Write every day no exceptions – Boo-dah June 4, 2010Posted by Conventioneering in write every day no exceptions.
Tags: write every day no exceptions
A preface: Yes, I know, I screwed up my tenses. No, I haven’t had time to edit. It’s “write every day no exceptions” not “edit things every day no exceptions”.
Last Sunday, my family decided to have a crab feast. This isn’t unusual – we are Maryland folk to the core (even my mother, who is technically California and therefore believes in heathen things like cold crabs. It was delicious and we took a very long time to eat it, which is also good.
Dinner wound down, the sun sank well below the horizon, and as is typical of my family we continued chatting well into the night.
Except then we were interrupted.
It started with my dad peering at the elementary school behind our house and going “… are those people naked?”
I couldn’t see, as I was facing the wrong way, but we all shrugged and went about our business.
A few minutes later, a bunch of those same people showed up outside the briar patch that is just outside the fence behind our house, giggling like idiots, and my brother, in his infinite wisdom, decided to antagonize them.
“HEY!” he said. “PUT SOME CLOTHES ON.”
More giggling. We couldn’t actually see them, as they were in the dark (they had flashlights, but this made them more like “funny dots of light” than actual people). Eventually, Mike (said brother) threw a few more insults at them, and they left.
Or so we thought.
A few minutes later, we hear “BOOOOOOOOOO-DAH”
“… what,” I said.
“BOOOOOOOOOODAH. PRAISE BOOOOOOOOOODAH.”
It occurs to us that he’s probably saying Buddha, and we can’t, for the life of us, fathom why. He goes on like this for nearly half an hour, shouting various things about the BOOOOOOODAH, and my brother eventually starts yelling stuff back at him, mostly things like “Yeah, we’re all down with that whole enlightenment thing, but we prefer to do it with pants!”
The guy just won’t leave though. We’re looking at each other like “it’s been half an hour what is he still doing there?” We’re not particularly upset, mind you – it’s not “how dare these wayward youth hang out naked in the field behind our house!” so much as “why is this dumb kid still sitting here? Let’s make fun of him.”
So the rest of us join in and begin insulting him, though every so often we pause and go, “we should probably find some way to get rid of him.”
He’s still there, though, and he starts swearing at us. At this point, it’s perfectly clear that he’s trying to antagonize us – get us to call the police so he can run away and make us look stupid, or get us down to chase him, or something. We, of course, just think he’s hilarious. And an idiot. He still won’t go away though, so my dad ducks into the house, then comes out with his hand-held floodlight flashlight, puts it on the railing of our deck (which, by the way, is a good fifteen feet off the ground) and points it straight at the kid.
He blinks, and continues sitting there. I turn to my mom. “Dude, how old is this guy?”
My brother shouts out, “Hey! Booo-dah, how old are you?”
We looked at each other. “What the hell is a middle schooler doing naked outside our back fence?”
“Dude, I have no idea.”
We still can’t get rid of him. So now, my dad gets out his camera – which is very large, and highly visible – and starts miming taking pictures.
“Hey!” I shout. “We’re going to put all these up on facebook, you know!”
The kid moons us as a parting shot, then leaves.
We turn on the floodlights in case any of his stupid friends decide to come back, then go back to drinking beer and sitting around.
“One of you should have snuck out with the hose while I kept him distracted,” Dad said.
I shrugged. “Too late now. I guess we’ll remember that for the next time crazy naked thirteen year olds decide to yell Buddha outside our house.”
“Yeah,” he said. “You know what, though?”
“I wonder if he ever realized that he was sitting in the poison ivy patch.”