Meg's Tell All Diary

Written by Uncle Pan

Monday:

Dear Diary. Hi. My name's Meg Custer, well of course it's really Margaret Custer, but no one but my mom and my teachers call me Margaret. Everybody else likes the streamlined version of my name better. Daddy says that his side of the family is related to the famous army general who died fighting Indians at Little Big Horn. Mom says her family is kin to the Indians General Custer fought, so I guess I represent both sides of that little conflict. Incidentally, the Indians General Custer fought against weren't really Indians. Real Indians are from India. Christopher Columbus when he landed on Puerto Rico or wherever, thought he had sailed around the world and was in India, and so he called the natives who greeted him Indians. And people have been calling them wrong ever since.

I'm ten years old. Well, I will be ten in six weeks, but I feel like I'm ten right now. Not that I really know what being ten feels like, never having been ten yet. Soon, though. I'm counting the days. My mom is always getting on me about wishing myself older. She says kids grow up way too fast these day, so I shouldn't try to rush the process. I kinda feel bad about wanting to grow up so fast, however I can't help it if I'm impatient and can't wait. I mean I know how it feels to be nine, I've been nine for the best part of a year now, and I'm getting really tired of it and ready to move on to being ten. Who can blame me for looking forward to being ten?

I've got several girl friends but for some strange reason these days I seem to like being with boys better than being with girls. Except for Kathy Cooper, she's my best friend. We've known each other since kindergarten. And we do lots of stuff together. The only thing is, it's summertime, school is out, and Kathy spends the summers at her grandmother's house in Huntsville. This is because both her mom and dad work, and there's nobody to take care of her here in town so her mom ships her off to her grandmom's. I miss her, but my mom says it's probably a good thing because it will force me make new friends. It's not too easy to find new friends though. It seems like everybody I know is already friends with somebody else.

Tuesday:

Dear Diary, I was at the park this morning swinging on the swings when this thirteen year old boy named Steve Paley sat in the swing next to me and started in talking to me. I was really surprised, 'cause every thirteen year old I've ever known didn't have doodly squat to say to us ten year olds. Especially thirteen year old boys. Which is why I was shocked when Steve started talking to me. It was nice, though, he was real friendly and interesting. Boys are funny things. I mean they're almost like us girls except for one big difference. They have this little hose down there where we have our cracks.

But it seems to make them act way different from us girls. I haven't really seen one of those things myself, except on a baby. My one year old cousin Michael Ray has one, but of course his is tiny, as is all the rest of him.

My best friend Kathy has a fourteen year old cousin named Charlie, his mother is Kathy's mother's sister, and sometimes they spend a week of their vacations together. Last summer their families spent a week at Clear Lake. Kathy told me she and Charlie used to show each other their sex parts when they were changing into their bathing suits, and she said Charlie's is really huge, they even measured it with a tape measure and it was over seven inches long. I told her I didn't see how that was possible, else where would he keep the thing all the time. She explained it wasn't always that big, she said most of the time his thing is small and wrinkly, it only gets big when he gets "turned on," I don't know what "turned on" means, but that's what she said so I'm going to put it down that way. But you know, Kathy's talk really got me to wondering about boys. I find myself looking at them down there between their legs a lot these days. Usually there's only a lump down there, but once in awhile I see what looks like a pencil sticking out. I even found myself looking at Steve Paley that way the other day. And he seemed to be looking at me in a funny way right back. I wish I knew what was going on with me. ......(cont)

.......Read the entire Meg's Tell All Diary ....written by Uncle Pan.
Copyright © 2007-8 Uncle Pan. ALL Rights Reserved




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This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.


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