Scarface

I know it's the name of a very well known movie. It's also the name I was given for several years in my childhood. I was able to heal enough in regards to hearing it that I was able to put it aside out of mind. That is until the introduction into Harry Potter. Then it came out in the foreground of my mind once more. I can hear the voice of my tormentors as clear and pure as Draco Malfoy's remarks to Harry Potter. Though the words would be different. For some reason I have awoken with a replay of the scene that gave me that name in my mind. Why I don't know. Unless it's suppose to be what I write about next.

It was back in grade school. I had been blessed with having pleased my mother. What or why I don't recall. I do recall the reward. The reward I was given was time with some kids who were sort of my friends. I say that they were sorta my friends because I don't know if they would have been my friends had they not been forced.

See my step-father's brother had a wife and several girlfriends. One had 4 children, 2 boys and 2 girls. It was these who were the friends I would get to stay with. I went down to their house and got to stay for dinner. I even got to stay the night. A rare treat for me. These particular friends also had a dog. A dachshund. A standard sized dachshund to be exact. This dog was called Peanut.

Peanut is an import character in the following of this story. See it's because of Peanut that I got my nickname. Peanut was a kind dog for the most part. The brothers would tease him from time to time. The girls would use him as a doll. But as time went on there were subtle changes in Peanut. He'd be a bit more edgy in a sense. He'd be a little quicker to snap.

Now me I wouldn't ever participate in the teasing. I knew better than to tease an animal. I had been bitten before by dogs that had been ruthlessly teased by children. I also knew that to get caught would mean a hellish beating and disgrace. I tried very hard to be a good kid. Especially when it came to animals. Unless it was Puff but that is another story.

As I was saying I did get to stay for supper and I did go about helping with the evening chores. I would do this because I knew it would a) be reported back to my mother and maybe continue to please her b) it meant we could go have fun sooner as many hands make quick work of lots of tasks. So I was more than willing to help out with the evening chores so that we could do something fun when it happened.

The last chore to fun was feeding Peanut. I volunteered to put the scraps in the bowl. It was as I was crossing the floor to the food bowl that I should have gotten my first clue. Peanut came quickly away from the boys. Almost too quickly and he was all excited jumping around. He'd do that sometimes so I took no notice of it. It was when I was tipping the scraps into his food bowl that it happened. Peanut jumped up and grabbed my face.

I didn't feel pain as much as a dull tugging on my face followed by an incredible amount of odd sticky wetness. I don't know how he was taken off. I don't remember much more than the sickened horrified looks on the faces of those who were looking at me. The wet washcloth that the mom had put to my face with her strict order not to remove it. My uncle's calling to my parentals and then being pulled out of the house, and hurried up the street at a quick march to my parents. I remember the cold breeze and being drug along behind while at the same time being told not to say anything about peanut. How if he should have to be put down I would lose my only friends.

We were able to get into my house quickly. My mother was extremely angry. She rushed forward and took me to the bathroom to look at it. While hosenose and father spoke about what had happened with my uncle.

It was decided that I must go to the ER so I was pushed into the vehicle for the ride to the ER. I remember being mildly annoyed as I just so wanted to sleep and strangely terrified. I was afraid I would be put down like Old Yeller. I was afraid I'd have to tell and Peanut would be destroyed and so would my only friendship.

I remember lying on the bed feeling the scratchy sheet beneath my good cheek staring at the white walls. Wondering what would happen to me now. Not realizing how bad it was. My mother for once was doing a good show of being a mother. She was sobbing I could see the fat tears rolling down her face. I was touched to think that she was crying for me. Thou I should have known better. It didn't take long only a couple of weeks for me to learn the real truth. She hadn't been crying about me but the loss of money. That's what had her really upset. If I was badly scarred then who'd want to come play with me? Gone would be the money making weekends. But at the time ignorance was complete bliss.

She kept whispering to hang on and it would be ok. I'd survive it. The doctor that was on call turned out to be Dr. K. That was a good thing according to the nurse. Dr. K studied under a plastic surgeon for a bit. So he would know best what to do to save my face. It was at that moment that I concluded that I didn't give a damn about my face just as long as I didn't die of rabies. I had heard tales of the horribleness of rabies and had seen a rabid animal or two by that time. I didn't want to be like them.

The doctor came in and started barking orders. I had been very lucky he said. Had I not been wearing glasses the bite might have been much worse. As it was, there were just a couple of bad ones close to my eye. They'd need to be watched closely and I'd have to follow up with an eye doctor especially if they should fester. When he got through with me I had 9 different places that were cleaned and bandaged up. The doctor had decided to do an experiment. Instead of using the traditional needle and thread to repair my face and would have left definite scars, he decided to try using a new thing called steri strips to tape each spot together to see if they would heal cleaner without the nasty scars. He admitted that if it didn't work he could always stitch me back up. I left with a huge bandage on my face and strict orders to not speak more than necessary, to eat super soft foods and to drink with a straw. As he didn't want me to risk opening up the wounds .

It was quite the sensation in school. Everyone was curious about what had happened and what was under the bandages. Everyone was for a change very nice to me. Although it didn't last long. Soon it was back to normal the teasing, bullying, etc. The only real change is that instead of being called the old tired name of 4 eyes I got the new one of Scarface.

Oddly enough as time marched on and the scars faded away the nickname stuck. Always to the amusement of those who remembered seeing them for the first time. Always to the puzzlement of those who had never seen. Because as luck would have it the doctor was very good and what scars there were didn't last as sore thumbs blatantly calling attention to themselves. But I beg to differ. I see them each and every time I look in the mirror. Sure they are not there to those who never knew. There easy to over look but to me who saw them before they were taped up to heal and during the healing time. I can see all 10 of them. Originally there were 12. 9 that needed a lot of attention because of how they gaped open. 3 that didn't need so much attention. Cause they were little more like a minor cut and not deep. I feel them all when I smile. It's part of the reason you don't see me smile. I feel the pull and pain when I do and I hear the harsh horrified voice of the doctor and my parents about did I want to scar myself forever. Etc.

As for what happened to Peanut. I was true to my word. I never mentioned anything to anyone about the dog. I took the blame for his attack to a degree. I begged for him not to be put down on my account. But he was still taken away for quarantine to rule out rabies. Hosenose was fined for not having him up to date on his shots. And it was the beginning to the end of our friendship. They were rather upset and angry with me for him being put into quarantine for 14 days to rule out rabies. They are lucky that is all that happened as he could have easily been destroyed because of not being up to date on his shots and his aggressiveness. I was not the 1st nor was I the last one he bit. It's sad that this drove such a wedge in our friendship.

Peanut got more aggressive and snappish as time went on. Often not allowing the girls whom he had grown up with to go into the bedroom if he was in there or to sit, lie or touch the bed if he was on it. I don't know what eventually happened to him.in I assume that Peanut died at a ripe old age as was fitting his breed.
I do know that I was