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Seven Minutes in Mayhem
Author's note: This was actually a project for my Lit class, titled 'Humorous narrative'. Trust me, this isn't anything of my 'serious' work, the project allowed me to be very silly and uncanny with the situation of events concurred. I did the best I could with this story, and I hope it's funny!
The day was not young. It was 7 p.m. on a Saturday evening, so the day was OLD. Or, to be specific, middle-aged. Our attention remained unstirred, our ambitions propelled more than our interest kept at that time.
Or, in other simple, ABC, American words, we were bored as heck.
To my newly tapped amusement, Heck Hobbit just happened to be trimming the grass outside of his house, just on the other side of the window I was staring out of. Coincidence...I thought of in a high-pitched voice.
"That guy should cut hair someday." I said. I had heard his own grandparent's 1960s shaggin' shag carpet was practically resorted to an adolescent peach fuzz now.
"Uh, yeah, if they got gum stuck in it." 'Tranquil' Liza Gunn answered, as she leaned over a Bud Lite. I heard it's a really common name, that you'd hear called around a lot. Common as John Smith, Jane Doe, or butt-head. He lost the battle against the forces of boredom, and promptly lay sprawled and conked out in the middle of my living room. I almost felt tempted to spray whipped cream on his hand, then tickle his face with a feather. But then, if someone came and found him, they'd think he had some whimsical disease. I decided to spare the trouble.
"He's been mowing it for over 2 HOURS. God, even I'm getting tired!" I sighed. My street never had anything interesting going on. Just a bunch of old people, then gigolos, I mean, rich guys, and then some twitter-patted gaggle of adolescent sisters next door. And a dog down the street. Sometimes, I imagined I lived somewhere else, like Iceland. I could do with some volcanoes and hot springs. Sizzle.
"Well, it is Labor Day." she said thoughtfully.
I rolled my eyes. "Shya! As if! It commemorates those in labor."
"Must be a bunch of ankle-biting babies then. Geez, you know, I don't think I have the legs to be a doctor? All of that running around carrying babies and cutting umbilical cords..."
I closed the curtains, giving up on who I'd been looking for. "Never mind." Leave me to muse about deep-minded things such as our stock-market, the economy, or what lay on the CNN news next week instead of Jersey Shore and The Real Housewives. But then, without such a booming economy, my dad had been forced to go to a dinner-party that his boss waved the word 'promotion' at, and my dad, naturally, offered my mother to tag along. Really, when I saw them drive away, I could see them through the back window. "tag, you're it! Tag, YOU'RE IT!" Until they nearly hit the light pole at the end of my street, and behaved with well consideration until I saw them dip around the corner. Parents. You just have to look after them sometimes.
Or rather, yourself. I knew what I liked, and I liked TWO things. An empty house, and Ford Taurus. And Coca-Cola. And me.
I thought of what else caught my fancy, when my attention turned from the window to the excited laugh bursting from Liza.
"Ha ha ha! Look!" she clapped, and I saw a Sharpie marker extend from her right hand. She moved over to reveal Bud's face, complete with a Hitler mustache.
"Oh my god!" I exclaimed. "It's some of your best work!"
"I know!" she agreed. "I feel shameless to admit it, but he actually looks quite hot right now. You know, like, a spicy cayenne. Or a burning sensation of hot chocolate. Or the feeling you get under on the soles of your feet when you bounce around in an inflatable bouncy castle with no shoes on..."
"Um. T.M.I." was all I could say. Then shrink my shoulders at the sight of the mustache. It was just too much to bear. Thank god man invented shaving cream. Thank god for inventing men who didn't get facial hair until at a more appropriate age. There was only too much until you either resembled a lumberjack. And then a Yeti. And then Chewbacca.
We both turned at the sound of the back door knob turning in the kitchen, and in came Frenchie duWop, holding onto one of the strings of Apollo Burns' hoodie. I know any normal friend to a boy who happened to be a girl would hold onto the arm of her comrade, but one time, as a joke, he wore a fake arm underneath his jacket, and last year at a Halloween hayride, they entered a scene where they were supposed to run, and she pulled on his arm so fiercely it ripped the fake arm off, and she went into hysterics. I don't know why she flipped out so easily. There obviously wasn't any blood around for her to be so upset about.
"There's a front door." I nodded. "You passed it."
"I know that, Blue." By the way, my name is Blue. Short for Blueberry Marie Cobbler. My mom was on muscle relaxers after she gave birth to me, and my dad gave her the honors of naming me, although I am her only daughter, so far. It was either Blue, Chiquita-Banana, or Smurf. I don't know the exact experience of muscle relaxers, but I know them pretty well enough to stray away. So my parents let me free reign on most things, extend the leash a little. They pat me on the head occasionally. Until I chew through the leash, and then all of a sudden, my allowance is 'delayed.' Excuses, excuses.
Delighted to make your acquaintance. (cue curtsey).
"But I can't take it any longer." Frenchie continued, as she leaned against the love seat that Apollo settled into. "Every time I walk pass your house, those little trolls next door always make sheep's eyes at Apollo. Like, he's a sun-god or something. And you know what else? That blast-ended Heck kid always offers to trim my lawn. AS IF I don't know what that means! I can't help it, the guy's in love with me. It's like, wouldn't you want to preserve the lawn if I've already walked on it? Hmm?.." she motioned towards the front door. "is your front door locked? You could be next. I'm just trying to look out for you."
"Yeah, I'm really threatened by lawn-obsessed boys and boy-obsessed girls." I scoffed. "Just tell them to bugger off."
"Or tell them to bugger off." Liza added.
"I just said that. Or have you been inhaling too much permanent marker to notice?" I shot at her.
"Touche`." she raised her brow.
"Anyway..." Apollo stretched, clonking his long, athletic legs onto my mom's latte table, causing it to shake. He raised his brows, then looked down. "Who's the Nazi?"
"Lil' Hitler." Liza nodded. "But just his mustache."
I spoke. "Liza's apparently turned on by this look. I don't know why. Frenchie, do you know why?"
"No Blue, can't say that I do." Frenchie asked. "Apollo, do you know why?"
"Why no I don't, French. Liza, do you know why?"
"Do you know why you get a kick out of grappling guys on the football team, Apollo?? You run. You yell, you hit. You touch other guys butts!" Liza pointed out.
Frenchie registered a look of never registering that information before, while Apollo colored. "You guys, we should do something. Now." he said firmly.
"I was going to order a pepperoni pizza later." I said, until I heard someone knocking hardly on the front door. We heard Heck's voice, and froze.
"Everybody, up to my room." I said quickly, and Frenchie and Apollo sped up before I did. "Liza, for crying out loud, pick up Bud while you're at it."
"Oh yeah, that's easy for you to say." Liza said defensively. "Act like I have upper arm strength or something. Well I can assure you I don't."
"Stick his hand in warm water or something!" I told her. If he were laying on top of a sheet, I'd rip it out under him. Just for laughs. Ha ha ha!
"But what if he makes a loud noise?? You know how boys are, that's how they express their emotions." she said very Dr.Phil-like.
"Right, good thinking." I said.
So we dumped a glass of ice water over his head.
Perfect planning, he rose up hurriedly, shaking water out of his hair. "What the-," he opened his eyes. "Did I fall asleep or something?"
"Yay! Hitler's alive!" I said sarcastically, and the three of us headed up the stairs, while Bud carried a confused look on his face. Even more reason to not tell him.
We met in my room, where Apollo and Frenchie were found with their feet hanging over the side of the bathtub. Weird, I know. But I don't actually sleep in a bathtub. This used to be my parent's master bathroom, before they evicted me from my room, to set it up as a nursery, 9 months earlier than when the little bundle of joy was supposed to be actually birthed. I learned of this news last week.
I sleep in a hammock anyway.
"You know," I said informatively, "that tub hasn't been cleaned since my parents last used it."
Apollo yelled, and Frenchie squirmed out, pushing Apollo so she could jump out first. "EW!"
I laughed. "Kidding!" Of course it was clean. I'd bleached, disinfected, did a whole household-product party on that tub since it was going to be in possession. Mr. Clean would've been proud. I wouldn't have wanted it otherwise.
"HA HA." Frenchie said, and we settled down into a circle. Frenchie looked at Bud.
"Oh, if it isn't the little boy princess back from his sleep!"
"Nice mustache Bud." Apollo smirked.
"I don't feel anything." Bud said, still groggy. He stroked his hairless chin next.
Okay, aside from Heck Hobbit downstairs, we still needed something especial to do. Frenchie realized this as well, as she held a look of contemplation, and so did Liza. It was almost like a woman-thing. The bonds of sisterhood.
Apollo began to stroke his chin as well, as if by natural, neanderthal habit, and Frenchie snapped at him. "Stop doing that!"
"What?" he asked.
"Freaking me out!" she exclaimed.
"Does that freak you out?" he asked, then smirked again. "does it freak you out when I go like this?" he ruffled through his invisible armpit hair. "George. George. George of the Jungle-," he taunted, as she widened her eyes.
"Okay." I said flatly.
"Yeah, what she said." Liza agreed.
Besides fake arms, Frenchie also had fears of monkeys. Worse, flying monkeys. That swung through the air on a rope.
I know, freaky.
I love it!!
"Alright...ALRIGHT!" Frenchie shouted, then laughed as Apollo began to pound his chest out of inspiration from the Disney Tarzan movie.
"Apollo!" I said, embarrassed to sit witness to his school-boy antics.
"Did I just enter a scene from the George of the Jungle?" Bud asked mysteriously.
"Look who's not so tired anymore. Look who's on his game."
"Thought Liza had to kiss you to make you come back to life." Frenchie said. "In this century at least."
"Yeah, you should know all about that department." Liza said to her, and Frenchie raised a brow.
"I do, in fact. Wait. Hey!" she said, as a light bulb turned on over her head. But it must have been very dim light bulb, like, at a romantic dinner for two or from a tanning bed.
"I have an idea!" she said, as she tapped Apollo on the head. "We could play 7 minutes in heaven!" she said enthusiastically.
My inner woman-sisterhood vibe was electrocuted a little. "I beg your pardon?"
"7 minutes in heaven?" Bud asked. "Heaven forbid, why? But also...." he trailed off.
"A lot could happen in seven minutes!" Liza said, clearly in objection.
"Yeah, a lot could happen in seven-," Apollo began to repeat, then stopped, "Never mind, let's play." he must've remembered he was a guy.
Frenchie mock-punched him. "Fine, you want to be boys, let it be 2 minutes."
"2 minutes? No, a good frenching session lasts at least 4. "Apollo defended.
"We're not asking about Frenchie." Liza rolled her eyes.
"French-kissing, Liza. I know you're not that experienced, but at least pretend to be." Apollo said, and she gasped. "Anyway, 4 minutes, a good give and take, depending on the situation."
Give and take depending on the situation... My thoughts processed.
"Situation?" I asked. "It's just a kissing game!"
"2." Liza said.
"5." Bud said.
"7!" Apollo put in.
"Uh huh, no." Frenchie told him."We could just play Spin the Bottle instead."
"Yeah, no going in my linen closet across the hall." I said to both Apollo and Bud. "It's going to be weird if my parents smell cologne in there."
"I'm not wearing too much cologne." Apollo sniffed his hoodie.
"Um, yes you are." Frenchie told him. "I had to turn to the side to breathe before I hugged you today."
"It's like you sat in it or something." I told him. "Smells like musky guy."
"It gives me heartburn." Liza put in.
"All right, I'll take it off!" he fumed, pulling it over his head and then tossing it to the side of my room. "And while I'm at it..." he turned to me. "is it okay if I grab something quick to eat? That mention of pizza made my hunger reflexes kick in earlier."
"Yeah, his Apollo Dollars were running low today. Even I had to pay for my popcorn myself. ME."
You'll live... "Attack." I told Apollo, and he joyfully skipped off downstairs.
"Right, got that taken care of." Bud said, looking at the three of us. "So..."
"Anyone got a bottle?" Liza asked. "Or spinning utensil of some type?"
Frenchie looked around, and spotted one. "Oh, here!" she leaned over and picked it up. My glass bottle of half-used Coca-Cola. The vintage-collectors edition.
I spoke out. "No! I'm not even done drinking it! We'll make Apollo go get a ketchup bottle or something!."
"Come on Blue! It's made of glass! And class. And sass, and pizzazz..." she said expressively.
I sighed, and got up to pour it out the window. I continued to look out toward the colorful, setting sky, until I realized the pop was pouring over my mom's tulips, so I steered it over into the dirt some more. Should make for some interesting growth functions. I couldn't wait to see more Coca-Cola bottles spring up from the ground.
I shook out a last drop, and set the bottle down. "Okay. Mission accomplished."
"Let's go." Frenchie said, handing it to Liza.
"Excuse me, I need to remove my gum." she opened up a gum wrapper from the denim vest she was wearing, and once she closed it, she spun the bottle. It landed on Bud, and she raised her fist in the air.
Bud leaned into Liza's lips, and Liza leaned into his Hitler mustache. Mid-smooch, we heard footsteps at the door.
Ford Taurus Stewardson stood poised in a natural, attractive way at the door. He raised his brow at Liza and Bud, and blinked a few times.
"Oh, don't stop on my account."
Ford happened to be wearing a Guns N' Roses T-shirt, thus making him all the more awesome. Foxy! Homina homina...
Apollo laughed, appearing behind him."Look what the cat dragged in. Frenchie thought it would be a good idea to play Spin the Bottle."
"Spin the Bottle? What is this, a tree house about 5 years ago?" Ford asked.
"You've played this game before?" Liza asked, astounded. Then again, not surprised. I wasn't either.
"June 15th, when I was 12 years old..." he reminisced. "Girl from church brought a few friends over." he shrugged. "Sith happens."
I rolled my eyes. Ford always ended up playing the perfect Casanova reincarnation in a way. His first kiss was actually underneath a dinner table, shared with his neighbor girl next door, a young doll named Gisele. It was almost preposterous how many people of the female type he had a few rendezvous with. A Lothario man. Makes me love him all the more, I thought hopelessly. But you'd never guess so, because he never flirted that much. He just attracts.
Right. Why did I agree to this? I thought to myself. I mean, what, if Ford decided to play, and I ended up kissing his earlobe or something? How embarrassing would that be? I mean, consider the logistics.
"Ford, darling, you have to play." Frenchie said, scooting over to make some room for Apollo.
"I suppose I will.. Kitten." he said, as he settled down next to me.
"You like the game so far Blue?" he asked me.
"I think it may be too early to say that." i replied honestly.
He leaned back on his elbows. "What about later?"
"I'll have to see." I said, briefly.
"You ever played this game before?" he asked again.
"Of course," I lied, with the utmost confidence.
He asked me how many times, shootingly.
"I never stopped to count." I told him, again, lying, but replying just as quickly back.
"You can kiss better than anyone in the whole world?" he joked.
"Do you need to see my gold-medal?" I shot back.
He grinned. "I'm counting on that kiss then.You gonna wow me? Knock me off my heels?"
"Yes, I'll knock you out of your red stilettos. I'll knock your block off." I said nonchalantly.
He gave me an amused look, then we both turned to the game.
I tried to avoid his disarming presence beside me. Oh Ford. Ford Taurus . The light, golden honey-brown tint of his thick and curly hair. The tan glow of his peaches n' cream complexion, which probably felt as soft as freshly churned butter.
And that NAME. Ford Taurus. Namely so because his parents made it a tradition to name their kids wherever they conceived them at the time of creation. His sister was named Georgia. His other sister Motel 66. Such a man...
"Ford!" I heard a few distances away, probably across a field of bluebells I imagined me and Ford dancing around in. Hand in hand, while he wore a slam-min' suit with a vest and arm cuffs pushed up to his elbows, as I ran around barefoot in a blue cotton dress...
"Oh, lay one on me Blue," he'd say, as a family of giraffes would run past us. "on the lips? I want that type of relationship with you."
I'd run over as we would levitate off the ground, and a man on circus stilts and wearing a Lincoln hat would be trying to balance himself behind us- "Whoa-Whoa!"
"FORD!" Frenchie yelled, and we both turned over to see.
It was her turn, and we saw the bottle laid in front of her, landing on Ford.
"Oh." he looked up, and leaned across the circle to share a quick kiss. I tried to resist the urge to backhand something.
Ford could go next, and that's how we decided it. Instead of going clock-wise, we'd just give it the person we'd spun the bottle too. I thought it'd be alright.
Then it wasn't.
First of all, he landed on Liza. Then Liza on Apollo. He landed on Frenchie. She landed on Bud. Bud landed on Liza, then Liza on Ford. Then Ford on Liza again. Then Liza on Apollo, who landed on Frenchie. It made me think of the term 'unpleasant' to be reminded of math class every-time a combination was made.
I began to feel a twinge of impatience. Was the bottle seriously avoiding me? Was it resenting me because I only drank half of it?
Frenchie looked down, and noticed Apollo's fingers dancing along the bottle, passingly.
"Apollo, your fingers are so long and skinny!" she exclaimed.
"You want to know what else is long?" he asked suggestively. "My toes!" he grinned, and Frenchie rolled her eyes.
The bottle spun some more, and eventually landed on Ford.
Ford kissed twice again, and I made a silent sigh.
I don't think he noticed, but he stopped before he handed the bottle over to Liza. "Blue, have you gone yet?"
I looked up, my cheeks turning red. But hey, you wanted this remember? My conscience asked me. I contemplated in deep thought for a few seconds.
I'll take it! "Um, no." I shrugged, playing it off.
"You should go then," Frenchie said, as Ford handed me the bottle.
I spun it, and yet, it landed on the hander himself. "Oh."
"Again, really?" Liza spiffed.
"Well, would you look at that." Ford said. "Just like summers in the tree-house all over again!"
His kissing experience only broadened the fact that I had none.
I felt him shift beside me, and I looked over. "You knew this was coming." I played off.
"I suppose you're right." he shrugged.
"Just stop talking and kiss already, jeez!" Frenchie said impatiently. "Should we deliver an orange to you so you can neck instead?"
"French, you're ruining it!" Liza said. "Blue's never done this before."
"Wh-aat?" Ford turned to me, laughing.
"Uh, of course I have! How would any of you know?!" I defended.
"Oh don't be coy." Frenchie batted her lashes, with a smile creeping along. "Who'd you last kiss?"
"That is not classified information!" My palms out, expressed the innocence that I was good at showing.
"You know, we don't have to do this in front of you guys." Ford said, as he held the bottle. "I mean, if you guys are going to try to distract us..."
"I mean, really, pull out false accusations?" I added, which gained more nickels and dimes in the I'M A BIG FAT LIAR jar. I should feel ashamed...but I would redeem myself if we would just hurry up and kiss, for Pete's sake.
"French, shut your gob." Bud said, reclining back onto the bottom of my beanbag.
"Well." Frenchie tossed her curly, strawberry blonde hair back. "Go then."
"I'm gone." I said, and leaned into Ford.
Closing my eyes, I leaned on my right leg and took my hand away from my knee, naturally shifting the weight onto the floor, that being Ford's hand already in a relaxed position.
I felt him shift, and quickly moved my hand away. "Sorry."
I didn't know why, but suddenly, I was reminded of 9th grade Shakespeare. Romeo and Juliet, Act 1, Scene 5. And palm-to-palm is holy palmer's kiss.
I ignored the warmth in my cheeks, the static sensation tingling along my spine. I ignored the 4 other people watching, and I ignored the sound of 'stairway to heaven' playing in the back-round.
Wait a tick- Glaringly, my eye flew open and landed on Apollo, who checked his cellphone. "My bad. Ringtone." he opened it, and began to talk in a hushed voice, "mom, I told you, I'm at..." he trailed off.
Closing my eye again, I moved into Ford.
You are in a closet Blue. You are in an elevator. You are in a...tree-house?
"She wants to know if you're coming over for dinner tomorrow." Apollo told Frenchie.
She whispered back. "I can't, I have to babysit."
"She says you can bring the kid along." he said back.
"Just-WAIT WHAT IS THAT??!" she exclaimed, sitting across with popped-out eyes.
"What-," I looked down, and saw a jumping spider crawl on the thighs of my jeans. I screamed, out of shock, and Ford shouted, "don't move!" he whacked the spider off from my leg, onto the floor. Without thinking, I took the bottle, and smashed against the spider, then stood up and threw it with all my might out the window.
Ford stood up too, and the bottle landed in the Richmoreheis's yard, a gigolo, i mean, rich guy who owned the nicest house on our street, near his lawn gnome.
"Dang Blue." Bud slowly walked over to the window as well. "What did the gnome ever do to you?"
"Yeah, Blue- HOLEY SHIRT THERE'S ANOTHER ONE!" Frenchie shouted, and we whipped our heads over to see Apollo roll his eyes.
"It's a jellybean, French."
"Oh." she blinked.
"YOU must be kinda stupid." Liza mocked.
"Yeah, at least I don't have anger issues. Look who just threw our source of entertainment out the window! That's like a TV! With real enrichment!"
"We already know what we're doing!" Liza exclaimed.
"Some of us." Bud put in, unnecessarily.
I didn't know, that could happen. Can that happen? I moaned. "Aw, glitter-bag." I'm such a sad excuse for a girl sometimes. It's like I need a hall pass. With like, a life-time guarantee that gives you free parking when some jerk-face cuts you off at Target.
"It's okay Blue." Ford said, putting a hand on my shoulder. "The art of kissing isn't mastered by everyone yet. That gold medal must've gotten a little rusty."
"Are you trying to provoke me?" I said with narrowed eyes.
"Is it working?"
"Yes." I hissed.
"Are we going to have a problem?" he asked again.
"Okay. No problem." he said nonchalantly, a smile almost forming. You see, this is the problem with liking a wise-crack. It always leads down to where you want to either slap them upside the head, or jump into their arms at the same time. It's so cute!
"You know," Bud said, looking at all of us. "Gnomes are the the top 3rd thing most abducted from people's homes when they're robbed?"
"Really?" Liza asked.
"No, not really." he grinned. "i made it up!"
"But..." Frenchie stood up. "I think I know what should be done. To compensate for our loss, someone should steal the gnome. NOSE-GOES!"
I gasped, before everyone held their fingers up to their face, including Ford.
"Sorry." He said. "Growing up with 3 brothers, it's a natural impulse."
"This is ridiculous." I said. "I can't go and steal a lawn-gnome."
"He can buy another one!" Liza said.
"Yeah." Frenchie added. "And I'll go with you."
"I'm really humbled." I told her. I'm joking of course.
"Guys, we should start a movie." Apollo said. "You can meet us there soon."
Bud and Liza followed, while Ford backed away. "You better be quick at swiping, fox."
I pinged his nose, and he held laughter in his eyes.
Did he just call me a fox? Oh WOW. I grinned widely as soon as he left the room.
Scoffing, Frenchie grabbed my arm.
We stood in front of the gnome, and I lifted it up. "Just like a fat piece of chocolate cake."
"See, it's not so hard." she told me, as we heard a zipping sound behind us. Two boys had rolled up on their electric scooter. The first one, spoke aloud, eying Frenchie.
"Whoa. Are you from Tennessee? Cause you're the only 10 I see." he wiggled his brows, but I was more affected by his voice, which couldn't be less than 12 years of age. I couldn't imagine Ford ever being this absurd, although he just was 5 minutes ago.
"You're the only 10 year old I see." Frenchie said back, then waved her hand away. "Beat it buster!"
"You want to see my driver's license, toots?" he continued, whipping out a card that I'm sure was colored with crayons.
Oh my god, "Vamoose, little nugget." was all I could say.
"You need a ride?" the other one asked.
"No, skedaddle!" Frenchie told them.
"Fine, wasn't talking to you anyway!" the boy said, and for some reason, felt his pocket.
"Nice house." he nodded, and me and Frenchie exchanged a look. "THUG LIFE!" he whipped out a little paint gun, and shot it at the window, then the gnome I was carrying. A shatter of glass was heard, the alarms in Richmoreheis's house immediately went off, as well as a red splatter of paint on the windows, and an explosion of the same red paint over the gnome's head.
Shut the front door!
"HEY!" I dropped the gnome, then made movement to pick it back up, when they suddenly dropped the gun and went whizzing over to the next street.
"Yeah, you better run! You blast-ended-!" Frenchie said, then froze when she looked down the other end of our street.
I turned around, gnome still in my arms, at the sight of a golf-cart with a siren on top, and observing the house.
YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING ME.
It...was a cop-cart. Oh wow, I'd never seen one before. But the hair on the back of my neck stood up when I could see it whiz closer, and Frenchie remained frozen too.
"Run!" I hissed to her, and we began to make a break for it.
The cop looked over to Heck, then to us, then to Heck, who had still been trimming his lawn. Geez, the OCD git never quit on things like that.
The cop continued to survey the scene, and his eyes nearly popped out of his sockets when he saw the gnome limply hanging in my hands, as much a garden gnome could hang limp, with a splatter of what looked like blood seeping over his head.
"It was them!" Heck Hobbit pointed to us, still carrying lawn tongs in his hand, gesturing wildly to us, to our appraisal. "They shot out the windows!" he told the cop, who was still stopped in front of his house. "Punks! Crazy punks!
"You're more of a punk than we are, hobbit!" Frenchie yelled at him. "Frodo!" she exclaimed.
Then Heck got a look on his face that showed his genuine offense.
The driver immediately got out his megaphone," stop in the name of the law! Put the man down! You are NOT allowed to shoot at people's windows!" he came faster in the golf-cart, then gave up and tried to run with his belly hanging from him so hugely I almost asked how far he was 'along'.
"RUN!" We sped down the street where the boys went, but veered off into the woods, making it seem like we just ran down another street, the cop still wearing his baby-bump, trying to keep up, and the last thing I heard was the snipping sound of the lawn Heck was trimming. I felt bad for him. It's like he didn't even know how less-than-great hobbity he was. Frodo's 11 times the half-ling Heck could ever be.
"This is crazy." Frenchie said, once we hid behind a tree, and she dipped down.
"It's not that bad. It was pretty easy to lose them actually. It's a patrol officer." I said.
"No, my foot's caught." she said, and her sequined flat was stuck in a cluster of branches. "You don't think they have a K-9 Unit, do you?" she asked.
"I don't think so-," I said, and was interrupted by a distant howl.
"Relax, it's Charlie Brown's beagle. Just take the shoe off." I told her.
She continued to tug and pull. "I can't, it's-,"
"I can't leave my shoe! There's sticks and everything in these woods!"
"Frenchie, get your butt over here!" I nearly shouted, trying to dodge the flashlight.
"I can't, it won't come off!" she said back.
"Aah...-," i groaned, until a flashlight danced toward us.
"hey, you two kids!" a man's voice yelled.
That was incentive enough for Frenchie to rip off her other shoe and run with me over to the other side of the woods. we ended up on on the end of my street again, and sped up, trying to avoid lights, and managed to enter our backyard through the gate.
"throw the gnome in the shed!" I told Frenchie, and she limped off toward the doors. quietly shutting it, she grabbed a chair to put under my parent's bedroom. I reflected that Ford usually locked the door behind him if he entered in the backdoor. Good of him, but it was totally useless now.
"I'll go first." she stepped on it, and fell through, since it was a basket weaved chair. "OH!" she gripped the arms of it.
"Plastic!" I nabbed another lawn chair, and she climbed on top of it. It was easy to climb up to my parent's window, as the vines of weeds had accustomed the back of our house ever since I was born. My mother thought it resembled ivy almost, in a sappy, medieval romance novel kind of way.
But it did justice now, as I found. It was like that moment where you're a young kid, or girl, and you refuse to wear a bra, even though you layered a ton of clothes that day. 'At first it's constricting, but then it becomes a part of you'.
I forget now why this relates to the weeds though.
Frenchie forced her way in before I did, and assumed that there was a longer jump to take from my parent's window, as it was pitch black inside. I heard a spring from the mattress, her bounce around a bit, then fall off onto the floor. "Oof!"
I'd remembered seeing it that late afternoon, as I slid off from my mother's side and met Frenchie at the door. All the sheets were rumpled, so I didn't worry about smoothing anything out. My mom kicked in her sleep anyway.
"I'll lock the doors!" I whispered to Frenchie. "Act like nothing's happened!"
She nodded, and ran before she bumped into the wall. I heard a picture frame shake in its place.
"Just go downstairs." I said in a hushed voice. "And walk slowly."
She did, and I ran down the stairs to check the action on the other side of the street.
I crept up the back of the couch after I dead-bolted the front door.
The alarms had gone off, but a few cars were parked in front of there, including the patrolman's.
Slowly, I sank back down, and crept away downstairs.
I'd made it clear to everyone to use the back door, since the front door, I thought, had no key.
"I lost the key." I told Ford, after the movie was done, and Frenchie had washed her feet (though no one noticed, and i let her borrow a pair of my shoes), and Apollo and her had left, as well as Bud and Liza, who attempted to scrub off his mustache so fiercely it left a red mark in its place. I almost missed the mustache now.
"It's just so," I continued, to Ford. "It got two wings and flew away. Like that scene in the Sorcerer's Stone. It fluttered like a yellow baby chick..."
"Right..." Ford made quotations with his fingers. "And the gnome?"
"It's in custody." I told him. It was around 10:30, and after he left, I went back into the garden shed (as my mother was an avid gardener) and hid the gnome in the linen closet. After covering with towels we never used, I went to the sanctuary of my hammock upstairs. Naturally, I counted sheep until I hit the hay.
When gnomes began to hop over the fence instead, I hurriedly plugged in the headphones to my CD player, putting 'Crazy Train' on replay.
A week later, my dad opened the paper, on a Saturday morning, and hmm'd.
"Anything important? Did Snooks crash another car?" I joked, sarcastically.
"Not quite." he said, in a serious tone. "Apparently, Mr. Richmoreheis's house was vandalized."
"Vandalized!" I exclaimed, shooting my head in his direction. "With what proof?" I snatched the edge of the paper over to me.
He released my firm grip, shaking it back out. "Apparently, two teenage girls were caught shooting at its windows, and robbing him of his lawn-gnome. You know, those little creepy dwarf-looking statues?"
"I know what they are dad, but was that it?"I asked, without leading too much on.
"That's all it says." He told me. "Now I'm going to read the sports section. And no, Snooki probably didn't crash a car, gosh, you Y Generation kids are so insensitive. When I was your age, in the 1970s, we didn't have a big flat-screen TV! We didn't have reality shows that brainwashed half of America's teenagers." he told me.
"Exactly my point!" I said back. It's not even debatable. In case I'm wrong, and I am never wrong...
"The entertainment business takes things too far. Now you have iPods, the Internet... Boys." he said lowly.
I propped my elbow on his shoulder. "Boys have always been around, dad. You're still a boy, all grown up!"
"The real means of hobbies, or past-times, are quickly becoming replaced." he continued. "At your age, we played board games! We roller-skated! We played spin the bottle!"
I froze, not looking up. It was too much of a risk.
"But even THAT'S tame compared to the exposed teenagers of this decade." he scoffed, then flipped out the paper.
"So...," I began in a more innocent manner, "would spin the bottle be allowed then?" I asked.
"NO." he answered briskly.
I rolled my eyes. Hypocrite.
I heard a knock at the backdoor, and I was surprised to see Ford through the window. He must be really obedient although the whole front door thing was okay, for the time being. I still went through the back door.
I walked up to let him in, but he stayed where he was.
"My munchies-reflexes kicked in. Going to go to Panera's...Join me?" he asked.
"Why yes I will!" I darted away to grab my shoes.
"Hey Ford!" my dad greeted jovially, waving up a hand.
"Mr. Cobbler." my Ford, I mean, Ford nodded.
"Let's split." I told Ford, but not before my mom descended down the stairs, carrying a large object.
My eyes widened in alarm, but Ford raised his eyebrows. "What-OH." he laughed.
"Son of a-," I began, but mom interrupted.
"Honey!" she said, coming down the stairs. "Did you get me a lawn-gnome?"
"No-," my dad turned around.
"For our anniversary in 7 months?"she asked, smiling with the happiness of a 5 year old.
"Joy!" I said with relief, as he admitted his lie, and I, for now, was off the hook.
Mom had even started to dance with the gnome, doing everything from a Viennese Waltz to a deep grind in a hip-hop video I saw once.
To my aghastacity, Ford had begun to peer over, with an amused expression on his face. Intrigued? I hope not. Dear God, please no...
"Mom! Stop doing that! You could put a hip out at your age!" I said indignantly.
She paid me no mind. "I've got soul." She snapped her fingers, as my dad passed her, and chuckled.
I turned to Ford. "Let's go, NOW."
He turned to open the door, when a sharp knock was heard on the front door.
"I'll get it." my mother, dropping the gnome at the stairs, went over to the door, while my dad went into the kitchen to fix some goat milk.
"The door opened to reveal Mr. Richmoreheis standing there with two patrol officers, the ones from the other night. "Hello, sir, would you happen to have any idea where Mr. Richmoreheis's gnome has gone?"
"No, I don't know what you're talking about." she answered, and my fears calmed.
"Okay, thank you-,"
"My husband bought me a-," she began to say.
"Bye mom!" I interrupted at that second, and Ford pulled me out of the back door.
"Dear heavens, that was close!" I put a hand over my heart. "I was wondering when they were going to say something!"
"Aren't you glad I came to the rescue?" Ford asked valiantly.
"Oh Ford, stop, you sound like a lifeguard, or some noble pirate." I told him, although I was secretly roaring in approval of his words.
"Am I a good-looking pirate?" he raised his brows sarcastically.
"Not at all. But if you see one, let me know." I answered. And yes, what would I do without you?
"I guess I should know better." He said.
I tapped his head.
"We can start with this." He leaned in, and my attentions grew curious for a moment.
Smm-oke! Is he going to kiss me? In my own backyard?? Take that 5-year old Gisele! I thought in triumph, as I also leaned in. At least until I heard the kitchen window slide open, and felt a ice-cold blast of water as my dad directed the handle of the sink faucet over at us.