This is the continued story of
Simon’s Journal.
I would highly recommend you read the first volume of this story,
Simon’s Journal
Thirteen Days – The First Crusade
before you begin this novel.
The following
narrative is nearly a complete work of fiction.
Any similarity to actual individuals living or dead is completely
unintentional.
If reading a coming of age story about boys wearing diapers and exploring their
awakening sexuality is offensive or illegal in your area, then might I suggest
you go read War and Peace or something equally stimulating.
Simon's
Journal
Volume II
Thirteen
Nights – After the Crusade
Written by
Danny
Author of Thirteen Days
PART 4 – Sunday, March 07, 2004 – Bump in the Night
Boy was my inbox full! I had emails from everyone plus several
hundred pieces of spam. I was not in the mood to spend the rest of my day going
through all the email so all I did was delete the ones I knew to be spam. Then
I sent only two emails out; one to Jamie, telling him to have everyone ready at
exactly midnight and be waiting for me and a second one went out to the only
person I thought I might be able to get help from . . . Bull.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Simon
Sent: Sunday, March 07, 2004
To: Bull
Subject:
I
need your help
Bull,
Simon here! No time to go
into anything now but I will
later if I see you. Right now
I need your help again! Please
don’t tell anyone! If you are
able to, I need you to come in
your car and meet me at the
same place you picked me up
that one night. I will be
waiting there at 11:30 p.m. tonight.
Please come; it is a matter
of life and death!
Simon
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
I signed off from my email, disconnected my e-journal from the
computer and since I did not have my closet hide-away anymore, I decided that
the loft bed would have to do. So, I climbed up, sat myself down leaning
against the fresh white walls and began journaling to pass the time.
When
mom came in to tell me supper was ready she found me slumped over in the loft
bed with my e-journal lying in my lap. If it hadn’t been for my body armor
holding me semi-upright I am sure I would have falling right over onto my side
while sleeping. I am also grateful to the creators of this electronic journal
for building in a feature that I wasn’t aware of until today. Apparently, they
thought of everything, because when left on but unused for more then fifteen
minutes my e-journal automatically saves whatever I had open and turns itself
off so that the batteries do not get used up and my work isn’t lost.
“Simon
sweetheart!” Mom said giving my foot a shake.
I
opened one eyes and saw mom’s head peeking at me through the metal guardrail. I
groaned and stretched, “Did I fall asleep?”
“It’s
okay, you had a big day!” was moms answered.
“How
long?” I asked still stretching my arms and legs straight out from me.
“For
a while, I imagine.” She offered before asking, “Do you want some supper?”
“Huh?
What time is it?” I asked while allowing a yawn to escape and contort my face.
“A
little after seven.” Mom answered while pulling on my foot to get me to come
down.
I
sat my e-journal on my bed and started to move toward the ladder. “What we
having?” I asked still trying to get my brain to wake up.
“Pizza!”
Mom said, which was the magic word needed to jump start my brain.
“PIZZA?”
I shouted from halfway down the ladder.
“Uh-oh!
I think someone sprang a leak.” Mom cooed when she noticed a wet spot on the
back of my pants.
“I
did?” I asked trying to reach around to feel for it but was unable to find it
because my armor kept me from bending and twisting enough.
“It
isn’t very bad.” Mom assured.
I
looked up at the upper bed and felt bad for getting pee on it already but
remembered that the bedspreads had that water resistant material.
Mom
must have been using her Super Mom powers to read my mind at that very instant
because without me saying a single word she asked, “Did you know they make
special bedding just for bedwetters?”
I
stepped down onto the wooden floor and shook my head while rubbing the sleep
from my eyes. I think I was also a little dazed by her use of the BW-word.
“I
didn’t either but the mother of your little friend, Lowell, told me all about
them and also that Wal-Mart sold them.” Mom said squatting down in front of me
and began unzipping my pants. Her words made me wonder just how much time mom
got to spend talking with
“Really?”
I asked as she pulled my pants down to my ankles and allowed me to step out of
them. “Even the sheets?” I asked as she pulled down my plastic pants.
“My
goodness Simon!” Mom commented when she saw how wet my diaper was.
I
looked down to see that the diaper looked like I had shoved a garden hose down
the front and turned on the spigot.
“Wow!”
I commented as well.
Mom
directed me to lie down on the lower bed so she could change my diaper.
Returning to our conversation about the bedding she said, “Well, Wal-Mart had
special sheets too but they didn’t look as soft and comfortable to me so I
bought you regular sheets.” She had pulled off the tapes but left the diaper in
place while she went after the diapering supplies in my new dresser. “I did get
the special pillow and mattress covers for both beds.” She said walking back
over to me with the diaper cream, powder and a cloth diaper.
She
continued to relate to me some of the, ‘Behind the Scenes’ tales about my rooms
transformation. “You’re father and Ruddy put together this bed.” She leaned
forward and in a softer voice said, “Funniest thing I have ever seen!” she
snorted with laughter.
When
I was rediapered mom had me stand back up and helped me put the plastic pants I
had been wearing back on. She then let me take the used diaper and drop it into
my new diaper pail beside my dresser. It is really cool; when I step on a little
lever by the floor, the lid pops open. Inside there are two compartments. The
left side has a plastic trash bag like mom uses in the kitchen trashcan and the
other side has what looks like a white, waterproof, nylon liner for cloth
diapers. I also noticed that the lid seals tight enough so that any smells are
kept inside the can. I wish I felt free enough to let mom and dad know how
happy I am to have my very own diaper pail but I think I will keep that to
myself . . . for now.
I
was ready to walk out of my room exactly as I was dressed at that moment
wearing only a shirt, cloth diaper, plastic pants and no britches. However, mom
stopped me, “You might want to put on some pants!” she suggested.
“How
come?” I asked.
“Because
we have company for dinner.” She said while taking the desert camo pants I had
been wearing, to my closet and dropping them into the laundry bag. She looked
down into the laundry bag and off handedly commented, “Looks like I am going to
need to do a load of your clothes soon.”
She
pulled out a pair of new blue jeans and after pulling off the tags, she helped
me get them on too. Even wearing cloth diapers they were a little big on me so
mom got one of the new belts out of the closet and laced it through the loops
in my jeans.
“Now
put on your slippers and you will be all set!” she said giving me a kiss and a
playful swat on my diapered bottom.
“Okay!”
I said and went to Jamie’s side of the bed where I had left my slippers earlier
and stepped into them. I turned around, tugged on the bottom of my shirt and
joking just a little I asked, “How do I look?”
“Very
Hansom!” Mom answered with a big smile.
In
the dinning room, much to my surprise I found BJ and Lowell sitting with dad at
the table. The three of them had already starting eating before mom and I had
arrived but stopped when we walked in.
“Simon!”
“About
time!” BJ joked and while mom and dad were not looking he showed me a mouthful
of chewed food.
Sitting
in the middle of the table were two large pizza boxes, one of which was almost
half empty already and there was also a big thing of breadsticks with dipping
sauces. The aroma of pizza in the air was delightfully intoxicating and I had
to swallow as my mouth was salivating in anticipation.
“W-what
are you guys doing back?” I asked surprised to see them both again so soon but
I had not meant for it to come out sounded as rude as it had. Thankfully no one
took it badly.
Dad
must have guessed I had been sleeping because he asked, “You just wake up?” I
nodded and smiled while mom and I joined them at the table.
BJ
held his hand up to block his view of
“I
didn’t think you were coming back today!” I said feeling immensely glad to have
them back and while taking a piece of pizza from the box closest to me.
Dad
jumped in, “Actually, I had to take some tools back over to his father,” dad
motioned BJ, “And I asked the boys if they wanted to join us for dinner!”
No
one talked about anything negative at all while we ate which I was both
grateful and relieved over. Maybe at the very first, I had felt uncomfortable
eating with BJ there, given that I was wearing thick cloth diapers under my
jeans but when I remembered that he already knew I needed to wear them, I
settled down and enjoyed the evening.
I
took a drink from the glass of water in front of me while thinking that Coke
would have been better with the pizza. I listened as they recounted tales of
this weekend; a few of which I had already heard but it was still fun to hear
about them again. As I listened to them, I could tell that over the weekend my
two friends had apparently sealed their recently formed friendship which had
begun a few days ago when they had come to visit me in the hospital.
After
dinner, the three of us retreated to my room. With each of us in pain from our
tummies having been stretched to their limits, we fell backward onto the lower
bed while rubbing our bulging bellies and groaning. Actually, I didn’t fall; I
lowered myself careful so as not to jar my ribs but my two friends had just
sort of fell over like two trees.
“I
am never going to eat again!”
“Never
is a very long time!” BJ jokingly pointed out, “But I bet I won’t be hungry for
a week!”
Adding
to the joke I said, “I don’t know! I think I could go for some pie right about
now!”
BJ
laughed and said, “Pie? There’s pie? Why wasn’t I told about the pie? I want
pie!” which earned him a pillow in the face from
After
resting for a while, the three of us decided to check out my new computer. We
were quietly tinkering until dad came in to tell us that it was time for him to
take BJ and Lowell to their homes. However, our time on my new computer taught
me a lot about Microsoft Windows based computers and we even had time to hook
up my e-journal and download a few cool programs into it that I didn’t know
were things I could use it for.
I
have several cool games on it now like Checkers, Chess, Tic-Tac-Toe, Solitaire,
and Junior Jeopardy.
One
kind of funny thing did happen while we’d been messing around with m computer
and e-journal. Lowell and BJ were over sitting on my bed trying out the Junior
Jeopardy so I took the chance to check to see if Bull had responded to my
email. Sure enough he had and only within minutes of me checking. For the next
few minutes she bantered back and forth, me telling him my plan and he going on
about how suicidal I was for even thinking of it. In the end he agreed that if
he could sneak out of the house, he would. The end of our conversation was the
funny part. It went something like this . . .
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Simon
Sent: Sunday, March 07, 2004
To: Bull
Subject: Good idea
Bull,
Of course my idea sounds like a good idea to
you; you live
over there in that upside down development.
Simon
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Bull
Sent: Sunday, March 07, 2004
To: Simon
Subject: Re: Good idea
Bull to Simon
Simon,
Ha-Ha! People who live on the moon, uh – I
mean up on the
hill, shouldn’t joke about Wallaby Glenn
Housing
development.
Bull
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Simon
Sent: Sunday, March 07, 2004
To: Bull
Subject: Re: Re: Good idea
Bull,
Who was joking? I’ve seen the houses in
Wallaby Glenn, both
upside down and right side up and I’ll take
ours here on the
hill any day!
Simon
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Bull
Sent: Sunday, March 07, 2004
To: Simon
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Good
idea
Simon,
Wallaby Glenn Housing Development doesn’t need
all those
fancy overgrown trees and ritzy houses! And
besides, you
only like it up there because they named your
complex ‘Eros’
and that’s as close to sex and you will ever
get!
Bull
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Simon
Sent: Sunday, March 07, 2004
To: Bull
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re:
Good idea
At least I have a sex . . . Male by the way!
Open your fly and check to see what you are!
You grip the
handle of the zipper and pull downward, oh
wait ... you’re in
that upside down Wallaby Glenn . . . pull
upward then!
Simon
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Bull
Sent: Sunday, March 07, 2004
To: Simon
Subject: Zipper?
Simon.
Let’s see ... Zipper—Fly—Pull—Ouch! Ow!
Oweey!!
Bull
Ps. See you tonight, if I can!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
As
soon as dad had left with my two friends I ran back to my room to retrieve the
dirty cloth bag that I had wrapped in a towel from under my dresser. I heard
mom calling from somewhere else in the house, “Simon you need to start thinking
about getting ready bed.” Which I knew was her way of telling me that I had to
go to bed now.
Fearing
she was coming to check the condition of my diaper, I quickly stuffed the
bundle back under my dresser and sure enough, while I was taking off my shirt
she appeared in the doorway to my room.
Before
she could say or do anything I asked, “Can I get my school stuff ready first?”
Coming
on into my room she was smiling as she said, “Nope!” and before I could protest
she said, “All of your new text books are already in your new backpack and are
sitting by the backdoor.” Mom said coming on into my room.
“New
books?” I asked.
“I
called and told your principle, Mr. Freeman that you needed new books and he
dropped them off early this morning for you.” She said bending down and helping
me with the last two buttons on my shirt.
“Oh,” I said comprehending
that my school things must have been thrashed too; and the second part of what
she had said finally registered with me, “I got a new backpack too?” I asked as
she was taking down my pants and exposing my wet diaper.
“Yes and a new spiral
notebook. Let’s see, what else? Oh and a really neat mechanical pencil.” mom
said while having me step out of my pants.
Then in a sudden burst of
panic I had the worst thought, “My old Journal?” I cried out.
My outburst startled mom and
she let out a squeal of alarm, “Simon!”
“Is it okay?” I was shaking
with worry that more then a years worth of memories might be lost.
Mom took hold of my diapered
hips to try and keep me from blasting off, “It is in your father's office. It
was torn in half and the spiral binding was pulled out but I think you should
be able to save the pages.”
It's hard to explain how I
felt at that very second. I think I was feeling relieved and filled with dread
both at the same time. And as if she had anticipated my next question she said,
“No one read it! Your father put all the loose pages into a box for you to go
through later.”
I think I released a small
sigh of relief at hearing this.
“A few of the pages might
need cleaned off a little.” mom added while petting my diapered hip.
I didn't ask anymore
questions and let her change me into a dry cloth diaper and fresh plastic
pants. When she was finished I asked for the box and followed her out of my
room and all the way to dad’s small home office.
I didn’t open the box until
I was back in my room alone. I felt tears welling up in my eyes as I Looked
down into the open box and saw that it was not as bad as I was expecting but
still bad enough to make me want to lash out at someone. I reached in for a few
of the pages and began spreading them out on the floor when mom came back in.
“Sweet heart, why don’t you
save that to do that later!” Mom said. “Right now you need to get your rest.
Tomorrow's going to be here before you know it.”
I reluctantly gave up, put
the torn pages back into the box and placed the box into my closet on one of
the empty shelves.
While mom tucked me into to
bottom bed we heard dad coming in through he front door. He must not have been
alone because we could hear him talking to someone. Mom kissed me softly on my
forehead and left, turning off the overhead light on her way. Less then a
minute later dad popped in to say good-night too.
“So did you have a good
day?” he asked while sitting on the bed beside me and leaning in to kiss my
forehead too.
I nodded that I had.
Petting my face he asked,
“Do you think you are ready to go back to school tomorrow?”
I didn't answer right away
but took some time to think about his question before answering with another
nod of my head and saying, “I think I am a little bit scared,” and then quickly
added, “but only a little!”
“Why are you scared?” he
asked while rubbing my armor covered chess through the comforter.
“What if someone finds out I
have to wear diapers.” I said softly.
“You know you are allowed to
get up and go to the nurse’s office anytime you need? Even in the middle of a
class!” he said.
“Yea but then everyone will
wonder why I left the room and didn't get into trouble.” I groaned.
Dad rubbed me harder through
the bedding as he thought about what to say next, “How about I give you you're
mom's cell phone to keep in your backpack and if you want to leave school at
anytime tomorrow you call me and no matter what I am doing—no matter where I
am, I will come to get you?”
That sounded good to me, so
I nodded and maybe smiled a little to let him know I liked his idea. Dad kissed
me once more before standing up, “I will go make sure it is fully charged right
now and before I go to bed I will put it into your pack for you.”
“Okay!” I agreed.
“Hey son?” dad started to
ask.
“I love you too dad!” I said
back with a giggle.
He was nearly out of my room
when something occurred to me, “Hey dad?” I asked while looking around my
darkened room.
“Yes?” he said stopping and
turning back toward me.
“There's no alarm clock!” I
commented.
Apparently, I was the first
person to notice this fact because dad stepped back in, flipped on the light
and was looking around while his chin in disbelief. Dad had a peculiar
expression on his face when he said, “But I know we bought one!”
Letting go of his face and
snapping his fingers he blurted out, “Bet your mother knows were it is.” and
was gone in a flash.
It didn't take long for him
to return with a really awesome clock that he was just pulling out of the
black, yellow and red box it had come in. He flipped my new desk light on and
maneuvered it around so that he could see to plug the clock in before sitting
down in my new white desk chair to set the time and alarm on it. The chair gave
out a funny kind of squeak when dad sat down almost as if it was complaining
about the weight it was being forward to support.
“This has an alarm that
starts out soft and gets louder and louder until you get up and turn it off.
It's supposed to wake you up gently and not scare you awake.” he explained
while fumbling with the alarm settings.
“Where was it?” I asked.
“Huh, what? Oh, in the
garage!” he answered without looking up at me, “Just didn't get brought in I
guess.”
Thinking
I was being cute I asked, “Is there more stuff in the garage for me?”
“Sure!”
Dad teased, “If you want empty boxes!”
“Ah
darn!” I acted as if I were disappointed.
“There
you go!” he said setting it on my desk by my new computer monitor. He set the time
and the alarm before coming back over for one last kiss, this time on my lips,
“See you in the morning!”
“Hey
dad?” I called out just after he had flipped off the light and was almost out
of my room again. Even though it was dark in my room, I could still see him
from the light out in the hallway; he turn and made a funny face.
“Thanks!”
I said.
“Good
night son!” and he left, leaving my door open.
Seconds
later the hallway light went off and I was left in near darkness with only the
glow of my new clock to keep me company. It was a struggle to stay awake but I
was worried that if I fell asleep I would not wake up again until morning. I
had too many plans for the night to risk it so as soon as I heard mom and dad
go to bed; I got up and closed my door so that when I turned on my light they
wouldn’t know it.
Despite
my diaper looking a little wet I decided to leave it on and just got dressed.
With my coat on I went to my window to open it and climb out but suddenly had
seconds thoughts about it.
“What
if the cops are still watching our house?” I thought out loud and then started
to get concerned that maybe they could see that my light was on through my
sheer curtains. I raced over and flipped off the switch; leaving myself in the
dark again and having to wait for my eyes to readjust.
“Wonder
where my flashlight is?” I whispered to myself. Thinking it was probably
destroyed; I didn’t even bother to look for it and instead decided to get one
from elsewhere in the house to take with me.
I
was glad to see the paper was gone off the carpet as it surely would have given
me away with my first step. Funny how I don’t remember mom and dad taking it up
while I was lying in bed pretending to be asleep; maybe I did doze off for a
while without knowing it.
Out
in the kitchen I grabbed the flashlight that was always left plugged into the
wall over the dishwasher. I had forgotten that when it is unplugged it
automatically turns on and of course I had been looking right at it when I did.
My eyelids slammed shut while I fumbled blindly to turn it off.
Standing
at the backdoor something in me told me not to open the door and I almost
didn’t listen to the little voice. It’s a good thing I did though because when
I looked up I saw yet another new feature to our home that no one had bothered
to point out to me. Apparently, we now have a home invasion system installed in
our house. Now I have watched enough even crime dramas to know that if I were
to open the door it would only be a matter of seconds before mom and dad would
find me dressed and out of bed; not to mention the cops that would surely come
with guns at the ready.
“How
am I going to get out of here?” I groaned quietly at the door as if expecting I
it to tell me how to get past the new alarm system.
I
couldn’t risk turning on the flashlight again for fear someone, namely the cops
might see the light roving around inside. I tiptoed to our front door and saw
that it too was secured by a magnetic sensor in the upper left corner.
“This
is insane!” I moaned softly.
From
the back of the house I heard a small sound. I froze and waited. There it was
again and I knew mom and or dad was up. Panic set in, “What am I going to do?
If they see me dressed they will know I was up to something and will probably
put me on restriction for the rest of my natural life or beat me to within an
inch of death when they realize I was trying to sneak out of the house after
everything that had happened.
“Come
on Simon think of something!” I said to myself.
Sudden
inspiration hit me like a brilliant nuclear explosion inside my head. As fast
and as quietly as I could, I stripped all of my clothes off so that I was only
wearing my diaper and plastic armor again. I stuffed my clothes behind the
couch and laid myself down just as dad appeared from out of the hallway looking
for me. I was still clutching the flashlight, which was off and I was
pretending to be sleeping.
“Simon?”
dad whispered when he spotted me.
When
I didn’t respond he reached out and touched my head. I didn’t really have a plan,
I was basically just allowing my instincts to take control and hope they didn’t
fail me. As soon as I felt his fingers brush my hair I acted as if he had
startled me awake.
I
switched on the flashlight and the beam of light hit him right in the face. As
if he had taken a punch from a champion boxer, dad staggered backward several
steps. While, shielding his eyes with his hands he asked in a normal tone,
“What are you doing sleeping out here?”
Still
putting on my little performance I faked stuttering, “I-I-I c-could n-not
s-s-sleep-p-p in m-m-my r-r-r-room!” and how I managed to get tears to begin
flowing from my eyes was beyond me but it was the effect I needed to make my
drama believable.
The
flashlight was still on but I had pointed it away from dad. He came over, sat
on the edge of one of the cushions and hugged me to him. “Did you get scared?”
dad asked petting the back of my head.
“N-n-no!”
I continued with my phony stuttering. “I-I-I j-j-j-just . . .”
Dad
finished my sentence for me, “Just couldn’t sleep?” and then offered me an
excuse, “Too new and strange?” he asked.
“Y-y-yeah!”
I sniffled into his shoulder.
I
saw a light from outside flash across the curtains of the front window. “D-dad
I-I-I . . .” and I didn’t get to finish my thought. Dad must have saw it too
because he had released me, stood back up and was looking out of the new
peephole to see who was on our porch.
I
turned to watch him as he flipped open the cover of a small box on the wall to
reveal an illuminated keypad. I had never noticed this new feature and made a
mental note to myself that I needed to work on my perceptive skills. I saw dad
punch in 1 3 1 3 before hitting a blue glowing button. There had been a red
light on the left side of the keypad that turned green when dad pressed the
blue button and that must have meant the alarm system had been deactivated
because dad flipped the little panel door closed again and unlocked the front
door.
I
was still laying on the couch but I could see from the moment dad opened the door
that it was Mr. Segal standing on the other side of our storm door.
“Everything
alright?” I heard Mr. Segal ask through the glass, “We saw some lights inside
and . . .”
“Sorry
Tom, everything’s fine.” dad answered trying to keep his voice down so as not
to wake up mom, “Simon is having a difficult night is all.”
“Is
there anything we can do?” Mr. Segal asked.
“Are
you any good at singing kids to sleep?” dad joked.
That
appeased Mr. Segal who laughingly turned and walked off our porch and disappeared
into the night again.
I
watched dad close and lock the door before flipping the panel open and punching
in the same alarm code 1 3 1 3 before hitting a blue glowing button again. I
saw the green light turn back to red before dad closed the panel.
“Why
don’t you come sleep with your mother and I tonight?” dad asked reaching out
for the flashlight I still was holding.
I
had not been prepared for that question and without thinking I nodded and said,
“Ok-kay.”
“Want
me to carry you?” he asked.
This
time I shook my head, “I-I c-can w-w-walk.”
On
the way down the hallway I had a thought that might buy me a few minutes to
think of something else to get out of sleeping in their bed with them. I
stopped, turned and asked, “C-can y-you ch-ch-change me?”
Dad
smiled, tousled my hair and ushered me to my room where I laid myself on the
lower bed as if I were climbing in to sleep. After retrieving another cloth
diaper and the wipes dad came over and started removing my plastic pants.
That
is when I figured out a way to keep from having to sleep with him and mom. I
purposefully didn’t say anything to dad but instead let him work at getting me
changed and while he was pinning the clean diaper into place I acted as if I
had already fallen asleep. It worked because after dad was finished pinning the
other side he pulled my plastic pants the rest of the way off seeing how they
were already around my ankles, and got a pair that he could snap over my cloth
diaper so that he wouldn’t have to move me as much and would be less likely to
wake me back up. When done, he pulled the covers up to my chin and left me to
sleep.
I
waited at least twenty minutes to be sure dad was back to sleep before I got
up. This time I decided to stuff some clothes under the bedspread so that if dad
or mom looked into my room they would think I was still in bed. Also, I figured
that since dad just changed my diaper, there was less chance that either of
them would try to come into my room to check to see if I needed changed.
I
was about to sneak out of my room to go get my clothes from behind the couch
when I saw the flashlight sitting on the corner of my desk. I also noticed that
I only had about 15 minutes before I was supposed to meet Bull at the Corner
Dairy.
As
quietly as a church mouse I snuck back down the hall, redressed myself and then
punched in the code to deactivate the alarm. I pressed 1 3 1 3 before hitting a
blue glowing button. I watched for the little red LED light to change to green.
I wanted to shout out triumphantly when it worked.
Now
I was smart enough not to go out the front door but instead escaped out the
backdoor and went around behind the garage. There is a chain link fence that
separates our yard from our neighbors and I knew from experience that there was
a spot where I could squeeze under it. However, given the muddy conditions I
opted for climbing over the top. It surprised me when I was on the other side
and my ribs were not hurting. “Guess I am healing up!” I whispered to myself.
Had
someone been up late or driving down the street I am sure they would have
spotted me running but apparently lady luck was with me. Running in the late
night air made my throat feel extra cold and dry but I didn’t let it bother me.
I was sure I had arrived at the Corner Dairy 7-eleved Store with a minute or
two to spare but when I got there I didn’t see Bull’s yellow car anywhere in
sight.
I
was standing right beside the big green trash dumpster feeling hopeless when
from across the street I saw a set of headlights come on. “Please let that be
Bull!” I said a loud. I waited and watched the car begin to move but realized
it was too quiet to be Bull’s car.
I
don’t know how long I was standing there in the cold night air waiting for Bull
but it felt like a lifetime! To keep from being seen by anyone driving by, I
had hunkered down behind the trash dumpster and only had my head sticking out
so that I could watch for his car.
The
cold must mess with people’s heads because it sure was messing with mine. I
kept thinking about the oddest stuff while I waited.
I
was first thinking about how I would get downtown without Bull’s car but after
a while I found myself thinking about my new room and everything that was in
it. My mind eventually began to take inventory of the things I had seen that
had already been mine and that took my thoughts to my golden yo-yo trophy that
I’d noticed had been broken and glued back together. That started me thinking
about how I had got it in the first place . . .
It
was right after school had started back after a great summer vacation. It was
the same year that, when my birthday had come and I found out I had a half
brother named Jamie. I had been out at recess with three of my best friends,
Lisa, Sean and Victor who everyone just called Vic for short. The four of us were
standing around waiting for our turn in Kickball when another friend of ours
came running up to us. His name was guy and he had transferred to our school in
the last month of school of the previous because his father had got a job
transfer and had to move their family here.
“You
guys are never going to believe what just happened!”
Lisa,
who had little patience and was known to be a bit of a Tomboy looked at him and
said very matter of fact like, “Let me guess! The sky is falling and you are
the designated town crier?”
I
might need to add that, if Lisa were not such a softy, I mean deep down inside,
she’d probably have ended up being the playground bully. But seeing how Sean,
Vic and I had known her since first grade, we knew she was all talk, well most
of the time anyway. She would threaten to fight any boy or girl in our school
but as far as I know, she’s never hit a single person in her life. Unless you
count me!
This
one day she had been telling us about this Kick-Boxing match her uncle had
taken her to see the night before when all of a sudden she spun around while
demonstrating a left hook and clocked me a good one right on the nose. I’m not
sure who cried more, me or her! She didn’t get into any trouble because I said
it had been an accident and all the teachers knew we were inseparable friends.
Anyway,
after her smart-alik comment to
Mrs.
Bickly was the playground monitor and everyone knew she hated kids! She also
hated anything that would fall under the category of ‘FUN’. Everyone did there
best to stay clear of her or risk getting sent inside to sit out recess for the
rest of the day. Heck, she even sent me in once just because I coughed without
covering my mouth first!
Finally,
it was my turn up to kick for my team in our little game of Kickball. I’ve
never been good at sports. Heck, if it were not for Vic being the best at any
and every sport there is and being my best friend, I bet I would never have
been picked for anything. Without fail, I was always the first person Vic
picked when the other team captains were picking their team players. He never
held it against me that I never ever had made it past first base before and
more times then not I usually ended up getting out before I was even half way
to first base.
On
this day nothing was different. Bowzer, as we all called him because he was
always barking like a dog, was both the other team’s captain and also the
pitcher. He was almost as good at sports as Vic and the two of them were always
competing at everything they did whether it was sports or seeing who could burp
the longest at lunchtime.
Bowzer
sent the ball rolling toward me, I cocked my leg backward and with all my might
let go a kick. However, I kicked too soon and ended up kicking my shoe off and
sending it sailing through the air toward third base. After that, I forfeited
my turn, hopped over to the sidelines and laid on the ground, on my stomach
until my bottom stopped hurting; all the while listening to the taunts and
laughter from the other teams players as well as a couple from my own team.
Sean had been nice enough to retrieve my lost shoe for me.
Sean
was kind of like the glue that kept all of us together. I guess he was kind of
like our leader. Everyone in our school knew Sean back then. He always wore the
same silly black and yellow baseball cap all day long, even inside the school;
despite the fact that it was against the rules. Back then, I was not sure why
he managed to get away with it but I was sure that if he had been any other kid
he’d have been busted. But all the teachers and even the principle let him wear
it and never said word one to him. It wasn’t until about a week before my
birthday that year that I found out the reason was because when he was only
three he fell backward into a glass top side table and had a sizable chunk of
hair, skin and flesh sliced right off the back of his head.
The
only way I had found out about it was because someone, as a joke tried to take
his hat from him at recess. Boy, I don’t think I had ever seen Mrs. Bickly move
so fast before that afternoon. Despite the fact that she looked to be at least
a thousand years old she came running over, snatched Sean’s hat away from the
kid, and jammed it down onto Sean’s head before dragging the boy off of the
playground. To the best of my knowledge, the boy whom had accosted Sean was
never seen nor heard from again.
Now,
during a single period of recess there was never enough time to play a full
nine innings of kickball so all of our games were limited to only three
innings. Should recess end before the game was over, whichever team had the
higher score, won the game that day. While laying there in the grass watching
Vic and the rest of our team annihilate Bowzers' team I started to take stock
of myself . . . sports-wise I mean. With every score achieve by Vic and our
team I began to realize just how useless I was at the game. Of course that
wasn’t always to be the case but at that moment in my life it was very much
true.
Sean
had come over after running the bases and sat down on the grass next to me
without saying a word.
Realizing
that he wasn’t going to say anything I decided I’d start the conversation, “You
know something Sean?”
“What’s
that?” he said back while still keeping his eyes on the game.
“I
am no good at anything!” I moaned.
“Ah
come on Simon! All you need to do is practice a little!” he said poking me in
the side.
“Hey
stop, that tickles!” I giggled and rolled out of his reach.
When
I was sure I was out of his reach I continued, “No really! I have tried
everything and I am just no good at anything!” I said trying to enlist him into
my little pity party.
“Now
how could you have tried everything Simon? You are only a kid for cripes sake!”
Sean said bounding into the air and pouncing onto my back, effectively pinning
me to the ground. Luckily, Mrs. Bickly didn’t see him or he would have been
sent inside for the rest of recess.
Later,
that same week my dad had taken me to work with him on, “Bring your Son or
Daughter to Work Day”. Little did I know that a small kindness bestowal upon me
by one of dad’s female co-workers would change everything for me.
I
had been at dad’s office for a few hours acting as a gopher for dad and
everyone that sat around dad. If someone needed another ream of paper, I was
sent to the supply closet to get one; if someone was on the phone and wanted
another cup of coffee, I would take their mug to the convenience center, fill
it and carefully carry it back for them. Dad paid me $2 an hour, and back then,
$2 was a heck of a lot of money to me. By the end of the day I had earned $16
but dad gave me an even $20; he said the other $4 was a bonus for working so
hard all day. But as I was saying, I had been at dad’s office for a few hours
when dad had asked me to do something “VERY
IMPORTANT!” as he put it. He had me go all he way to the basement, find a
man named Eugene Beakman and ask him for box number 23097A1 which dad wrote on
a small Post-it note because he knew I wouldn’t remember that long of a number
by the time I reached the elevators let alone all the way down to the basement.
Amazingly
enough, I found Eugene Beakman without getting lost on the way. He was a tall
guy that looked to be in his early twenties and he could have been the poster
child for Nerd’s Anonymous. I think he was lonely down there all by himself
because even after I handed him the post-it he continued to blabber on about
stuff I still don’t understand. When he finally gave me the box I said thank
you and ran for the elevators as fast as I could before he could start talking
again. I later found out that he was the president of the company’s son and had
done something very bad and as punishment he was made “Archive Manager” which
was kind of a joke since no one else worked in the archives but him.
The
box was not very heavy at first but by the time I had got back to dad’s floor I
was hardly able to keep from dropping it. Thankfully a very nice lady, whom I
had helped earlier that morning by making several copies of a memo, came to my
rescue and helped me get the box back to my dad.
As
it turned out, dad had jotted down the wrong number and so the box I brought
him was not what he wanted or needed. However, instead of making me carry it
all the way back down to the basement, which I seriously doubt I could have
done, dad took it himself. He gave the excuse of, “I need to stretch my legs
anyway.”
The
lady who had come to my rescue asked me to put some stamps on some envelops for
her. I ended up putting stamps on over a hundred envelops and by the time I was
done I don’t think I had a single bit of spit left in my whole body and my
tongue felt like it was coated with paint. I will say this much though, the
stamps at least tasted good, kind of like mint only different.
While
I was licking and placing each stamp she was going on and on about how
wonderful I was and how she couldn’t get her son to, “so much as to say the
word ‘work’!” This is something she said to me at least a dozen times.
I
had spotted a yo-yo sitting on her desk; she said someone gave it to her as a
gag gift at one of the office parties. When I finished licking all those stamps
she asked me if I wanted the yo-yo and though I did, I told her that dad was
already paying me for working that day but she insisted that I take it. She
also took me and bought me a Dr. Pepper from the vending machine to wash the
stamp paste out of my mouth. Boy that Dr. Pepper sure was good after all them
stamps!
After
we got back home, I spent the rest of the day in our backyard practicing with
that yo-yo. Only once was I able to make the darn thing go down and then come
back up again. However, it had not come all the way back up to my hand, but
instead only came about half way back up before dropping back down and just
spinning.
The
next day was Saturday and instead of getting up to watch cartoons I got my
shower, because even back then I was still wetting my bed every stinking night.
Afterward I got dressed and without breakfast I ran out to our backyard to
continue practicing.
The
gang showed up after lunch to see if I wanted to come out to play Freeze Tag.
When they knocked on the front door mom had told them I was out in the backyard
already, so they came around the house to get me.
“Hey
Simon you crud! Come on; let’s get a game of Freeze Tag going!” Lisa said. Lisa
was always calling one of us ‘crud’ and no one ever took offence to it; it was
just her way!
“I
don’t want to play freeze tag!” I said.
“Oh
come on Simon, we need someone easy to catch!” Vic teased.
“No,
you guys go on without me! I am going to keep practicing.” I answered back.
“Ah
come on! You can play with your yo-yo later can’t you?” Sean asked.
“I
don’t want to do it later; I want to do it now!” I said back while winding the
string back into the yo-yo for the millionth time.
“You
know, I don’t think what you are doing can actually be called yo-yoing. I think
you have to actually get it to come back up to be able to call it that. What
you are doing is more like . . . just ‘Yo’!” Lisa said.
“Maybe
it’s broken.”
“It’s
not broken!” Sean said.
“Here
let me try!” Vic said.
“NO!”
I snapped at him, “I will do it myself!”
The
gang eventually grew board with watching me toss the yo-yo down, wind the
string and toss it over and over again. Everyone but
“Are
you sure you are doing it right?”
“I
will figure it out eventually.” I answered back giving it yet another toss.
“Can
you do any tricks yet?”
“I
can make it fall and spin for a long time.” I joked.
“Was
that the one where the lady knocked a cigarette out of a mans mouth with a
yo-yo?” I asked.
“She
did that trick too but the trick I really liked was where she had six yo-yo’s
all going up and down and flying all around the head of some kid on stage.”
“Oh
yeah! I saw that one!” I shouted accidentally giving the yo-yo too hard of a
tug causing it to fly up and smack me right in my boyhood jewels.
I
fell to the ground groaning in agony whilst
She
ended up making me come into the house, sit at the kitchen table while holding
a bag of ice over my boyhood jewels which ended up not being a good thing at
all. The cold eventually caused me to wet my pants right there but thankfully
both mom and
Before
too long I was back outside, in dry pants I might add, trying with all my might
with
“Wish
I could remember how that lady did it!” I said to
“What
lady?”
“The
yo-yo lady on TV!” I growl more out of frustration with my yo-yo then with him.
“Really,
because I thought it was something kind of new.” I said back.
I
continued practicing and trying several more times before
“Molly
Holly, Molly Holly!” he kept shouting.
“Wait
a second!” I said, “Isn’t that the name of that crazy old lady over by the
sports park? You know the one that will never give back anything that lands in
her backyard?”
I
could tell that my question had flipped a light on inside
That,
of course, was all that needed to be said to get me to want to meet her, face
to face. An hour or so before dinner I asked if I could go ride my bike until
time to eat. I honestly was surprised when my mom said yes.
Without
delay I raced to Molly Holly’s house, jumped off my bike before it had come to
a complete stop and ran up to the door. I pressed the door bell but did not
hear anything so I knocked on the old wooden screen door.
“Whatever
you’re selling, I’m not buying!” came a rough scratchy voice from deep within
the house and by the way it sounded, I didn’t know if it had come from a man or
a woman.
“I-I
am n-not selling an-nyth-thing!” I shouted back, “I’m looking for the Fabulous
Molly Holly!”
“I’m
retired! Go away!” the voice inside the house yelled back.
“Mrs.
Holly I was hoping to learn a few tips on how to do some of the yo-yoing tricks
from you!” I pleaded.
When
no reply was returned I hung my head and started to leave. Just then the front
door opened and the same voice, though a smidgeon softer, said, “It is not a
bunch of tricks! It is an art form! It is dancing at its most perfect
manifestation!”
I
spun around when I had heard her begin talking and nearly fell off the porch in
the process.
“You
serious about learning boy?” she snapped.
“Yes
mam! I sure am!” I said back with more enthusiasm then I knew my small body
could hold.
“Alright
then! You come over everyday after school and I will turn you into one of the
greatest yo-yoers in resent years!” she said.
“Really?
I mean honest; you can . . . I mean wow! Really-really?” I shouted and thrust
out my hand to say thank you but instead she snapped again.
“No,
no! That’s your instrument! Keep it safe!” and promptly slammed the door shut.
I
started to run toward home again and was almost to the sidewalk when I heard
the lady shouting after me, “What is your name boy?”
“Simon
David Leonard Junior!” I shouted back with gusto. I guess I expected her to say
something else but instead she only closed her door again.
I
don’t think I touched the ground even once all the way home. Heck, I had been
so excited that I was halfway home before I remembered my bike and had to run
back to get it.
I
spent the rest of the evening in my room practicing. I even slept with my yo-yo
that night and when I woke up Sunday morning I carried it to the breakfast
table with me while still wearing my very wet GoodNite and only one sock.
Somehow I’d lost the other in my bed during the night.
“No
toy’s at the table! You know better then that!” mom had said and I stuffed my
yo-yo between my legs for safe keeping.
After
breakfast I started to get up to go change and get cleaned up but when I
reached for my yo-yo I found that my GoodNite had sprung a leak and got both
the chair and the string to my yo-yo wet.
“Oh
Simon!” Mom groaned when she saw the mess.
She
had me strip out of my GoodNite right there in the middle of the kitchen, which
wasn’t a big deal to me. I mean, mom and dad had seen me naked loads of times
and it didn’t bother me in the least; not back then anyway.
Being
naked at that age was fun, almost like an adventure and though I wanted to go
get cleaned up so I could go out into the backyard to practice more, I also
felt impelled to run around the house naked, laughing and whooping it up. Dad
chased me out of the kitchen, into our living room and back out again. I
laughed and squealed as he chased me into the dinning room where I made two
laps around the table before he caught me.
He
proceeded to tickle the life out of me all the way to the bathroom before
tossing me into the shower along with my yo-yo.
While
he washed my body free of any traces of pee, I was concentrating on washing the
string to my new yo-yo.
“Daddy
will it rust?” I asked.
“I
am pretty sure plastic doesn’t rust!” he said giving me another tickle.
I
must have got a little cold while he was washing my hair because I didn’t even
know I had started to pee until dad jokingly griped, “Hey, no peeing in the
shower!” and just like that I stopped.
When
I was done showering and dad had dried me off, he made me sit on the toilet
until I pooped. Now back then I went through this phase where I would only wipe
my bottom one time and call it done which usually meant I was running around
with a dirty rear-end. This would drive my mom crazy because all my underpants
were permanently stained with little brown racing stripes down the middle. So
my dad, declared that until I learned to wipe my butt right, I had to have him
or mom come check every single time I pooped to be sure I was clean. If I
didn’t do it right they would wipe my butt and then give me a spanking right
there with no pants. It’s surprising how many bare bottom spankings I got in
our hallway bathroom.
This
sort of treatment stopped the day we were at a viewing for a friend of mom’s. I
had needed to go potty and since I knew where it was I just went all by myself.
However, when I was done pooping there in the funeral homes’ bathroom, I opened
the door and shouted at the top of my lungs, “Daaaaad I’m done pooping! I need
you to come check my butt?”
However,
that didn’t occur until about a year later; so I was still bound by the rule
and with a deep breath I bellowed out, “DAD, I’M DONE!” which brought his
prompt return to checked that I had wiped properly. When he had declared me
clean, I ran to my room and dressed myself.
I
spent the entire day practicing without success and I will admit that I was
starting to loose heart. But then without warning I finally got it; I can’t say
how or why, only that right after dinner I was leaning again the side of the
garage feeling like a complete and utter failure. I remember saying out loud,
“One more time!” and so I carefully rewound the string around my yo-yo and
slipped the loop around my finger. For good luck I gave my yo-yo a kiss and
sent a prayer up to the clouds that seemed to be hanging in the sky as if
waiting and watching for me to do it right. With the flick of my wrist I sent
it spinning downward toward the awaiting ground. When it reached the end of the
string I gave it a tug with a small jerk of my wrist and it came back up into
my hand. I did it again, and again, and again. On the sixth time in a row I
caught it, held it tightly to my chest and cried out victoriously, “I DID IT!”
which got every dog in the neighborhood barking and my mom yelling out the
backdoor for me to stop yelling.
“Mom!
I did it, I did it, I did it!” I cried to her as I showed her how I could now
do it every single time I tried.
Monday
proved to be a very challenging day. I first woke up in a soaking wet bed due
to having wet so much that my GoodNite couldn’t hold it all. That sometimes
happens so I refused to let it get me down. But then at school I nearly got my
yo-yo taken away from me on three different occasions. All my friends thought
it was cool that I had finally managed to learn how to yo-yo but there
enthusiasm for me would wane in the days and weeks to come.
The
first afternoon at Molly’s, she wouldn’t let me call her Mrs. Holly; said she
never got into all that fancy talking, we had a great time! I mean I had a
great time; Molly seemed to get mad all the time. After practice she took me to
her family room and showed me all the trophies she had won. I had no idea she
had been world famous. I thought she was just a TV star but she had awards,
medals and trophies from more countries then I knew existed.
Everyday
at school was the same thing for the next few weeks. When I wasn’t in class,
and even sometimes while I was in class, I was practicing everything Molly had
taught me. After about two weeks or so my friends caught me over by the jungle
gym during recess. I wasn’t on the jungle gym; I was actually standing inside
the metal work that formed the dome and was practicing yet again with my yo-yo.
It
was Lisa that spoke up first, “Enough with the yo-yo for crying out loud! All
you ever do anymore is play with that thing!”
“Thing?”
I snapped back at her, “It’s not a thing; it is the Duncan Speed Beetle!”
“The
'what' beetle?” Vic asked.
“The
Duncan Speed Beetle! It is the newest addition, hard-core series yo-yo. It is designed
to be the best at looping!” I said as I climbed out of the jungle gym so I
could show them without endangering anyone that might be climbing over me.
I
began a series of maneuvers while still going on about the wonders of this
particular yo-yo, “It features a large ball bearing axle, friction stickers for
quick response and two sets of spacers for maximum versatility.”
“This
yo-yo will spin at unbelievable speeds, do any type of string trick and still
loop as good as any yo-yo on the market.” I said demonstrating a particularly
difficult ‘Moon-Shot’.
“Pretty
cool!”
“So
how many of those things do you have?” Vic asked.
“Only
nine so far.” I answered popping the Speed Beetle into my pants pocket and
pulling out one of my favorites, “This here is the Yomega Saber Raider!”
Lisa
actually liked the Yomega Saber because it looked like purple glass and had a
skull on both sides of it.
“This
one is for doing long sleeping maneuvers while still performing smoothly.” I
explained.
“I
didn’t know yo-yo’s slept.” Vic said and I wasn’t sure if he was attempting to
be funny or was really being that stupid. He then asked, “Do they dream?”
That
put Lisa over the top, “DO THEY DREAM?” she yelled at Vic and then lunged at
me.
However
her timing couldn’t have been worse because just as she lunged forward I had
swung the Yomega Saber out to demonstrate how to make it sleep but instead I
nailed her right in the left eye. She went down like a sack of wet sand but she
didn’t cry, Lisa never cries. She says only sissies and babies cry.
Mrs.
Bickly ended up confiscating my Yomega Saber Raider and I had to spend the rest
of recess sitting inside while everyone else was still out there having fun. I
never did get that particular yo-yo back from her either!
The
day finally came when Molly decided I was ready for competition. But instead of
starting with something small she enrolled me in the Tri-state Yo-Yo
Championship Competition, with my parents’ permission that is.
I
don’t think I was ever as nervous as I was on the day of the competition. Molly
explained after checking in that I was to compete in five different events and
while she was telling me this, she was pulling off my coat.
“What?”
I asked nervously and then over the PA system we heard, “Simon Leonard report
backstage.”
“M-molly
I-I-I c-can’t.” I stammered.
“You
can and you will win!” is all the pep talk she gave me before shoving me behind
a curtain to the awaiting crowd of competitors.
Amazingly
enough I had the highest score in my first three competitions with the closest
score a full three points below mine. So going into the fourth event I was
feeling pretty confident, actually I was over confident which was nearly my
downfall. When all was said and done I had come out on top but only by
one-quarter of a point higher then this tiny oriental girl who ran off crying
when she saw that she had not made it to the final event.
Thankfully
I had over an hour before the last event so that gave us time to watch some of
the other children compete. There was this one boy, who was thirteen and I knew
this because besides having a number pinned to our backs, our names and ages
were also listed below the number. His name was Ivan Kervosloski and wow was he
good. He probably would have gone all the way had he not attempted the Galaxies
Revenge at the end of his third competition. I will never forget how the crowd
went wild when they realized what it was he was attempting. He was up to four
yo-yo’s at once and I thought he might pull off what only Molly had ever
managed to master. It was the one thing that had made her so famous and I watched
both the boy and her as Ivan introduced the fifth yo-yo into the air; but that
is when tragedy struck. The little girl whom had been standing there while Ivan
attempted the Galaxies Revenge was struck not once but twice in the side of her
head. She fell unconscious on the stage and had to be rushed to the hospital. I
had never seen so much blood before; it was both gross and mesmerizing at the
same time.
For
a few breath taking moments everyone feared that the competition would end
right then and there but after Ivan and his sister, yes the little girl that
was taken to the hospital was his little sister, after they left the stage
Ivan’s trainer, who was also his mother, pleaded with the organizers of the
Tri-state Yo-Yo Championship Competition to allow it to continue for all the
other boys and girls that had worked and trained so hard. In the end they
agreed and after the stage was cleaned up everything continued as if nothing
had happened.
Of
course the accident was horrible but it seemed that everyone was buzzing about
it now. Everyone we walked past seemed to be talking about how the same thing
had happened three years ago except someone had actually died that time.
For
the last competition there were twenty four of us that had made it and I was so
thankful that we were allowed to bring one adult backstage with us because I
was so nervous that I couldn’t even talk and I felt like I was going to have a
breathing attack at any second. Actually, I wasn’t the only one backstage that
was so very nervous because when I went to the bathroom to go pee there were at
least a dozen nervous boys in there waiting in line to pee too.
Mom
and dad had stayed out front while Molly had escorted me to the back. As luck
would have it, they had us perform by high scorer first and since I had the
lowest score out of all twenty-four of us by two and three-quarters points, I
had to go last. This meant Molly and I had to stand backstage for over an hour
while we watched each kid perform. We each were given exactly three minutes to
show our stuff while the panel of eight judges scored us on a multitude of
categories.
After
the first five had finished I was feeling like I didn’t belong with such
fantastic champions. After the fifteenth I was ready to throw in the towel and
go home. While the boy that was a head of me was out there something happened
that breathed new life into me.
Next Installment:
Chapter 8 - PART
5 – Bump in the Night, Continued
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