Evel Knievel

Jason had one arm wrapped around the toilet and the other wrapped around the dog. He was crying, vomiting and lamenting about his step sister losing the clothes from his Evel Knievel doll. “Honey, Je’re stole my Evel Knievel clothes and now he’s naked,” Jason sobbed. Honey, our old grey Scottish terrier, looked deep into his eyes as if she understood and agreed that it was a disaster indeed, but instead of nodding she just licked the vomit from Jason’s chin.

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I had begged Dad to let me take a Tequila shot with him and Mel that night. They had been partying all evening and I felt it only fair. I was old enough, I argued, I’d had drinks at Mom’s before. “She let me,” I lied. I’m not sure why an argument from a third grader would hold any weight, but somehow I had convinced him and he poured me a shot.

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The details were elaborate, I recall. Hold the shot in one hand, lick the other and pour salt onto the wet saliva on your skin. Now lick the salt from your hand, pour the Tequila shot into your mouth– try getting it into the back of your throat and swallow. Finally, bite into a hearty lime wedge before taking a breath. I think ‘not taking a breath’ was key and I remembered it soundly throughout my college years. The liquid burned my throat and hit my stomach like a ball of flames.

There was no way I was going to let Dad and Mel think I couldn’t handle the heat so I shook it off with a deep sigh and a short, quiet moment with my eyes closed.  Mel laughed but Dad was unsatisfied with my anticlimactic reaction so he immediately poured another round. I’m sure he wanted to hear me yelp or see me dance around in pain, but I knew that might abruptly put an end to the party, so I tried desperately to keep my cool. This was when Jason joined in and asked for a shot. “It’s not fair, Kelli got one.” Made complete sense to me. It must have rung true to Dad as he chuckled and poured Jason a shot as well. Perhaps Jason, my 5-year-old brother, would provide the adults with the drama they sought. It must have been the warmth of the Tequila that numbed the adults’ senses and allowed them to consider that Tequila shots for me and Jason was an okay idea.

About 4 shots and an hour later, I was having a hard time walking and Jason was wrapped around the toilet. Honey and I stood by for support. The story makes me sad and angry. Aw… my omnipresent anger.

About Kelli K.

The purpose for staring this blog is threefold, one, to push my personal limits a bit and share my story with others, two, hopefully in doing so, to get a clearer understanding of myself and three, to inspire the youth with similar stories to keep going. My story is weird. I’ve seen the response on people’s faces my entire life. I am fairly guarded on what and how I share with people but I have decided I’m too old give a fuck anymore. As I’ve said, my story is weird, but only parts. Many parts are very normal. Hopefully this blog will allow me to introduce myself in a way that reflects my many angles (and curves) and refuses to let you walk away and peg me as, “the girl who did this” or “the girl who did that”.
This entry was posted in 3rd Grade- Eugene, OR and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Evel Knievel

  1. shell-a-bell says:

    wow, you rock my friend, always enjoy a good story, good laugh!

  2. Jessica says:

    Keep writing, you’re really really good at it.
    (High praise since it comes from a writing snob)

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