Withdrawing Fables From The Memory Bank
Part One: The Penguins and Goof Gas
The nuns. There was a murder of them, like crows, all black when seen from behind. With veiled pleated habits and veils, seemingly gliding along the hallways of St. George Ukrainian Catholic School, they appeared more bat-like. However, the white whimples surrounding their faces led to kids’ whispers to classify them as penguins.
The priests, all called Father, were the source of authority. And the distributors of corporal punishment. A thick rubber ruler in these men’s hands, coming down on a outstretched hand caused a burn that lasted into seeming eternity—especially if the crime, like passing notes in class, demanded two or three per hand.
No amount of rubbing spit into them afterwards ever seemed to sufficiently ease Basil’s burning palms. And yet every time he was thus corrected for his misbehavior he applied this placebo to soothe the pain.
(Decades later he saw that very same rubber device, with the very same imprint he sworn he’d seen as it had descended towards his hand—The Discipliner™ ©—at a sex boutique.)
Basil was twelve years old, and lived with his mother, Maria, and fifteen year old brother, Marko, on Avenue C. Their father was missing in action during the war and not much was ever said about him.
