When It Hits You, You Know

Someone wrote about their worst childhood memory today and I couldn't come up with a single thing besides the farm dog ripping my face off or the heat stroke but they didn't seem unusual enough and then it hit me. There was a recurring nightmare that went on until well into my 20s.

There was a kid's show on Canadian TV called 'Romper Room'. They had it in the US I am sure and the Canadian version had Miss Fran I think for most of its run. I hated it. Sure they played games and learned not to eat yellow snow or sled in traffic. Sure DOOBIE, the birth control BEE would show up to teach us silent lessons while he clapped his hands in that large bee costume - WITHOUT a stinger mind you - so technically he was a dead bee - a zombie bee (and you can't tell me that that bee wasn't high everyday - he smoka da ganga, Bogarted the joint and passed the 'dutchie' on the RIGHT hand side) if you will. No, the worst part was at the end of every show. When she would hold up a hand mirror without glass and say these magic words.


"Romper stomper bomper boo...tell me tell me tell me do...magic mirror, please tell me today...did all my friends have fun at play?" and then she would rattle off a bunch of names - "Sally, Billie, Dristan, Codiene, Shakira, Shaquanda, Shaboola, and little Damian, I see you too." - but the bitch never, ever, ever, once said CALVIN. And I was right there, looking right at the TV. She could see me. Some days I even waved. Bitch ignored me. One day at Cadet Camp we were watching it in the morning and I waited and went on such a rant when it was over because even all grown up, she still froze me out.