Clod Cloud06:31 Feb 05 2013
Times Read: 581
One could assemble all the professional Quarterbacks and Pitchers and let them throw for a thousand years and they would not be able to match the precision that Nike Morris displayed that fateful day.
Yes…we had completed our most excellent Tree House, respectable by any standard. The original design called for a floor, four walls and a roof, but due to declining plywood supplies we had to settle for a floor, three walls and a roof. The front facing wall even had a window…a window! Badass…baby!
Nike and I were walking down one of the dirt paths that lead to our Tree House…you see…there were two dirt paths that lead to our triumph…one that ran on the right side of this field/wooded area and one that ran on the left. Beyond our Tree House lay the actual forest, which by the way, if traversed, one would come out at the Cumblin’s back yard. In any event…
On that dirt path we strode, brainstorming, hatching plans for the possible uses our Tree House could afford us. Suddenly we heard voices! Going into reconnaissance mode we dropped to the ground and began crawling slowly…senses heightened…like big cats…not making a sound. Nike tucked twigs behind each of his ears, I assumed an attempt at camouflage…*Smart bastard.*…I thought to myself.
With great stealth we rounded a corner in the dirt path and silently peered out of the brush at our Tree House. We could still hear muffled voices, but as of yet no identification of the invaders could be made. I whispered to Nike…”Who is it?”…Nike whispered back…”I don’t know.”…I whispered…”Should we kill them?”…Nike whispered…”Yeah.”…I whispered…”Cool.”.
We stared and patiently waited. Laughter could be heard coming from our Tree House, laughter from…as they immediately became dubbed… The Unsanctioned. Blasphemy!
We watched incredulously as the first of four younger neighborhood boys poked his head out the Tree House’s front window…then a second…then a third…then a fourth, the little Billdabrand kid, and they all had cigarettes in their mouths. The little bastards were smoking in our Tree House!
There was only one younger neighborhood kid that was Tree House Sanctioned and that was Cutch, after all, he did take one in the head for the team.
Now…surely you know (Whoever you may be.) that Nike and I could have stormed our Tree House and threw them all to their deaths, being they were merely little kids, but we never passed up an opportunity to have little fun, sport if you will…so…we started gathering dirt clods.
Having procured an adequate cache we sprang from our defensive position and in screaming…”VIVA LA CUTCH!”…Nike and I started raining dirt clods down on our Tree House.
~THWACK…THWACK…THWACK…THWACK~…on the Tree House roof…~THWACK…THWACK…THWACK…THWACK~…on the Tree House front wall…~THWACK…THWACK…THWACK…THWACK~…~THWACK…THWACK…THWACK…THWACK~…one dirt clod whizzed through the front window producing screams from within…~THWACK…THWACK…THWACK…THWACK~!
Nike and I halted our attack and incredibly The Unsanctioned began swearing…swearing and laughing…LAUGHING! AT US? LAUGHING? They were sticking their pointy little heads out of the front window taunting us and the Billdabrand kid was darting his head out, then back in, the open side, sticking his tongue out!
Now being quite motivated, Nike and I vigorously continued our attack.
~THWACK…THWACK…THWACK…THWACK~…on the Tree House roof…~THWACK…THWACK…THWACK…THWACK~…on the Tree House front wall…~THWACK…THWACK…THWACK…THWACK~…more window shots, more screams…~THWACK…THWACK…THWACK…THWACK~…and then…our armaments were exhausted.
The Unsanctioned continued their fierce verbal assault, continued darting their little pointy heads out, then back in, the Tree House.
(While writing this, I just found a Hershey bar I didn’t realize I had…EXCELLENT!)
There we stood, suffering the taunts and insults of The Unsanctioned. Incensed, Nike reached down and took hold of a HUGE dirt clod…it was MASSIVE! Like an NFL Quarterback he cocked his arm back then let that dirt clod fly.
Now…I would have never believed Nike could have gotten that dirt clod to the Tree House, it was THAT big! Never! No way! But I’ll be go to hell…it was going to make it! I watched the sweet arc Nike had put on it…but…damnit…that dirt clod was going to barely miss…it was drifting left of the Tree House front wall…barely…barely going to miss the mark.
I watched that dirt clod arcing down…down…down….drifting left…down…drifting left…almost there…down…one second from reaching the Tree House…and that was when the Billdabrand kid poked his head out the side again, tongue sticking out.
OH…MY…GOD! IT…WAS…PERFECT! IT…WAS…BEAUTIFUL!! That huge dirt clod hit that Billdabrand kid right between the eyes! Well…alright…a little more upwards and towards the forehead…but still…right between the eyes! It was like a bomb going off! There was actually an instantaneous dirt clod cloud! And the sound…oh man…the sound was like a CRACKLING THUD! D…E…V…I…S…T…A…T…I…O…N! It was, hands down, the most perfect shot I’ve ever seen…EVER! It blew that Billdabrand kid back into the Tree House…dropped him like a rock! I believe it actually spun him around and believe me…the taunts and laughing ceased…immediately.
Well…we ran to the Tree House because…I mean…who knew…Nike might have just killed that kid! As we arrived, the Billdabrand kid came stumbling down the ladder…screaming and crying…a knot already protruding from his forehead…a snot and dirt mix running down his face…his tongue generously coated with dirt clod dust…he wouldn’t close his mouth…crying…wailing…screaming…crying…he was a blubbering mess.
We watched as he took off running down that dirt path to our neighborhood…man…best shot I’ve ever seen.
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