Intelligence Is For
Story by
Mark
Gonzales
Stupid People
I was standing on the front porch
watching the rain come down. It didn't
bother me that it was raining, because
my ankle was sprained, and I couldn't
do any skating. I was just watching the
rain come down. It was coming down
hard and steadily. It was five o'clock
in the afternoon, and it had rained
most of the day. My grandma came to
the front door. "What are you doing
there?" she asked. "Watching the rain,"
I said. She opened the door and came
out to join me. "What's it doing?"
"Nothing unusual. It's just doing what
it's supposed to be doing," I said. "You
got a smoke?" my grandma asked me.
"No, I quit." "Why'd you quit?"
"Because it got to be too expensive,
and I didn't like the smell that it left on
me or my clothes." "You still doing
dope?" she asked me. At first I couldn't
believe what she was asking me, then I
had to believe it because she was ask-
ing me it, so I answered her, "Yeah,
here and there. I'll smoke a little pot,
but not too often. I don't want to get
dependent on it." "Yeah," she said, "I
know what you mean. Let me go in and
get a cigarette. I'll be right back." My
grandma came back out of the house.
She had an upset look on her face. She
was coughing the way most old people
who smoke do. She had her right hand
in a fist and up to her chest. "Boy, your
father is stingy," she said. "When I
asked him for a cigarette, he said, 'Buy
your own. Here, take the one I'm smok-
ing. Look how much is left." She
showed it to me. It was down to the
filter. "I'm his mother, for Pete's sake.
You'd think he wouldn't mind giving me
a cigarette." I didn't say anything, but
in my mind I was thinking maybe he
was just worried about her health. She
puffed away on what little was left. She
stayed quiet, and that bothered me.
"What are you thinking about?" I asked
her. "Your ankle. Is it still hurting you?"
"Yeah," I said. "Well, why in the hell.
76
are you standing on it?" I
didn't know what to say.
"Sit down here." She put
out a porch stool. I sat
down and rested my
injured ankle on the porch
railing. "There now," she
said, "that's much better
for you." She threw her
cigarette bud out into the
rainy yard. What she said
repeated in my head.
"Now, you see, that's
much better for you."
She was still standing.
"Why don't you grab a
chair for yourself?" |
asked. She did. She sat
right beside me. We both
were looking out at the
rain. "If it wasn't rain-
ing, you'd be out on that
skateboard, wouldn't
you?" "Yeah." I said.
"You and that skate-
board. When you can't
do it, you get sad, don't
you?" I didn't say any-
thing. I just kept quiet. I
was sad, but I tried to
convince myself and her
that 1 wasn't.
"Dammit." I said
aloud. "Dammit. Hey,
Grandma, why can't we
just decide in our
minds how we want
to feel and then just
feel that way? Why
can't we?" She didn't
understand what I was saying, so I had
to explain it. "Here's what I mean,
Grandma. Like right now I'm sad and I
can't fake it that I ain't. I mean, in my
mind, why can't I just say to myself,
"Okay, now I'm going to feel happy,' or,
"Okay, now I'm going to feel energet-
ic," or, "Now I'm going to feel relaxed'?
You know what I'm saying, don't you,
Grandma?" "Well,
not totally," she said, "but I kind of
think I know what you mean." I sat
there feeling good like I made some
kind of sense. I was feeling happy with
myself, then I told her, "Man,
Grandma, now I feel good and happy
and invincible like I could do anything
because what I just said made some
sense." My grandma was funny. She
told me while I was at it, I might as
well go inside the house and try to
make some sense out of my father. I
laughed. She gave a smile that was
modest. I wanted to make her laugh
more, but trying to get her to laugh was
hard. "Damn this rain," she said and
then coughed quickly afterwards. She
cleared her throat. "You know your
father is crazy, right?" "He's not crazy,"
I said. "Yes, he is. He's just like your
grandpa. They're both nuts." "Well,
how about me, then? Am I crazy?" "No,
you're normal like me and my grand-
ma and my grandma's father. He was
the one with the good ideas. He was
the one that made us the richest family
around." I felt proud. "What was he
like? What was his name?" "His name
was Matthew." "Matthew," I said. "Yes,
Matthew Dillionshire." "If we're such
a rich family, how come I never see any
of the money, or why don't me and my
dad have our own house?" "Because, I
told you, they're nuts. They don't spend
If it wasn't
They'll get mad at me for telling you."
There was a moment of silence. I
looked out at the rain. "What else about
my dad? What else is so crazy about
him?" "Give me a second to recall
something. Okay, I'm going to give you
something good. This was when he was
a little older than you are now, and it
was before he met your mother. He
raining, you'd
be out on that
skateboard,
wouldn't you?
VAN
NUYS
SEP 1595
a dime, because they
want the money in the bank, so they
can earn interest on it." "Well, if
that's true, then I'm about to go in
there and demand some of it. First
thing I'm going to buy is an ace ban-
dage." "No, no," my grandma said,
"don't say anything about the money.
used to go around with this
girl, I think her name was
Goldie, and... hold on now.
Before I get started. I just
want you to know that the
story I'm going to tell you is
not the average story a grand-
ma would tell her grandson.
The only reason I'm telling
you is to let you know how
crazy I think your father is.".
"All right then, tell me. Whol
was Goldie?" "Your grandpa
used to call Goldie your dad's
rainy day girl." "Why?" "I'll get
to it. Just hold on. Every time it
would rain, Goldie would call,,
mostly after dark, then she would
show up to the house in an over-
sized raincoat. She never ever
entered the house. Your dad
would act real sneaky. He'd tell
Goldie to meet him at the back
door, then the two would go off
and look for a secluded area to
have sex in the rain." "No way.
You're lying." "I'm not lying. The
only reason I know for sure is
because they got caught. It was
one night when a prisoner
escaped, and they had the heli-
copter in the air with the search
light. Well, they got busted real
good. When they brought your
daddy home, it turned out he
and that girl had no clothes on
US. POSTAGE
0,00:
METER 293195
underbeneath
their raincoats.
Now, I swear
to you, your
father is a crazy
man." "No way,
Grandma. I
don't believe it. You're the one that's
crazy." She smiled. "I liked that story.
I know it's not true, though, is it?"
"You're right," she said, "it's not true.
I made it up. I thought it might
inspire you to give up the skateboard
and start going with girls."
77