The Mama Lizard and a Petrograph

Once upon a time… there was a mama lizard who’s head got chopped off.1

Okay, that’s not how it really goes…but it should be that way. And my mom’s not really a lizard, but she reminds me of one. Her face is so taut from all the make up and beauty creams she applies everyday. She has this huge vanity where she performs her *ornamentation* every morning. The vanity takes up one whole wall of her bedroom. I’ve forgotten what kind of wood it is; there isn’t one millimeter of space that is clear of eye shadow, blush, concealer, eyeliner, mascara, or lipstick. She wants to stay young, she says. The sad thing is, she does look young. She’s 32 and doesn’t look older than 25. I’m not even exaggerating. It’s sickening.2

Thankfully, I didn’t inherit the lizard traits. I’ve got rounded features, a small nose, pout-y lips, and I kept my brown hair instead of frying it with highlights like my mom. I’m more like a cat than a lizard, my eyes are almost a yellowish-green. Or at least they are when I’m in a chlorine pool. Let me have my dream.3

One day, the mama lizard betrayed her cat. The mama lizard was so bad that the cat had to perform and *exorcise* on her. And she died. Okay, so maybe she didn’t…but it’s a nice thought.4

Alright, I’ll be more *straightforward*, and just get on with it.5

I’d been with John for 6 months. We went to prom together. He’s got black hair that has that ‘just-rolled-out-of-bed’ look. His eyes are his best features, however. They’re a beautiful gray color. He actually has a nice car, unlike my ex, who’s mo-ped’s seat never could stay on, resulting in some nasty purple bruises on my rear-end.6

I was suppose to go my friend Chloe’s house after school one Friday, and finish our report on the process of Egyptian mummies. My favorite part was explaining the procedure of *eviscerating*. The whole pulling-the-brains-out-through-the-nose thing could prove to be a very good torture method in the future. Well, I’d forgotten my toothbrush, so I went back home quickly to pick it up. Curiosity overtook me when I saw John’s car parked in the driveway. 7

“Hello, Rachel dear.” My neighbor said cheerfully to me as I stepped out of my car, which I had to part on the side of the street, since John was in my spot.8

“Hello, Mrs. *Zaftig*.” I replied, not even glancing in her direction as I tiptoed my way up to the house. That is her name, by the way. Quite odd, isn’t it? And she lives up to her name, too. Trust me, you never want to see that lady running across the street to save her poodle from a tabby cat. 9

I shuddered, remembering the horrible Sunday morning, and then fell flat on my face.10

“What the- Zach! Why are you on the sidewalk?” I yelled at my brother as I picked myself back up and checked for my body parts. They were all there. 11

“I am creating a *petrography*, and I would be grateful if you didn’t interrupt my concentration.” The seven-year-old replied, and went back to splattering blue paint on the cement.12

Whoa, *petrography*? Little brothers are weird. As I continued my journey through the front door, I got one of those feelings that I shouldn’t of come. But I really needed my toothbrush. 13

My mother’s bedroom door was slightly ajar, and some muffled sounds were coming from inside. I knew dad couldn’t be home yet, he was still stuck in rush hour. Besides, his vehicle wasn’t in the driveway. Usually, there’s an unofficial house rule: knock before you enter anywhere. I opened the door, *notwithstanding*. 14

There was John, over my mother, hands on her purple Victoria’s Secret bra, mouth suctioned to hers. 15

I left them scrambling for close and stuttering excuses as I stomped out of the house. Zach was still sitting on the sidewalk.16

“What’s a whore, Rachel?” He asked.17

“Why.” I said, grabbing him by the hand and placing him in the car. There was no way I was leaving seven-year-old with those perverts.18

“Mrs. *Zaftig* said mom was a whore.” 19

“Mrs. *Zaftig* is a very smart lady. Now be quiet, I need to think.” 20

Telling Zach to be quiet is like telling Britney Spears to put some clothes on; it just doesn’t happen. Once we got to Chloe’s house, Zach played with her younger brother Chris. This left Chloe and I to come up with our plan of revenge.21

Over the next few weeks, some very strange things started happening in our house. Mom started wearing a wig, due to the fact that some strange chemical in her shampoo caused her hair to turn green. (This chemical can be found in your local Walmarts). A worm, which she has a *phobia* of, was wiggling in her soup. Dad filed for divorce. Zach and me moved in with him in California. 22

My next door neighbor’s name is Marc. He is not *zaftig* anywhere, and he told me he is strictly advocate against any woman older than 21.23

The mama lizard was gone forever. And the cat lived happily ever after.24