Summertime, and the livin's easy.

Yep, cheating.  I've been with the satellite installer all afternoon, and have had little time for Ramblin' blogging.  At least it continues the string.   Four left for the full Monty six months, I might just make it.  Touch wood, (not that I'm the superstitious type or anything). 

No gaming this weekend, so I may have a chance to get one or two back into the queue.  Yeah, I know, don't count on it.

This was a little short story I started twenty-some odd years ago, never finished; SURPRISE!!!  I didn't write enough of it to be satisfied with it, and just enough for me to lose interest in it. 

SUMMERTIME

(C) 1994 

The four boys played along the creek, played like children nearly everywhere played.  Skipping stones, chasing frogs and crayfish, and as young boys all over the world are quite likely to do, ignoring nearly every rule that their mothers had laid down for them. 

The stifling heat and humidity of the Missouri summer was unbearable for the adults, but almost hog heaven for the four boys.  They could swim nearly anytime that they wished, the woods surrounding the farm teemed with wildlife.  Best of all, there would be no school for another whole month.  

The Tarzan yell cracked at the first AH, sounding more like the cry of an exotic whatisit than the primal yell of the Lord of the jungle, as the oldest of the boys swung out over the swimming hole.  He released his hold on the grapevine and plummeted into the water. 

"C'mon Joey.  You gonna swim all day?"

"Yeah.  Wha'sa matter, you panty wastes afraid to go on ahead by yourselves?"  Joey floated leisurely on his back and decided to make the others wait.  "I'll come out when I'm good and ready!"

"SNAKE!"  Charley pointed and yelled at the top of his lungs. Charley was the youngest, the youngest of the bunch by a whole six weeks.  Joey scrambled clear of the swimming hole.

            

"Thought that you were coming out when you were good and ready?"

"I did, it just didn't take me long to get ready.  Hey, what are y'all laughing about?  Hey, wait up."

            

Joey, Andy, Mark and Charley returned to their campsite just before the August daylight faded to nothingness.  They had peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and Kool-Aid for dinner.  Joey had blackmailed his older sister out of two six packs of beer that were left over from her party.  Andy swiped a half a  pack of Camel no filters from his old man.  

The four worldly adventurers, the Alan Quartermains, the Sam Spades, the four musketeers hacked and coughed and drank their beers.  But they had done it.  

            

Mark was the first to learn the first rule of beer.  What goes in, must come out.  He staggered out of the camp looking for a good place to pee.  In the process he startled something, it scared him witless as it crashed through the underbrush.

"PEEEEEUeeeee it sure stinks out here."  

The boy turned to go back into camp.  The beam from his flashlight briefly lit something as it slashed through the night.  The scream pierced the darkness and carried easily back to the boys at camp.   Mark came stumbling back into camp as fast as his drunken legs would carry him.  His face ashen, his body shook uncontrollably.  He still had control of his voice box.

            

"It's that crazy ole man."

The three others panicked.  If the crazy bastard didn't sick his mean ass dog on you he would load your hide up with rock salt.  Or maybe, just out of pure meanness, both.

         

Everyone tried to talk at once.

"Where's he at?"

"We gotta get outta here!"

 "He got that mean dog with him?"

             

"Did he see which way you came?"

Mark got himself under enough control to mutter, 

"He's fuckin' dead!  Sumptin kilt him.  A monster or a werewolf, or sumptin.  He's out there, face all chewed up an' stuff."

             

The pitiful wail of a single coyote sounded from the darkness.  Four young men, boys really, whose imaginations already tended to run on the wild side were now feeling both the effects from the alcohol and oxygen starvation from their first cigarettes now had little trouble seeing Lon Chaney Jr. stalking them through the darkened forest.  Nearby, a screech owl screamed out its banshee shriek.  Four young men, boys actually returned the owl's cry with screams of their own.

It was amazing to see how quickly the BB guns came out.  Joey felt an obligation, he was the oldest. 

"Pump em good and hard.  If ya see anything aim for the bugger's eyes."  

"We gotta get outta here!  C'mon guys let's go home."  Andy whined.

"Shut up Andy.  We can't get out tonight, I don't think that any of us can walk good enough to get back home in the dark.  Charley, throw another log on the fire.  Let's have some light.  Mark, where'dya see that crazy ole bastard, an was that god awful mean dog with him?"

Such as it is, it is.  Thanks, as always.

See you on Monday, I won't even toss in the proverbial maybe thing here.  Peace...