1950 Memories of Suburban Adventures

Carrot Attack

Other people were descended from apes; my ancestors were monkeys. And I proved it on a regular basis.

Squatting in front of our new black and white television, I watched a trapeze lady who didn’t have a lot of clothes on. She hung by her legs and swung from side-to-side across our round screen. Hmmpf, I was only four, and could already do that. I constantly hung by my legs on the horizontal portion of our mailbox pipe (although Mom kept warning me to stop before I fell and broke my neck). My career choice became clear.

Suddenly, the trapeze lady straightened her legs and began sliding off. At the last second, she caught herself by her feet. I never thought of doing that, until then. As soon as the circus show ended, I ran outside to our mailbox. I swung by my knees on the metal pipe before slowly straightening my legs. I expected the knobs on my heels to catch me.

They weren’t knobby enough.

I crashed onto my noggin, and everything turned black with white sparks. Sight gradually returned, but my head felt woozy and confused. I staggered over to the sandbox where David sat.

“I don’t feel good,” I said, resting my head on his lap.

He couldn’t reach his trucks with my head in the way, so he whacked my neck with the carrot previously hanging out his mouth.

“Mary, David, come inside for lunch,” called Mom.

She placed peanut butter sandwiches on the table and noticed my stiff robotic head movements. The robot dance wasn’t invented yet, so I looked peculiar.

“What’s wrong? Why are you moving like that?”

Cue my hysterical crying.

“David hit me with a carrot, and now my neck won’t work!”

Carrot thug and circus girl.

Carrot thug and circus girl.

X-rays revealed two bones in my neck residing in a new location, and I lay in traction at the hospital for two weeks. I insisted David hurt my neck by hitting me with a carrot; the fall on my head was circumstantial. I still maintain it was mostly the carrot thug’s fault.

Between being bedridden for six weeks and in traction for two weeks, I had nothing to do but fantasize, and my already fertile imagination grew exponentially.

The constant weight of the traction pulling on my little neck was uncomfortable. I squeezed through the slats of my headboard until the weights rested on the floor. My vigilant nurse rigged a board across the slats.

The hospital scared me with its dark shadows, hushed tones, and squeaky shoes that paused outside my door before continuing on with an echo trailing behind. No scary clowns came around to cheer me up.

Despite Mom’s comments to the contrary, vegetables are not always good for you; at least, not carrots. Carrots weren’t content to break my neck; they later made a return appearance to drag me into trouble.

Related posts: Amazing Discoveries/Visiting Planet Earth; Pandemonium Trail/Naked Again; Boy Crazy/Runaway Parade

 

Now it’s your turn: Have you ever been attacked by a veggie?

 

© Mary Norton-Miller and 1950s Suburban Adventures, 2012 forward. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Mary Norton-Miller and 1950s Suburban Adventures with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.


12 Comments

  1. Mimmy Jain says:

    Not by a veggie, but by a pressure cooker, yes. It chased me across the kitchen!

  2. I love your humour. Sorry, but I refuse to kick my Canadian spelling habits. Then again maybe you’re Canadian too. I must read further.

    • skinnyuz2b says:

      Thanks Yvonne, all compliments accepted with appreciation. They are my fuel to keep writing. I’m from New York (way way upstate). However, I’m half English from around 350 yrs ago (it was a case of flee to the new world or get hanged). Add to that a quarter Polish and a quarter Russian.

  3. Val Mills says:

    I’ve been attacked by a lot of strange things, but I can’t say I’ve been attacked by a vegetable, Fun to read this!

  4. Sheryl says:

    What a fun story! (Well, I’m sure it wasn’t fun at the time, but I enjoyed reading it.)

    • skinnyuz2b says:

      Thanks, Sheryl. Yeah, hospitals were dark and visitors were limitied. If you check out ‘Visiting Planet Earth’, you’ll see that carrots got me into trouble again.

  5. haa… that’s a funny story. I remember when my sibling threw eggs at me… This one takes me back!!!!

    • skinnyuz2b says:

      Gee, Han, lucky for me carrots don’t leave the mess that an egg does. I’ve been a few crab-apple fights. Win or lose, you’re left with little black and blue sore spots.

  6. not to me, but my sister was a tad mischievous. Once she played “pretend priest” with my little brother (I think he was 5-6 at the time) and gave him holy Comunion. With a coin…. which he duly swallowed….. x-rayed in hospital they confirmed it was in his stomach, and told my mum she had to watch him every time he went to the toilet, to check it came out…. funny what kids get up to…

    • skinnyuz2b says:

      Oh, Croatia, that is one expensive communion wafer. If you get a chance, check out my post ‘Nun Cake’ found under chapter 4, Innocent Villain.
      My youngest sister swalled our roulette ball. Just like you, we had to watch for its reappearance.
      I love reading about your travels and experience.

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