Where I grew up I never knew a boy who ever met his dad. Most of the crew would call their mom by her first name. As if she were a nanny or a neighbor.
I only knew Christmas lights from magazines. They didn't sell diapers at the super market, nor milk. Never saw a toy store either. We'd make our toys by hand out of lead pipes and match heads and shit like that.
Walking to school we had to step over dead bodies. Not all of them were dead tho. Some were just drunks. I'd often kick them in the nuts and they'd moan a little. I developed a passion for that.
We murdered a teacher once because he had a queer name .. Pierce LeFlair.
We used to steal large chunks of liver from the school cafeteria. We'd roll it up and stuff it into one of those small milk cartons and shag it in the girl's restroom, or in the janitor's closet with the door open. No one would dream of reporting us. Shit, we'd douse snitches with gasoline, light 'em up, tie them to the bumper of my car and drive off with them ablaze.
Nobody fucked with me. With a name like Camel Toe you have to defend your honor 24/7. It wasn't easy being a bad ass neighborhood legend with a funny name.
How tuff was it for you?