| General Fiction posted February 27, 2013 | Chapters: |
...6 7 -8- 9... 
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  |
Ongoing summer adventures
A chapter in the book Rabbit
Fighting and Family
by bhogg
| Background The young boy, nicknamed Rabbit, learns his mother is having a baby. To make things easier on Mom, he and his older brother John are to stay the 1959 summer with Grandparents. |
When you live in the country, you don't need an alarm clock. The rooster crowed and the cows bellowed. My grandmother, Nan, was banging pots around in the kitchen. I knew I should get up, but wanted to lay there for awhile. After all, it was time for plotting. Today after breakfast, I was going to kick my brother, John's butt. Lord knows he had it coming.
Just yesterday, my grandmother had given us a job that was supposed to keep us out of her hair. All we had to do was swat flies with a fly swatter. She was going to pay us a penny apiece for them. When I got back from going to the bathroom, John had stolen flies from my pile. Of course, he gave Grandma some lame excuse, but we all knew he stole them. I had just had it, had it, had it! Given, he had pretty much beaten me every day one way or another, but today was going to be my day.
It didn't take long for the battle to begin. Right after breakfast, the two of us were standing out on the patio, the scene of yesterday's crime. John piped up, "You know, you're such a tattletale. It's like you couldn't wait to blab your mouth about me stealing your stupid flies."
"It's not being a tattletale when you tell the truth. You stole my flies."
"Yeah, so what are you going to do about it?"
"What I'm going to do is whip your butt. Let's go up behind the barn and get this over with."
John looked surprised. He finally said, "It's stupid for us to go up there and fight. You know if we do, I'll win and you'll probably go blabbing to Grandma."
"Nope, not today. Let's go."
There was a holding pen up behind the barn. It was surrounded by a wood, slatted fence, about five feet high. There hadn't been any cows in it for awhile, so was mostly dry. Georgia red clay dust was mixed with dirt and dried cow poop. John and I slipped inside and got to business. Like two wary gladiators, we circled each other in the old pen. Each footfall stirred up puffs of red dust. I felt confident. My armor was much better with long pants and hard leather brogans. John was in shorts and wearing tennis shoes. He feinted, I feinted and as he tried to move in, I kicked him in the shins with my hard leather shoe. He squealed and grabbed his leg. As he did, I hit him in the side of his head. A good thing my start went so well, because it went downhill quickly.
Rushing me, John knocked me to the ground. Turning me face down, he shoved my head into the mixture of soil and old cow poop. Pinning me securely with his knees, he started to pummel the side of my head and body. It was wierd hearing his hard breathing and the thumping sounds of fists hitting my body. All of a sudden, I heard a voice. "Alright, Mr. John, that's enough. Stop it right now."
John got a couple of more licks in and then I realized he had been lifted off me. It was my old friend, Virge Gates. "Mr. John, I told you that was enough. You just stop now and go on back to the house."
John stood back and yelled, "Okay, you little punk. I'm going to get you for kicking me in the leg. Your nigger friend ain't going to be there to help you."
Virge turned toward John saying, "Mr. John, I done told you to get on home. If you ain't careful, I might just whup your butt myself."
"Yeah, and if you do, I'll tell my daddy."
Virge laughed. "I wish you would. Your daddy would laugh at you and beat your butt his own self. Now, get along."
John left and Virge helped me to my feet, brushing dirt off my face. I turned and asked, "What are you doing here? You live over at my other grandma's."
Virge said, "Your Pappy come by to get me early this morning. He wanted me to fix the pump up at the barn. Maybe you're lucky I showed up."
"I didn't need your help. I was dong just fine."
Smiling, Virge said, "Rabbit, your heart was in it, but you just ain't big enough. You might be someday, but today's just not your day. Why do you always fight with Mr. John?"
"Because, I just ain't going to let him pick on me. If it means getting a beating, that's just the way it is."
"Okay, I understand. Let's just go on back to the pump house and clean you up a bit. Your grandma would be upset seeing you brushed up like this."
We walked to the pump house, behind the barn. He sat me down on a hay bale and went to pump some water in a bucket. He also filled two tin cups, one for each of us. It was late summer and that water was always cool. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. After dipping it into the water, he washed my head and face. "Rabbit, how come you and Mr. John was fighting?"
"Oh, he's such a jerk. He thinks he can do anything he wants. I just told him I didn't have to take any crap off him, so I was going to beat him up."
"You know Mr. John's a lot older and bigger than you?"
"I know, but I thought this time might be different. I'm so tired of him, I feel like killing him. I wish he was dead"
"Now, Rabbit, you don't need to talk like that. Mr. John is your brother. You've got to love your brother. Why don't you ask your grandma if you can go to Church with Carrie and me tomorrow? It's a special day with a Reverend out of Atlanta. Might do you some good."
Carrie was Virge's niece. For the last three summers, I went to Church with them about every other Sunday. I was pretty sure it would be okay. When I got home to my other grandma, I asked. "Can I go to church with Virge tomorrow?"
"Sure, but how come you don't like coming to our Church anymore?"
"I like going to Church with you and Grandpa, but it's more fun going with Virge."
Smiling, my grandma smoothed my hair down. "It's just good that you want to go to Church. I just have this vision in my mind of the preacher looking out and seeing you out there. You must stand out like a marshmallow in a plate full of brownies."
What I didn't tell Grandma was what I liked best. First, it was fun getting there. We had to drive over in Carrie's son's 1949, Ford pick-up. I got to sit in the back, usually with Carrie. When we got there, I loved seeing the choir process in to the Church. They wore robes, and came in clapping their hands and swaying to the song, moving in joyous rhythm. Perhaps my favorite was when Church was over. There was always great food. Virge told me this coming Sunday was hot dog day. They had a large concrete block barbeque pit. They would light the wood at the start of church. When church was over, there would be big, hot coals left. They would throw a pile of hot dogs onto the grill. Virge and I always picked the same kind of dog, the ones that were swollen, split and slightly blackened on the outside.
Strange, I can't remember a whole lot about what went on in the middle part. For that, I could have been at Grandma's church. Some old guy would talk about heaven and hell and what sort of things might get you sent one way or the other. Different audience, but the same old stories.
Church started, and after the first song, the preacher started laying it on. I had to take a peek at Virge. The old preacher was talking about Cain and Abel. It crossed my mind that maybe Virge put him up to it. I listened for a minute or two, but it was August. No air conditioning in those days, so in spite of several fans, it got kind of toasty. I was sitting between Virge and Carrie, and sort of leaning into Carrie, I nodded off.
Startled by a loud clapping of hands, I jerked my head up. The preacher was robed. Swerving, his bony finger leapt out of that robe and I could swear pointed right at my forehead. He practically screamed, "Do you want to go to heaven?"
Well, what could I do? I jumped right up and shouted back, "Yes I do!" That was greeted by a loud chorus of Amen's and a few Hallelujahs. Embarrassed, I sat back down.
After Church, I took my plate of hot dogs and sat by Virge under the canopy of a huge live oak. I had to ask, "Virge, did you put that preacher up to talking about Cain and Abel?"
"No, I didn't, but it did sort of fit. Have you been thinking and praying some about what you said about your brother?"
"Yes I have. I know that I love John, but he sure can be aggravating."
Finished with his lunch, Virge filled his pipe with some Sir Walter Raleigh tobacco. He scratched a match and held it up to the pipe. It always fascinated me to watch the flame go down and back up. Taking a puff, Virge said, "I know that Mr. John can be worrisome to you. At the same time, I can tell you that I wish that my brother was around to aggravate me. He died when I was seven years old. I miss him every day."
"Rabbit, we do get to talk from time to time, and it makes me happy that you mostly listen. When you get to be as old as me, you do learn a little. I want to tell you about family. Family is the most important thing in life. Your brothers and momma and daddy, your grandma and grandpa, they are all family, but you got lots more. Family also includes everybody in this world who loves you and you love back. One thing I know for sure is if you ain't got family, you ain't got nothin'. Does that make sense?"
"Yes it does." With a bit of a smile, I asked Virge, "I reckon that makes me and you family?"
With another puff on his pipe, Virge looked at me and replied, "Yeah, Rabbit, I reckon it does."
We both sat there silently, perhaps savoring the moment. I looked at Virge and said, "You know I'll be going back to school in a few weeks."
Sighing, Virge, answered, "I don't know how it happened, but summer is durn near over."
Even then, I had a fast mouth. "Virge, when I get back to school, do you reckon I should tell my friends that I got me a black brother, or maybe an old black uncle?"
With a twinkle in his eye and a chuckle, Virge said, "Rabbit, if I thought I could catch you, I'd whup you."
Just yesterday, my grandmother had given us a job that was supposed to keep us out of her hair. All we had to do was swat flies with a fly swatter. She was going to pay us a penny apiece for them. When I got back from going to the bathroom, John had stolen flies from my pile. Of course, he gave Grandma some lame excuse, but we all knew he stole them. I had just had it, had it, had it! Given, he had pretty much beaten me every day one way or another, but today was going to be my day.
It didn't take long for the battle to begin. Right after breakfast, the two of us were standing out on the patio, the scene of yesterday's crime. John piped up, "You know, you're such a tattletale. It's like you couldn't wait to blab your mouth about me stealing your stupid flies."
"It's not being a tattletale when you tell the truth. You stole my flies."
"Yeah, so what are you going to do about it?"
"What I'm going to do is whip your butt. Let's go up behind the barn and get this over with."
John looked surprised. He finally said, "It's stupid for us to go up there and fight. You know if we do, I'll win and you'll probably go blabbing to Grandma."
"Nope, not today. Let's go."
There was a holding pen up behind the barn. It was surrounded by a wood, slatted fence, about five feet high. There hadn't been any cows in it for awhile, so was mostly dry. Georgia red clay dust was mixed with dirt and dried cow poop. John and I slipped inside and got to business. Like two wary gladiators, we circled each other in the old pen. Each footfall stirred up puffs of red dust. I felt confident. My armor was much better with long pants and hard leather brogans. John was in shorts and wearing tennis shoes. He feinted, I feinted and as he tried to move in, I kicked him in the shins with my hard leather shoe. He squealed and grabbed his leg. As he did, I hit him in the side of his head. A good thing my start went so well, because it went downhill quickly.
Rushing me, John knocked me to the ground. Turning me face down, he shoved my head into the mixture of soil and old cow poop. Pinning me securely with his knees, he started to pummel the side of my head and body. It was wierd hearing his hard breathing and the thumping sounds of fists hitting my body. All of a sudden, I heard a voice. "Alright, Mr. John, that's enough. Stop it right now."
John got a couple of more licks in and then I realized he had been lifted off me. It was my old friend, Virge Gates. "Mr. John, I told you that was enough. You just stop now and go on back to the house."
John stood back and yelled, "Okay, you little punk. I'm going to get you for kicking me in the leg. Your nigger friend ain't going to be there to help you."
Virge turned toward John saying, "Mr. John, I done told you to get on home. If you ain't careful, I might just whup your butt myself."
"Yeah, and if you do, I'll tell my daddy."
Virge laughed. "I wish you would. Your daddy would laugh at you and beat your butt his own self. Now, get along."
John left and Virge helped me to my feet, brushing dirt off my face. I turned and asked, "What are you doing here? You live over at my other grandma's."
Virge said, "Your Pappy come by to get me early this morning. He wanted me to fix the pump up at the barn. Maybe you're lucky I showed up."
"I didn't need your help. I was dong just fine."
Smiling, Virge said, "Rabbit, your heart was in it, but you just ain't big enough. You might be someday, but today's just not your day. Why do you always fight with Mr. John?"
"Because, I just ain't going to let him pick on me. If it means getting a beating, that's just the way it is."
"Okay, I understand. Let's just go on back to the pump house and clean you up a bit. Your grandma would be upset seeing you brushed up like this."
We walked to the pump house, behind the barn. He sat me down on a hay bale and went to pump some water in a bucket. He also filled two tin cups, one for each of us. It was late summer and that water was always cool. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. After dipping it into the water, he washed my head and face. "Rabbit, how come you and Mr. John was fighting?"
"Oh, he's such a jerk. He thinks he can do anything he wants. I just told him I didn't have to take any crap off him, so I was going to beat him up."
"You know Mr. John's a lot older and bigger than you?"
"I know, but I thought this time might be different. I'm so tired of him, I feel like killing him. I wish he was dead"
"Now, Rabbit, you don't need to talk like that. Mr. John is your brother. You've got to love your brother. Why don't you ask your grandma if you can go to Church with Carrie and me tomorrow? It's a special day with a Reverend out of Atlanta. Might do you some good."
Carrie was Virge's niece. For the last three summers, I went to Church with them about every other Sunday. I was pretty sure it would be okay. When I got home to my other grandma, I asked. "Can I go to church with Virge tomorrow?"
"Sure, but how come you don't like coming to our Church anymore?"
"I like going to Church with you and Grandpa, but it's more fun going with Virge."
Smiling, my grandma smoothed my hair down. "It's just good that you want to go to Church. I just have this vision in my mind of the preacher looking out and seeing you out there. You must stand out like a marshmallow in a plate full of brownies."
What I didn't tell Grandma was what I liked best. First, it was fun getting there. We had to drive over in Carrie's son's 1949, Ford pick-up. I got to sit in the back, usually with Carrie. When we got there, I loved seeing the choir process in to the Church. They wore robes, and came in clapping their hands and swaying to the song, moving in joyous rhythm. Perhaps my favorite was when Church was over. There was always great food. Virge told me this coming Sunday was hot dog day. They had a large concrete block barbeque pit. They would light the wood at the start of church. When church was over, there would be big, hot coals left. They would throw a pile of hot dogs onto the grill. Virge and I always picked the same kind of dog, the ones that were swollen, split and slightly blackened on the outside.
Strange, I can't remember a whole lot about what went on in the middle part. For that, I could have been at Grandma's church. Some old guy would talk about heaven and hell and what sort of things might get you sent one way or the other. Different audience, but the same old stories.
Church started, and after the first song, the preacher started laying it on. I had to take a peek at Virge. The old preacher was talking about Cain and Abel. It crossed my mind that maybe Virge put him up to it. I listened for a minute or two, but it was August. No air conditioning in those days, so in spite of several fans, it got kind of toasty. I was sitting between Virge and Carrie, and sort of leaning into Carrie, I nodded off.
Startled by a loud clapping of hands, I jerked my head up. The preacher was robed. Swerving, his bony finger leapt out of that robe and I could swear pointed right at my forehead. He practically screamed, "Do you want to go to heaven?"
Well, what could I do? I jumped right up and shouted back, "Yes I do!" That was greeted by a loud chorus of Amen's and a few Hallelujahs. Embarrassed, I sat back down.
After Church, I took my plate of hot dogs and sat by Virge under the canopy of a huge live oak. I had to ask, "Virge, did you put that preacher up to talking about Cain and Abel?"
"No, I didn't, but it did sort of fit. Have you been thinking and praying some about what you said about your brother?"
"Yes I have. I know that I love John, but he sure can be aggravating."
Finished with his lunch, Virge filled his pipe with some Sir Walter Raleigh tobacco. He scratched a match and held it up to the pipe. It always fascinated me to watch the flame go down and back up. Taking a puff, Virge said, "I know that Mr. John can be worrisome to you. At the same time, I can tell you that I wish that my brother was around to aggravate me. He died when I was seven years old. I miss him every day."
"Rabbit, we do get to talk from time to time, and it makes me happy that you mostly listen. When you get to be as old as me, you do learn a little. I want to tell you about family. Family is the most important thing in life. Your brothers and momma and daddy, your grandma and grandpa, they are all family, but you got lots more. Family also includes everybody in this world who loves you and you love back. One thing I know for sure is if you ain't got family, you ain't got nothin'. Does that make sense?"
"Yes it does." With a bit of a smile, I asked Virge, "I reckon that makes me and you family?"
With another puff on his pipe, Virge looked at me and replied, "Yeah, Rabbit, I reckon it does."
We both sat there silently, perhaps savoring the moment. I looked at Virge and said, "You know I'll be going back to school in a few weeks."
Sighing, Virge, answered, "I don't know how it happened, but summer is durn near over."
Even then, I had a fast mouth. "Virge, when I get back to school, do you reckon I should tell my friends that I got me a black brother, or maybe an old black uncle?"
With a twinkle in his eye and a chuckle, Virge said, "Rabbit, if I thought I could catch you, I'd whup you."
 Recognized |
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List of characters:
Rabbit - young boy nine years old
Grandma Louise (on the father's side)
Grandpa Horace (on the father's side)
Grandma Nan (on his mother's side)
Pappy (Grandpa on his mother's side)
Virge Gates - 87 year old black man, Rabbit's good friend
Sugar Butts - Virge's nickname for his niece, Ms. Carry
Wesley - Rabbit's cousin
John - Rabbit's older brother and constant nemesis
Carol - First cousin, daughter of his mother's brother
*** This is a novel, so if some things don't make sense, please be aware that there are previous chapters. I wish I could make each chapter a stand alone masterpiece, but ...
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. Rabbit - young boy nine years old
Grandma Louise (on the father's side)
Grandpa Horace (on the father's side)
Grandma Nan (on his mother's side)
Pappy (Grandpa on his mother's side)
Virge Gates - 87 year old black man, Rabbit's good friend
Sugar Butts - Virge's nickname for his niece, Ms. Carry
Wesley - Rabbit's cousin
John - Rabbit's older brother and constant nemesis
Carol - First cousin, daughter of his mother's brother
*** This is a novel, so if some things don't make sense, please be aware that there are previous chapters. I wish I could make each chapter a stand alone masterpiece, but ...
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