Eater

A California Boyhood

AI image generated by Joe Neuhaus.

This week a new voice joins Life Sentences – Joe Neuhaus a friend and fellow writer. He reaches back into his childhood for an account of growing up in California. Joe casts his story in what might be called auto fiction lite. In his words: “The actual events, places, and names are not made up, but mushed together.” He also supplied the illustrations, which he generated with the help of AI. We’ll have more to say about that.– BD

Be fore leaving to run an errand, Aunt Deanie, who only let Joby inside her house if he was wearing socks, and Uncle Tom, who hated everyone but loved his dog, gave Joby strict instructions not to play on Deanie’s brand new 1965 Electro Cycle.

Joby put his ear next to the mail slot in the front door and heard his uncle complain to his aunt as they left the house,

“Oh Dean, we shouldn’t let ‘em alone. Let’s just take him back to Mamaw’s.”

He waited until their voices faded and the coast was clear before running back to the exercise cycle. Despite his aunt saying that at six years old he was “too damn small,” Joby climbed up and onto the shiny metal seat—chromed and slippery, like something off a farmer’s tractor.

He’d watched his aunt use her new electronic exercise cycle earlier that day and it looked like fun: the handlebar and the seat moved back and forth in opposing directions while the pedals spun around - an adult version of the twenty-five-cent horse ride outside the grocery store.

He slid his socked feet into the pedal straps, grabbed the cold handlebar with both hands, then looked down between his legs at the on-off switch under the seat.

He stretched down with one hand and flipped the switch. The handlebar lurched forward while the seat jerked backward, sending him groin-first into the scissor-like construction of the exercise cycle.

He screamed from the pain that shot through his body as the machine locked onto his flesh and pressed against the bone. The slightest movement caused the electric motor to moan as it took up the slack. He struggled, not knowing how to get out of the trap, when he heard someone open the front door – Aunt Deanie had forgotten something. She entered the house and heard him screaming, over and over:

“IT’S EATING ME! IT’S EATING ME!”

From that day forward, Uncle Tom took great pleasure in referring to Joby by his new nickname: Eater.

Since his mother was only 26 years old, divorced, and recovering from open heart surgery, the whole family had Joby-watching duties. After spending the weekend with his aunt and uncle, they were relieved to be sending him back to Mamaw and Papaw’s house, the one they bought a few years after moving to Selma, California, in the late 1940s from Carlisle, Arkansas.

That night, Joby’s cousin Tootie was sleeping over at their grandparents’ house. The house was just a block away from California Highway 99, so Joby and Tootie would often sneak out at night to play at the highway’s edge.

As Tootie looked on, Joby would wait for a gap between the clusters of cars speeding down the highway, then run out into the middle lane to face the oncoming headlights, and pee. Before the cars were almost upon him, he’d sprint back to the side of the road and into the dirt, like he was sliding into third base.

He loved doing dangerously stupid stunts to shock his cousins and make them laugh. He craved their attention and would try to make the most mundane of activities a death-defying thrill ride to gain their approval.

He made Tootie promise not to tell Mamaw about the highway pee game, and she agreed not to tell if he agreed to do it again. She laughed uncontrollably as Joby repeated the act two more times until his bladder was empty and he could no longer pee.

It was after 10 pm so they ran back to Mamaw’s house where she had set up pallets of blankets on the living floor for their sleep-over.

“What have you all been doin’ out there?” she asked.

“Joby was peeing on the highway,” Tootie said.

“Oh Lord have mercy and help me to mind these children!” Mamaw pointed to the bathroom, “Now, go on and get washed before I fetch the switch!”

After getting cleaned up, Joby and Tootie laid down on their pallets and took turns making fun of the disgusting phlegmy sounds Mamaw made in the kitchen as she snorted warm salt water up her nostrils and then spit it out into the sink like she did every night.

Mamaw was eager to get through her nightly ritual and into bed for a good night’s sleep because the next day she would perform an exorcism on the young girl that lived down the street.

Next week: The Exorcism.