Streetlights

Back in the day things were different. We couldn’t get in trouble because we had to be in when the streetlights came on…

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“At least it wasn’t a rock,” I thought when the sting died down. An acorn to the forehead hurts plenty though. One of The Zola’s caught me beside the garage and made me pay, but that’s okay, my brother went inside to get the Daisy. I picked up a small rock, and went hunting. Fat Dean appeared next to a tree, a slingshot in his hand, pulling back, ready to let whatever he had inside the leather ammunition holder rip. It looked like Opey O’brien was the intended target. I reared my arm back, ready to protect my guy, but Crazy Tony broke cover, drew back his string and shot Fat Dean right in the stomach with an arrow. Dean screamed, and blood flew, and her ran away, probably toward home and no doubt a ride to the ER.

Grub Williams sat at a picnic table in the schoolyard, and my brother hid behind the schoolyard fence, gave the Daisy ten pumps, aimed and fired. Instantly Grub shook his head, jumped from the bench, saw blood streaming between his fingers and ran toward us. The Zola’s had us in a crossfire, their acorns now big rocks, and they hurt alot when they struck bone. We broke cover and ran around the house and into a hail of bb fire. Dave Dirt and The Other William’s Boys were staked out in their garage, and opened fire with their guns, mowing us down.

We weren’t quite sure whose side Crazy Tony was on, but hoped it was ours. His bow and arrow set was a little more than a toy, and he had a shitload of arrows in his sling. Darkness descended, but not quickly enough, the streetlights wouldn’t save us, we had to fight, or die. Surrounded by Grub, The Other William’s Boys, and The Zola’s things looked desperate. Even Crazy Tony seemed to be on their side, and started slinging arrows our way.

“Where’s Billy and John when we need them?” I thought as I shook off the sting of a dozen bb’s. Our last neighborhood war ended when Bill ran out of his bulkhead armed with a water extinguisher filled with gasoline. Somehow he managed to get the flamethrower working, and after a little scorched earth and a fence on fire the war ended with no signifigant casualties. John, on the other hand was our munitions expert, and saw nothing wrong with wrapping six bic lighters and six M-80’s with duct tape, atattching a fuse and bombing the enemy. Luckily, only one of his bombs actually worked, and that was thrown into a dumpster a minute before exploding. The dumpster lid flew thirty feet in the air and landed on a cop car, but by then the streetlights were on and we were safely at home, watching Happy Days on TV.

“Surrender or die!” came the shout from The Other William’s garage.

So we surrendered. It wasn’t a big deal, there were lots of acorns left in the trees, and another war would begin tomorrow. I just hoped that Crazy Tony would be on our side this time, and maybe even The Zola’s, they were pretty dumb but could take a lot of BBs and rocks before quitting…

Yup, those streetlights kept us out of a lot of trouble.

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One thought on “Streetlights

  1. Pingback: Streetlights | by Michael Morse

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