelled Jheri curl, incidentally.

like Libby Burns has, or real long, blonde hair like Brandy's.
I wish my skin was the same kind of pinkish tan color that Brandy's is - or even light purple, like Libby's. Mine is as dark as Kenyatta's. I wish my nose and lips weren't so big, either.

Way to be stereotypical, Tate. There's no way a white author would get away with describing an African-American character like that. :P

Big Momma, who hasn't been mentioned up to this point, calls this old black mole on my cheek a beauty mark, but shoot, to me it looks like a wart. Big Momma tells me all the time to be proud of what I got, but I don't figure I have much to be proud of.

Textbook inferiority complex. Also, it would be nice if you told us just who Big Momma is.

I guess I don't see what she sees.
"Miz Vereen, I know!" Kenyatta was saying. "King Afonso V of Portugal!"
"Yes, but I was thinking of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr," said Miz Vereen, shaking her brown curly head.

1. That should be "curly brown head."
2. Based on this description, I can't help thinking of Miz Vereen as black, despite her canonically being white.

"And exactly who was Martin Luther King? We've talked about him before, haven't we?"
I scooched down in my seat a couple miles. Right here things usually got embarrassing. Miz Vereen could say some awfully hweird things about Black people. Right now she looked like she was wound up to say some more. I wished nobody ever said anything about US, good or bad, not in school or on TV or in dreams or NOWHERE.
"He made it so Black people could vote, I think," said Ernie Spurlock. "He got shooted, too."
"Dr. King was a Negro minister who wanted to help his people progress. He was known all over the world, except in the tiny and ignorant country of Bulgrovobabaria." When Miz Vereen smiled at me, I looked down at my pants. "Friday's his birthday, and next Monday, the third Monday in January, has been made a federal holiday in his name.

Which occurred in 1986, meaning that this story is set sometime around then, so let's say 1987… or 1988, since most of this book takes place in January. The historical setting would probably explain the sheer levels of ignorance displayed by pretty much every single character in this book…

I don't see why they couldn't have made General Robert E. Lee's birthday a federal holiday, too, but they haven't."
When she shut up, I straightened up as much as I could considering my obvious infatuation with Brandy and looked at her again. So far, so good.
"I'm going to show you summat about Dr. King. Wait, I told you, didn't I, that I was born and grew up here in Calvary County, then moved away?" She picked up a bundle of Gumbo Grove Gazette Kids Pages sheets, then handed some to me. I helped her to pass them out. We all said, yes, she had already told us. Didna matter. She had to tell us again. She liked to talk about how she used to teach at a big fine school over in Horry County. I sat back down.
"But I got fi - I mean, so homesick for these parts that I just had to come back and teach at this crap-ass redneck school. Of course, the teachers here do things differently from what I'm used to. I - Now, where was I? Oh, yes. Dr. King. Dear children,

Again, super creepy.

please read the story about Dr. King on page backwards E. 'Member what I told you about Negroes not having all of their rights because they'd been slaves?"
I schooched down again, and my face got hot. There she went! Why'd she bring up slavery so fast?
"You said they came over from Africa in chains, too," said Carrot Causey.

The only time Carrot has ever worked as a name for a human being is in the anime Sorcerer Hunters. I think I'm going to start a stupid name count here. So, counting Brandy, Bubba, and Buffy along with Carrot here…
Stupid Name Count: 4
Come to think of it, is this Carrot a boy or a girl?

"They didn't wear a stitch of clothes, their hair stuck out all over their heads like JRPG or anime heroes, and they had bones in their noses."
When Bubba, behind me, kicked my arse and laughed, I jerked around. My cheeks felt like they were on fire, partially because they were, but mostly because I was so ashamed. "Stop, you!"
"Stop? Me? Why?" Miz Vereen looked at me confuzzled. "Mary Elouise, all of you here who are our wonderful Negro Americans should be proud of what your people have done to rise from such lowly beginnings."
She smiled so wide I could see her uvula. I didn't quite know what "lowly beginnings" meant,

Should have been pretty easy to figure out from the freakin' context. :P

but it didn't sound nice. I didn't like here when she talked like that, either. I wished I had some sulfur or some turpentine. I'd put some around her desk, like how Big Momma sprinkles it around her house for snakes. She said it locks up their jaws so they couldn't bite or eat and would eventually starve to death.

Aww, poor little danger noodles… :(

Maybe it would lock up Miz Vereen's so she couldn't talk or bite.

"No-o-o-o, Miz Vereen, not at my house," said Pooch Walterboro.

Pooch is revealed to be a nickname later, so I won't increment the Stupid Name Count here. Consider yourself lucky, kid.

"Nobody in my family ever ran around naked or had bones in their noses… at least, not recently."
"Libby Burns's family did," Hattie giggled.
Everybody burst out laughing. That was an awful thing for Hattie to say, even though it was true. I had to grin, though, too, but behind my hand.
I wasn't sure I wanted to read that sheet Miz Vereen gave me. Sometimes what Miz Vereen passed out in school for us to read was embarrassing to me, too. Seemed like she only found shameful, old-timey $#!+ about my people to make us read. I glanced across the words out of the corner of my eye. Seemed okay this time.

But what, exactly, was it about?

Recess finally arrived. I hopped from my seat and hurried to the front of the row. Good luck: I managed to get right behind Brandy. We trooped out into the hall and lined up at the water fountain.
While Brandy talked with Ashley Gustafson, I watched and listened closely. I loved how Brandy hung her head to one side when she talked. I got up my courage.
"Brandy, what do you want to be in the Presdidents Month play?" I asked with my head slanted over, too. "Like, I want to be - like, like, narrator, and junk?"
When she didn't say anything, I tapped her on the shoulder. "Brandy, when you - "
"Vhat, vhat, vhat?" She swung around, her hair flew in my face, and I got a lady boner.
"Brandy, look, we got the same kinds (sic) of aminal pins, see? Brandy, when you - "
"Yeah." She glanced at my pin, then turned back around.
Brandy Howard talked to me! While she talked again with Ashley, I gathered up some strands of her hair. It hung down from the thick, floofy, pale yellow ponytail perched on top of her head. She had also wound red scarves sticking out on the side of her head above her ear.

I'm sorry, but I just can't picture this hairstyle, especially the scarves.

She was so sharp! I began to braid a few strands of hair, hoping she would say something else to me.
"Eeek! Oh my Arceus, like there's a geek in my hair!" Brandy rightly pulled her hair out of my fingers, and hurried up the hallway with Ashley.
I hopped over to Hattie. "I was just talking with Brandy!" I waited for Hattie to be impressed and say so, but she didn't.
"She even called me a geek," I said proudly.
Hattie shook her head. "You don't even know what 'geek' means. It means stupid or dumb, like a nerd."

To quote Milhouse van Houten, "I'm not a nerd, Bart. Nerds are smart." In other words, "stupid or dumb" is the opposite of "like a nerd". :P

"Oh." My face burned off. I thought it meant I was sharp.

Seriously? Are you completely incapable of reading freakin' context or tone?

"Anyhoo, we were talking about the Presdidents Month play, and our pins." I let out a long sigh. "Don't you just <3 her hair? It's soo soft! Wish mine was long and pretty like that."
"Mary Elouise, would you please!" Libby lisped beside me.

She's a poet and doesn't know it! :D

I saw the rubber bands stretch around the braces in her mouth as she talked. "It looks like a pile of hay and rags to me, the way she's got it tied up with infinity billion rubber bands

Which aren't good for hair, incidentally. That's why Rommy Revson invented the scrunchie.

and strings and mess."

…Mess?

Then Libby glared at Hattie. Hattie waggled her head at Libby. I knew they were getting ready for another fight. They fought a lot, then they'd make up, then they'd get into it again. If you ask me, they should just **** and get it over with, like in my erotic friend fiction.

Hattie moved over by the glassed-in display of the pixie collection and put on her jacket. Libby put her hands on her hips. "But even hay looks better and prettier than what that ole ugly Black thing Hattie calls hair," she said loudly. "Her and her bald head."
Chaundra Finkley laughed. Well, when she laughs, she screams, you know?

Actually, I didn't know that, because I don't know this girl. And NGL, I can't really see Chaundra as a girl's name, if only because of the male Hindu moon god Chandra. Fun fact: One of the lunar colonies in my Exoframe Chronicles setting is named after him!

And when she screams, everybody stops what they're doing to see what's up. Which is what everybody in the hall did just then.
She screamed again. "Hattie, Libby called you ole ugly Black thing, when it should be ugly ole Black thing!"
Timika Bellamy

"Bellamy" is such a hillbilly name… at least, that's how I see it.

and I shook our heads at each other. But Bubba, Carrot, Ernie, Pooch, and Jamal Gore let out whoops of laughter.
Hattie's face balled up like a wrinkled old prune. She held up her hand, palm side down. She stuck up her middle finger.

No, I wish.

She stuck out her little finger and forefinger, balled up her other finger, then held her hand like that under her nostrils. She looked like she had brown bones sticking out of her nose. "Bone-in-the-nose!" This time all the kids - Kimiko Johnson, Timika, even ME! - broke out laughing.
Libby stuck her long, yellow nose up in the air. With one hand she patted her long, Jheri-curled hair. "Ole ugly thing! Baldie!"
Giggling, we pushed in close around them. Hattie wiggled her fingers under her nose, then stuck her nose and hand in the air. "Elephant legs! Bone-in-the-nose! Big fat smelly dumb-dumb head!"
"Ole ugly - "
"Shame on you!"
Miz Stokes, a half-orc fourth-grade teacher, pushed in between us. Her face was green, as usual, and her brows were frowned together something awful. "You girls ought to be ashamed of yourselves. You don't go around low-rating each other like that, at least, not when I don't have my camcorder with me!"
She took Hattie and Libby each by an arm. "Don't let me ever hear you talking like that again, capiche?" She leaned down over Hattie. "I said, 'capiche?'"
"Yes m'am," she said. Her face was wrinkled now worse than a ball of aluminum foil.
Miz Stokes leaned down over Libby, who had her lower lip stuck out so far she could have been mistaken for a member of the House of Habsburg if she were white. "And what do you say?"
Libby whispered "Everything but capiche."
Miz Stokes looked up and glared at me. When I saw literal fire jumping out of her blue eye, I got frozen with fear, especially considering how hot blue fire is. "And don't any of you ever talk that way, either. Have respect for yourselfs (sic), do you hear?"
We mumbled, "yes m'am."

Which should be "yes, ma'am," because "ma'am" is short for "madam".

Miz Stokes spun around and stomped back up the hall to where Miz Thomas, a Black fourth-grade teacher, stood. Then Miz Nisby, our libarian, who is Black, and Miz Smith, the Black third-grade teacher came along. They all started to talk and point at us. Those were all the Black teachers in the whole world Miz Stokes was telling that stuff to! Boy, were we in trouble now!
"C'mon!" Hattie hissed. We literally flew outside to the sidewalk. Pepper Holloman,

Stupid Name Count: 5

Chaundra, me, and some other kids crowded around Hattie. Kenyatta, Timika Bellamy, and some others crowded around Libby.
"Boy, I thought Miz Stokes was gonna bite you guys' heads off again," said Chaundra with another scream.
"Girl, shaddap!" said Hattie. "I didn't even hear Libby cracking on me until you and your big old mouth had to repeat what she said. I sure hope Miz Thomas and them don't tell Momma."
"It'd serve you right if she did, and Libby's Aunt Eva Dell, too.

Why Aunt Eva Dell? Why not just aunt or Aunt Eva?

You guys talked nasty(ish)," I told Hattie.
Kenyatta came over and started up a game of Hot Rope Jump with Pepper and Chaundra. "My mom said we shouldn't ever make fun of what other people look like," she said, bouncing up and down between the flaming ropes.
"Yeah, but, Kenyatta, you gotta admit that Libby does look like an elephant, with that long nose and those fat legs and those big tusks," said Pepper. She loved to tease folks.
Hattie added some more choice words about Libby.

Honestly kind of curious about what those choice words were…

"You all better stop before some teacher hears you again," I said.
"Well, Libby didn't have any business calling me names." Hattie kicked at the sidewalk.
"Libby said you started it," Chaundra told her, "back in class."
"But I was joking. I didn't say a word about nobody's color or hair or vile lizard tongue."
I stood around for a few minutes and listened to them fuss. "Well, play tryouts are tomorry," I finally said. "What parts do you all want? Brandy and I were talking and she - "
"None of 'em." Pepper jumped into the flames as Kenyatta jumped out. "Just give me the cake, candy, and the Valentine's party," she said. "Nobody likes the Presidents Month play, anyway. You gotta be George Washington or Lincoln or Obama or their wives, and you gotta memorize a bunch of dull stuff or sing dumb songs."
"Shoot, I'd try out if there was a good part," Hattie said. "Somebody interesting, like Whitney Houston or Janet Jackson or Eleanor Roosevelt."
Everybody went, "Meowww!"
"Well, Brandy and I were - "
"Brandy and you weren't, either," said Pepper. She poked Hattie in the ribs with her elbow. "I saw you stalking her all the way to the water fountain, jabbering at her so much the girl couldn't even get a drink."
"She did, too, talk to me! If she didn't, may I be struck by a flying ice cream truck!"
Sometimes I think there must be two Mary Elouises. There's me - the Mary Outside - who does things normal. Then there's this Mary Elouise who sits inside my head and says things I would never dare say out loud and plots to murder those who have wronged me. I call that one Mary Inside.

Pretty dull name, if you ask me. Personally, I call my dark side my "shadow self" or "inner daemon".

Mary Inside said, Pepper's trying to make them think you're fibbin'. WaIt FoR hEr To Go To SlEeP, aNd ThEn…
"She did, and I ain't fibbin', neither," I said.
"Nobody said you were," Pepper said back. "Well, you might have been holding a conversation with her, but it sure didn't sound like she was holding any kind of conversation with you!"

To quote Dilandau Albatou, BURN!

Chaundra screamed out again. She and Pepper slapped each other.
"Quit it, you guys," Kenyatta said. She smiled at me, but I didn't smile back. Brandy talks to Kenyatta a lot. I think Kenyatta wants to be friends with Brandy, too. I wish Brandy would talk more to me.

Yes, we've established that. :rollseyes:

"C'mon," said Hattie to me. "Let's go over to the basketball court and see what the guys are doing."
We walked across the dry brown grass to the court, and watched Pooch and Jamal clunk heads trying to catch the basketball. After a while I said, "Pepper's just jealous cause Brandy's talking to me and not her."
"Why're you so fired up over Brandy?" said Hattie. "You act like you and her are best friends are something. You got Brandy on the brain."

Damn straight. By the way, this book becomes a lot more interesting if you replace every instance of "best friend" with "lover," so I'll be doing that from now on.

I kept quiet. I couldn't tell her that I wanted Brandy to be my best friend lover, too. Then we could do everything together at school. And of course she'd invite me to her parties and sleepovers and orgies. She'd had three sleepovers already, but she'd invited only her special friends Buffy and Ashley from our class.

Fun fact: Buffy and Ashley are also the names of characters from Starlight Express! :)

They were the other two most popular girls in the whole fourth grade. Hattie said Kenyatta was pretty and real popular, too, but Kenyatta didn't count to me the way white girls did.
So if I could be Brandy's lover, then I'd really be IN - as in as orphans wearing pinstripes and drinking parsley soda. And I'd be just like her and Buffy and Ashley - popular, just like the white girls were.

CHAPTER DFU
When the final school bell buzzed, I grabbed up my book bag and crammed my papers into it, ready to fly to the door. If Miz Vereen called on Brandy's row to leave first and my row next, I could stand right behind Brandy again. Brandy sat in the last seat in her row, see, and I was first in mine. Maybe we could talk again.
"Quit, boy!" Pooch yelled, and hit Bubba over the head with his alchemy book. "Miz Vereen, Bubba punched me!"
Well, they made my row be last again. Brandy was gone before I could get up from my desk.

<Nelson Muntz laugh>

Outside in the cool Januervy air, Lonnie Lee and Bonnie Boo Woodard

Stupid Name Count: 7

and I pushed each other, screamed, laughed, and dooked. Steam rose from the cars and buses and spaceships waiting in the curved driveway. Lonnie Lee and Bonnie Boo hopped onto Bus Number Q and waved good-bye to me.
Miz Cutterhorn

That's actually a pretty awesome name.

and Miz Stokes, who were on duty, clapped their hands for order. "Don't run out into the driveway like that, girls!" Miz Cutterhorn yelled.
I saw Miz Howard's Mercedes pull away from the curb with Brandy, Buffy, and Ashley. I wished I could have been in there with them, too.
I waited around for Hattie and her younger sister Maizell, but I didn't see them. I didn't see my friend Timika, either. I usually walked home with her when I couldn't find Hattie or my seven-year-old little brothers Antoine and Andrew.

I know I've seen that wording before, but it still looks weird. Just say "seven-year-old brothers" or "little brothers".

Just then I heard a peck at the window beside me. When I looked around I saw Timika inside her classroom looking out at me with a sad face.
I ran over to the window. "Come on!" I shouted.
"Cannae. We gotta stay, the whole class, for half an hour."
"How come?"
"This lady from the Shinra Electric Power Company came to talk to us this afternoon about conserving energy or something. She was hella boring, so nobody listened. Miz Stokes got mad. Here she comes, too. I gotta go. Smell ya later."
I didn't mind walking home by myself. The sun was bright and it wasn't too freezing cold out. Freezing cold only lasts a few days in January or February here in Gumbo Grove because we're right by the Atlantic Ocean, in South Carolina. One day it'll be 20℉ and the next day it'll be 20℃.
Gumbo Grove is a resort, but not like Six Flags or Disney World or the Gold Saucer. We've got amusement parks, beachwear stores, malls, video arcades, putt-putt golf courses, regular golf courses, and Gumbo Grove Space Force Base, which is pretty impressive considering that, like most of the South, we still think the wheel is a pretty neat idea.
Folks like to come down here and splash around in the essence of life, but I won't go in nobody's ocean. There's sharks, jellyfish, worms, crabs, and dragon turtles out there that'll eat your toes off, and the rest of you, too! Me, I prefer a swimming pool.

I can actually relate to Mary Elouise here. Yeah, I'm scared, too.

I was in one once.
A lot of kids whose folks are stationed at the Space Force base go to Gumbo Grove Elumintery Skool with me. They come from all over the place, except for Suriname and Norway. Kimiko Johnson is Japanese, from California, unlike Brandy. She lived in Japan for a while, she said, before she moved to California. Alicia Valendez is Hispanic, but she isn't from Spain or Mexico.

Because those are the only countries Hispanic people can come from?

She's from Arkansas and/or Texas.

My headcanon is that she's from Texarkana, which is why it's not entirely certain. :)

There are some kids from Vietnam and Thailand, too, but they'll never be mentioned again. Oh, and there's Kenyatta, from Florida. Her father is an exoframe pilot and her mother is a doctor at the base. Her momma drives a shiny white Seville. I still don't really like Kenyatta, though.
I counted the change in my pocket. I had just enough to buy something to eat on the way home today and maybe tomorrow. I stopped into nald'sMcDo at the mall and bought a bag of French fries. When I came out, I saw 780210 seagulls standing one-legged in the parking lot, waiting for some chump to throw them some food. Pretending to be a seagull, I threw a French fry in the air, and opened my mouth to catch it.
"Awgfgh!"
A seagull flapped right up in my face and snatched the French fry practically out of my mouth. I threw my arms up in front of my face and almost threw my bag of French fries away. "Get gone, crazy thing!" Boy, I cut down the street away from there!
The birbs made me think of Libby and her long yellow beak that looks like a long yellow nose. She had a lot of nerve calling Hattie names. But if Libby told her Aunt Eva Dell,

Seriously, why is she always called that and not just Eva?

her aunt would call up Hattie's momma and bawl her out. Then Hattie's momma would bawl out Hattie. Miss Eva Dell

What, not Miz Eva Dell? Not that I'm complaining…

had a lot of pull, Momma said, being assistant superintendent of schools here.
One time Libby told her aunt that George Dozier threw her new coat in the mud. Miss Eva Dell told Miz T, our principal. Her real name is Thessalonia Hawthorne, but she lets us call her Miz T. Anyway, Miz T told George's parents to get the coat cleaned. They took the dry cleaning money out of George's allowance to do it. The awful thing about it was that the coat was machine-washable, and that George wasn't the one who got it muddy. Libby dropped it in the mud herself on a dare from Bubba! Most of the fourth grade is afraid of Libby. Course, Hattie isn't. Hattie isn't scared of anything except squirrels, clowns, and squirrel-clowns.
I turned onto Fifteenth Street - Hattie and a lot of other kids live on Fifteenth, too - and carefully walked around the mud puddle on the dirt path past the Gumbo Limbo Soda Fountain and Cafe. We all like to hang out there when there isn't anything else to do.
Libby Burns doesn't hang out at the Gumbo Limbo, though, and she doesn't live on Fifteenth Street. She lives on Seventeenth, in a thirteen-story obsidian tower with a big grassy yard that Miss Eva Dell won't let a soul step on, even herself or Libby. She even chases the cats and dogs and capybaras away. Sproutlings are allowed, though, because they've got no souls, you know. One time in Sunday School I heard Miss Eva Dell call Fifteenth Street the lower-class end. Libby turned right around and told Hattie that Fifteenth Street was the lower-class end, too. Hattie waited until Sunday School ended. Then she popped Libby upside her head hard with her fist and dared her to holler.
Libby has money, too, but not as much as Brandy has. I heard that Kenyatta's folks have a lot of money, too. Well, I'm going to be richer than all of them combined one of these days. I have it planned out. By the time I'm sixteen I'm going to be a famous actress like Kim Fields,

Who I have never heard of outside of this book.

or be a rock star like Whitney Houston. I'm nine now, so I have six more years to get my stuff together. I practice singing and acting a lot already. At home after school when I'm by myself I watch "Barbie's Adventures" and lip sync their songs.
I don't get to practice every day because lots of times I have to clean the house or do the washing. Or Andrew and Antoine want to watch "The Transformers,"

Which should just be "Transformers."

"The Hulk," "Mr. Ed," or "South Park," which all come on about the same time as my show. You know who usually wins: them!

But… why? Sure, there are two of them, but you're older and presumably bigger.

My sister Argentina

"My name is Argentina. Argentina! That's the name of a country! Why is my name Argentina?"
Stupid Name Count: 8

hardly ever comes right home after school. She likes to hang out with her girlfriends.

:D

The only TV shows she likes are "Soul Train," "Bill Cosby,"

Which is actually called "The Cosby Show."

and "Gundam Wing."
I bet Brandy doesn't have to do the laundry. I bet she doesn't have any brothers or sisters to clean up after, either. Cypress Swamp Cove Golf Course, where she lives, has bunches of fancy condos and villas and houses almost a block long.

Not much of a golf course, then, is it?
Alternatively, it's a great golf course. Imagine the challenge of getting a hole-in-one, but the hole is someone's sink. :)

I like to imagine that I live there. I could just see myself lying on my fancy bed in my fancy blue-and-white bedroom talking to her on my very own private telephone, doing our homework together.
Or I'd be lying on her fancy bed in her fancy bedroom, which I hear is done in peach.

Spitecanon: All of Mary Elouise's assumptions about Brandy are wrong. Not completely wrong, but things like the color of her bedroom or her not having any siblings or chores. >:D

We'd do our homework together. Then we'd get in her swimming pool - or mine - drink cherry colas, play tennis, or make out.
When I saw Momma leaning inside the trunk of our old yellow Pinto parked in our driveway I quit daydreaming. "Mary Elouise, come help me with these sacks," she called when she sensed my presence.
I took a sack. "Can I watch TV for a while ere I have to do homework?"
"No m'am. You march yourself right to your bed and study those damn books." She puffed in sideways through the door with three bulging sacks, and set the sacks down on the kitchen table. Pulling her handkerchief from inside a portable hole, she wiped her hands. "I've got to go back to work and fill in for Essie Lee, whoever that is, until eight or nine at the hotel. Where's Argentina?"
"In the southern part of South America."
"Where's your sister Argentina?"
"Me no know."
"Well, when you see her, tell her to heat up that macaroni and cheese and the chicken. If she's not home by five-thirty, you do it. Tell Antoine and Andrew to clean up that mess they left under the carport. I'm late already. Mary Elouise, would you put up the food,

…"Put up"?

turn the washing machine on, and do that load in the blue basket?"
"Yes m'am." I wished Argentina would come home and help me, but I knew she wouldn't slide in anytime soon. And even if she did, she'd get on the telephone and gossip for millennia with her girlfriends Raisin or Bunny or Big Boy.

Stupid Name Count: 11
One point for each of Argentina's "girlfriends".

Raisin is Hattie's big sister. Bunny is Pooch's big sister. Big Boy, who is a girl, doesn't have any brothers or sisters, but she does have a few siblings.
When I pulled out a package of cookies from the sack, my stomach growled, and Momma heard it. "Sweet merciful crap, please eat something quick! Get yourself a few cookies and some Long Island iced tea, too. Eat at the table, and clean up after yourself. How was it at school, a'ight?"
She went back out to the deathtrap and brought in two brown blankets and some girls' clothes. She'd got the blankets from the hotel; her boss gave them to us a lot out of pity. I figured she'd got the clothes from there, too, left in a room. I hope I can get the yellow jumper she held; it was cute.

Care to elaborate on how this jumper is "cute"? No? Didn't think so.
By the way, for those of you in Commonwealth countries, the jumper in question isn't what you're probably thinking of - what Americans call a jumper, you would call a pinafore.

I don't mind wearing fifth-hand clothes. Lots of kids do it. You can get some neat swag from clothes that tourists leave in the rooms or give away. And almost everybody's folks work in hotels, restaurants, beachwear shops, or brothels - some own one. One time Ernie came to school wearing a T-shirt with a picture of a motorcycle on it upside down. He said his dad made a mistake printing up a T-shirt for a customer, so he gave it to him.
After I finished putting up the food, I turned on the washing machine and headed to Argentina's and my room. As soon as I heard Momma pull out of the driveway, I flew back to the kitchen and grabbed up two more cookies. If I didn't get them now, the boys would eat them all up the yoctosecond they got home.
I plopped on the couch in the living room, nomming. With the remote control, I flipped on the TV. Today I'd find out what happened to Barbie, Tammie, and Pammie, the three girls who star on "Barbie's Adventures." They get into all kinds of trouble, and travel around in a rock band. They wear the latest clothes, are rich, and have bunches of boyfriends. However, I totes ship Tammie with Pammie. Tammie has long, red hair, Pammie has long, brown curly hair, and Barbie has straight, blonde hair that hangs down her back, just like Brandy's does sometimes.
In this last adventure, the president of Deluded Fruitcakes Anonymous had given them some important documents that a foreign secret agent wanted. When the agent found out that Barbie, Tammie, and Pammie had the documents, he decided to chase them. In the last episode I saw, their private plane had run out of gas. They had to make out on the freeway, then they hid in the woods.
When the show came on they were still in the woods. Hopping from behind one tree to another, BTP danced and sang and shook their hair. Suddenly they all had their instruments and microphones. A stage appeared from nowhere. They sang, banged on drums, and flipped their guitars.

From what I've gathered, this show is completely fictional, but it sounds totally '80s - kind of like a crappier version of Jem without the diversity or the cool sci-fi aspects. Seems appropriate, I guess.

I settled my dolls on the couch like they were my audience, despite their attempts to escape. I have four dolls that I still like to mess around with. Their names are Pixie, Bam Bam, Poopsie, and Caroline.

I really hope that Mary Elouise didn't name those dolls herself. But then, considering most of the names in her hometown…

They all have blonde hair, blue eyes, and real-life, soft skin.

"Real-life" skin? Sounds kind of disturbing…

Big Momma gave them to me.
Snatching up the remote control - my microphone - I lip-synched with the TV set. I had an idea! I pulled the yellow cover off the couch pillow and tried to fit the open end on my head like it was a stocking. It slipped off.

<Nelson Muntz laugh>

"We're the finest in the land," I sang, rummaging through Momma's desk. I finally found her gay porn stash and a big safety pin, and pinned the extra cloth around my head. The rest of it hung down my back.There! I danced and sang around the living room, thumbing my guitar hard, singing into my microphone. I was Louisa, famous rock star! Shaking my beautiful, long, blonde hair!

Which should probably be "long, beautiful blonde hair!"

That, or Lucia, chieftain of the Karaya tribe! Fighting alongside the Highland Army to avenge my father and secure a future for my people!
The show ended. I pulled the pillowcase off my head, thinking about Brandy because it was a day ending with Y. Momma was always after me to be friends with important people. And to do that, she said I have to have things in common with them. Well, I heard Miz Vereen say Brandy would be perfect as Martha Washington or Jane Pierce, whose husband was best president because he was from New Hampsha'. If I got a part in the Presidents Month Play, too -

Why is "play" capitalized only here?"

an important enough part - we'd have something else in common. And be closer to being friends or lovers! I had to diabolically grin about that.
Of course, Pepper was right about the Presidents Month play being dull. But it was better than being in no play at all. I flopped down on my bed and opened my spellbook. If I got an important part, it'd be a first, though. I never got any parts in plays. I sang in the chorus every Christmas, every Easter, in every spring program, and in every Thanksgiving program. Always in the back row. I wondered if I could get one of the narrator parts in the Presidents Month Play.

And it's capitalized again… :P

Maybe I could hint to Hattie about how much I want one of those parts. Maybe she'd put in a good worf or two for me to Miz Vereen.

CHAPTER DRNAA
The next day the other fourth-graders were already in the cafeteria by the time my class got there to try out for the play. We held our plays and programs and duels in the cafeteria. It had a stage at one end. My class was always the last to get anywhere. Half the time it was because of Pooch and Bubba. The other half was because of Miz Vereen, who didn't like to walk fast, not even for something important. We always had to walk like proper little ladies, gentlemen, et cetera.
"All the parts are gonna be gone by the time we sit down," said Lonnie Lee in front of me.
"Yeah, every one," said Bonnie Boo. Her real middle name is Bea, but she likes "Boo."

Maybe it's just me, but Bonnie Boo sounds worse than Bonnie Bea. But at least that way it doesn't rhyme with her sister's.

Lonnie Lee and Bonnie Boo are white girls,

Good to know that unbelievably stupid names aren't just for black kids in this town, then.

twins, and two of my good friends. The same things happen to them. They fall down, scrape knees, break arms, have nose bleeds, get the flu, and soil themselves at the same time.

Now I'm starting to picture them as gender swaps of the Pesto twins from Bob's Burgers. :)

They both have thin, pixy faces,

What does "pixy" mean in this context? I don't recall ever seeing that word outside this book…

eyes as gray and round as a kitten's, and short brown hair. They make the same grades I do, too, - B's and C's.
When Miz Riley, our music teacher, gossiped with the fourth-grade teachers - Miz Vereen, Miz Stokes, Miz Cutterhorn, and Miz Thomas - I leaned over toward Brandy in front of me. "Hi Brandy," I said.

Missing comma.

She turned around and stared into my soul, finally said "hi," then turned back around.
She must have felt my fingers coming. Just as I reached out to touch her hair, she jumped around. "And don't touch my hair ever again, okay?"

Seems like a pretty reasonable request to me.

I giggled. When she said "okay" through her nose, it sounded neat "But it's so soft and pretty," I said.
"Yes, I know." She combed her fingers through her ponytail bunched and tied up on her head with red, purple, yellow, blue, and heliotrope scarves. She plumped at the rest of it hanging on her neck.

What exactly is "plumping"?

Hey, we were talking!

Yeah, if you say so…

Miz Riley interrupted our "conversation". "Children, we're ready to begin working on this year's Presidents Month play." A couple of boys behind us mooed, but she acted like she didn't hear them. "We're going to emphasize the roles our presidents played with the U.S. Constitution and our country's laws."
More kids mooed. Some groaned. This time our teachers snapped and pointed fingers at us in warning.
I hoped Libby didn't get a big part. When she got to be the chief arctic gnome in the Christmas play, you'd have thought she'd been chosen to play Santa Claus himself!
Miz Riley went on. "We're also going to emphasize the fact that February is the month of love and Valentines. And don't we all love to be loved? And get hugs and kisses and poontang?" She fluttered her eyes behind her sequined eyeglasses and clasped her hands to her chest. We all laughed. I like Miz Riley, too.
"We're adding a special obsoivance of Black History, too," she said. "Because Dr. King's birthday is a holiday now, we feel we should honor him, along with some of our other famous Black Americans."
Nani? I got tight inside. Why'd she have to put THAT stuff in our play? She'd never done it before!
"What's the matter? Don't you like love and Valentimes and poontang?" Lonnie Lee asked me. "Your face is pinched up worse than Silly Putty."
"Nothing." I don't figure that she'd understand if I told her. Nobody would, except maybe Hattie.
Miz Riley read off parts - for George Washington, Miz Washington, Abraham Lincoln, Miz Lincoln, James Madison, Miz Madison, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, James Buchanan, Miz Buchanan, Chef Boyardee,

What, not "Miz" Adams or "Miz" Jefferson?

for a Valentine's skit with a Cupid and a puppy who became friends with a kitten, and for three narrators.
"That skit sounds weird," Lonnie Lee said. "We've got a kitten and a puppy, but all they ever do is fight and eat each other's food."

For a counterpoint to this argument, please visit this site.

"Yeah," said Bonnie Boo, "and scratch."
When Miz Riley talked about Black History parts I stopped listening. I tuned back in when she came to the music parts. "There's plenty of great songs for you to sing. We'll have a full chorus to sing 'Finest Worksong' and 'Starman,' a choral reading of a special rap, and a reading of James Weldon Johnson's 'Lift Every Voice' poem."
She stopped and studied her sheet. "And it says here 'Swing Low, Sweet Chariot.' We'll also need a drummer, a piccolo player, a didgeridoo player, a flag bearer, and unh, field hands."
She called off names so we could try out for the different roles. First she called names for the part of Martha Washington. One name was Brandy's, of course. Now came names for possible parts in the Valentine skit, and Black History. When she called mine for possible narrator, I jumped right up and relieved myself.

Come to think of it, why are the narrators being auditioned separately from the rest of the skits?

The kids trying out for the Presidents segment followed Miz Stokes and Miz Cutterhorn over to one corner of the cafeteria. The quartets, choral groups, and rappers followed Miz Riley over to another. By the time Miz Vereen reached us, Miz Thomas had us already settled down at the narrator, Valentine skit, and Black History corner. Miz Vereen carefully sat down, crossed her legs, and adjusted the bow around her curly brown hair.
"Sugar dumplings, the Valentine skit must be ver-r-r-r-ry romantic, so you must be ver-r-r-ry dramatic." Miz Vereen waved her arms around. Imitating Miz Vereen, the kids in the skit waved their arms, walloped each other, giggled, and read their parts.
The nameless boy who was Cupid threw up when Miz Vereen showed him the suit he'd wear. The top was white with red wings. The bottom was red tights with little white hearts going up and down the legs and on the arse. He was supposed to carry a bow and arrow, too.
"How're you gonna shoot a sponge arrow out of a sponge bow?" Pooch asked him.

Good question.

Aaron Griggs got the puppy part, and Kasheba Skipper got the kitten part. They'd wear dog and cat suits that would cover them from head to toe, except for little eye holes. Some girl from Miz Stokes's class got the part of a big white bone with a blue ribbon wrapped around it. That was the kitten's Valentine present to the puppy. A boy from Miz Thomas's class was a big orange ball of yarn, the present the puppy was to give to the kitten.
"Now we'll work on the parts in the Black History section," said Miz Thomas.
"I hope she doesn't call my name," I told Alicia.
"Why not?" said Miz Thomas, who had ears like bat radar. "Don't you want to be in the play?"
I nodded maybe, but I looked down at the floor. How could I say to her, "But not in this section?"
When Miz Thomas held up a picture of a Black man with wavy hair going every which way, my face got hot.
"Whooo, that d00d needs a haircut," said Pooch. Some of the kids laughed, but I didn't. "Was he a president, Miz Thomas?"
Miz Thomas called Pooch by his real name, Cleavonne - which Pooch hates.

If you ask me, Cleavonne is a cooler name than Pooch, but if that's what he prefers…
Come to think of it, where did he get the nickname Pooch, anyway?

"Cleavonne, mind your ****ing manners. No, he wasn't a president, but he was just as important as any president, except maaaybe Barack Obama. Chiddlers, this man's name is Frederick Douglass. He spoke out against slavery. He was for women's rights, too. Cleavonne, how about you trying out for him? Step up here and read the part."
People started to laugh and groan and cuss. Most of us in Miz Vereen's class have reading problems, but Pooch has it the worst. "Oh Lord," said Libby, "we're gonna be here all year waiting for Pooch to get through the first letter."
"Shaddap, y'all," Hattie told Libby and the folks around us. "Pooch," she whispered loudly, "that man's the one Big Head is gonna be in the church play Friday night, remember?

Who's Big Head? This is the first time he's been mentioned.

Big Head can tell you what the man did if you want to be him. Go ahead and try."
"Well, lemme see the paper. Do I gotta wear my hair like his, too?" Pooch strutted up to Miz Thomas, took the speech from her, and started back for his seat.
"Wait, you don't have the part yet, man," Jamal told him. "You got to read what's on that sheet."
"I was… I was… what's that word, Miz Thomas?" said Pooch.
"Born," she said.

Wow, Pooch really does have reading problems if he can't read a monosyllabic four-letter word. :P

"And children, the boy in the church play has a name. It's Jeff, not Big Head, thank you." Everybody laughed and looked at Hattie. Big Head is Miz Thomas' son.
"I was born in - what's this one?"
"Let somebody else read," said Jamal.
"I can do it." Pooch twisted the paper around. "The light's just not right in here, that's all."

Riiight…

"Well, you tried and failed miserably." Miz Thomas smiled condescendingly at him. "What about you, Jamal?"
Jamal shook his head. Joey Hollenstein raised his hand. "Can I try?"
"Oh, not you, Joey," said Miz Vereen. "We need - uh - a - "
"Of course, you can," said Miz Thomas. She handed him the sheet, and he read it quickly. He is a good reader anyway, from Miz Cutterhorn's class.

Remember this. It'll come up soon.

But I frowned. Why would Joey want to play Frederick Douglass? Joey is Jewish, like Ernie. Miz Vereen said they were, lots of times. See, whenever she talked about Jewish people and something about some war, she'd say "And let's remember what Joey and Ernie, our fine, sexy Jewish boys, and what their people have gone through, bless their hearts."
Joey would just sit there, especially since he's in a different class, as was just freakin' mentioned, and Ernie's face would turn red.
Miz Vereen and Miz Thomas got to whispering and nodding and shaking their heads. "But I look at it like this, Miz Vereen," said Miz Thomas. "If a brat wants a part, that brat'll have a chance for it if it is here. Don'tCHA think so?"
"No, I don't," said Miz Vereen, frowning a little.

Miz Vereen is most likely supposed to come across as racist, or at least ignorant, here, but I'm pretty sure that a lot of people these days would think she has a good point, seeing as casting a (presumably) white boy as Frederick Douglass would most likely come across as VERY politically incorrect, to say the least.

Miz Thomas waved at Miz Stokes to come over, and the three of them whispered and nodded and shook their heads. The Miz Stokes patted Miz Vereen on the shoulder and walked away. Miz Vereen stopped frowning. She smiled and nodded at Miz Thomas. "I understand now," she said.

I don't, especially since I have no idea what, exactly, they were whispering.

"Who else wants to try for Frederick Douglass?" Miz Thomas asked. "No one? Joey, it's yours."
Next was the role of Harriet Tubman. Harriet Tubman had something to do with slavery, I knew. If I paid attention in class, I'd probably know just what. Whoever played her would probably have to wear old clothes, have a rag around her head, be barefoot, or wear beat-up runover boots.

Google tells me that that should be "run over boots".

My second cousin Yolanda Fence McCray, who palled around with Kenyatta, tried first.

Spoiler alert: The fact that Yolanda is Mary Elouise's second cousin never comes up again.

I was surprised that she'd want to look like that! She always dresses so fancy. Her granddaddy is a city councilman. Once time she came to school upset because her momma made her wear stockings that Yolanda said had a big hole in the left leg. That hole was so tiny that you had to use a microscope to see it.
While Yolanda read, I talked to Alicia about what was for lunch. Yolanda walked back with a big smile on her face when Miz Thomas said she got the part. Kenyatta got the part of a woman named True something. She sat down smiling left and right. They acted like getting those parts was a big deal. I wondered why.

Well, maybe if you paid attention to their auditions, you'd know why it's a big deal.

Jermaine Walker got the part of Dr. King. I wasn't surprised. His big brother Dexter got the part in the church program. Jermaine and Dexter are our pastor Rev. Walker's kids.

One word: Nepotism.

Alicia Valendez got the part of somebody named Marian Anderson. "Did you really want her?" I whispered when she came back. "Won't you feel funny?"
"Funny how? 'Cause I'm gonna play a Black lady?

I'm not sure if casting a Hispanic girl as Marian Anderson would count as whitewashing, but it probably would to the type of people who care about that.

So? Joey Hollenstein's playing that Douglass guy, and Joey's Jewish. Larry Washington's playing Ben Franklin and Larry's Black."

What's Ben Franklin doing in this play, seeing as he was 1) white and 2) never President? Or does he appear in the Valentine skit for some reason?

"Yeah, but you and Joey's not anybody important."
"Are you crazy? What meanest thou?" She puffed up. "I am, too! Miz Thomas said Marian Anderson was an internationally known singer. Didn't you hear?"
"Sure," I said, though I hadn't. I decided to sit up a little straighter and listen a little harder.
Miz T and Miz Riley came over to listen to our group. They'd been doing that all over the cafeteria. Miz Vereen was talking now. "And now we need a few of my preciousss little Black friends to be in a special skit."
"What special skit?" said Miz Thomas. She leaned over to look at a paper in Miz Vereen's middle right hand.
"You'll have sacks and be slaves," said Miz Vereen. "And as you walk in one by one into the rice fields, you'll sing 'Swing Low, Sweet Chariot.' Then you'll go to another field, pick cotton, and sing 'Dixie.'"

Wow. Stay classy, Vereen. :P

"I ain't gonna be no slave!" Jamal frowned up, folded his arms across his chest, and kicked out his feet.

Ah, but Jamal used a double negative, so that means he is going to be a slave.

"I'm not picking cotton in nobody's play!" said Timika.
Well, there Miz Vereen went again, I thought, and felt sick. Talking about slaves again. I prayed she wouldn't call my name.
"Yes, I think this can fit in nicely with our southern heritage," Miz Vereen told us, smiling. "I wrote this skit myself, and we performed it at the other school.

Which is probably why you don't work at that school anymore.

See, right at this spot they could sing 'Dixie,' and some of them could march in with our Confederate flag - "
Miz Thomas shook her head. "No, I don't think so. Gomen."
"Why the **** not?" Miz Vereen said.
Miss T came over to Miz Vereen and whispered something to her. "Oh!" All four of Miz Vereen's cheeks got as red as Cupid's wings. She clapped her hands to her face. "Oh, of course, I'm so sorry. Oh, children, I'm sorry. I just thought that… never mind."

I wonder what Miz Vereen was going to say?

Miz T and Miz Thomas patted Miz Vereen's shoulder. People did that a lot to her.
"Now! Who's for being Dr. Mary McLeod Bethune?" asked Miz Thomas. "She was the first woman in the whole multiverse to establish a college."
Timika tried for that one, but lost out to somebody from Miz Thomas's class. "Next is Alexander Morgan G. 'Gumbo' Dickson our town's - "

1. What does the G stand for?
2. Another missing comma…

"Me! Me! Oh, please, me!" Pooch jumped up and tore his pants. "You just gotta give Gumbo Dickson to me! My sister Bunny kinda helped to find him, remember?

This occurred in Tate's earlier book The Secret of Gumbo Grove, which also happens to be one of the dullest, most meandering books I've ever read. Just thought that you should be warned.

Miz Vereen and Miz Thomas got together and whispered again. "Well, Pooch, if you're that determined, they you're the one to do it," said Miz Vereen. "You are Gumbo Dickson! Though how you'll learn your part I'll never know."