Chapter Description: Images for this story can be found at the following web...... https://sites.google.com/view/comedy-ars-characters/home
The daycare on Maple Street was a commuter daycare where parents could drop off their kids and pay by the hour.
“Welcome, I’m Mrs. Fluker and who do we have here?”
Sammantha bent down. “Can you tell the nice lady your name and age?”
“I’m Derrek and I’m three years old.”
“Aww, how cute. Well Derrek, I’m going to introduce you here to my little helper boy, Dorcus Crudup. He’s four and he’s going to show you around so you can see where all the toys and games are kept.”
Sammantha nodded. “Thank you, I’ll be back to pick him up in a few hours.”
“Not a problem, Ms. Adams.”
The other boy took my hand and led me away. “Come on, Derrek, let’s go get some toys.”
Dorcus was above average size for a four-year-old. He was certainly bigger than me. He led me to the plastic cars and trucks corner which I thought would be fine to while away the time for a couple hours. I play with my cars at home.
Dorcus showed me his truck. “Derrek, this is a dump truck. It gathers everything in the front shovel, then lifts it up high and throws it someplace else.”
The ‘someplace else’ happened to be my forehead. He had whirled around and whacked me with the shovel part. I tried not to even say ‘ow’. I figured he was just a typical somewhat uncoordinated four-year-old. Then he showed me another truck.
“See, Derrek, this is a backhoe. It has two shovels. The smaller shovel does smaller jobs but the same way. It digs up stuff, then raises up real high, and then throws the stuff someplace else.”
Once again, Dorcus whirled around to smack the shovel on my head again, only a lot harder. I felt the bump on my head and came close to crying. I said back, “Stop it, Dorcus,” in my high voice. I backed away from him.
The boy looked around the room to make sure Mrs. Fluker wasn’t looking. Then he approached me and said, “Sorry Derrek,” and then punched me hard in the shoulder … well, about as hard as a four-year-old could hit.
I ran crying to Mrs. Fluker. “Teacher, Dorcus hit me.”
The adult would have none of it. “Derrek, don’t tell fibs about Dorcus. He’s my helper boy. He wouldn’t hit you on purpose. Now go play.”
The other boy smiled and stuck his tongue out at me. After that, I spent a good amount of time running away from him.
Mrs. Fluker announced, “Snack time, children … Take your seats.” Dorcus Crudup made sure to take a seat next to mine.
I was really nervous. I had never been scared of a four-year-old before. We were served graham crackers and apple juice.
No sooner had Mrs. Fluker turned her back again, Dorcus reached over and smashed my graham cracker with a fist, then took my cup of apple juice and poured it over my head. (Thank goodness it wasn’t water.)
I screamed again and the teacher came running over and scolded me for being such a sloppy eater. “No more snacks for you, Derrek. If you can’t eat nice, then you’ll just have to wait for your mommy to feed you. Look at the mess you’ve made.”
“Mrs. Fluker, I’ll help Derrek clean up his mess.”
“You’re such a good helper, Dorcus … Thank you.”
With only one adult in the room, the other boy, who was now my official bully, became quite adept at performing evil deeds when she wasn’t looking.
“You’re a very naughty boy,” Dorcus demeaned me, as he used a whisk broom and dust pan to clean up the mess he caused himself.
“You did it!” I yelled back.
The other boy smiled at me and said, “You need to be punished.” Then he grabbed my arm and tripped me. As I lay on the floor, he dropped his knee down hard on my stomach. He must have actually nailed me in the bladder because it made me pee my diaper. I cried and whimpered on the floor.
Mrs. Fluker eventually made her way over to me and asked, “Are we having a bad day today, Derrek? When she reached to pick me up, she could feel the fullness in my diaper and set me on the counter, put a soft towel behind my head, pulled my pants down, then opened me up, exposing my genitials. … Then she turned to my bully.
“Dorcus, could you watch Derrek while I go find a clean diaper?”
He smiled broadly. “Sure Mrs. Fluker … I always try to help with the babies.”
As she walked away, he got down in my face with his evil smile and said, “This is way too easy.”
I pleaded, “No, Dorcus! Please don’t! Leave me alone! Don’t hurt me!”
I struggled to cover my privates, but he easily brushed my arms aside and said, “This is what you get for being a stupid baby.”
He punched down on my testicles and I screamed and moaned and rolled around.
When the teacher returned, he said, “Derrek seems to be very upset about his wet diaper, Mrs. Fluker.”
“That’s okay, Dorcus. We’ll get him fixed up … and thank you for watching him. You’re a good helper.”
“You’re welcome, Mrs. Fluker.”
I curled up in the fetal position for the rest of the second hour. Fortunately, Dorcus found some other hapless child to abuse. When Sammantha finally came to get me, I was never so happy to see her.
“How did Derrek do?” she asked the teacher.
Mrs. Fluker sighed. “Not a great day, I’m afraid. He threw his food, wet his diaper … and did a lot of whining and crying. He doesn’t really play well with other children.”
“Thank you for that report and for your work, Mrs. Fluker.”
Dorcus walked with me to the door and waved. “Bye Derrek, nice playing with you today. See you next time.”
When Sammantha had me buckled into my toddler seat, I took a deep breath and let out a primal scream for thirty seconds.
She calmly asked, “Would you care to explain that to me in English?”
“Mommy, you sent me to daycare hell!”
“Well, that’s not what it says on the door. So what happened, did the teacher abuse you?”
“No!,” I asserted angrily. “It was Dorcus Crudup.”
“What? … that cute little four-year-old who was helping Mrs. Fluker?”
“Mommy, remember last night when I told you that I felt like a four-year-old could beat me up?”
“Well, he did.”
“What exactly did he do to you, sweety?”
“He punched me in the shoulder, he threw trucks at my head, he crushed my graham cracker and poured apple juice on my head, he tripped me, and then, while I was still on the floor, he dropped his knee on my bladder which made me pee my diaper. Then when the teacher was changing me, and she wasn’t looking, he punched me in the balls.”
Sammantha started looking disturbed. “Did he really punch you in the testicles, sweety? The face, stomach, and gonads are not legitimate targets.”
“He did, Mommy.”
“You’re not telling me fibs, are you?”
“Uh uh, no fibs … Are you going to go in and complain to the teacher?”
She casually replied, “Nope.”
“Why not, Mommy?”
“Because we’re going to wait till you’re a little older. Then you’re going to go back in there and tap Dorcus on the shoulder. Then you’re going to say to him, “Hi Dorcus, I’m Derrek. Remember me? And then, you’re gonna break his fuckin’ legs.”
I shook my head. “You’re joking, Mommy.”
“You’re right, sweety, I am joking. One leg should suffice. I have a passionate hatred for bullies.”
“But I thought you were the bully, Mommy. You said you were the ‘enforcer’.”
“Only in revenge, sweety.”
I queried, “So how much older do I have to get?”
“Two days, maybe. You should be six and a half or seven by then. Do you think you could take on a four-year-old?”
For the first time today, I broke into a wide grin and answered, “With pleasure.”
When we got back home, I couldn’t believe how nicely Sammantha was now treating me. After my terrible episode with Dorcus, she cuddled me and said, “It’s us against the world, sweety … How are your testicles feeling?”
“They still hurt, Mommy, but not as bad as earlier.”
“Well, you keep me posted about that.”
Dinner was fun and she let me feed myself, although still from a high chair. I was flabbergasted when I drank from my sippy cup and realized she had filled it with Coke.
“Thank you for the special treat, Mommy.”
“You’re welcome, sweety. And when you’re done with dinner, I want to show you something on my laptop.”
I went to Sammantha’s bedroom. (I’ve given up being angry that this used to be my bedroom.) She picked me up on her lap, and we sat at her desk, both of us facing her laptop. This was a real change for me not having to face her with my legs spread apart.
“Sweety, I want to show you one of my favorite Youtube videos … probably the favorite. It’s from the movie “Kickass” where a ten-year-old heroine named “Hitgirl” single-handedly wipes out a drug gang. This was my dream … to be a young girl who could go around beating up all the bad boys … and killing them if necessary.”
I looked up behind me. “Mommy, you should have been in this movie.”
“That would have been great, sweety … But I’m kind of in a movie with you right now.”
“Yeah, and it’s a good movie … So what is that green guy saying?”
“Well that’s Kickass and he just warned the bad guy to stay away from a girl … and the bad guy says ‘or what’ … Let’s listen to the video…”
“Or … I’ll come back … And I’ll break you’re fuckin’ legs.”
I recognized the line immediately. “Ohhhh, that’s where you got the line to tell me what to do to Dorcus.”
“Right … So let’s watch the rest of video and pretend that I’m Hitgirl, because she is my favorite movie character of all time, and this is the greatest fight scene of all time.”
I became transfixed on the incredibly violent and bloody action.
I squealed with delight. “Ha! She called them cunts! Just like you said about Dr. Frumpy. I think she really is you, Mommy! Wow! What’s that funny song in the background?”
“That’s the theme song from the ‘Banana Splits’, a kid’s TV show.”
“Is this a children’s movie, Mommy?”
“No, I shouldn’t be letting you watch this, but I wanted to show you how my brain is wired. If I could be a superhero, I would want to be Hitgirl … and beat up all the bullies.”
The video was over in a few minutes. “Mommy, do I still have to sleep in a crib tonight?”
“Don’t push it, kid.”
“Okay, but I’m three-and-a-half now and I can climb in and out of it. Would it be okay if I did that to go potty in the middle of the night and I wouldn’t have to wake you?”
“Hmm … I’ll allow it.”
“Thanks … What are we doing tomorrow, Mommy?”
“Let’s see, you’re going to be four or five … How about if did something with a little less violence than today … maybe go to the zoo?”
“Okay … Bunny rabbit says it’s bedtime … tuck me in?”
Sammantha did just that and I fell asleep right away.
Stories of Age/Time Transformation