A Summer in My Shoes

June 8, 2009
By Anonymous

“S@#%” I ran through the wood as fast as I could. The tree limbs and leaves were smacking my face as bits of plastic passed over my shoulders. I yelled out curses as I heard whizzing pass my ears. I was ironically at the receiving end of my own BB gun.
This is usually what happens when my friend and I go outside: run around screaming like banshees shooting each other with BB guns. My little brother plays around too, but being the youngest he gets most of the pain. Most of the time it’s just hiding in the bushes sneaking up on the opposing player, in this case my friend saw my coming and was ready. I soon learned that my friend wasn’t the best shot in the world the hard way. To me it felt as if it were an action scene in a war movie because the branches and leaves were falling everywhere. He didn’t chase after me thank God, because he was wearing shorts and as I found out later, there was poison oak in the woods. I managed to get away without a scratch and went all the way around the woods getting behind him. I waited probably ten minutes to strike; of coarse it wasn’t good timing for him. His legs were spread in a fashion that obviously indicated he was peeing, and thankful the neighbors weren’t home. I could imagine what would go through his head in the next second. “FREEZE!” He jumped five feet in the air as my voice shattered the silence. After seeing his reaction I fell on the ground bawling tears of laughter.

Naturally not all we did was acting like two year olds playing with toy guns when my friend would come over. He would come over and I would be in the basement playing violent video games. My dad would get into it and act like he was one of us. After we got bored we’d go outside. After we were done shooting at each other we would go back inside and rest. My dad would order pizza and a movie. My brother would always pick out the movie which was always a “B” movie. We’d wake up in the morning and occasionally my mom would drag our family and my friend to church. When we came back we would start all over again from the day before. The next weekend my dad let me drive our jet ski with my friend, a big mistake.

“What the Hell?” I sped off on my jet ski and left my friend soaking wet in his old 1950s boat. My friend would meet me out in front of my house on the lake and we’d race to his house on our watercraft. The waves would slow down my speed greatly. My jet ski never gave him a chance. My friend’s boat had to be docked which took forever when we got to his house. This was when I found out my cell phone had been water logged because the plastic bag had failed, so I couldn’t tell my parents when I came back home. Because we were soaking wet we had to stay outdoors. We played catch with a football and refrained from shooting each other. Playing catch was rather relaxing compared to my hectic summer day which consisted of finishing my summer homework and house chores. Then we got some random idea of hunting chipmunks because playing catch was growing tiresome. I hopped on the back of his four-wheeler and looked for our pray. His dad made us wear helmets, which I have no problem with, but they were awkward and bulky. After seeing nothing after a thousand passes through his woods, it grew late and I had to go home.

When I got home I found it a mess, as it always is when a friend was over: DVDs all over, snack wrappers, and the basement upside down. My mom had a cow. She told me to clean it all up and finish my summer homework, which I literally finished at the last second. After convincing my brother to clean up my mess I reflected over the past events and cared to my poison oak I contracted.

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