TAKE MY ADVICE - Segment 3 (Scroll down for earlier segments)


     After soaking in a tub of Epsom salts for a couple of hours to heal his wounds, Lester joined me in the cherry tree.  I had some more advice for him, but I thought I’d better let him get some nourishment first.

     As we gorged ourselves on cherries, we kept an eye on the irrigation ditch that ran by the orchard.  Our parents, along with Gramps and Grams, had warned us about the Ditchwalker. They said he loved catching little kids who were playing in the ditch.  We thought playing in the ditch was worth the risk. 

    We had never seen a picture of the Ditchwalker, but we envisioned a Troll in waders.  Rumor had it that, if we were caught, the Ditchwalker would whisk us away to a remote, undisclosed location, where we would be held for hours and forced to recite our multiplication tables.  We thought forced multiplication tables were used only in war time, or after school detention.  We pictured ourselves on our knees, begging the Ditchwalker not to ask us the answer to seven times eight.  This caused us to be ever vigilant, lest we fall into the hands of the evil Troll in waders.   I suspect if the Ditchwalker had been a teacher with a homework assignment, we wouldn’t have gotten within five miles of the ditch. 

     

    When we had thrown up all the cherries we’d eaten, (according to our parents, this was a requirement for eating too many cherries) we climbed down to play in the ditch.  I suggested to Lester that he go upstream and keep a lookout for the Ditchwalker while I played.  Not long after, Lester came floating by.  “It’s a good thing you’re holding on to that branch”, I said, as I pulled him out.  “This is no time for a float trip.  Now cough up the rest of that water while you’re lying here on the bank.  Your dad would probably think it was my idea to send you up the ditch alone.”

    Suddenly, we heard squeals.  We were certain it was the Ditchwalker with a little kid under each arm.  We took off in search of new lands or, at least, a place to hide until we knew it was safe to come out.  We listened intently, as we peeked out from behind some bushes.  We thought we heard someone pleading, “No, No, not nine times six.  Please, can we do the two’s?”  Then we heard more squealing.  All of a sudden, Gramps crossed the ditch, carrying two squealing piglets that had run off.  We breathed a sigh of relief.  Once again we had escaped the Ditchwalker.  We could go back to playing in the ditch, maybe even float a couple of homework assignments.  We could always blame the dog.  

To be continued...check back soon