Jack Hall

April, 1995

Nikki and the Milk Carton Kid

Dinner at Gramma's

The Kid's heart freezes as he hears the dreaded words, "Come on, we're going to Gramma's." Escape being his first priority, the Kid moves swiftly into the other room and starts to crawl under the bed. Nikki pounces across the room; grabs the Kid by the feet and, with one mighty pull. attempts to remove him from his place of refuge. Aware of his dilemma, the Kid snags the bottom side of the box spring and holds it like a drowning human would grip a rope. It takes three strong jerks to free the Kid, and one small finger is caught under the collapsing bed. "That's what you get for fucking with me, you little shit!" Nikki bellows, roughly yanking the Kid's hand from its entrapment.

The Kid quickly places the wounded digit into his mouth and attempts to simultaneously suck and scream. Reviewing his options, the Kid decides to punish the one responsible for this painful experience and initiates a barrage of inhumanly shrill banshee wails. Nikki retaliates by flipping him butt side up and loudly spanking his diaper-clad bottom. The diaper absorbs the force of the blows however, and they succeed only in further infuriating the little monster. The Kid redoubles his attack, adding intense decibels to his vocal fusillade. Seeing that her strategy is not working, Nikki tries another. She picks the Kid up and smothers him between her huge breasts--cooing softly that if he didn't act like an asshole, she wouldn't have to treat him like one.

Nikki arrives at Gramma's just in time to watch Nora and her brood making their usual glorious exit.

"You make me sick, you morons! I tell you and tell you, and still you persist with your Neanderthal antics! When we get home, I'm going to cut off your God Damned little heads!" The "loving" mother throws her two young daughters into the car, straps them in and roars off screaming rubber.

Inside the house, the Kid again attempts to conceal his whereabouts by sidling noiselessly down the hall and ducking into one of the smellier rooms. He sees the hirsute occupants passing an oddly shaped cigarette to one another and says, "Mommy taught me how to make those things; they're called joints!" Startled from their reverent ceremony by what, to them, was a series of blurred, animal-like grunts, the freaks shoo the curious, young boy out into the hallway. On the way, he casually sideswipes a doob from the pile of paper soldiers that are patiently awaiting their baptism by fire and brings it to Nikki, who is non-stop yakking with Gramma in the kitchen.

"Look Mommy, joint!" the Kid exclaims anxiously.

"Not in front of Gramma, you little shithead!" Nikki yells, simultaneously slapping his hand and grabbing the doobie. Fortunately, Gramma is also unable to interpret the Kid's garbled message and merely glances quizzically at Nikki. She says, "What was that all about?"

"He was going to pick his nose, and I told him not to do that in front of you." Nikki lies honestly.

As they continue to gossip and yammer, Gramma stirs the tasty, greasy glop that constitutes supper. Nikki pulls one of the chairs out and proceeds to stack large books on it. The Kid recognizes this action and again attempts surreptitious retreat. Nikki expertly reaches out, grabs the Kid by the scruff of the neck and drags him to the table. The Kid responds by going limp and screaming. The strategy avails him naught and he once again finds himself placed on the Chair of Culinary Horror. Gramma puts a bowl of "food" in front of him and stands near expectantly. Nikki pulls her aside and whispers, "I gotta go to work. Could you look after him for awhile?"

"Why sure, I'd love to keep him as long as you need me to." Gramma replies convincingly.

Gramma returns to her post next to the Kid as Nikki sneaks out of the front door. Hearing the door closing, the Kid realizes that he is once again at the mercy of his "adoptive" grandmother--a plight he would not wish even upon Nikki. He once again initiates a barrage of almost ultrasonic wails, remembering that this particular form of attack has proved highly effective in past encounters with his nemesis. Gramma smiles and pulls a pair of earplugs from one pocket and a roll of duct tape from the other. She securely stuffs the plugs into her ears and then tapes the Kid's nose shut, forcing him to breathe through his mouth. She takes advantage of his open orifice to pack in food.

Unprepared for this development, the Kid chokes and lustily expels the mouthful against his foe's apron. Gramma sees red but successfully restrains herself and only slaps him briskly across the face. She scrapes the splatter from her clothing and calmly stuffs it back into its intended repository. The Kid begins to slowly chew the food while he plots his next maneuver. He discovers, much to his dismay, that this fare pleases him greatly. He begins to dutifully consume his meal while carefully watching Gramma wash dishes. The moment her attention is diverted, the Kid grabs the peppershaker and liberally adulterates his dinner. Even though he hates the taste and painful sensation on his tongue, he eats every bit, knowing that through the magical interaction of spicy food and little boys' intestines, he will win in the end.