Caca Pedo Poo-Poo
With a new year comes new possibilities. And challenges. And mayhem. And excruciating pain. And little kids pulling out your hair (what's left of it), and screaming at the top of their lungs.
That sort of thing...
Such was the scene last night. Even though 2014 was barely a minute old, a voracious mob of abandoned children thundered into my room, screaming into my ear, smacking me on the side of the head, and occasionally removing their clothes.
"Foolish children," my voice darkened. "Keep this up and I'm going to add you as a character in my book!"
"Oh yeah? Well you're a caca pedo poo-poo!" My pint-sized nephew Keyvan laughed.
"You're lucky that Christmas has already passed. Do you know what Santa does with naughty boys like you?" Sparks of fire raced through my eyes.
"Caca poo-poo!" He pointed.
"He punishes them. Perhaps he sends you a gift, a gift that looks ordinary on the outside, but is far from it." I leaned forward. "A few years back, one such child got a toy Jeep for Christmas. Although he could see something in the rear of the car, he couldn't open the back door."
"Poo-poo!" Keyvan insisted.
"When the little boy was fast asleep, the rear door opened and a tiny creature scampered into the darkness, making a home for himself in the musty, old basement. Every night, the filthy creature crawled through the ventilation ducts of the house and gazed at the naughty little boy, whispering foul things that materialized in his dreams. Nightmare after nightmare, the boy could not get any sleep, and slowly he became aware of the hideous beast lingering in his basement. When he caught a glimpse of its shadow one night, he woke up his parents and told them that a monster was living in the basement.
"Don't worry, it's probably just a mouse," said his father. "We'll call pest control in the morning." He rolled over and went back to sleep.
But if any of them knew what was living under them, they would have known that hiring an exterminator was a futile effort. Goblins live off the rodents in one's house, and more importantly, the fear in little boys’ hearts.
As the weeks went by, the little boy locked himself in his room, taped the vents shut, and secured all the windows. Still, the fiend with a face full of scars and rotten teeth carved a path to his room.
The boy cringed as he heard the creature chew through the floorboards and slip under his bed one night. He jumped up, and grabbed a baseball bat nearby. "Leave me alone!" he screamed.
The goblin snickered, his green peepers pulsing with a supernatural energy. Finally, the boy couldn't take it anymore, and charged forward swinging.
Although his bat did not find its mark, the intruder's teeth did. The goblin disappeared in the basement where he was not seen again.
Upon learning that a wild animal had bitten her son, his mother promptly took him to the hospital, forcing him to succumb to the prick of sharp, pointy needles that stabbed him like daggers.
But it did little good.
Boils began forming all over the kid's skin, even the most private parts. Though his body itched all over, he dare not scratch it, lest he be subjected to even crueler rashes that might never go away. Shortly thereafter, his hair fell out, and teeth broke off and began to rot.
It was not long before the boy ran away, now a hideous goblin searching for a new home to haunt. But all of this could have been averted if he had simply been kind to his elders.
"You're a caca, pee-pee, poo-poo booger that's farted out of a goblin!" The psychopath smacked me on the top of the head and ran away.
"Just wait until next Christmas!" I hollered.
Even though this household of lunatics did not want me to jot down a single word, I still had a productive day. As I waded through an assortment of stock imagery in my archives, I came across a story that I started last year titled The Forgetful Alien and promptly vomited out 3,000 words. Yes, just like the exorcist, and no less possessed.
While writing, I took a wrong turn somewhere and was unable to resolve the ending. Still, I put in some good work, and have about three quarters of it now. Tomorrow I will go through what I've written and push through to the end. If I can just reach the finish line, I know I’ll sort out the details and eventually publish it. Finishing an idea while it's still fresh is of utmost importance.
I've also done a good job keeping up with my writing journal thus far, and now readers have a good idea of the maniacal character that I am. 2014 promises to be my most productive year yet. Now I just need to produce. Even though my goal was to write only 1,000 words a day in this journal, I already have an entry over 1,500.
Yikes! Here it comes…
Don’t be surprised to see a few 2,000-word entries in the near future. I just can’t help myself.
Ok, that's it for now. Certainly I've gone over my allotment for the day. 2014 is off to a great start. It’s time to become the writer that I always wanted to be.
Make something of yourself! Be the inspiration that others need in their lives.
(Kind of an author)
- It's impossible to win with a child, no matter how clever you are.
- Caca Pedo Poo-Poo is not a grammatically correct.
- There’s a goblin in every child; it’s an undeniable fact.
- Composing your thoughts in a house full of lunatics is like swimming upstream in a pair of water-dissolvable shorts.
- Even the best children's book can be improved by adding Caca Pedo Poo-Poo.
- If you lock yourself into a dungeon, the monsters will still find a way in.
- Go to a land far, far away where no one can see or bother you, and you'll find your angry wife at the other end of your cell phone every five minutes.
- In short: take advantage of those quiet moments before they slip away. Once they’re gone, they’re gone for good.
- Finish an idea while it's still fresh in your head.
- If you can reach the finish line just once, you’ll find a way to polish and publish your work.
Day 2: 1,045 words
Day 3: 1,035 words
Day 4: 1,560 words
Day 5: 1,193 words
Day 6: 1,157 words
Day 7: 1,102 words
Total: 8,127 words