“Out with the trash,” and I kicked my one free leg and thrashed my brother Brad on the leg. He was made of stern stuff and it was doing me little. I'd have to step up my efforts. “Good for nothing but dumping in with the pigs,” he continued. “It’s hot!” he complained, “The pigs sure could use a new pig… Hey, stop your squirmin… Hey, ow!”I howled at the threat and kicked, ripping my cracked nails along his arm such that he dropped me. I had about a second to swing and catch hold of the door frame and railing before hopping over and sprinting flat-out yelling my glee at Brad’s chagrin. “You ain’t going to catch me!” I...
My first reaction was to punch the girl, but how do you punch someone upside down and falling? I had no problems considering punching a girl my age for making fun of me, unlike the damsel I'd rescued. Her I'd punch if she wasn't wearing a dress. Mom says dresses are off-limits and you must treat girls in dresses like ladies. Personally it wasn't so much the dress as how clean she was, as pretty much every girl I'd ever met wore a skirt. Instead I figured it was how they did their hair and their smell. Though that could be something in being clean. Until now I measured it all on Mar. On Sundays she dressed up ‘real nice’...
I was staring lost into the face reflected in the water. A curiously feminine face, flowing blond hair that drifted in front of ‘my?’ face and I moved my hand to brush it back to my ear, seeing the hand in the water duplicate the motion. Until a look of concern crossed the face of my reflection and out came two hands from the water and took a hold of me. She pulled herself up and me down with the same motion.
Mar, my sister, she’d spit while talking, says, “You must be fast to avoid the olé man.” I had to be fast to dodge her spit, but I don’t think that is what she meant.