Oblivious to the escalating tension
between Rudy and me, Gramps would frequently say, “Wake, I want you to go out to the hen
house and collect some eggs.” The
thought of venturing into that place sent chills down my spine.
“But Gramps,” I’d plead, “I only collect baseball cards. Besides, I don’t know anyone who trades eggs. Maybe you could call in a S.W.A.T. team. I’m sure they could get the eggs.”
Gramps would shake his head and say, “My stars, I wonder if that boy will ever amount to anything.”
I knew I would never amount to anything if Rudy caught me before I could start amounting. I really don’t know why I was afraid to go into the hen house, because Rudy was never there. He was always out looking for me.
To go from the house to any
other point on the ranch, you had to consider the possibility of a
confrontation with Rudy, so I always tried to know his whereabouts before
venturing outdoors.
Before leaving the house, I would go to every window, upstairs and downstairs, to pinpoint his location. I’d look out the front window…he was there. I’d look out the back window…he was there. I’d check the side window…he was there. I was surrounded by an omnipresent, psychotic attack rooster.
To get out, I would need to distract Rudy. I searched the house for grenade launchers, but found none. Deciding on a massive air strike, I ran upstairs, got out the water balloons, and filled them to the point of bursting. I was ready. I opened the window and started launching a full-scale attack. I felt like the mad bomber, trying to conceal his hysterical laughter. Rudy was running everywhere, as my bombs were splattering all around him. Finally, he disappeared. After a long silence, and not seeing him anywhere, I decided it was safe to make a break for it. No sooner had I stepped outside and shut the door, than Rudy magically appeared in all his radiant beauty, wings spread and flapping, preparing himself for a bodily assault.
To be continued...check back soon
No comments:
Post a Comment