The StoryTime Series: Two Tales of O

Every once in a blue moon, I take a creative writing course. If I had all the money in the world, I would have also gotten an MFA in that too. The last class I took was a long time ago and at that time, I was getting into writing something S. T. O. R. M. related. It was tough though because to write one's life means to revisit old scars and wounds. I did find that a lot of times when I wrote about the O aka Onaje aka Naje, I busted out laughing. Naje, from as far as I remember as a little girl until now, has the most unique mind I've ever known. Going through some old hard drives I found two short stories about the O...

Hope you enjoy - The S.

Second in Command

                When we were little, I thought my brother Naje was an interesting species. Even though he was four years older than me, he was skinny, scrawny and quite nerdy. He watched the science show “Beyond 2000”, captured bugs in mayonnaise jars from our backyard, built model planes and was always walking around scratching profusely, sneezing and storing napkins in his pajama pants. My mind pondered in profound confusion when he cried his eyes out over a dying horse on a KPBS science program screaming, “How would you feel if that was done to you? AWWWW!”

                Usually, when my parents left us alone at night, my dad said, “Rashied, you’re in charge.” Rashied, my eldest brother had supreme authority over us and I think Naje felt overlooked or seen as incompetent even though he had some authority over me since I was the youngest. Too bad I rarely listened to him so he was pretty much stuck with the problems that haunt the middle child.

                One night before my parents went out, for some strange reason my dad decided to shake things up a bit by saying, “Naje, you’re in charge.” I for sure thought that I heard incorrectly but immediately when the door closed, Naje announced most triumphantly, “See! I’m in charge.” This is when the trouble began.

                All night Rashied taunted and teased Naje, getting him into headlocks and bothering him. He stood on his head and farted in his face laughing hysterically infuriating Naje. All I could do was watch in amusement at how many times Naje repeated, “I’m in charge! I’m in charge!” He wanted Rashied to truly acknowledge his authority but unfortunately that wasn’t on Rashied’s itinerary for the night.

                That night I realized that Rashied would always be in charge no matter who our parents selected when they left. He was the oldest and our leader and had already spent many nights grabbing a baseball bat to investigate any strange noises we heard. What I didn’t realize was that Naje was in Rashied’s shadow. It was only after Rashied left unexpectedly from our family when I was nine years old that Naje was forced to be the one in charge, the one who had to be brave for the both of us.

Class Clown

                I have a habit of following Naje to the same schools so it should have been no surprise that I followed him to UCLA. We were fortunate to take an Italian Cinema class together and he made it a point to show me around campus and help me in any way he could. During our class, he brought me Panda Express or Snapple and I felt so happy that he didn’t feel weird sitting next to me. We tripped out on how the professor, when introducing each new film we were about to watch would somehow tell the class to pay extra attention to the sex scenes. We swore he was a freak and couldn’t wait for the sex scene to come on. We anticipated each new film introduction waiting for him to prove us wrong although he never did.

                Not only was this class memorable because it was the only class Naje and I ever took together, it was memorable because of how he disposed of his trash. After he devoured his Panda Express, he put the plastic bowl and utensils back in the paper bag and threw it against the wall of the classroom during the middle of class. I had to practically put my hand over my mouth to refrain from laughing so loud because he did this pretty often and the teacher never noticed and if he did he never said anything. He also rolled his empty Snapple bottles down the bottom of the floor. Because the classroom was at an angle, all we heard was “Clank. Clank. Clank” as the bottle rolled down the front of the class until it couldn’t go any further. I laughed so hard I practically cried.

Naje was and forever will be class clown.