Retreat
- 3 years ago
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It was the other Christmas.
My alternate Birth day.
That one time every human being between the ages of 5-14 could become richer than the dreams of avarice, sitting atop a bounty of booty cackling with glee while he horded his golden slice & savored the wealth while their parents went without
-absolutely nil, nada, zilch.
An outstretched middle finger to every passing middle-ager in the western hemisphere. ‘ TRICK or TREAT Smell my FEET give me something good to EAT!’
A Butter finger that was.
‘Oh aren’t you adorable!’ Cried the wrinkled old prune, giving us an eyeful of her pearly white dentures & motioning the lot of us forward so she could inspect the wares.
Kyla glared at me as if to say Here we go again before obediently stepping up. She gave the ole bag a little twirl like she was on the catwalk instead of an overgrown veranda, evergreen branches poking us stiffly in the rear.
‘Oh a princess!’ Exclaimed Granny, clapping her liver spotted paws together like a beached walrus. Kyla gave another dramatic role of her eyes.
‘A princess is a perennial favorite’ she’d confided earlier that day during the recess conference call.
We slowly made our way to the senior playground once the bell wrung, blissfully cutting short Ms. Blide’s mind numbing mathematics lesson.
‘This continues tomorrow’ she’d called out after being interrupted by the harsh chime. ‘Don’t get to full on candy corn, be prepared to do some real work tomorrow.’
‘I’d like to work her over’ growled Chris Hitchums, pulling his fall jacket from the crowded cubby at the back of the classroom, shrugging into it.
‘With a crowbar…what’s candy corn?’
I pulled on my own coat & joined the others out in the hall.
Tom, Claire, Kyla, Bran, even that feckless wimp Geordie- we all trudged outside, heading towards the playground, quiet amongst all the noise the lower grades were making, like every day,congregating in their own circles & twirling the skipping rope around or throwing a ball or pretending to be prospecting on Pluto.
I noted how they scurried to the sidelines as we approached, be lining for their fellows & lowering heads, collective hush rising in the still October air.
Clair raised a lip.
‘Big kids’ came a whisper.
Inwardly lighting up but outwardly whipping my head around, I located the source & glaring at the pig tailed girl. She lowered her cute little head, darting behind one of her mousy mates. Geordie caught this & offered the tyke a reassuring smile.
I stopped abruptly.
Geordie wasn’t watching so he plowed straight into me. Rearing around, I snarled at the top of my lungs:
‘Watch where you going PUSSY LIPS!’
He stammered deliciously, the others giving him a round of annoyed shoves.
Gavin approached as we zeroed in on the playground, sitting down in our accustomed spots, Clair climbing atop the monkey bars, Tom on the swinging tire with two others, Brandon on the traffic jam slide & Kyla on a swing.
As speaker I stood with Gavin & Elle at the configuration of brightly painted steel bars shaped like a dinosaur, the senior playground’s greatest tourist attraction.
‘All right’ I shouted. ‘Quiet now, quiet.’
There were dozens of us coating the grounds- leaning against bars & hanging from the highest mounts, packed like sardines on the slide, or just plain lounging on the ground- eventually settling into silence as we began.
Gavin picked it up, beginning by addressing a pudgy kid named Joe, enquiring after the planned routes drawn up for the night, whether all the cells had memorized their specific areas, the number of houses to hit up, the goods that would be acceptable, the ones that-
‘Candy apples’ asked someone atop the monkey bars. ‘Do we accept Candy apples? My neighborhood moneybag Mr. Clarke hands them out every year.’
Amateur. He was undoubtedly a new addition.
‘Of course not’ Gavin snapped, holding the clipboard close to his chest & chewing on a pen. ‘All material that makes claim to… healthy aspirations -even incidentally like a Candy apple- are to be disregarded unconditionally. Refer to page nine of your handout.’
Another member on the grass piped up with ‘But it wouldn’t it be better utilization of resources if’ & here he waved a hand ‘we all round up that stuff- And I don’t know about you guys but my parents always forces me to share’-There was a general unease, kids spitting on the ground, kicking pebbles swearing loudly- ‘Wouldn’t my yield be maximized if I shunted off the worthless capitol to them?’
More murmurs.
‘Keep your eye on that one’ I whispered to Elle as Gavin called for order. ‘He’ll be an up & comer with those kind observations.’
‘You already thought of it’ Elle rasped back.
‘You were going to introduce it to the charter today.’
‘What of it. He’s a man after my own heart, I think there’s potential there.’
A moment passed & Elle nodded slowly.
‘Also a potential source of trouble.’
‘Maybe.’
Out of the corner of my eye, Geordie shifted uncomfortably on the grass, eyes darting around. There was trouble I thought glumly, if there was a problem brewing it was with our dear straggler.
‘Now remember to apply force’ Gavin was saying ‘to any lower grade kid who won’t pay tribute tonight. We don’t want to cause unrest by seizing their entire night’s profit, that’ll definitely get back to the parents which isn’t to say if some rabble rouser refuses to fork over the usual tariff- one full sized chocolate bar or two of lesser size- it isn’t absolutely essential to make an example of such a trouble maker by seizing his or her capitol-disobedience will not be tolerated.’
Chris spoke up, standing & we all leaned in to hear him better.
‘The floor recognizes Chris Hitchums.’
Chris nodded.
‘My cell would like to go on record as completely opposing the tax cuts this year.’
Gavin exhaled loudly, rolling his eyes.
‘Yes yes your viewpoint is well know, thank you Chris, but unfortunately as I’ve already outlined’ & here he put emphasis on ‘outlined’ ‘This year’s forecast makes an all to convincing argument: lower grade opposition has climbed an astonishing 45% & while we’ll certainly have to address this offensive glimpse of backbone, we simply don’t have the time or manpower to adequately correct these issues before tonight.’
Chris huffed & puffed & made to say something more before I shot him a glance, he sat down pretty quickly.
‘Just remember not to take any guff tonight brothers’ Gavin added. ‘We want them to remember who’s in charge here.’
The assembly nodded vigorously, popping knuckles & muttering under their breaths:
‘Little weasels’
‘Shouldn’t give them’-
‘Give an inch take a mile’
‘Sure like to ’em a proper lesson on respecting their superiors’.
At lunch we met again, switching the meeting grounds to one of the baseball diamonds on the faculty grounds as to not arouse any undue suspicion & keep the rabble on their toes, It was never a good idea to conduct these things too out in the open, fall behind the times & become predictable.
This being the longest of all three allotted recesses, there was more space to go over scheduled costumes, who was wearing what, suggestions for improvement to elicit maximum profits (I.E. Donna Jenkins was going ahead with her witch get up until some members convinced her that with her textbook cutes a tasteful princess outfit might well benefit her more).
Wringing more loot from appreciative nostalgia marks was always an effective strategy.
‘A perennial’ I’d agreed with Kyla, approving her choice once the assembly had shifted attention. ‘But do you think you can pull that off?’
‘And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?’
‘Please reframe tha
t with a bit more respect Ky’ Gavin said, growing tense at her abrupt shift in tone.
I waved a hand at him & he dutifully backed off. ‘It means Kyla, that unlike Donna, I’m not entirely confident that with your um- blooming physique- a princess is the best option. Maybe a WARRIOR princess’
‘But it’s going to be a tight squeeze augmenting my standing costume’-
‘I’m sure you’ll do fine Kyla’ I replied, going back to the figures on the clipboard.
During the 3rd & final recess break we headed out into the fields that stretched beyond the immediate school grounds, stopping at the chain link fences that separated us from the farm land beyond where horses grazed lazily in tiny pacts.
This last meeting was more of a summary period, a pep talk, now that the specifics had been addressed & laid down (it was with a derisory laugh that we greeted Geordie’s choice, some pathetic James Bond look that wouldn’t in a thousand years garner him more than a pack of peanuts at best. I made sure to approve the thing myself).
Truthfully, It wasn’t too out there for the average suburban housewife, but it was too flashy, too original, he might secure pity candy but with no attempt at schmaltz like the rest of us (Devil, police man, princess, Fire fighters & soldiers above all else, former presidents too) he’d be lucky to secure half the output the rest of us would earn.
I grinned.
As we left school that day we knew our objectives. It was only a matter of time before we’d be unleashed onto our unsuspecting benefactors, smiles poised, bags filled beyond our most generous estimates.
I nudged Elle when I caught the bus driver’s eyes watching us in the rear view on the way home. We made sure to chant in tongues to ensure his continued consternation.
These were plans we’d drawing up for months. No more theory, no more debate, we were in the thick of it now, the frontlines. No more dithering on possible returns, we were smack down in the middle of IT.
‘Are you a-a-a’ The old woman stuttered, now recognizing there was a bit more to Kyla’s costume than she’d originally notcied.
Kyla continued modeling for the ole buzzard while we picked indiscriminately at the bowl of goodies, gathering up piles of gold & dropping it into our sacks.
‘I’m a warrior princess ma’am’ She said patiently, watching us from the corner of her eye stocking up on provisions.
Gavin especially rooted through the old woman’s wares, curling his lip at the black licorice.
‘My my’ the addled crone exclaimed. ‘Firefighters, policemen- what responsible costumes- please, help yourself, help yourself’.
When she’d finally given us the complete one over, even taking a look at Geordie’s ill chosen 007 get up-
‘Oh well, that’s…imaginative’.
She wished us goodnight, a strange expression on her face like she hadn’t known what hit her, quickly shutting her front door while we all had good chuckle.
‘Her loot was gone!’ Boasted Gavin in his Patriotic mercenary garb, wearing wrap around sunglasses with a toy replica assault rifle gripped in his hands. ‘That was almost perfect …except for Pussy lips I mean’
We all made sure to glare at Jimmy Bond, hauling a pitifully small amount of loot in his Super Mario Brothers pillowcase.
He looked at the ground.
‘Well?’ Screeched Kyla. ‘What’s up with that non existent load there Pussy lips?’
Strolling the streets little graders were eager to clear the way for us, whispering in hushed tones to each other.
I grit my teeth.
We ruled the night & people Geordie McCall seemed not even capable of enjoying our privileged status. It made my blood boil, disrespecting like he did our effort to better the playground.
It wouldn’t be long I guessed, before sneers & backhands no longer fit the bill & we would be forced to take this frustration out on the very source-
Wedgies, snowballs, arbitrary cruelty like that- it now belonged to the past. When the eldest children of Brooks elementary finally realized the strength they could wield by sticking together, the very possibility of a recess where you could walk unencumbered by insults, thefts, ass kicking’s-it had become the start of a New Age. When the older grades left behind their childhood haunts, they abandoned any vestige of influence they might have once held.
People like Geordie unfortunately squeezed through the cracks. It was sad but like any well oiled machine, there were always kinks to work out.
Yes, I said to myself, watching him tag along behind us while we went form mark to mark that night, something would definitely have to be done about the weakest link in our chain & soon.
Staying ahead of watchful adults escorting their own we walked in a group down the sidewalk , some of us (Christine) already reaching into our supplies & pulling out fistfuls of goodies, comparing bounty before peeling off the wrappers & unceremoniously bulldozing it into mouths.
Others (Gavin, Michelle Higgins, Dominic Hays) were already engaged in impromptu negotiations, haggling over unwanted wares for morsels more pleasing to their pallets.
‘Alright, Reese buttercups’ Said Michelle, wagging an orange rapper in front of her make up’d face. ‘Any takers?’
Dominic raised his hand, or more accurately- paw, before any of the others.
‘Ok, what are you offering?’ She asked.
Dom rummaged in his sack for a moment before uncurling a fist. In it were a handful of micro O’Henry bars. Michelle was quiet for a moment, deliberating silently before nodding her sewage green head, black cowl shaking.
We shelled another house, a promising red brick monstrosity that indicated owners in the higher income bracket.
The higher class wage earners take the 31st off, holding their festivities elsewhere or else just pulling the plug & pretending they aren’t even home, Halloween habit that.
In those occasions we usually bypass said home, only bringing out the big guns (rolls of toilet paper loaded into backpacks of lower echelon brothers) when it’s a smaller dwellings perpetrating the same crime. Bigger forts we’d learned, sometimes fight back, like last year when Tommy Ulmoore’s cell had papered a manor on Blakely, getting a bone chilling soaking from the sprinkler system for their troubles.
‘It just came outta nowhere’ Tommy kept breathing, sitting on the curb afterward with his teammates, shivering madly as their costumes dripped & we tried to salvage the candy. ‘Nowhere, nowhere.’
On the giant front porch, a recording of ‘Ghostbusters’ played over & over again.
‘I can’t wait to see what this place forks out’ Kyla panted, sprinting towards the front door with a wide grin plastered on her face.
Behind her we ascended the stone steps, each readying bags, making room for the next payment.
‘What do you think this place will give us?’
‘Whole chocolate bars maybe’ Chris said. ‘None of those lousy bite sized segments.’
‘Or comic books’ Brandon countered, eyes lighting up like a Jack-o-lantern’s. From his spot behind us, Tim gave a sigh, tapping his boot.
‘Jeeeeezus, comic books- always with the comic books. Happens one year with one house & we never hear the end of it.’
Brandon frowned. ‘What? It could happen.’
‘Bran the guy ran out of loot, he was just trying to hold off the inevitable toilet paper bombing, it was a one time deal.’
Gavin, holding off from weighing in, broke out in a hearty chuckle.
‘And as I remember it, it wasn’t that noteworthy a rag to begin with, I mean’-
Brandon’s heavily made up brow, all ghostly white, knotted into a determined frown.
‘Shut up Gav.’
‘I mean’ Gavin went on ‘It was just’-
‘I mean it Gavin’ Brandon said, clenching his fists.
‘Just a lame-o’-
‘Don’t’
‘Lame-‘
‘You-‘
‘Spiderman comic anyhow’-
Brandon let loose wit
h an outraged scream, a battle cry, charging forward, moving so fast his little Dracula cape flew out from behind him, flapping in the night air as he dove into Gavin, who’d turned to Ky at the last second, no doubt assuming he’d won a laugh from the object of his blooming affection.
Down the both of them went, a look of perfect surprise blooming on Gavin’s smug face, lips forming an o as he collided with the ground, quickly switching into a grimace-
‘You little asshole’
becoming a snarl of purest rage.
Gavin shoved back, twisting Brandon over & quickly turning the tables on his assailant, proceeding with a little wailing of his own. Bran, who’d never had more than the element of surprise anyhow, went on branding him every name in the book, including some choice selections that hadn’t yet even been dreamt up.
‘Cheese dick invertebrate numbskull’-
Chris, Kyla Michelle all snapped to, groaning to ourselves before lunging forward into the fray, separating the tussling duo rolling around the veranda.
‘Who You Gonna call? Ray Parker asked from the stereo’s speakers for perhaps the millionth time. ‘I Can’t Heeeeeear you!’
All over trick or treaters were gathering in eager groups, monsters ghouls & ghosts, investigating what all the commotion was about, merrily chewing away on candy bars, twizzlers, boxes of smarties, chocolate covered peanuts- all with expectant eyes.
‘Cut it out you two!’ I hissed loud as I could without outright hollering
-‘Crap breath noodle assface’-
‘Cut it’-
Two tuxedo arms thrust between the pair, pushing them apart, even as punches continued mid-flight, some meeting their mark, most careening off target & flying into the immediate airspace.
Geordie took it all in stride, ducking & jerking out of the way with lighting speed as the divide between Brandon & Gav grew slowly wider.
And Michelle, Kyla, Chris? They all stood dead in their tracks, jaws hanging.
I quickly got over my initial shock, fastening arms around Gavin, holding him back. Geordie, seeing my strategy, quickly did the same with Brandon, pulling him with all his limited might.
The others seemed to snap out of it next, the colorful fighting words shattering the fog that had settled over thick heads. In they went.
‘Cool it Bran!’ Dominic bellowed.
‘Shove it Gav!’ Michelle cried.
Geordi backed out as we reigned in the whole situation, darting back into the shadows as I bounced my paw off of Gavin’s noggin while he cooled down, sunglasses falling to the ground, gingerly raising his eyes up.
‘What’s going on out here!?’
The home’s proprietor joined us on the porch, fists resting on a bloated waist as the screen door slammed shut behind.
From his end of the porch, Brandon went silent, a package of Rockets lying in his palm by way of Kyla in a bid to get him to clam up good & proper.
Crunching down on the bite sized goodies, I glared at Gavin as his jaw worked.
Out on the street, the spectators broke up and went their own ways, seeing that no more fisticuffs were forthcoming now that the pitched adult voice of authority had arrived on the scene.
‘Pay up’ Said Judy Mcpharlan over on the curb, holding out & wiggling her fingers at a pair of older trick or treaters.
‘I said’ said disgruntled homeowner, taking another step forward, glasses drooping onto the tip of his nose, stopping in front of me & Gavin. Gavin, shrinking with his tail between his legs, practically ducked behind me & nudged me forward with the butt of his gun.
‘Well!?’ Homeowner yelled, specs drooping even more if it were possible. Gritting my teeth, I opened my mouth –
‘Just a little misunderstanding’ answered Geordie, stepping out of the dark. ‘My friends here just got into a little argument.’
Dominic, Kyla, Chris, Even Brandon started to offer their own answers before I glared at them out of the corner of my eye, cheek twitching.
Homeowner shook his head & clucked his tongue. The glow of nearby Jack-o-lanterns sitting on lawn chairs beside the stereo cast an eerie glow on his drooping features, making him look downright sinister instead of just righteously pissed off.
We all waited, Geordie not the least, hands clasped tightly behind his back, surprisingly holding his eye contact solidly with the older man, not shrinking to the ground or turning about face or receding back into the night, none of the trademark moves we’d come to expect from the least of us.
Dottie
- 17.07.2021
- 10
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