Imagine Gerard as a chubby little 5-year-old and his brother Mikey as an adorable, whiny 3-year-old.
"You said shut up! I'm telling!"
"I'm telling first!!"
"You said it too!"
Gerard ran towards the house as fast as his fat little legs could carry him, and banged open the screen door. Mikey was was in hot pursuit, and flung the door open equally hard. The door slammed against the small house, causing the little cottage to reverberate.
"Mommy mommy mommy mommy mommy!" The two chanted shrilly, both brothers excited and out of breath. Donna came into the kitchen, balancing two-year-old Frankie, Gerard and Mikey's cousin, on her hip.
"What is it now you, you two?" Donna said, exasperated and slightly humored, but mostly exasperated.
"He hit me!" Gerard shouted, pointing at his younger brother. "Nuh-uh!" Mikey defended himself. "Gerard said shut up! And he ate my ice cream cone!" Mikey howled the last word, then buried his face in his mother's skirt.
"Did not!" Gerard screeched back, shoving a round finger in his brother's face. "And he said shut up too!" Gerard also howled the last word, but only slightly louder than Mikey. Gerard then buried his face in his mother's skirt as well, getting snot all over the hemline.
Donna shook her head and rolled her eyes, as she turned her free hand, palm up, to the ceiling. Donna gave a heaving sigh.
"Frankie! Did you just pee on my arm?!"
Frankie giggled delightedly, displaying one shiny perfectly white tooth. Then, sensing he'd done something wrong by the look on his Aunt Donna's face, promptly began to cry.
Suddenly, as if on cue, the screen door began to rattle. "Can Gerard and Mikey come out and play?" called a thin, grubby little boy named Ray Toro. Ray's curly, light brown hair stood immensely in the form of an afro from his tiny head. He appeared to be getting savaged by his hair rather than wearing it.
Standing next to Ray was another grubby--and quite very round--little boy named Matt Plessier holding a melting red cherry Popsicle. These were two of the neighboor boys. Matt's blue-and-white striped shirt was stained with red juice from the Popsicle.
Later, Little Bob, from the Bryar's next door, would come over, expecting milk and cookies after Matt left.
Donna sighed. She'd miss them when they grew up.
COMING NEXT: MY CHEMICAL CHILDHOOD---POTTYTIME VAMPIRES
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