Good (?!) Times

Last night I was sitting on one couch, curled up. There was a bruise on my forehead that I had not yet seen. My lips were puffy and tender to the touch and the lower one had the metallic taste and rough texture that recalled its being jammed against my teeth by a hand. He's lying on the other couch, stretched out. We are watching an old episode of Good Times on TVLand. In this extremely strange episode, a kid is glaring at John Amos in the bedroom of the Good Times apartment, rubbing his backside. He's upset that John Amos just hit him.

They walk out of the bedroom and the two Good Times sons are trying to figure out how bad the beating was, comparing it to ones they've had. "He didn't give him the Big Mac," says JJ. "I know, 'cause he's still walking." The kid goes to sit on the couch, but can't, because his butt hurts. "I guess he got the Big Mac after all," the oldest daughter says to Flo.

They gather around the kid, who is upset, John Amos included. One of regulars says that their dad must really love him, to throw him a beating like that. The kid says, "Nah, y'all don't love me," and the dad says, "I wouldn't have beat you if I didn't care." This is clearly supposed to be a Warm Moment. The kid says, "Well, I guess I didn't know some could love you and beat on you." They all laugh; it's obvious that the two are expected to go together.

"See?" he says, from the other couch.

My tongue pokes against the tender spot inside my lip.

"I don't think that's funny," I say.

On the TV, the other kids give the beaten kid a pillow to sit on, and they all go back to their regular lives.

Good times.