My Bum Goes

“I never imagined your mother……….THAT way.” Miss Sweat, my junior high school English teacher, speared a bite of her hot fudge sundae. “I’d always imagined her as the epitome of Southern grace and decorum.”

“Ha,” I muttered under my breath.

“What?”

“Nothing! Um……..you were saying……..about my mother………”

“Well………..did she ever tell you about the time she was waiting for you at school………in car line………..”

I choked on my food. Because I knew what story was coming. I’d EXPERIENCED it. I’d never forgotten its………um………ah………finish.

“I couldn’t believe it.” Miss Sweat stabbed another unnatural square of chocolate and ice cream. “Your VERY PROPER MOTHER told me she was waiting for you in car line……..and it was taking a while……….and she got these………..pains………….you know what I mean—”

“Yep! I do!”

“And, she thought, you know, maybe she could just, um, relieve herself, because……well, she was ALONE in the car and all…….so she just……….did what she needed to do…………and I’m sitting there………..SHOCKED………….but that wasn’t the worst of it………….”

“No. It wasn’t. I STILL remember—”

“As soon as she, um, let everything go, she heard a knock on her window! A man stood there, wanting to talk to her. And, she sat there……..stewing in her own juices…….and didn’t know whether to roll down the window—”

“Let me tell you, she TOTALLY should’ve rolled down the window ALL THE WAY to save me from that—”

“So, she let it down just a crack—”

“Which wasn’t enough for ME—”

“And she saw his whole face change. Because. YOU KNOW—”

“Oh, I know.”

“And, after that story, I never saw your mom the same way. I always thought she was perfect, but it turned out she was human.”

“VERY human.”

“Yeah. Just like me.”