13 The Frog Pond first draft
3/01 6:00 PM
“What do you wanna do today?” Russell asked.
“I dunno. What do you wanna do,” little me asked.
“Wanna go to the Frog Pond?” asked Bob Van.
“You always wanna go to the Frog Pond,” said little Dave.
“So? You got something better to do?” asked Bob Van.
“No,” said little me.
“OK, c'mon,” said Russ. Russell
was one year older than us and always had the last say in deep
decisions seeing as he was wiser.
We walked down Lea Avenue to the east. This had changed a bit since Mr. Swayze put in the houses on Davis Drive. Our path to the Frog Pond moved.
“I'm thirsty,” said Russell. “I need a drink.”
“Where?” said little Dave.
“Right over here,” said Russell.
He pointed down a very, very steep hill. Almost vertical. There was a culvert sticking out of the hillside about twenty feet down. It stuck out of the hell maybe fifteen feet or so. It was about three feet in diameter of corrugated steel. There was a stream of water coming out of it. Not a lot, but enough.
Russell scootched down the hill. He started to slide, but his feet hit the culvert and stopped him. That was a good thing because it was another twenty or thirty feet to the bottom of the ravine.
Russell, straddled the culvert and shinnied his way to the end. He stuck his hand down and scooped up handfuls of... storm rain water. Who knows what's in there?
Russell drank his fill, swung his legs over the culvert and shinnied back. Then he somehow stood on the culvert and managed to climb his way up the almost vertical hillside. And that is why Russell was in charge.
We walked down Lea Avenue to the east. This had changed a bit since Mr. Swayze put in the houses on Davis Drive. Our path to the Frog Pond moved.
“I'm thirsty,” said Russell. “I need a drink.”
“Where?” said little Dave.
“Right over here,” said Russell.
He pointed down a very, very steep hill. Almost vertical. There was a culvert sticking out of the hillside about twenty feet down. It stuck out of the hell maybe fifteen feet or so. It was about three feet in diameter of corrugated steel. There was a stream of water coming out of it. Not a lot, but enough.
Russell scootched down the hill. He started to slide, but his feet hit the culvert and stopped him. That was a good thing because it was another twenty or thirty feet to the bottom of the ravine.
Russell, straddled the culvert and shinnied his way to the end. He stuck his hand down and scooped up handfuls of... storm rain water. Who knows what's in there?
Russell drank his fill, swung his legs over the culvert and shinnied back. Then he somehow stood on the culvert and managed to climb his way up the almost vertical hillside. And that is why Russell was in charge.
We then walked past Smythe's house to
the empty lot and proceeded down the path. This was a great
inconvenience. We liked the path where it was. But then Smythe's
stuck their stupid house there.
So we walked down what little path there was in the new place, and then down a steep hill on the well-worn path which was there, like, forever. Probably Indians used this path.
The path followed the stream, which was the runoff from the storm drain. As we approached the witch's house, we got very quiet. It was an old house, built right on top of the canal where it was filled in long ago.
Even though she was a witch, we could sneak up very quietly and swipe pears off her tree. And elderberries, and apples.
Then we proceeded down the path to the Frog Pond. It too was mostly filled in. With what, I have no idea, but I did see cars and such dumped in there.
We walked along what was left of the tow path. The canal was different here. It wasn't a canal at all. It was a stagnant, stinking algae filled mess. Perfect.
There were small granite walls here. I don't know what purpose they served. Nor did we care. We came here for frogs.
Russell and little me were pathetically bad at catching frogs. But not Bob Van. He would see a frog on the surface, sneak up on it, and in a flash have it by its hind legs. I don't know how he did it. But he did. So Russell and I quickly got bored.
“C'mon Bob, let's go,” said little me.
“Not yet. I've only got three frogs,” protested Bob.
“How many do you need?” asked me.
“I dunno, but there's more frogs here,” said Bob.
“Let's go, Bob,” said Russell, the kid in charge.
So we proceeded up the path, being very quiet by the witch's house. We didn't stop at her fruit trees.
“Hey, let's stop at the Tarzan swing!” said Bob Van.
So we walked down what little path there was in the new place, and then down a steep hill on the well-worn path which was there, like, forever. Probably Indians used this path.
The path followed the stream, which was the runoff from the storm drain. As we approached the witch's house, we got very quiet. It was an old house, built right on top of the canal where it was filled in long ago.
Even though she was a witch, we could sneak up very quietly and swipe pears off her tree. And elderberries, and apples.
Then we proceeded down the path to the Frog Pond. It too was mostly filled in. With what, I have no idea, but I did see cars and such dumped in there.
We walked along what was left of the tow path. The canal was different here. It wasn't a canal at all. It was a stagnant, stinking algae filled mess. Perfect.
There were small granite walls here. I don't know what purpose they served. Nor did we care. We came here for frogs.
Russell and little me were pathetically bad at catching frogs. But not Bob Van. He would see a frog on the surface, sneak up on it, and in a flash have it by its hind legs. I don't know how he did it. But he did. So Russell and I quickly got bored.
“C'mon Bob, let's go,” said little me.
“Not yet. I've only got three frogs,” protested Bob.
“How many do you need?” asked me.
“I dunno, but there's more frogs here,” said Bob.
“Let's go, Bob,” said Russell, the kid in charge.
So we proceeded up the path, being very quiet by the witch's house. We didn't stop at her fruit trees.
“Hey, let's stop at the Tarzan swing!” said Bob Van.
When you're a little kid and you watch
Tarzan movies, you just have to swing from vines. It may be a law.
So Bob ran up to the swing and grabbed the vine. It was one of the longest we had. The top was way up the tree. Bob ran up the hill as far as he could go, until he could barely reach the vine, and swung off the hill into thin air. Way above thin air. And that's when the vine broke.
Bob went tumbling down, barely missing trees and rocks. He started crying. He stood up. From his elbow to his wrist, his arm had a decided angle. Bob was holding it and sobbing.
“You dumb shit!” said Russell. “You broke your arm!”
Little me didn't want to look at it. But that's why Russell was in charge.
“C'mon, let's go home,” said Russell. “I didn't have anything to do with this. You did it.”
Bob kept crying and sobbing. I wonder if that really hurts? I guess it must. Bob started walking up the path up the hill and didn't even bring his frogs.
So Bob ran up to the swing and grabbed the vine. It was one of the longest we had. The top was way up the tree. Bob ran up the hill as far as he could go, until he could barely reach the vine, and swung off the hill into thin air. Way above thin air. And that's when the vine broke.
Bob went tumbling down, barely missing trees and rocks. He started crying. He stood up. From his elbow to his wrist, his arm had a decided angle. Bob was holding it and sobbing.
“You dumb shit!” said Russell. “You broke your arm!”
Little me didn't want to look at it. But that's why Russell was in charge.
“C'mon, let's go home,” said Russell. “I didn't have anything to do with this. You did it.”
Bob kept crying and sobbing. I wonder if that really hurts? I guess it must. Bob started walking up the path up the hill and didn't even bring his frogs.
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