Here is my
pathetic hunting story. I have told you all several stories before of my states
of extreme self pity. I was so very sure I must have been an unwanted adopted
child. This attitude became most evident when members of the family realized
that their social or vacation plans became complicated by the need to figure
out what to do with the Boy Child.
Everyone’s
Saturday night plans were such that the low man on the totem pole turned out to
be the Big Brother who had plans to spend the evening with a lady friend,
evidently deemed of great romantic potential. Could anything dampen one’s plans
better than having to take the Little Brother along on the date of a maybe
lifetime? But the parents had plans for that night too, and they took seniority
precedence.
After
arriving at the home of Brother’s amore, they settled the child in with
necessary coloring books (this story predates TV) and the funny papers, and
warned him to stay put while they stepped out for a brief journey to a local
ice cream parlor, or so they said.
As I
previously described to you the glorious degree of ‘poor me’ took command.
After obediently wearing out the box of Crayolas and memorizing the Tribune’s
comics, a decision was arrived at by His Nibs: “I will show them. I’ll run away
and they will find me never, never, never!” In this instance the open road
consisted of several neighborhood blocks dimly lit by an occasional street
lamp.
Eventually
the spirit of revolt lost some of its motivation and maybe it was time to
return to the frenzied desperate arms of the would-be guardians. Only then did
the forsaken one realize that after searching and hunting for Young Lady’s
house, His Nibs was lost.
Sitting on
the street curb, two fists rubbing away the tears from two sad and maybe
repentant eyes, he looked up to his side at a tall blue-uniformed man. The man
reached down for a little arm and softly said, “Come with me, I’ll take you
home.”
© 26 September 2016
About the Author
No comments:
Post a Comment