Two Blocks from Weird and Other Stories

By Joseph Warren Brown and Sharon Brown

A scrapbook of memories to honor my younger brother, Joseph Warren Brown.  The first part of this book provides a fictional story about our childhood, loosely based on real facts.  The second part of this book shares real, weird events in my life and the only person who believed me was Warren.  The fhird part of this book is a memoir about writing a military song during the Persian Gulf War that hit national airwaves and, of course, Warren was there to help get it launched!  The fourth, and final part of this book consists of three, humorous stories Warren wrote.  

• Language: English
• Publisher: Joseph Warren Brown
• Release date: Jul 20, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201190972

Joseph Warren Brown

The author, Sharon B. Brown, used a pen name in writing this primer.  She is a decorated, master public school teacher with 40 years to her credit.  

Book preview

(Two Blocks from Weird)

A Novelette

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Chapter One: Cryin’ is for Losers

Three students stood ahead of me in line at the water fountain.  One of them, George, was sounding off as usual.

Shh!  Mrs. Brown will hear you, I said.

George sneered at me. Your shoes are ugly like you!

‘I hope he gets it!’

WHACK!  Mrs. Brown had swung the paddle and growled, I said no talking in line.

Ouch! cried George, rubbing his backside.

Glancing at my white, plastic shoes, I had to admit George was right! They were ugly!  My shoes were ripped down the side, like an open can of sardines. The pair of socks I wore gave some cushion against the hard plastic digging into my skin.

After everyone had a sip of water, we walked single file back into the stuffy classroom and took our seats.  Mrs. Brown passed out sheets of writing paper cut in half. It’s time to take our weekly quiz on multiplication, she announced.  Make sure your name is at the top and number your paper from one to twenty.

I hate math! I mumbled.

I glanced over at Wanda, the smartest kid in class. ‘I bet she gets another gold star on her paper!’ It’s not fair for anyone to be that smart!  She makes it hard for the rest of us.’

Wanda, the teacher’s pet, sat behind me in a brand-new desk. No one else got a new desk, except for her!  It wasn’t fair! My desk was old.  It always squeaked whenever I had to scratch or pick up something from the beige, tile floor.

Mrs. Brown began the oral drill, as we wrote our answers. What was that?  Oh darn!  I can’t remember.  She’s going too fast.  Oh, what’s the answer to that problem? Another ‘x’ for me!

Pass your papers down, commanded Mrs. Brown, collecting them.

I sat in the middle, and it was easy for me to see the other papers decorated with ‘x’s like mine. I felt a little better.  Maybe, I wasn’t the only one that was stupid!’

Mrs. Brown stood in front of the class glancing at the papers and clicking her tongue. It’s obvious some students aren’t studying at home.  If you don’t pass mathematics, you won’t get promoted to the fourth grade.

GULP!

I tried to study at home, but it was so hard.  Last night, supper had been mustard greens and fat back. I HATE MUSTARD GREENS!  Eating that stuff made me want to gag!  Momma knew this and she would tell me, Pretend you’re eating something you like.  Then it won’t taste so bad.

‘Yeah, right Momma!’

After a math lesson on fractions, everyone couldn’t wait for lunch, except me.  My crumbled paper bag was between my desk and Tony’s. Tony looked away when I reached for it.  It had been two weeks since we last spoke to each other.

Tony, short for Antonio, came from Cuba.  He spoke good English, probably better than I, since I rarely opened my mouth.  He was mad at me.  It started with my desk.

One day we were talking about my desk and how the seat would pull up.  When Tony said it reminded him of a toilet bowl, I let loose. 

Mrs. Brown always kept a firm rule about students keeping their mouths shut and their ears open, especially when she was upfront teaching.  Now, here we were laughing like a pair of hyenas. Mrs. Brown called both of us to the front of the room.  She asked if I had to use the restroom.  I replied, Yes, ma’am.

I was so nervous!  I almost didn’t make it to the toilet. After I took care of my business, I thought about stuffing them with a thick padding of toilet paper.  Then I realized Mrs. Brown would never spank me. After all, this was my first offense.

WRONG!

Not one sound could be heard as I entered the classroom.  In fact, if someone had dropped a pin on the floor, I would have heard it. I glanced over at Tony.  He had his head down and his arms were covering his face.  That meant one thing and one thing only!  I was definitely going to get it! Mrs. Brown had me stand in front of the class.  My heart was pounding!

Touch your knees, she barked.

WHACK! WHACK!  WHACK!

My eyes were full of tears.  I squeezed my eyelids as tight as I could. I dug my nails deep into the palm of one hand, that way to feel the pain, a pain to keep from crying. 

Oh, how, I missed Tony! He couldn’t handle the teasing.  Well, it was hard on me, too!  Didn’t he realize I got a spanking like he did?  He had the nerve to act as if it was all my fault.  Well, he was just going to have to get over it!  If he wasn’t going to talk to me, I may as well try to find another friend.

One day I was standing behind Henry, the nose-picker, and Tony was behind me.  I gave Tony one last chance to talk.  When I turned around to say something to him, he turned his head away.  That’s it!  I told myself!

Now, Henry made me sick when I saw him picking his nose and eating his boogers.  Kids would tease him about it.  No one wanted to be around him!  I didn’t see any problem striking up a conversation with him, as long as I didn’t have to hold his hand.

Henry wanted a friend so badly, that he was happy when I spoke to him.  From that moment on, he and I were like peas in a pod.  We started walking home together.  Whenever we found a cluster of flowers, Henry helped me pick them, so I could give them to Momma.  If Henry found a penny or a nickel on the road, he gave it to me. 

So, as we entered the cafeteria, I held that disgusting paper bag. As usual, Henry was standing in front of me.  He turned and stared at me.  I guess he could tell by the look on my face, how much I hated being there.  Here, he said, opening his hand to reveal a quarter.  I’m not hungry.

No, I said, shaking my head. I’m not taking your lunch money.

I hated having to stand in line and watch everyone in class get a tray full of food, except me. I wanted to leave the line and sit at my assigned seat, which was at the end of the table.  But, no!  I had to stand here, walk up to the cashier and tell her I didn’t have any money.  She asked if I wanted a carton of milk.  ‘Look, lady,’ I wanted to say, ‘you ask me this every day.  You should know the answer?’ I watched the food being served and then I was allowed to walk to my assigned seat at the end of the table.

Momma did her best to find something for me to take to school.  Sometimes, it was boiled eggs and a biscuit.  Sometimes, it was cheese, instead of eggs. Today, I didn’t know what was inside that crumpled, old bag.  But whatever was in there, I didn’t want anyone to see it! I opened the paper bag and peered inside.  Yuck!  There were two pancakes smeared with peanut butter, wrapped in an old bread bag.  Well, I had two choices.  I could shove it down my throat before anyone could see it, or I could throw it back inside the bag and get rid of it! Well, I decided to eat it, because I was hungry!  I took several big bites.  My tongue got stuck to the roof of my mouth, because of that peanut butter.  I needed some water to swallow down this nasty stuff. Quickly, I reached inside to get the cup Momma had packed, so I could ask for water.  I stood up looking to see if Mrs. Brown was sitting at the teacher’s table.  Well, she hadn’t sat down, yet. I waited and waited and waited.  It didn’t take long before everyone was sitting down at the table.  I couldn’t take the chance.  Soon, someone would notice I had a pancake sandwich for lunch. Now, here I was waiting with my mouth shut trying desperately to swallow.  I had to wait until Mrs. Brown sat at the table.  I got nervous and shoved that sucker back inside the bag just before Mrs. Brown finally sat down.  I waved the cup in the air.  Mrs. Brown saw me and nodded her head.

I took the brown bag with me, as I rushed over to the water fountain to fill my cup. On the way there, I dropped the bag into a large, gray trash can. Then, I saw Ellen, a friend of mine, sitting near the water fountain.  Ellen lived one block away from me.  She always brought a lunch from home, like I did.  Except, hers was a real lunch! I watched as she took out a sandwich wrapped in wax paper along with a banana, and two cookies wrapped in a smaller sheet of paper. Next to her food, was a thermos probably containing grape kool-aid, since that was her favorite. 

I was shocked when I heard one of Ellen’s classmates say, She always brings her lunch.

Yeah, that’s because her family lives in Weird, replied another.

You know, added a third. Maybe, she should wipe tables like her sister, Lizzie, then she wouldn’t have to bring a lunch from home.

All three girls giggled.

Wow!  Ellen gets teased like I do.  I guess you’re nobody, unless you have money.

Ellen looked in my direction and smiled.  It didn’t seem to bother her. Then, she pointed at the two cookies. You want? she mouthed.

No, that’s okay, you eat them, I mouthed back.

Ellen looked around before getting up.  One was never allowed to leave the table without permission.  But Ellen was a daredevil.  She left the table.  She ran over to me and placed both cookies in my hand.

I whispered, Thanks!  I returned to my table and sat down. I began to nibble on one of the oatmeal cookies.

Hey, there’s Ellen’s sister, Lizzie, wiping tables, someone said.  I didn’t look to see who spoke.  Instead, I looked to see if it was Lizzie.

Lizzie, a sixth-grader, wore a hair net while wiping the tables. She kept looking over at the entrance and I knew why.  Her class was about to show up any minute. When her class appeared at the door, I noticed she froze.  Her movements became more robotic.  Her face looked like white chalk.  I began wondering if cleaning tables to get a free meal was worse than having the words ‘feed me’ stamped on one’s forehead.

A year ago, I ignored the taunts hurled at the kids, who came from a neighborhood that was truly weird.  Adults named it, ‘Slab Town.’ But the kids called it, Weird.  Strange things always seem to happen in this poor side of town, such as people seemed to disappear into thin air.  Momma believed it was because they couldn’t pay their rent and skipped town.  Now, maybe Momma was right.  But, one thing was for sure, Momma hated living near Weird. She would always remind us that we lived two blocks away from it.  We didn’t live in that dump! We lived in Plant City.  In those days, I wore new clothes and bought my lunch.

In the blink of an eye, my life had changed.  Daddy had a nervous breakdown