Hi, Diary.
I'm not stupid. At least, that's what I thought until I took up Doc III's dare the other day. Besides that, Paul and Glen Peterson think I'm a coward. I'll tell you why.
After my older brothers tied me up and Ed Timm, our loyal mailman, wearing his grey Jungle Jim pith helmet, had to free me, I especially enjoyed eating supper with my older brothers confined to their upstairs bedroom, minus their supper meal. They couldn't even listen to their red plastic General Electric radio because Dad brought it downstairs. Dork was madder than a wet hen because he missed his favorite radio program, "Inner Sanctum." I hate that program because it's scarier than all get out. There's something wrong with Dork's brain because not only does he like listening to Inner Sanctum, each month he buys horror comic books at Your Record Store. I can't look at their covers at night, or I'll have nightmares. His favorites are Chamber of Chills, Vault of Horror, and Adventures into Weird Worlds. Dork's weird, that's what.
Later in the evening on the day of my tie up, Doc III and Dork had to come downstairs to use the bathroom because that's the only bathroom we have. Each opened my bedroom door and warned me the "tie up" was "A walk in the park" because what they had planned for me next would make me shake in fear for the rest of my life. After a night of not getting much sleep, I decided I was not as strong as our POWs on the Bataan Death March. I'll never be a hero because I won't volunteer to seek pain on purpose. So, the next morning, I told them the exact location. Because of me, our secret was disclosed. Soon, all of Wisconsin Rapids would know of it.
That afternoon, the Petersons and I biked out to our not-so-secret, secret swimming hole. I was too ashamed to tell them what I'd done. When we got there, neither brother was there. I sighed. Saved. While the three of us were enjoying cannon balling each other in the brown water, Doc III and his best buddy, Brice "Bibs" Anunson, showed up. Oh, oh.
"Hi, you guys," called out Bibs.
"How'd you find out about this place?" screamed Paul as he stared knives into my eyes.
"Darned if I know," I lied. Besides being a chicken, I was now a liar.
My brother and Bibs wore swimsuits under their trousers. They even brought towels with them.
"How'd you get here?" I asked Doc III, trying to avoid Paul and Glen's shocked, angry looks as best I could.
"In my Chevy, of course," said my brother. "I parked it close to where you three hid your bikes."
"How'd you know where they were?" I tried my best to keep the Petersons from saying a thing.
"It was easy. Just looked, and there they were," claimed Bibs.
"You snitched to your brother. How could you?" Paul demanded in his normally penetrating and shrill voice.
"I didn't tell just him," I said, "but I told Dork, as well."
"Why didn't you tell the whole damn town?"
"Because I didn't have to tell the whole damn town. But I had to tell my brothers."
"Why?"
"I didn't want to get murdered, that's why."
"Your brothers wouldn't murder you," said Glen. "They could've put a hurt on you, but heck that's what older brothers do. My brother won't because he can't fight his way out of a wet paper bag.
"I told Ed Timm, too," I said.
"Not him. He'll tell the whole town," yelled Paul. "He's like an old lady."
"Yeah," agreed Glen. "He's worse than that old bag with a wart on her nose who pulls that squeaky wagon to Turbin's store every day.
"But I didn't tell Ed anything."
Glen's face was redder than I had ever seen it. "How do we know?" he exploded.
That's the first time I ever heard him yell. He was almost as loud as his bother. But not quite.
"Because I wouldn't lie to you or Paul."
"You may not be a liar, but you're the world's biggest snitch," yelled Paul, "and it's all your fault. It's your fault we no longer have a secret place to swim in."
"If you wanna fight, I'll fight you," I said. I held up my dukes.
"I don't wanna fight," yelled Paul. Of course, he didn't. He's got the biggest mouth in the town but he squawks louder than a henhouse full of chickens if he thinks another kid wants to fight him.
"I'll fight you," volunteered Glen. He used his usual calm voice. Oh, oh. Now it was my turn to be filled with trepidation. (Thank you, Reader's Digest 'Word Power' page. It means being full of fear).
Glen's eyes narrowed. He advanced toward me. I raised my fists and prepared to get thrashed and trashed.
"Wha 'cha doing?" yelled somebody. I turned to look. It was Doc III.
"Yeah?" chimed in Bibs. "If it's a fight you Petersons want, Doc and I'll take on both you guys."
"You guys are bigger and older than us," objected Glen.
"And you're bigger than Gordy," Doc III shot back.
"But Gordy's older than me."
"He's shorter and you outweigh him," retorted my brother.
"Glen and I don't wanna fight no high school guys," screamed Paul.
"Any," I said, "any high school guys."
"Then," said Doc III, "tell your younger brother he'd better change his mind about beating up Gordy."
I don't understand it, Diary. One day after he ties me up, Doc III comes to my rescue. I'll never understand him but I wasn't about to thank him for intervening on my behalf although I was grateful he did.
And then get this: After the five of us finished swimming, we headed either to the car or our bikes. Everyone halted, as usual, to crawl under the electric fence.
"Say, little brother, you ever pee on an electric fence?"
"No, why would I?"
"Don't know, but I wonder what would happen if you did?"
Since he saved me from the earlier drubbing—and I had to go, anyway—I aimed the stream. Kaboom. The next thing I remember I was on the ground. Everybody but me was laughing his fool head off. I was foggy from that horrible shock.
"Boy, was Gordy ever knocked on his ass," yelled Paul.
Picking myself up slowly, I glared at him and then at the others. They were laughing so hard tears fell down their cheeks.
Older brothers and friends: I'll never understand them.
And never again, Diary, will I trust my oldest brother or pee on an electric fence. Never, ever.
I'm not stupid. At least, that's what I thought until I took up Doc III's dare the other day. Besides that, Paul and Glen Peterson think I'm a coward. I'll tell you why.
After my older brothers tied me up and Ed Timm, our loyal mailman, wearing his grey Jungle Jim pith helmet, had to free me, I especially enjoyed eating supper with my older brothers confined to their upstairs bedroom, minus their supper meal. They couldn't even listen to their red plastic General Electric radio because Dad brought it downstairs. Dork was madder than a wet hen because he missed his favorite radio program, "Inner Sanctum." I hate that program because it's scarier than all get out. There's something wrong with Dork's brain because not only does he like listening to Inner Sanctum, each month he buys horror comic books at Your Record Store. I can't look at their covers at night, or I'll have nightmares. His favorites are Chamber of Chills, Vault of Horror, and Adventures into Weird Worlds. Dork's weird, that's what.
Later in the evening on the day of my tie up, Doc III and Dork had to come downstairs to use the bathroom because that's the only bathroom we have. Each opened my bedroom door and warned me the "tie up" was "A walk in the park" because what they had planned for me next would make me shake in fear for the rest of my life. After a night of not getting much sleep, I decided I was not as strong as our POWs on the Bataan Death March. I'll never be a hero because I won't volunteer to seek pain on purpose. So, the next morning, I told them the exact location. Because of me, our secret was disclosed. Soon, all of Wisconsin Rapids would know of it.
That afternoon, the Petersons and I biked out to our not-so-secret, secret swimming hole. I was too ashamed to tell them what I'd done. When we got there, neither brother was there. I sighed. Saved. While the three of us were enjoying cannon balling each other in the brown water, Doc III and his best buddy, Brice "Bibs" Anunson, showed up. Oh, oh.
"Hi, you guys," called out Bibs.
"How'd you find out about this place?" screamed Paul as he stared knives into my eyes.
"Darned if I know," I lied. Besides being a chicken, I was now a liar.
My brother and Bibs wore swimsuits under their trousers. They even brought towels with them.
"How'd you get here?" I asked Doc III, trying to avoid Paul and Glen's shocked, angry looks as best I could.
"In my Chevy, of course," said my brother. "I parked it close to where you three hid your bikes."
"How'd you know where they were?" I tried my best to keep the Petersons from saying a thing.
"It was easy. Just looked, and there they were," claimed Bibs.
"You snitched to your brother. How could you?" Paul demanded in his normally penetrating and shrill voice.
"I didn't tell just him," I said, "but I told Dork, as well."
"Why didn't you tell the whole damn town?"
"Because I didn't have to tell the whole damn town. But I had to tell my brothers."
"Why?"
"I didn't want to get murdered, that's why."
"Your brothers wouldn't murder you," said Glen. "They could've put a hurt on you, but heck that's what older brothers do. My brother won't because he can't fight his way out of a wet paper bag.
"I told Ed Timm, too," I said.
"Not him. He'll tell the whole town," yelled Paul. "He's like an old lady."
"Yeah," agreed Glen. "He's worse than that old bag with a wart on her nose who pulls that squeaky wagon to Turbin's store every day.
"But I didn't tell Ed anything."
Glen's face was redder than I had ever seen it. "How do we know?" he exploded.
That's the first time I ever heard him yell. He was almost as loud as his bother. But not quite.
"Because I wouldn't lie to you or Paul."
"You may not be a liar, but you're the world's biggest snitch," yelled Paul, "and it's all your fault. It's your fault we no longer have a secret place to swim in."
"If you wanna fight, I'll fight you," I said. I held up my dukes.
"I don't wanna fight," yelled Paul. Of course, he didn't. He's got the biggest mouth in the town but he squawks louder than a henhouse full of chickens if he thinks another kid wants to fight him.
"I'll fight you," volunteered Glen. He used his usual calm voice. Oh, oh. Now it was my turn to be filled with trepidation. (Thank you, Reader's Digest 'Word Power' page. It means being full of fear).
Glen's eyes narrowed. He advanced toward me. I raised my fists and prepared to get thrashed and trashed.
"Wha 'cha doing?" yelled somebody. I turned to look. It was Doc III.
"Yeah?" chimed in Bibs. "If it's a fight you Petersons want, Doc and I'll take on both you guys."
"You guys are bigger and older than us," objected Glen.
"And you're bigger than Gordy," Doc III shot back.
"But Gordy's older than me."
"He's shorter and you outweigh him," retorted my brother.
"Glen and I don't wanna fight no high school guys," screamed Paul.
"Any," I said, "any high school guys."
"Then," said Doc III, "tell your younger brother he'd better change his mind about beating up Gordy."
I don't understand it, Diary. One day after he ties me up, Doc III comes to my rescue. I'll never understand him but I wasn't about to thank him for intervening on my behalf although I was grateful he did.
And then get this: After the five of us finished swimming, we headed either to the car or our bikes. Everyone halted, as usual, to crawl under the electric fence.
"Say, little brother, you ever pee on an electric fence?"
"No, why would I?"
"Don't know, but I wonder what would happen if you did?"
Since he saved me from the earlier drubbing—and I had to go, anyway—I aimed the stream. Kaboom. The next thing I remember I was on the ground. Everybody but me was laughing his fool head off. I was foggy from that horrible shock.
"Boy, was Gordy ever knocked on his ass," yelled Paul.
Picking myself up slowly, I glared at him and then at the others. They were laughing so hard tears fell down their cheeks.
Older brothers and friends: I'll never understand them.
And never again, Diary, will I trust my oldest brother or pee on an electric fence. Never, ever.
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