Sunday Scribbling on Monday

When We were Wee

Ten year old Tom had to run up to his baseball practice at the local elementary.
His chubby lil' brother (me), followed behind. "Tag-a-long!"
After minutes of warmups and jumpng jacks the stragglers had all arrived.
I sat and watched.
On occasion I fetched a stray ball or foul tip.
Later, as the the afternoon sun turned the field side-ways, I wandered into a farmers' lot.
The ground was hard with funny smelling salty spots where nothing would grow.

Big bro' yelled me down and I hid in the tan and flaxen grasses.
Slowly the team left the green grass and wandered over to the tall white-washed fence.
They were whispering and buzzing and making noises that left my ears confused.
I lookeed up to see all of them, but Tom, standing on the top rail, covering their mouths.

Tom chased me down and tackled me.
I didn't see him coming.

He grabbed my obtuse head with crew-cut spikes behind my ears and slowly spoke with certainty.
"B i g B u l l. F o l l o w m e. D o n ' t m a k e a n o i s e."
Looking at his face in terror I noticed behind him a small dead tree laden with small birds.
Were these the vultures that wait in broods for carrion, like me?

Crawling on bellies, scraping elbows on the hard pan of the bull-pen, fear.
After sneaking out the bottom fence rail, unnoticed by the monstrous horned beast
I noticed that my brother had pee'd his pants.
Then, I felt something warm and wet on me.

We had Wee-Wee'd.