The Bad Word Speak-a-Thon

With no fear of a Bar of Ivory Soap

On the rare occasions my five siblings and I can arrange a get-together, we talk about everything.

Invariably, the conversation turns to childhood memories and experiences. The ones that seemed so serious, even life-changing at the time, morph into the most hysterical in the retelling, years later.

This is one of those …

Our small hometown was seated in a valley where two rivers joined to create a third. Our home was at the base of what we called ‘The Big Hill’. It was high and mostly grassy, with a small pond about halfway up.

As far as we knew, it wasn’t owned by anyone, but then we wouldn’t have cared if it was. We had the greatest adventures up there with friends hiking, skipping stones on the pond, telling ghost stories, or just enjoying time together.

On one sibling get-together, my brother, Tim, told about an afternoon during his summer vacation just before 6th grade was to begin …

Growing up, our parents didn’t allow us to use bad words. Not surprising, but it also included most functions of the human body. We couldn’t say those words either. To do so meant sucking on a bar of Ivory soap —the length of time depended on the severity of the ‘bad word’.

Tim and two handfuls of friends were sitting around the pond comparing stories about getting Ivory soaped when Mark, one of the guys, had an idea.

“Let's each think of the VERY WORST word --that ONE word we’ve always wanted to say but we knew it would bring an Ivory Soap suck-a-thon. Then we'll take turns around the circle, and each say our chosen bad word.”

Everyone agreed. It really was a brilliant idea. Mark would go first, because it was his idea, but that meant Tim would have to wait until last. He nearly busted a gut waiting.

While he waited, he sucked his brain clean, like getting the last meat off a turkey bone. There were just so many words he wasn’t allowed to say at home! Which one did he want to say the MOST, with no fear of an Ivory Soap mouthwash?

One by one, the guys said their words, each secretly trying to outdo the others. Then finally, the wait was over. Tim could take his turn.

Now, at this point in the retelling, Tim stopped. He looked each of us in the eye slowly, and asked, “Of all the ‘bad words’ I could say, can you guess which word I wanted to say the MOST?

C’mon now, you guys, knowing OUR Mom and Dad, you must have some idea which ‘bad’ word I chose to say.”

Tim started to laugh. Between deep breaths, a few loud snorts, and in between more bursts of gut-busting laughter, he told us …

“When it was finally my turn, I yelled out … POOP!”

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