From the Pacific came 1000's of separate broadcasts in the critical development of the massive conflict, WWII

Thursday, October 3, 2024

"It's like Armawhatever

  you call it in there." The lady's heel was in her hand, her hair was coming out of it's bun, and she pulled at the bottom of her short lopsided dress.  Our parents kind of laughed.  They were with other parents and guardians taking a walking tour of our proving ground.  An older kid came running out of the vinestick-fenced opening, an old trailhead.  "Did we scare you?"  he yelled after the woman.  Then when she waved his question off, he asked the group of parents, "Who was she?"

  "The social worker," a mom said to the others' dunnos.  "The good one." 

  "Well.  I'd go to my room, but, come on in, I'll show you around."

  A man in a suit and tie uncrossed his arms, handed a purse back to a woman.  "And you think every kid in the neighborhood is here?"

  "Prolly."

  My father caught up pushing the wheelbarrow.  One of the other dads gave the kid a five dollar bill.  My mother turned and rushed to my Dad.  "You okay Carrie?" She fussed over the girl in the wheelbarrow covered head to toe in a custom-sized baseball catcher's gear.  "She's getting heavier," Dad said, "Making me stronger."  He flexed his muscles like the hot dog on his tee-shirt.  "You're turn." He walked over closer to the other men.  "You didn't tell me you were wearing a tie, jerk."

  "Whaddaya talking to me for jerk?" The man in the tie stepped away a few steps.  Dad took a few steps closer.  "You were s'posed to tell me what you were going to wear jerk." 

  "Like you're my wife or something?" He stepped behind a woman.  Sherry called out.  She couldn't remember the guy's name, so she came towards him, with a scarf in her hand, "Here you go jerk." She shoved the scarf at him. 

  He shoved his hands in his pockets.  "I'm not taking that." The woman in front of him, standing back to back, ventriloquist-talked yes you are.  "No I am not."

  "Don't be a real jerk," a guy in a fishing hat said.

  "Is that what all this is about?!" 

  People looked at the ground.  "You're all trying to tell me I'm a jerk??" Only one person nodded. 

  "Okay, say I'm a jerk; a real jerk, I kind of am so that shouldn't be too hard for a bunch of other jerks to pretend." 

  "We're not the pretenders."

  The man took his hands out of his pockets in a dramatic lift to the sky move, "Ooooh, I get it."

  Sherry threw the scarf at his belly.  Hands reflexively caught the throw.  "Good thing you're not a jerk," she said.  And, looking at her antique watch, also said, "We better get going, Carrie's getting sweaty in all that equipment." Dad darted back to the wheelbarrow, "Is my favorite daughter all right in there?" She tried to give the A-okay sign but raised her whole arm and a special brace in the armpit of the get up got stuck.  Mom tried to press it back down and it got locked into stuck open mode which makes you look like your pointing at something.  Dad dug some of the facemasks off my sister enough to hear if she was hurting in anyway.  Just sweaty.  Dad repositioned the masks but Carrie said, Oh Dad!  He leaned real close and as he did an Indian's arrow hit him in the butt, there was a rustling in the tree area behind him, and Carrie said, "I could be looking at a bird." Dad didn't move a muscle.  Beckoned Sherry to see what had hit him.  

  She picked up the suction cup tipped arrow.  "This," she smelled grape flavor as she was passing it, and she realized, "It smells like grape and something else," resmelled it.  And she'd passed it to Dad but saw it had fallen on the ground.  "Honey, why'd you

  She was frozen in place.  Dad too.  I turned to see if the other people saw, understood.  The guy Dad had called a jerk was swatting at his neck like a mosquito was stinging him.  Someone else was gagging and eyes rolling.

  Fast running kids came crashing through the woods towards and just avoided crashing in to our group.  Then I saw other children, some pulling each other, some tripping and falling, then others running up from out of where we were supposed to go see the shows, like it's a TV.  Behind them the motley and mangy zombie types with weapons.  I also stood like a statue.

  "AND STAY THE FUCK OUT OF OUR TERRITORY

  My Dad's hand started to twitch.  I caught his eye as soon as he started to move his eyeballs around like coming to when hit in the back of the head.  I carefully mouthed "DON'T MOVE, DON'T MOVE" and he managed to still his hand.

  The wildest-looking bunch of people wearing furs and leathers and billowy fabrics came forward of the motleys, then these parted like the Red Sea, and indescribable warrior types came through and single-filed dead center.  One manperson held up an arm and beings rushed from the woods and surrounded those.  Grunts and roars were some kind of orders and suddenly the trail was cleared by everyone getting off to one side or another.  Boot sounds, maybe six people carrying something between two horizontal poles.

  "Bring it!  Like this is the bonfire!"

  They came forward and started to make a u-turn around "the bonfire" while the obvious commander pulled the man's hair so face, a hot mess, would be seeing as the last thing you'll ever see in this life.  "LOWER" and the arms carrying the poles lowered all at once so that the body hog tied hands and feet DID A FACE PLANT.

  He whirled and pointed a hand gun right at me.  YOU SAW IT, THAT, DID A FACE PLANT.  I nodded curtly up and down, yes Sir.

  The warrior man raised both hands up and the gun slid down into his sleeve.  He clapped twice and snapped his fingers.  Two peasant people brought forth a slop bucket.  The man snapped again and they doused the face planted man.  He shook his head lethargically but rousing.  His hair was grabbed again and face brought to face.  "Have I made myself clear?!" The man passed out again.

  Warrior man turned towards me again.  "Young lady."

  I pointed at myself, "Me?"

  "Yes, you.  Not those behind you in the trees."

  "Sir?"

  "Why are these people just standing here?"

  "I'm not sure exactly."

  "Good.  You're admitting you are unsure."

  "They're frozen or something."

  "Frozen?"

  He checked kneck pulses of the frozen stiff people.

  "An arrow, may I show you Sir?"

  "You may step forward, but don't come too close.  I stink."

  I inched forward enough to spy the suction cup arrow.  And pointed.  "Came from the woods."

  "From which direction."

  I pointed again.  He put the handcuffs onto the wheelbarrow handle.  Sort of turned my Dad by the hips, and pulled a metal arrow out of a butt cheek.  My Dad took a big breath in and his hand started rubbing that muscle spot.  Then he pulled the face masks of a sweaty, crying little sister.  "This is different," he said of our mom with a pulse but barely breathing and stiff like a board.  "Get that stuff off that child and the two of you sit," he indicated with his head, "over there."











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