We agreed with the girls that they could have our GI Joe soldiers (the were NOT dolls!) three days a week and we would play four square twice a week with them. They wanted half our Joes up front.
“Not in this lifetime,” I wanted to make for sure they could produce what they said they would. “You just show up at the field at 2:00 tomorrow and we will show you want we can do,” Gail was as serious as can be. Our Joes stayed put until then.
The next day was Saturday and we had a tough time waiting til 2 O’Clock. We did sneak up to the field about noon or so but the place was empty. We went back to Stewie’s backyard while Gary rode his bike up to the Dairy Mart to see if maybe they were already there. Gary came back after a bit out of breath from riding hard. “Every guy from that neighborhood and every girl in town is at the Dairy Mart!” Gary was panting by now. “The place is packed inside and outside!”
“I’ll be dawged! I was stunned to figure them girls had up and done what they said they’d do. Larry jumped up. “Dang! Let’s go! We got stuff to do!” As one man, all twelve of us (this was one of those rare days when at least one of us was not grounded) made a beeline to our beloved field. Just as we expected , it was completely empty save the full-time residents. Yup, it was ripe for the taking.
We was going to take the place apart (i.e. wreck all the tumble weed forts they had) but discovered the windstorm from last night had done the job for us. Yet another sign that God was on our side. We had no idea if and / or when the punks would get back from the Dairy Mart so we just decided to hunker down in every low place (there weren’t many here) and wait. And waited. And waited.
Round about suppertime, we decided they weren’t coming back. The girls had said they would get those fellows off our field and they did. Those girls sho nuff tricked them fellows. While they got tricked off of what they thought was their field, we took our field back. They were eating ice cream with a buncha girls and we were waiting and sweating and waiting and sweating. Ice cream. Sweat…..ummmm
Next week: Of course, you realize this means war!