Surviving Summer (747 hits)
Category: NoneLabels: Truth
Rating: 1.88 on 22 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Snark << snarkk.at.gmail.com (View user info) at 2004-12-02 09:45:58 EST
SURVIVING SUMMER
Remember when you were a kid and summer days seemed to last a lifetime?
Remember those Saturdays in late July when you played with your friends from dew kissed morning to golden dusk?
I do.
It's funny. The older I get, the more vivid the memories of those days seem to be. I remember Kick-the-Can, and 500 Up, and Red Rover, and the games we made up for ourselves when no one could agree what to play.
Those were the days of innocence, those forever days when the most exciting thing that happened all summer, was a kiss from a girl, or your best friend making the most "Awesomest Evil Kenevil jump" with his shitty BMX.
"That was soooo cool! Look, you totally tore open your knees man!"
"Yeah!... But the rest of me is OK cuz I'm Bionic. Look... CH CH CH CH CH"
Remember the sound of your Mom or Dads voice echoing over the street?
You knew it was coming soon. You didn't have a watch back then but somehow you knew it was just around the corner. Somehow your friends knew too and whatever fantasy you were playing out would reach a fever pitch. The can would get kicked a little bit farther, your friends would run a little bit faster, and your shadow would stretch a little longer in the soft light of dusk.
No, we didn't need a watch to know what time it was in those days.
Kids know things about summer.
"Jimmmyyyy..."
"Janneeetttt..."
"Taylooooor..."
"Time for dinner!"
"But Mom! I'm IT and if I don't find Harry he'll be the winner for all day long!"
"C'mon kiddo, you're food will get cold. Maybe you can play again after..."
Ahhh yes. Those most certainly were the days my friends.
No wonder we all ache for retirement. We start off that way.
Yeah. Those were great times, but once in awhile something else happened, something that became the stuff of childhood adventure, something that really set one summer apart from the rest.
Here's the story of one of mine.
My Mom was fluent in all forms of Yard Torture.
I'm sure you know what I mean. The special crappy little jobs that parents reserve for their kids because they would rather not do them themselves.
Usually you can tell the severity of the torture by the tool your parents have in their hand when they approach you.
Hoe, rake, shovel... wheelbarrow.
To this day I shudder whenever I see a wheelbarrow.
Ooooh. I just shuddered again.
Before the age of 12, I was personally responsible for carting close to 12 million tons of sod, plant clippings, rocks etc, to the empty lot next to the grave yard at the end of our street.
You ever wonder where they got all the landfill to build the Tokyo airport into the sea like that?
They got it from me and I didn't get so much as a "Hai" in return. I'm telling Ya, that fucker should be named Snarky-San International.
I tried to tell them it would sink because branches and grass clippings compress over time, but people seldom listen to a 12 year old.
(Yeah I lived next to a Grave Yard, and yeah that explains a lot... For what it's worth, I don't see dead people. I just make them sometimes)
Anyways, on that particular day my beloved gardening addicted Mother had a shovel in her hand.
Me and my brother had made the fatal mistake of trying to sneak by her in the back yard and somehow triggered her Mommy Sense. The next thing we knew, we were headed to the steep dirt bank that separated our quiet neighborhood from the Trailer Park in the small valley below.
I should have known we were in trouble by the bloodshot gleam in her eyes when she told us about the magical plant she wanted us to bring back for her, the holy shrub that would turn the tribute to nature that was our back yard into Gods picnic spot.
The fact that she was in the midst of twig withdrawal should have been blatantly evident by her bloodshot eyes and nervous twitch, or the way she kept scratching at her arm and hopping from foot to foot.
Sometimes it's better to feed the addiction I guess, but then again, sometimes you just do as you're told.
I remember me and my brother sliding down the loose dirt to the half dead, leafless stick mid way down the hundred foot bank and giggling at the insanity of it, when suddenly from above, a voice yelled.
"You two! Come here RIGHT NOW!"
We looked up, and there standing above us, was the crazy lady who ran the Trailer Court. We knew she ran it because kids know things about people. We knew she was crazy because we'd made her that way by spending the last 5 years bouncing rocks, sticks and small animals off of the tin roof of her trailer.
I take full responsibility for her mental imbalance and subsequent hatred of children but the rest of her is God's fault.
To this day she sticks out in my mind as one of the scariest women I have ever seen. She was short and shaped like a pear. She had this straggly greasy brown hair that looked like it was used to clean her oven, the floor and possibly her ass. Her face was plump and thick and pasty fat and when she yelled at us she somehow managed to spray us with spittle from fifty feet away.
She looked like a cross between Bilbo Baggins and the Great Pumpkin... except fleshier.
I bet her feet were hairy...
There wasn't a kid in the neighborhood that didn't piss themselves at the mere sight of her and there we were, on her land, far from the safety of the cool shadow beneath our beds.
Me and my brother looked up at her scowling face, then at each other, and slid as fast as we could to the bottom of the hill into the Trailer Park.
We didn't have to look behind us to know she would be coming for us.
Kids know things about being chased.
At the bottom of the hill I grabbed my brother's arm and pointed to the treed embankment across the park to our right. I guess I figured it was the best possible place to hide and a good starting point for our escape back to the sanctuary of our neighborhood. Whatever happened, I knew we had to get out of the Trailer Park as fast as possible. I'd heard my Dad talk about how once you became a park denizen you never found your way out...
We hit the hill fast and hard and made our way up to the road that served as the entrance to Baloney Heaven. (I seem to remember that's what we used to call the park)
Half way up we found ourselves at the side of the road and we instinctively ducked down as a car slowly idled down it. It was her, but luckily the bushes were thick, and even her keen pumpkin senses didn't pick up on us as she slowly coasted by in her rusty old Caddy.
No sooner was the car out of sight than we were bolting across the road to the bank on the other side and franticly climbing through the shrubbery to the top of the hill.
We didn't dare run up the road towards home. We both knew if she turned around at the bottom of the road she would catch up to us no problem.
As it turns out we were right. Almost as we reached the top of the hill the sound of a vehicle engine drifted towards us once again, and we crouched down and watched as she idled by in a different car.
The crazy bitch had changed cars.
She'd changed cars and was actively in pursuit of two 12 year old kids who were trying to dig up a dried up twig that she previously hadn't even known existed.
Idunno... I kind of have to respect that.
We didn't wait for her to finish coasting by this time. We scrambled over the top of the embankment and then the chain link fence like it wasn't there, to plop down effortlessly into the Cemetery beyond.
Kids know things about climbing.
I don't know which one of us was carrying the shovel as we sprinted past the rows of tombstones but I'm guessing it was my bro. I was older and lazier and assholier (Yes it IS a word) so it's a safe guess.
What I do know (now) is that running through a grave yard carrying a shovel while covered in dirt and yelling like you just woke up with a sore ass at Neverland Ranch is not a good idea.
Half way across we heard the short squeal of a siren and looked over to see a police car pull over to the side of the highway on the opposite side and switch on its lights.
We ran faster... no... we didn't just run. We six million dollars ran.
CH CH CH CH CH CH
In the blink of an eye we were through the grave yard and ensconced in the tall pines of the empty lot.
Two blinks after that we were huddled behind a tree on the opposite side of the road from our street and watching the Hag coast by again in yet another vehicle.
She sped up a little as she passed the cop car.
The second they were both out of sight we fled back home, dirty and panting and empty handed.
Ahhh the safety of home and the warm embrace of a parent...
With wide eyes and shaking hands we told the story of our adventure to our mother who nodded and replied
"I bet she won't be expecting you two now"
We DID NOT go back.
This has since become one of those stories that pops up at almost every family gathering.
One of many adventures had when the sky was bluer and the summer's longer.
These day's I'm not nearly as innocent and I've lost a lot of the innate knowledge I once had.
Simply put I'm older.
But Goddamnit, I'm still Bionic.
User Reviews
Submitted by skrew_ball (user info) at 2005-03-24 04:52:38 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Cryopaul (user info) at 2004-12-05 17:38:36 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
It's stories like this that make me hate getting older.
I still remember my last true summer. It was back in 1998, the summer before my senior year in high school. Every summer after that was devoted to my education...I hate getting older.
Submitted by Circe (user info) at 2004-12-03 08:52:46 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
My Mum, I meant to say.
Mt Mum. Mount Mum. Hahahaha.. she'd kill me. "Hey, here comes Mum Mountain!"
Or "Mount Mum" as in "Dad, isn't it time to.....?"
Oh dear god kill me.
Submitted by Circe (user info) at 2004-12-03 08:50:08 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
My Mum was a big fan of in-house punishment; that is, we could do things inside because we didn't deserve to be out there with the smell of the grass and the sound of lawn sprinklers.
There was a sock basket. Mt Mum never sorted socks, when doing the laundry. They were all put into this massive basket and the punishment of choice was to make me sort them out.
Oh, the hours I spent, sitting there, balling socks.
I love summer.
Submitted by munkeypants (user info) at 2004-12-02 15:05:23 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Tickle (user info) at 2004-12-02 13:58:21 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I like A LAAWWT!
It was so good I could feel the wind in my face, hear the sounds of cars passing and kids yelling "CAR", I feel the road rash on my legs after not making the most unbelievable evil kaneiviel jump! The fear of rushing to the hospital in the ambulance with screaming sirens.... it's all flooding back.
I think I feel what you were feeling when you wrote this. Excellent.
Submitted by Xena (user info) at 2004-12-02 13:30:22 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
AHAHAHAAAA....assholier! I'm gonna steal that.
oh, and how's the shoulder bionic man
Submitted by Sassmasterr (user info) at 2004-12-02 12:55:21 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
takin' it back to the old school...
cause i'm an old fool...
who's so cool
Submitted by jgreening (user info) at 2004-12-02 11:49:57 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Veeeeeeeeeeeeery nice.
Submitted by girlintheworld (user info) at 2004-12-02 11:32:14 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I loved this.
Submitted by Kre8rix (user info) at 2004-12-02 11:31:53 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Beautiful
Graveyards, shovels, and cops are never a good combination.
Not that I know anything about it...
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2004-12-02 11:26:09 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Bah, You can linkwhore on my posts any time you want AshK!!!
http://www.ubersite.com/m/52352
http://www.ubersite.com/m/52943
Submitted by AshK (user info) at 2004-12-02 11:23:44 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I volunteer to be the subject of your hate post. Be sure you linkwhore my posts, though. I need hits. BWAHAHAHAHAHA
Submitted by Jeanneee (user info) at 2004-12-02 11:11:01 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Bravo.
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2004-12-02 10:54:08 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Grrrrrr!
I'm broke till tomorrow and out of cigarrettes.
I feel a hate post coming on...
Submitted by AshK (user info) at 2004-12-02 10:52:22 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
CH CH CH CH CH CH CH
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2004-12-02 10:41:18 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
InkyFingers,
You have something to say to Bart use the email on the contact page, not my fucking post.
Submitted by thaumaturge (user info) at 2004-12-02 10:41:04 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Brilliant.
Submitted by InkyFingers (user info) at 2004-12-02 10:38:29 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Bart! You need to ban the person that posted this --> www.ubersite.com/m/53155 <--
Submitted by drfeggphd (user info) at 2004-12-02 10:35:38 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
This comment sucks because my brain is busy
trying to remember things now. Awesome story, well told.
Submitted by wookie (user info) at 2004-12-02 09:53:38 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Ah, the salad days...
I've always wondered about the origin of that term.
"We ran faster... no... we didn't just run. We six million dollars ran.
CH CH CH CH CH CH"
You rock.
Submitted by TigerLilly (user info) at 2004-12-02 09:52:10 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Ahh...I just love childhood stories.
Well done my friend.