Chapter 18: Shotgun Sharon

SHOTGUN SHARON

  In 8th grade we unknowingly continued in our pursuit of self-identity, self-realization, for many it was simple as getting in where they fit in. All they had to do was put on the shoes and go along with the crowd.  They were well-adjusted and some of them were highly regarded as leaders amongst their peers. They built up their self confidence with the rewards, prizes and trophies they'd received for excelling in the academic and extra-curicular activities that their parents and the schoolboard had pre-approved. Why would anybody want to rock the boat that was carrying them towards success? Their parents would eventually make bumper stickers to tout their achievements, however back then they had to settle for tying their own self-worth to the torch of ambition that they'd passed on to their proud little leader, who willingly carried it for them.  It was as easy as a dot to dot drawing, take those classes, join those clubs, play those sports and whatever you did, for heaven's sake, OBEY all the rules.  I have to admit there were many times I'd wished I had that kind of focus, to put one foot in front of the other, and march along. Why did I have so many questions? Instead of raising my hand or disrupting the class, why didn't I just shut up and take notes. I wanted to succeed too. I began to become aware, sometimes painfully, that I'd been gifted with attributes that were on another level.  Whether that level was higher or lower depended on your perceptions and/or your expectations.

  Playing frisbee on the quad at lunch was a horrible idea when the Santa Anas were blowing through, albeit not nearly as asinine as lighting off bottle rockets was, but you know what I mean. Johnny Young tossed it to me and I instinctively slung it back. The problem was it was way high to start with but after a gust of wind grabbed ahold of it, General Santa Ana himself, took it whereever he wished. I shouted heads up 5x in rapid sussesion, unfortunately it scored a direct hit to Aaron Padre's head.  Next thing I knew I had that devil sitting on my shoulder telling me that nobody saw me throw it and I couldn't be late for class. Not even 5 seconds later the bell rang. Why start disobeying my wicked alter ego now.  That baffled my buddy Johnny, he asked me,"What about my frisbee?" I shrugged my shoulders and went straight to Social Studies. I'd known Aaron since his family moved to the barrio from Long Beach via Samoa. He starting claiming SOS Crips last year. I'd never had any problems with him and I was hoping it stayed that way. I began to regret not apologizing immediately for underestimating the General and overestimating my skill.In 8th grade, though my sensitivities were stressing me out. I wasn't the only one, thank God ,   who'd subconsciously  discovered how good smoking marijuana was for stress-relief. Of course it created a whole new set of issues that in turn became stressful. I remember I used to lift my long hair then pull the hair underneath out, to the point of not having anymore hair to pull. I never told anybody, I couldn't make a connection with stress then, mainly on a count of being incapable of asking myself why I'd done it.

  The school newspaper had a gossip section, where they cover all the nonsensical drama and goings-on of Jr High. At the bottom they had a version of most likely to succeed or class clown, were they had prettiest eyes, best hair, biggest ears etc. Once in 7th grade I was chosen with the prettiest eyes. It made me uncomfortable, even more so after getting shoved from behind from some bully. Imagine you're walking to class minding your own business and all of sudden you get shoved, almost falling on your face while the perpertrator says,"Look at those pretty blue eyes." I can look back and laugh, I understand why he did it now. I got a lot better at not letting anyone run up on me like that as well, I ended up perfecting some effective counter moves. If he cared , he can write his own book. I don't care in the least bit about that dude. He even solicited my friendship on social media, I thought maybe he wanted to apologize. It turned out he wanted me to give his business the thumbs up.

Who knows I might've been chosen for best hair that year, I was even thinking about adopting the moniker of Sampson. Looking back I can't believe how much time I spent in front of the mirror with the hairdryer. Then one morning, my Mom was asking too many questions for a 14 year old to swallow.I answered Dehlila...I mean my dear Mother with some smart ass snide remark and she did the best she could with the tools she had. She had scissors, so she gave me a haircut.  I told her that she had destroyed my chances of  being chosen for having the best hair. We looked each other in the eyes, then we both started laughing hysterically. It turned out that my Mom had missed her calling as a hair stylist. Once I sat still she did some nice work. I told everybody and anybody that I'd accidently lit it on fire while I was lighting a cigarette on the stove. 

One Saturday morning, Shorts came riding up to my house telling something had gone down around the corner. I jumped on my bike and we raced over. I was shocked to see that it was a young couple, Jeff and Sharon's house. I'd been mowing their lawn since they moved in to their dream house just over a year before. I had never heard of the Grateful Dead before I met them. They told me that they'd met 4 years earlier at a Dead show outside of Chicago. They were pleasantly surprised that they'd both grown up not far from each other. Sharon grew up in Anaheim and Jeff was a farm boy from Corona. After following the Dead around the States together for a couple years, they decided it was time to put their roots down. When they moved in they already had a 2 year daughter and Sharon was more than visibly pregnant. They appeared to be happy to me, then again, what did I know. Their was a squad car out front, an unmarked detective's car and the County Coroner's wagon in the driveway. The bedroom window was broken out, the frame and glass were scattered about. It was more interesting than anything that was on TV, obviously, I turned around and saw the crowd that had now gathered. We badgered the deputy for information but all he could say was it looked like a suicide.

  We saw Ricky "Big" washing his car and he waved us over. He had the answers we were looking for. He told us Jeff came banging on his door around 5 o'clock that morning. Ricky said it startled him out of a deep sleep. When he saw it was Jeff holding his babies, he thought he was dreaming. The little girl was screaming and crying but the baby looked like she might've been dead. Jeff pleaded Ricky to give them a ride to the hospital. At the hospital, they immediately rushed the baby to intensive care. 20 minutes had passed since Jeff had escaped Sharon's wrath by crashing through their bedroom window embracing his daughters the best he could. They all required medical attention however the baby was in critical condition. Ricky  learned from Jeff that Sharon had manic/depression (now referred to as bi-polar disorder). Her pregnancy had been a nightmare and she had fallen into a severe depression after the birth of their baby. He woke up with her punching and scratching him in the face. He tried to calm her and get her to take some emergency medication. She accused him of cheating, she found Debbie's number in his wallet and the lipstick on his collar was a color she didn't have. The arguement reached its boiling point when Sharon called Debbie(at 4 AM) and Debbie picked up. Rather than lying to Sharon, like Jeff had been hoping she would, she simply told Sharon what Jeff had told her. That after the baby was a year old, he was going to divorce her. She told Sharon straight forward that Jeff didn't love her anymore, and he'd bought her a diamond promise ring.  As if that wasn't enough. Debbie declared Jeff as her soul mate That last sentence was enough to push Sharon over the edge into a realm of insanity where few ever make it back. With Debbie still on the line , she began banging the phone against the wall, after it had broken into bits, she began banging her head. Eventually she knocked herself unconscious or so Jeff thought. He started gathering the children's thing. He went to Grab a suitcase from the master bedroom closet and saw that his shotgun was on its rack and the box of shells had been emptied. 2 shells had fallen on the floor. Quickly he ran back to his daughters' room and pulled the frightened little girl out of bed and scooped up  their baby. Suddenly her shreiks and screams making threats to blow him and the little ones to pieces got closer and closer. She clutched the shotgun in her sweaty hands as she crept from the kitchen through the living room.  Her siren's song now echoed through the hallway. The little girl and the baby competed for the loudest cry. BOOM! His ears were ringing, Sharon fired one off against the living room wall. CHIK-CHUK! He heard her drop another shell into the chamber . It was his last and only chance to make a break. He came out of the room in a flash his daughters in his arms. No longer able to reason, She aimed and fire, the swarm of killer bees reached their target a fraction of a second late as Jeff entered the master bedroom. She was now possessed . He ran at full speed head first , smashing through the wood and glass of the window . Miraculously landing on his side, he had no time to to examine the little ones. Sharon saw the full moon shining into the room through the hole in the wall. CHIK-CHUK Sharon had cried so hard ,her tears were flowing in reverse. With the end of the barrel up resting between her breasts. She found the sticky trigger with her big toe. Ricky "Big" was putting on his shoes, they all heard Sharon's cry, her last in a shotgun blast.

 Right around lunchtime, we saw the coroner slide the bag of her remains on a gurnie into the bed of his wagon. Not long after the detectives wrapped up their work. 2 deputies taped off the sorrowful scene of suicide and went on their way. By then our curiosities had us limboing under the police line. It was me, Pat, Riky Rod, Ant, Tristan, Shorts and Ronny Rod.  We filed in through the side gate behind Ronny Rod, who was the only one that wasn't apprehensive, as we came around the house to the patio. Ronny shrieked and spun around with a life size Miss Beasley doll and threw her at us. We all got spooked and screamed like a bunch of 6 year olds, Pat caught her then flung her into the pool where she transformed into an eerie prop floating face up in the murky water. Not one of us paid close enough attention to notice her bespeckled eyes followed us towards the side door. It was open and we entered the garage and found the family cat or was it Sharon's spirit that quickly climbed up into the rafters. The door to the kitchen was unlocked too. Was Sharon inviting us in. As we all filed in Ronny Rod jumped forward and screamed and I nearly pissed my pants.  There were broken plates in every corner of the kitchen where Sharon had flung them in her uncontrollable rage as we came into the living room. Half the room was splattered with chunks and tid-bits of Sharon, slung ,hung ,dripping, starting to dry. It reminded me of a Jackson Pollack. Over on the right  in front of the entry to the hallway was were what was left of her corpse bled out. It left a puddle that was slowing seeping and being absorbed by the padding under the soiled carpet. At the end of the hallway there were bb's embedded in the wood cabinet doors . It was easy to imagine Jeff diving for his and his children's lives through the window. Such a feat would be nearly impossible without the fear of death on your back. Ronny Rod found a buyer for the furniture then returned with a truck at 10 the next morning, wiped Sharon off her coffee table and stereo system and loaded up everything he thought he could sell. If the couple that bought Sharon's living room set ,only knew that it wasn't salsa that they'd spent an hour scrubbing off.

Back at school that Monday, news of Sharon's House of Horror spread through the 8th grade faster than chlamydia. Come lunchtime Me, Pat, Randy, Johnny and Shorts were organizing a tour for any girl that secretly harbored the same fascination for the morbid and gruesome as we did. Shorts and Pat volunteered to prepare a few extra scares so they slipped away right after the final bell. Me, Randy and Johnny would escort the girls on the jaunt and haunt. Ant's cousin Holly Villa and the everybody's favorite witches the Barraza twins were already in line when we got to the corner, Jo Lisa, Beth , Lisa Guzman and Lisa Bustamonte showed up  as well. We set off  on the 5 block stroll to Sharon's House of Horror.  Randy lit a couple of joints and passed them in opposite directions so anybody in the group could take a toke or 2 if they liked. So by the time we arrived we were all in good spirits however when I led them into the driveway the girls got completely quiet, just like we did our first time. When we came to the corner of the house I paused and let all the gals catch up then  we continued  I jumped back with a shriek at the sight of Miss Beasley. My young lady companions jumped up screaming along with me , we were halfway  across the patio when Shorts came crawling out from under the table making 3 or 4 of the gals jumped out of their skin. I took a step forward and Pat came charging towards us from the side door. I pretended to panic and turned to run and the whole group shook in terror. Who said you could only behave like that on Halloween, what a blast!  Unsuspecting the surprise that  came at us when we started into the garage almost made me piss my pants, the family cat had now gone at least 3 days without being fed and he caught me off guard when he took advantage of his opportunity to escape ready to claw anybody that got in his way, we all screamed and jumped out of its way as if that cat was a bull. We all got quiet as we filed into Sharon's dreamhouse. A feeling of guilt came upon me , I began to apologize to Sharon, that We never meant any disrespect. Unlike the other times there was a heavy aura , a prescense. I lied and I told her I didn't know who'd stolen her possessions. That's when a black and white squad car came squealing to a stop in the driveway, we told the girls not to worry that we'd take responsibility . The deputies were waiting for us when we exited the gate and it was apparent how taken aback they were to see an actual tour group such as ours. We guys admitted that we coerced our female friends ( not even) to come along. Mainly because there were too many teenagers in the driveway, they told all the girls to go home and be more careful about the kind of boys they hung around with. They called our names in and we all came up clean, They both stood there looking at us with disgust.

"What the #%^! is wrong with you guys. You're making me sick! If we catch you around here again, not only will we take you to jail, we might have to break out the rubber hose" We then vanished into thin air