How I became a rat (pt. 1 of 2)

I was born a middle child of two middles. Four children in all, we all had nicknames. There was oldest child John ("the tormentor" Eric), Ernest ("can do no wrong" Wade), La Detra ("don't look at me" DeDe), and youngest child, Tanya ("catch me if you can" BeBe) pronounced B long A, B  long A.

We grew up in a eat or be eaten environment. Separated in birth by no greater than two years each, we grew up kids being raised by a slightly bigger kid. Married at age 16 while pregnant with Eric,  with momma, we stuck together through thick, thin and runny. A couple years after BeBe was born it was only us too. Momma and her crew.

Unlike today, I have not always been a believer of 'the truth and nothing but the truth'. With my crew, the truth could get you eaten. While none of us wanted to be branded  the tattle tale (my words), we learned young and fast sometimes a closed mouth got you hurt, bottom side hurt. Allow me to explain.

Momma had a rule. Anything that went down in the house, someone had to own it. Lamp gets broke, Eric did it. Chicken burns in the oven, BeBe was watching it. Dog poops in momma's shoe, Wade was supposed to take him out. Car gets moved a few feet when momma runs nto the store, DeDe started the car. We played the tattle tale card from the top of the deck. No shame.

Because the other part of that rule, if no one crew member owned it and took on momma's wrath, then we all got a beating. All four of us, lined up, bottoms up, down to the underwear. While it may sound a bit corporal, this program worked most of the time. Eric, Wade, DeDe and BeBe, we each understood. We had a pact. You did the crime you pay momma's fine. Each man to his own.

Momma had a special place she "hid" all her favorite snacks or as we called it, the really good food. Grape and Orange Shasta soda, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups (my favorite), sardines, canned oysters, Spam,  cashews, BBQ Skins. Her secret hiding place was an old brown General Electric dryer that did not work any more. Inside she stashed her favorite snacks still in store bags. I was sure I was the only one who knew where she kept these treasures. I felt like I was on the inside of some high level secret every time I passed by the old thing. Momma and me, our hidden gold mine.

Momma worked long nights. Every once in a while when the temptation became too great to ignore, I snuck over to that old brown dryer and helped myself to something. I carefully rearranged the items as not to expose my trespasses. I would ease into the bathroom, run the water, sit on the edge of the tub and indulge in sheer delight. I probably did a snatch and grab three maybe four times a month.

Little did I know at the time, momma's hideaway was not only known by me but by the crew too. No one told no one. And hence the peril? We were all on the take, all four of us. So one day after many days of us dimensioning momma's secret supply, we found that out.  The hardest way. END OF PART ONE