Tauy Creek Digest #6: Bobbo

The hashtags and headlines all run together.

It seems as if twenty minutes ago, nothing was wrong. Fifteen minutes ago, another police officer shoots an unarmed black man.

He was armed? Why does that matter? There are more than 300 million guns in this country and you're worried about one black man with one gun? I know white guys with guns pointed at their front doors just in case someone looks at their house the wrong way.

Ten minutes ago, protests began. Always peaceful, always motivated by what is right.

#BlackLivesMatter. Not saying other lives don't matter. Just saying that it seems that black lives matter less. Evidence shows it. Everything bad that could happen to an American tends to happen disproportionately to the black community. We overlook things like that because the majority of this country is white so why should we care what happens?

Five minutes ago, shots ring out. No longer peaceful, once a unified body becomes separate again.

Two steps forward, one step back. That's how we are anymore. Despite all the advancements we cannot overcome, for whatever reason, our history. Why do we feel like we have to keep people down. Several generations have come and gone and we are still fighting the Civil War.

One minute ago. It all starts over again.

~*~*~

The blond haired boy carefully walked along the top of the eight-foot privacy fence with his arms extended while the cute dark haired girl watched. "Ooh, be careful, Bobbo," she said, in odd amazement.

"Don't worry, I could do this with my eyes closed," Bobbo said. Right about at that moment, Bobbo began to stumble and then fall over the fence. He landed with a thud on the ground in a tulip garden. When Bobbo finally rolled over and stood up to leave the garden, most of the tulips had been flattened.

"Bobbo!" a voice screamed from the direction of the house. "My tulips! What do you think you're doing?"

"Sorry, Mr. Popadopolis," Bobbo muttered. "There was this girl and..."

"Get out!"

Bobbo ran from Mr. Popadopolis' backyard and back around to where the girl was. "Are you okay, Bobbo?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Can't say that about Mr. Popadopolis' tulips though."

"Well, Bobbo. It could've been worse."

"I guess. What a great way to start a friendship," Bobbo sighed dejectedly and began sauntering home.




"You should have seen it, Max. I made a fool of myself in front of that new girl, Brooke," Bobbo complained to his best friend, Max, as they walked through the wall.

"You make a fool of yourself in front of a lot of people, Bobbo, how is this different?" Max asked, drily.

"Har, har. I just want to impress her. What should I do?"

"Stay away from her. That would impress me, anyway, if you could stay away from a girl for 24 hours."

They walked by a kiosk where something caught Bobbo's eye. He stopped to look in the case at the kiosk and saw a bracelet with five charms on a small chain link. "What about that? Do you think she'd like that?" Bobbo pointed at the bracelet. The charms were a heart, a music note, a four-leaf clover, a peace sign, and a star.

Max snorted. "I don't know. How would I know what she likes? I haven't even met her."

"How much is that charm bracelet?" Bobbo asked the guy working the kiosk.

"Ten dollars," he answered.

"I don't have ten dollars," Bobbo sighed and he and Max walked away. "What can I do to earn some quick money?"

"You should spend this kind of energy on your chores and schoolwork," Max said.

"I got it!" Bobbo exclaimed. "I'll see you later, Max."

"No rush," Max said.




"Is that you, Bobbo?" Old Lady Vandacourt asked. She had wheeled herself over to the door to answer it when Bobbo knocked. Old Lady Vandacourt was around 100-years-old, still spry and sassy, she relied on the kindness of her neighbors between the times her daughter and granddaughter would come out to help with groceries and doctor's appointments.

"Sure is. I wondering if you had any odd jobs I could do. I'm looking to earn ten dollars."

"I could probably find something for you. Come on in," Old Lady Vandacourt wheeled her wheelchair backward to give Bobbo room to go in. "You can help me clean out my kitchen cabinets. I've been wanting to do that for months," they walked to the kitchen which was stuck in the 1960s. Everything was at least clean but very dated. "Just go through that cabinet and tell me what's in the can and the expiration date. I'll let you know if you can get rid of it."

For the next hour, Bobbo went through the cans in the cabinet. Half the cans were deemed unsuitable to keep while the other half could be kept. Old Lady Vandacourt then told Bobbo to help clean out her refrigerator. Dozens of moldy plastic containers were tossed out as were a couple cartons of milk. Bobbo was excited when he was finally done with that.

"Anything else, Ms. Vandacourt? I really need to get the ten dollars," Bobbo panted.

"One more thing," she said.

Bobbo's face lowered.

"Can you take Simpson out for a walk?" Old Lady Vandacourt asked.

"Simpson?" Bobbo looked over and saw a dog lying on the couch. "Your dog?"

"Yes. He doesn't get out much except the backyard to do his business. He needs a good walk. The leash is by the door."

"Sure, I guess."

"I'll have the ten dollars ready for you when you get back."

Bobbo hooked the leash onto Simpson's collar and the two left the house. They made it halfway down the block when Brooke came around the corner. "Hi, Brooke," Bobbo stammered.

"Hi, Bobbo. Who is this cutie-patootie?" she kneeled down and rubbed Simpson's head.

"This is Simpson. He's Old Lady Vandacourt's dog. I need to get some extra money so I'm doing some chores for her."

"Oh, that's nice. Why do you need the money?"

"There's something at the mall I want to buy," Bobbo said. "What are you doing?"

"I'm heading to the mall actually."

"I'm headed back there when I'm done with this. Maybe I'll see you there."

"Maybe. I'll see you later."

"See you," Bobbo waved and they went their separate ways. Bobbo continued walking Simpson down the sidewalk. Suddenly, Bobbo tripped, fell down, and let go of the leash. As if on cue, Simpson began bolting away. "Simpson!" Bobbo hollered and quickly stood up and ran after the loose dog. Bobbo chased Simpson down the street. The dog turned suddenly and ran into a yard. He began digging in a bed of tulips. "No, Simpson, stop."

"Bobbo!" Mr. Popadopolis yelled.

Bobbo clutched Simpson with both arms around the chest and carried him away from the other bed of tulips. "Sorry, Mr. Popadopolis." Bobbo put Simpson down and the two bolted from the yard. Bobbo returned to Old Lady Vandacourt. "We're back, Ms. Vandacourt."

"Oh, good. Did Simpson have a good time?"

"He seemed to," Bobbo said.

"I don't have any cash on me but here are ten one dollar coupons for that frozen yogurt place in the mall," she handed Bobbo the coupons. "You can use them all at once and they don't expire so you can get ten dollars worth of yogurt."

Bobbo reluctantly took the coupons. "Thanks, Ms. Vandacourt."




Bobbo trekked back to the mall. Near the food court, where the frozen yogurt place was, he ran into Brooke. "Hello again, did you get your money?"

"Kind of," Bobbo shrugged. He then perked up. "Do you want to get some frozen yogurt?" he pointed to the frozen yogurt shop.

"Sure, I'll take some."

"Great. Get whatever you want. My treat."

Rape of An American Virgin

In a small Missouri town, 14-year-old Makayla Breithaupt is left passed out on her porch in the dead of winter. What follows is an investigation into what happened prior to that. Makayla says she and her friend snuck out to party with two seniors from their school and were raped. The seniors say they just wanted to hang out and that the sex was consensual. Based on a true story, this gripping story details what happens when a victim accuses a popular, well-connected young man of rape and how her past destroyed her credibility.

Tauy Creek Quarterly issue 3 is out now. Loosely based on the Daisy Coleman rape case, "Rape of An American Virgin" is the best story yet to be featured. You can order the newest issue here for only $0.99!! A sample of the story is below.

*~*~*

“Makayla Breithaupt, 320 Marion Street, Altoona, Missouri, 62111,” Makayla repeated for the third time.

“Well, she is certainly coherent enough now,” Officer Daphne Littell said. “The nurse taking the rape kit said there was semen inside her but no bruises or any other injuries consistent with rape. Makayla, can you go over what happened last night?”

“She was supposed to be having a sleepover with Cassidy,” Amanda said.

“Mrs. Breithaupt, please,” Officer Littell said. “Now, Makayla, describe your night to me.”

“Cassidy and I were having a sleepover but all evening I was texting Clint Ballinger and getting him to flirt with me. Cassidy and I were about to go to bed when he invited us over.”

“About what time was that?” Officer Littell asked as she scribbled into a notepad.

“Just before one,” Makayla said. “We then got dressed and went downstairs to wait for Clint to pick us up.”

“How long did that take?”

Makayla shrugged. “Maybe ten minutes.”

“What happened after they picked you up?”

“We went to Clint’s house and went inside. His parents weren’t home.”

“Was anyone else there?”

“Just me, Cassidy, Clint and Dalton.”

“Dalton?”

“Dalton Gross. He’s a junior. Clint’s a senior. Dalton was with Clint when they picked us up. We were nervous but I had always wanted Clint to ask me to hang out with him so I didn’t want to not go.”

“How many times have I told you to stay away from Clint?” Ellis lectured. “I’ve told you what he did to Meghan, right?”

“Yes but that wasn’t going to happen. I had everything under control,” Makayla said, rolling her eyes at Ellis.

“Get back to last night,” Officer Littell said. “What happened after you got to the Ballinger house?”

“I talked to Clint. This was the first time that I had been alone with Clint so I kept laughing like an idiot. Maybe he noticed which is why he offered us something to drink,” Makayla suggested. “He said that he had beer, wine coolers and rum. Both Cassidy and I chose wine coolers. He and Dalton got a couple of beers. We drank our wine coolers pretty fast and I remember that we all laughed when I burped.”

“Were the wine coolers open or closed when Clint gave them to you?” Littell asked.

“What?”

“Were the bottles open or still sealed?”

“Oh. Still sealed, and they never left our hands so he couldn’t have put anything in them, Ellis,” Makayla mocked.

“We’re trying to find out if these boys took advantage of you, Makayla,” Amanda sighed. “If you two had consensual sex that’s one thing but he just left you out in the cold. Your hair was frozen to the porch.”

“I am a virgin,” Makayla said and started to tear up, “at least I was, and I was proud of that. Sure, I flirt and find a lot of guys cute but I was waiting for that special guy.”

“Please try to keep it together, Makayla. Did you and Cassidy have anything else to drink after the wine coolers?”

“We each had one more wine cooler and Clint said we cleaned him out. We then started drinking beer.”

“How many of those did you have?”

“I had six—they were in bottles—and Cassidy only had two but she was pretty buzzed. I was actually pretty close to passing out and I mentioned that Cassidy and I should be getting back home and that’s when Clint suggested that I lay down and he took me into the bedroom.”

“Jesus,” Ellis remarked angrily.

“Do you know what time it was when you went into the bedroom? Or how long you’d been at the Ballinger house?”

Makayla shook her head. “I don’t know and after Clint got me on the bed, I fell asleep.”

“So you don’t know what happened after that?”

“It’s all a blur. I was in and out the rest of the night until we were on our way to the hospital. I can clearly remember only seconds at a time.”

“Okay, thank you, Makayla. I’ll go talk to Cassidy and get her information. Do you have her address?”

“1432 Indiana.”

“Thank you, Makayla. Can I speak to you and your son in the hallway?”

Amanda, Ellis and Officer Littell left the examination room and went out into the hallway. “What’s wrong? You seem concerned,” Amanda said.

“I am concerned that Makayla was assaulted especially with all the drinking, but I am also concerned with the lack of rape evidence.”

“Well, I’m sure she didn’t just lie there and take it,” Amanda shouted.

“I’m not saying that but if she was passed out then she couldn’t fight back. Unless Cassidy saw something or one of the boys confess, this may end up being a case of he said-she said. Ellis, what did Clint do to Meghan that you mentioned in there?”

Ellis nervously looked between his mom and Officer Littell. “Well, I don’t know. It was always just a rumor but they had started dating the summer before our junior year. About November, Meghan started acting weird—falling asleep in class, grades dropping, short fuse, skipping school. Clint’s parents weren’t home often so she would sleep over at his place. The rumor was that Clint kept her doped up at night and have his way with her. He also charged twenty dollars for his friends to have sex with her. Again, it’s just high school rumors,” Ellis said.

“Even if untrue, it’s still disturbing to have your name attached to a story like that,” Officer Littell handed Amanda a business card. “I’m going to talk to Cassidy. If you need anything, please call.”

1219: Charleston

We need to do better. It doesn't matter if this is a conservative issue, liberal issues, Republican issue, Democratic issue, race issue, police issue, mental health issue, what matters is that it is an issue. We cannot use the argument we always use. If bad people want a gun, they can get a gun but what we can do is make sure that bad people who don't have guns don't get them. But that's not going to happen. On December 14, 2012, we agreed that gun violence is okay no matter who it happens to.

Charleston is just the most recent shooting, as of this writing. Dylann Roof, who often claimed that blacks were "taking over", supported racial segregation and supported pre-Apartheid South Africa and the government of Rhodesia, went into the Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Charleston, South Carolina, to attend a Bible study. He sat for nearly an hour participating in the study before pulling out a gun and saying "I have to do this". Roof killed nine people and was brought in, unlike several non-murdering black people lately, alive.

Roof chose the Emanuel A.M.E. Church due to its role in African-American history. The church was founded in 1816 by former members of other churches when the discrimination became too much. Having an all-black church was, for all intents and purposes at the time, illegal and the church was raided several times. In 1822, co-founder Denmark Vesey was implicated in a slave revolt plot and was executed, the church being burned down. In 1834, all-black churches were officially outlawed so the congregants met in secret. The church was also the center of the civil rights movements of the 1960s. If you can't see that this was a racially motivated shooting, then why did the shooter admit that he wanted to start a civil war, that he wanted to start a race war? Everything he has said and worn comes straight from white supremacist websites.

I understand why we aren't talking about the racism that persists in our country. It's hard to talk about because then our prejudices come to the surface and we'd have to confront those. Why we are fine with people--human beings--being routinely killed by police or gunned down because we view them as a threat is beyond me. Racism is not behind us. No amount of African American Presidents is going to end racism. Racism will end when society acknowledges the issues and works to end it. We can't just say that all people are equal and have it be so. A few years of progress cannot erase centuries of inhumane treatment.

This should be something we can work together to fix but people need to want to fix it and unfortunately, it just seems like there aren't enough of those people around. Let's put an end to this. No more innocent victims. No more grieving families. Let's do better.