The Dream Squasher

"How much did get for that!"

Sometimes I feel bad telling stories about my mother; I guess in her way she did care about me, or I should say she was worried I was sure to fail. But she was always so critical, so negative, she took the joy out of everything. When I was nine I wanted to have my own lemonade stand for my own spending money, she said, “Don’t do it Freddie, what if it goes under!”

And then when I was a teenager, I wanted to work part time at Burger King, she goes, “Yeah, they’re waiting for you!”

But the biggest damper she put on any excitement I had was when I was in an animated show, Handy Manny. Always a collector of toys and kitschy memorabilia, I achieved my dream when a talking action figure was made for Rusty, the nervous monkey wrench I was voicing. Oh, it was so cool, it was like, they pull it and hear me say as Rusty, “Let’s fix the sink…” “I’m a wrench, I can help…”

I was so thrilled then I went to my mother who was only concerned about one thing when she said, “How much money you getting for it?”

She’s insanely gullible and I admit I may have been a bit cruel when she deflated that joy when I answered that I got 5 cents every time someone presses it.

But then I felt especially guilty for saying that when the next day she called asking if I got the money because she was pressing it all day.

Hers even stopped working cause she was pressing it so much,

and then she went to a toy store and security kicked her out when she pressed all the ones there, as they escorted her out, prying her fingers off one of them she said, Freddie needs the money, he doesn’t make what he used to! How does he eat? He lives in a little place that I’m embarrassed to see what it looks like they’ll turn out the lights. How does he make a living?

Fred with Real Rusty Toy!