"The Expulsion of Cranberry Mullens"
This is the story of Cranberry Mullens. Just an ordinary kid in an ordinary town seeing the extraordinary. Kids of all ages, even adults poked fun at his first name.
Rodney Burns, a tall, haggard bully twice his age, yells down to Cranberry at the local diner, "Cranberry!? What kind of name is that!?"
Cranberry, sucking down his strawberry milkshake, backs his head away from the straw, swallows slowly, then looks up at his crimson-faced attacker.
"Why, I'd say it's a fruit, Rodney."
Rodney Burns, a tall, haggard bully twice his age, yells down to Cranberry at the local diner, "Cranberry!? What kind of name is that!?"
Cranberry, sucking down his strawberry milkshake, backs his head away from the straw, swallows slowly, then looks up at his crimson-faced attacker.
"Why, I'd say it's a fruit, Rodney."
"Yeah, yeah, you hear that everyone! He's named after a fruit!" Snickers from all around the diner zing into Cranberry's ears. Cranberry takes another long, delightful sip of his shake, finishing with that disheartening empty sucking sound that means only one thing: end of shake, end of indulgence. "What're you, gay?!"
Cranberry looks up again.
"No Rodney, I don't think so. But so what if I am?"
"What's your purpose, Cranberry?"
"My purpose?"
"Yeah, what's your purpose? To sit around drinking pink stuff, being all gay?"
"No, I don't think that's quite it. I'd say it's more like repelling."
"What the heck does that mean? Like insect repelling? You're into insects and stuff?" Cranberry moves closer to Rodney. So close that the tips of their toes touch, repulsing Rodney. "Ew get away you fag!"
"I want to tell you my purpose." Rodney eyes him, then looks around at the eager bystanders. He looks at the chubby waitress, stuffed into her white outfit. She's too busy picking up straw wrappers and balls of bubble gum wrapped in napkin to notice the scene. Theresa Saunders, cute, an early developer, nods in excitement. Rodney steps closer to Cranberry.
"Alright, what is it?"
"My purpose, is to repel humans."
"What!?" Gasps sing into Cranberry's ears. "What does that mean? Are you some kind of freak, some kind of warlock or witch or something?"
And that's when it all started. The expulsion of Cranberry Mullens.
The news of his human repellent spread fast throughout the town, fast like a disease, like a severe epidemic. You were the minority if you didn't know. The school was forced to remove Cranberry from its premises. Kids told their parents who told the teachers who told Cranberry to stop who told them he couldn't who told the principal who told the super intendant who called a faculty meeting who decided that this was it. He had to go. Because that's what schools do, you know. That's how they solve problems. They find the problem and they remove it. Just like that. It's simple really, and it takes very minimal effort.
Normally a kid would face an expulsion of just a couple weeks, be turned to his parents for quick rectifying. But not Cranberry Mullens. He was far too threatening. So here he stands on his front doorstep, face framed by his mother's arm, which rests firmly on her hip.
"She only stands like that when she's really mad," thinks Cranberry, staring at her then at his toes.
"Cranberry, what do we do with you now?" Silence. Birds chirping.
Cranberry looks to the sun, who shines down onto his round face, burning into his eyes a bit. He looks back to his mother but sees only a dark silhouette and bright blotches of light.
"I'm not even sure that I want you to come in the house. I think I might want you to stand out here on this porch all day." Silence. A dog barks. She comes back into focus. Cranberry smiles. "Will you do that for me, Cranberry?"
"Sure, Mom." She wipes her hands on her apron, sighs and turns. The door shuts. Cranberry turns around and watches a large truck drive by. His eyes widen. He mouths "circus." The side of the truck reads, "Tottem Brothers Seven Man Circus. And a lil lady, too." The truck slows. A twenty-something man sticks his head out the driver's side window.
"Hey! Kid! You know where we can find Route 74?"
Cranberry thinks for a moment, then yells, "Turn around and go about 3 miles. It'll be on your left!" The man disappears. He reappears.
"You sure, kid?" Cranberry nods. The man disappears again. He reappears, this time with a map in hands.
"Can you come look at this map real quick?" Cranberry shakes his head. The man disappears again. A young woman pops her head out of the window, cleavage overwhelming the frame.
"Heya sweetie. Can you help me look at this map please?" Cranberry shakes his head again. She pushes her way out of the door, fumbling with the map in her hand. Leaping from the truck, she lands, breasts in tact. Grounded, she stares at him before advancing. She marches across the lawn. Cranberry has never seen anything like her. Her dress. The skin. The hair. The makeup. The breasts. She nears him, when Mrs. Mullens catches a flash of red through the window. She yanks open the door. Monkey in the middle, Cranberry looks to both women.
"Who are you?" sternly inquires Mrs. Mullen.
"I'm sorry, ma'am, we're a bit lost."
"Get away from my boy, gypsy!" Mrs. Mullen grabs Cranberry's chubby hand and drags him towards the house. Cranberry struggles to keep his mystery lady in sight. He catches glimpses of her amidst his mother's apron blowing into his vision. Mystery lady winks at him and smiles, then sticks out her tongue and turns. The door slams. "See Cranberry! I can't even leave you on the front porch like a dog without you getting into trouble!" She stomps away from him. He stands in the hallway. The window is open. The table isn't too high. Hop, squeeze, fall, land, run. Mrs. Mullen sees another flash. Only this time it's her son, sprinting across the lawn to the circus truck. No boy has ever smiled this big or ran this fast in the history of childhood.
Cranberry looks up again.
"No Rodney, I don't think so. But so what if I am?"
"What's your purpose, Cranberry?"
"My purpose?"
"Yeah, what's your purpose? To sit around drinking pink stuff, being all gay?"
"No, I don't think that's quite it. I'd say it's more like repelling."
"What the heck does that mean? Like insect repelling? You're into insects and stuff?" Cranberry moves closer to Rodney. So close that the tips of their toes touch, repulsing Rodney. "Ew get away you fag!"
"I want to tell you my purpose." Rodney eyes him, then looks around at the eager bystanders. He looks at the chubby waitress, stuffed into her white outfit. She's too busy picking up straw wrappers and balls of bubble gum wrapped in napkin to notice the scene. Theresa Saunders, cute, an early developer, nods in excitement. Rodney steps closer to Cranberry.
"Alright, what is it?"
"My purpose, is to repel humans."
"What!?" Gasps sing into Cranberry's ears. "What does that mean? Are you some kind of freak, some kind of warlock or witch or something?"
And that's when it all started. The expulsion of Cranberry Mullens.
The news of his human repellent spread fast throughout the town, fast like a disease, like a severe epidemic. You were the minority if you didn't know. The school was forced to remove Cranberry from its premises. Kids told their parents who told the teachers who told Cranberry to stop who told them he couldn't who told the principal who told the super intendant who called a faculty meeting who decided that this was it. He had to go. Because that's what schools do, you know. That's how they solve problems. They find the problem and they remove it. Just like that. It's simple really, and it takes very minimal effort.
Normally a kid would face an expulsion of just a couple weeks, be turned to his parents for quick rectifying. But not Cranberry Mullens. He was far too threatening. So here he stands on his front doorstep, face framed by his mother's arm, which rests firmly on her hip.
"She only stands like that when she's really mad," thinks Cranberry, staring at her then at his toes.
"Cranberry, what do we do with you now?" Silence. Birds chirping.
Cranberry looks to the sun, who shines down onto his round face, burning into his eyes a bit. He looks back to his mother but sees only a dark silhouette and bright blotches of light.
"I'm not even sure that I want you to come in the house. I think I might want you to stand out here on this porch all day." Silence. A dog barks. She comes back into focus. Cranberry smiles. "Will you do that for me, Cranberry?"
"Sure, Mom." She wipes her hands on her apron, sighs and turns. The door shuts. Cranberry turns around and watches a large truck drive by. His eyes widen. He mouths "circus." The side of the truck reads, "Tottem Brothers Seven Man Circus. And a lil lady, too." The truck slows. A twenty-something man sticks his head out the driver's side window.
"Hey! Kid! You know where we can find Route 74?"
Cranberry thinks for a moment, then yells, "Turn around and go about 3 miles. It'll be on your left!" The man disappears. He reappears.
"You sure, kid?" Cranberry nods. The man disappears again. He reappears, this time with a map in hands.
"Can you come look at this map real quick?" Cranberry shakes his head. The man disappears again. A young woman pops her head out of the window, cleavage overwhelming the frame.
"Heya sweetie. Can you help me look at this map please?" Cranberry shakes his head again. She pushes her way out of the door, fumbling with the map in her hand. Leaping from the truck, she lands, breasts in tact. Grounded, she stares at him before advancing. She marches across the lawn. Cranberry has never seen anything like her. Her dress. The skin. The hair. The makeup. The breasts. She nears him, when Mrs. Mullens catches a flash of red through the window. She yanks open the door. Monkey in the middle, Cranberry looks to both women.
"Who are you?" sternly inquires Mrs. Mullen.
"I'm sorry, ma'am, we're a bit lost."
"Get away from my boy, gypsy!" Mrs. Mullen grabs Cranberry's chubby hand and drags him towards the house. Cranberry struggles to keep his mystery lady in sight. He catches glimpses of her amidst his mother's apron blowing into his vision. Mystery lady winks at him and smiles, then sticks out her tongue and turns. The door slams. "See Cranberry! I can't even leave you on the front porch like a dog without you getting into trouble!" She stomps away from him. He stands in the hallway. The window is open. The table isn't too high. Hop, squeeze, fall, land, run. Mrs. Mullen sees another flash. Only this time it's her son, sprinting across the lawn to the circus truck. No boy has ever smiled this big or ran this fast in the history of childhood.
