Got beat for nothing!

It was summer and “the boys” were all out on their bikes – streamers flapping at the end of the handlebars. The customary “roar” of the bike “powered” by a sturdy baseball card flapping in the spokes, held on by a close pin. The world was our oyster.

We had been riding around aimlessly for a while and I decided to “park” somewhere until we could figure out what we were going to do. So, about a block down from our house, across the street from the Dino Gas Station I pulled over to the curb and pulled my bike up into the grass where I sat down to discuss things.

The rest of the guys followed suit and soon there were several bikes lying out by the street and several young boys stretched out on the grass of someone’s yard. We weren’t able to agree on anything to do, so someone suggested that we ask my older brother for suggestions. Great idea, go ahead and run down to my house and tell my brother to come on over.

Laying in the sun, talking about the cars that drove by, all laid back. . .

Then someone says “Here comes your Mom and she doesn’t look happy!” The boys quickly disappeared on their bikes, leaving me there sitting in the grass wondering why my mother was coming my way, and too clueless to run while I was out of reach.

You know, I didn’t really know WHY I was getting beat. ALL the way home and up the stairs straight to my room. It wasn’t until later, when I was able to compare notes with my brother that I learned what had happened. Let’s review. . .

Sitting in grass with my pals. . .
“Great idea, go ahead and run down to my house and tell my brother to come on over.”

“Your brother needs you – come quick!”

My brother looks down the street to see a pile of bicycles beside the road and me laying in the yard, obviously the center of attention.

So, NATURALLY, he turns to yell into the house “Moe’s been hit by a car!” as he sprints out the door. My mother assumed he KNEW what he was talking about and was two seconds behind him out the door. As “the boys” scattered it became obvious that I had NOT been hit by a car, which NATURALLY, meant that I was pulling some sick joke on HER which she did NOT appreciate at all. And she told me so, all the way back home and up the stairs straight to my room.

That will teach me to ask for my brother’s advice . . .

Sorry, comments are closed for this post.