Bobby the Retarded Angel

This is the first part of a short book or long story. In 1958, people with mental disorders were not accepted in society. Bobby struggles to fit in as he explains, "Bobby not stupid. Bobby Slow."

Bobby The Retarded Angel

By

Larkin D. Thompson

© 2010

 

 

Bobby was riding his bike down the sidewalk on Acosta Avenue.  He was headed for Mike's Market to buy himself a cold soda with the shiny new fifty cent piece he found in his pocket that morning.  In 1958, a half dollar was a lot of money for a twelve year old, especially a twelve year old retarded boy with Down’s Syndrome.  Bobby was a nice kid and what he lacked in brain power, he made up for with brawn.  He was a head taller than other boys his age and he was strong as any other three put together.  Today he had his mind on that big strawberry soda and he never saw Don hiding behind a tree straight ahead.

            "Hey!" Don yelled, jumping out into Bobby's path.

Don scared the heck out of him but all Bobby could say was, "You, Don, you... you."

Don was about the same age as Bobby but he had a dark complexion where Bobby was a lot bigger with light hair with fair skin.

            "Hey, stupid, where do ya think your’re going?" Don laughed.

            "Bobby not stupid.  Bobby slow."  Bobby frowned.  Don was one of two friends that Bobby had in the whole world and even though Bobby was the gentle giant, Don could sure get Bobby mad when he teased him.

            "Yeah, yeah." Don conceded. "So, where ya going?"

            "Bobby go Mike's." Bobby explained in his normally loud voice. "Bobby buy soda." He held his hand far apart for emphasis. "Buy this much."

            "Whaa, you don't have any money." Don sneered.

Bobby thrust his hand in his pocket and felt to see if his coin was still there.  He brought it forth in a tightly clinched fist. "Bobby go Mike's"

Don slyly looked at the closed fist.  "Well, go ahead on.  I've got something to do anyway, something really special.”

            "What Don do?" Bobby took the bait.

            "Well, I'm going... going.." He had it! "I'm going over to old man Ramsay's.  He's got some brand new fuzzy puppies and he said I could have one for only fifty cents."

            "Bobby want puppy!" Bobby exclaimed, easily tossing his bike aside. "Please, Don, Bobby go, please... How much this?" He asked, showing the coin.

            "Naw, I got my own money." Don turned away slapping his pocket.

            "Please, Don.  Bobby go." Bobby pleaded for all he was worth.

            "Sorry." Don added. "Old man Ramsay told me, 'Don, now when you come to look at the puppies, come by yourself.  I don't want no goshdamned idiots hanging around here scaring these puppies."

            "Don, Don.... Bobby garshnammed idiots?" Bobby asked dancing closer. “Bobby garshnammed idiots?”

            "Yeah," Don replied. "Bobby is an goshdamned idiot alright."

            "Here money, puppy." Bobby tried to give Don the coin. "You  buy."

            "Naw," Don held his hands up in refusal. "You go on to Mike's and swig down a coke and I’ll see you later."

            "Bobby want puppy!" Bobby demanded, trying to put the money in Don's hand.

Don turned away.  Bobby tried again and again to give Don the money and each time Don dodged the effort.  Bobby finally wedged Don against a tree, putting his hands on his hips he went nose to nose and said with some finality, "Don money.  Buy puppy!"

            "Ok, ok." Don gave in taking the half dollar. "You wait here,  I'll go get a puppy."

            "Bobby wait!" Bobby shook his head affirmatively.

Don started off down the sidewalk.  Bobby tiptoed as quietly as he could a short distance behind. Don quickly turned around, Bobby froze in his tracks.

            "Go back! And wait!" Don feigned anger. "Or I'm not going."

Bobby grimaced and flopped down on the sidewalk, cross legged, wailing at the top of lungs as Don moved farther away. "DON! BOBBY HERE! HURRY!  BOBBY WAIT! DON...."

So loud were his cries the elderly couple, who's house he sat in front up, peeked through their front room window curtains.

            "Look at that poor soul." The old lady shook her head. "I feel so sorry for children like that boy.  He sounds like his poor little heart is broken, my, my."

            The old man headed for the back of the house.  "Well, I'm gonna load the twelve just in case that sucker goes bejerk."

 

Fifteen minutes later Bobby had stopped whining loudly and sat quietly talking to himself.

            "Hey, Bobby, what are you doing there?" A voice rang out behind him.

Bobby turned to see it was Irwin who approached. "Bobby wait.  Don get puppy."

            "What?  What puppy?"  Irwin asked.  Irwin whom Bobby had always called ‘Bubby’ was the only other friend Bobby had.  He was, like Don, about the same age, smaller than Bobby with light hair and complexion.

            "Don say puppy.  Bobby wait."

Irwin didn't know what to make of the situation for sure, but he had the idea Bobby had been taken.

"Did you give Don some money?"

            "Don say puppy." Bobby cried.

            "Come on, let's go find him." Irwin reached down to help him up.

Bobby picked up the bicycle and straddled the seat.  Irwin climbed up, sat on the handlebars and away they went.

Mike's market wasn't too far way and as the boys on bike came on it, there sat Don in the shade at the side of the store, drinking from a 16oz coke. He didn’t seem particularly concerned when the bike came to a halt and Bobby charged up to him.

            "Where puppy?" Bobby demanded loudly.

Don looked around to make sure Bobby was talking to him.  "Puppy? What puppy?"

            "You say puppy." Bobby pointed menacing.  "Where puppy?"

            "Puppy?" Again Don asked, talking a short drink from his bottle.  "You must have been dreaming... you know how you dream things and then think they were real... I'll bet you must have dreamed about puppies, hum-do-yea.”

            "Bobby no dream." Bobby reached down with one hand, easily picking Don up by his shirt collar. "Where puppy."

            "Wait a minute, Bobby." Irwin came to intervene.

Don brought his left hand from behind his back.  He held a 16oz bottle of strawberry soda.                      "Here." He showed Bobby. "This is for you. That old guy didn’t have any more puppies, so I got you this."

As quick as the puppy dilemma had arrived, it disappeared in a big smile on Bobby's face.  He took the soda and threw his arms around Don.

            "Bobby love Don.  Bobby love Don."

            "Yeah, yeah. Don't crush me." Don laughed. "Here." He handed the remainder of his Coke to Irwin. The boys sat in the shade and finished off their sodas.  Don took the two empty bottles and gave them to Bobby, along with six cents.

            "We'll get a candy to share." Don explained.

            "Something we all can share." Irwin thought out loud. "How bout a Look bar?"

            "We can't split a Look bar." Don scowled. "Rabbitdo!"

            "Yeah," Irwin agreed. "But I sure like those Look bars.

            "Bubby say Look bar."  Bobby chimed in.

            "I don't care what Bubby say... He's names not Bubby anyway, His name's Irwin.  Can't you say Irwin." Don shot back.

            “Him Bubby, you Don.” Bobby said matter-of-factly.

            “Yeah, well it don’t make no never mind, we can’t split a Look bar…. how bout a big Babe Ruth.” Don suggested.

            “Yeah, a big Babe Ruth.  That’s good.” Irwin agreed.

Inside the store, Mike Russo stood behind the counter.  A big, roly poly Italian, he got along good with the local kids.

            “Hey, Bobby.” He called out as Bobby came through the door and placed the two empty bottles and six cents on the counter. “How’s it going?”

            “Bobby buy candy.” Bobby answered.

            “What kind are you looking for?” Mike motioned to the candy rack. “We got all kinds.”

            “Bobby want.” Bobby couldn’t remember. “Bobby want… roos?”

            “Roos?” Mike repeated. Then looking at the candy rack he made the connection. “Baby Ruth?”

Bobby smiled and shook his head in affirmation. “Baby Roos, Bobby want Baby Roos.”

            “Well,” Mike complicated things. “What size?”

            “Baby Roos.” 

Mike held up the different sizes of the candy. “We got the small one.  You got enough to buy two of the small ones… or one big one.”

            “Big! Big!”  Bobby celebrated and repeated his instructions. “Big Baby Roos.”

Mike started to hand the treat to Bobby them drew it back. Mike looked around to see that no one was in earshot.   Seeing no one, he leaned down to confide in Bobby.

            “You know they use to call these ‘Babe Ruth’s T**d Bar.”

            “T**d!” Bobby laughed.  He knew that was some sort of bad word.

Mike grabbed a small size Baby Ruth bar, opened it and showed the candy to Bobby. “Yeah, it looks like a t**d don’t it?” Mike asked, grinning..

            “T**d!” Bobby laughed.

            “Yep, Babe Ruth’s T**d Bar.  Everybody called it that.” Mike explained. “Then the Pope got on em and made em stop.”

            “Pope?” Bobby didn’t know that word.

            “Yeah, the Pope.  He got on em and they had to change the name.”

Bobby brought the bounty back to Don and Irwin and watched as Don stretched the peanut and caramel log to great links before it snapped.  Each boy got his share and sat back to enjoy the gooey treat.

            “What Pope?” Bobby asked.

            “What?”  Irwin asked back.

            “What Pope?” Bobby repeated.

            “Oh, the Pope.  Is that what you said?” Irwin asked and satisfied it was, thought for a moment Before answering. “ The Pope is kinda like God’s brother.  You know: God, Jesus, Santa Claus, The Pope, Easter Bunny�"”

            “What!” Don interrupted. “The Easter Bunny ain’t real..”

            “Not anymore.” Irwin reluctantly agreed.

            “Neither is Santa Claus.” Don continued.

Bobby leaned forward to get make eye contact and half shouted. “Santa real!”  Santa like Bobby.”

            “Aw, you’re full of it.  Santa ain’t real.” Don waved him off.

Bobby rose to his feet and pointed to his bicycle.  “Santa bike.  Give Bobby.”

            “Oh, bull.” Don scoffed. “Santa didn’t bring that damned rabbitdo bike.”

Bobby rose and stomped up in front of Don. “Santa real!”

            “Would you get this big ape away from me.” Don called on Irwin. “Come on.”

            “Maybe you should tell him what you know about Santa.” Irwin laughed.

Bobby stood there glaring down at Don with his hands on his hips.

            “Ok, ok.” Don said, waving Bobby back. 

Irwin also motioned for Bobby to back off.  Don got to his feet and began to speak, carefully sidestepping his way into a clear spot where he could escape if he had to. “You see, Santa has this great big toy shop and he brings lotsa toys to all the good little boys and girls around the world.  He’s got a big long list of who’s been good…”

            “Santa like Bobby.” Bobby confidently told the other two “Bobby good.”

            “But Santa don’t bring no toys to no stupid a******s.” Don let the words hang in the air for a moment then swung around with a finger pointed at Bobby, “Like you,”

            “Bubby! Don! Don!” Bobby couldn’t find words as he stomped forward trying to grab his antagonist. Bobby was slow and Don was quick, easily keeping him at bay.  Round and round they went for a moment.  Don jumped up and down, grunting, imitating an Orangutan, flapping his arms like waves on the ocean. Bobby couldn’t help it, he began to laugh and tried his best to mimic what Don was doing.  Soon all three boys were laughing and doing their version of ‘The Monkey.’ When the fun subsided, they all jumped on Bobby’s bike and headed for the park. 

Yes, all of them were on the bike, Irwin seated on the handlebars, Bobby sat on the seat, Don sat on the rear fender and helped Bobby pedal.  If you saw it you would have thought it looked odd but the trio flew down the streets at breakneck speed.