a pirates field trip, ray rebmann [i love reading .txt] 📗

him playfully as he slowly

looked around to regain his bearings.

He especially marveled at the leaves. He began picking them up by the fistful, shoving as

many as he could into every pocket. Then he ran, old man fashion, giddy as he kicked

up leaves, stirring up the secret things hidden in the woods.

The woods began to open up, spreading out before him like a sea, waves rushing all

around him. The swaying branches began to assume form, straightening, crossing. The blizzard

of leaves changed too, solidifying, becoming great white sheets billowing in the wind.

Masts and sails parted the trees. The earth rocked beneath his feet. Rolling waves

thundering far off, running up and down a distant shore. Closer now, waves splashing across a

ship’s deck. The distinct smell of salt as the wind changed course.

Kelly stayed close beside him, silently watching, having seen such changes before…

A ship appeared where trees once stood. And he and the dog stood upon a deck, looking

up as shaking branches turned into groaning masts…

A man stood above them at the ship’s wheel steering. His skin was brown, the color of

the leaves fallen off the oak trees. His big hands were covered with scars, the fingernails, broken

and dirty. He bore a nasty scar on his neck. Looked like rope burns. As he looked out over the

steering wheel, he blew his nose. It had been broken several times, in close fighting and when he

blew, he let out a blast like a horn at a football game.

Field Trip Pirates --16

He wore a long blue coat, with large shiny brass buttons. Once quite elegant, now frayed

along the edges and tattered and patched in numerous places. He wore a large lace trimmed hat

that he obviously took pride in it being the only neat and well-kept part of himself.

He looked down at Mr J and the dog.

“Ahoy and shiver me timbers, if it ain’t Barnacle Bill. Give a hand and heave to. We’re

headin’ into a strong wind. If I ain’t mistaken, adventure lies ahead…”

“Adventure? And what adventure would that be for a retired school teacher?”

“Teacher? Bill, ain’t you learned yet that teachers is swabs?” He roared.

Mr J frowned at the scoundrel. This was not the lovable rascal Long John. This was a true

rogue, worse than Flint on his bloodthirstiest, money grubbingest day. A breaker of young

hearts. A spoiler of youth. A thief of dreams.

He raised his umbrella and waved it menacingly at the ship. Then he positioned himself

preparing to duel, his umbrella now a sword. The other laughed grimly and stood back.

“Not yet, laddie, not yet. Mark me shipmate, I’ll be there to greet ye when the time

comes, Bill.”

Suddenly, one of the masts snapped. A large spar fell, knocking Mr. J to the deck. He

lay there, not moving, Kelly wagged her tail thinking he was playing. But when the man didn’t

get up, the dog’s wags became more insistent. Then the dog yipped. Then he barked.

Finally, the ship disappeared. The woods were back. Kelly wagged her tail. That was her

signal that it was drawing close to 4. Time to be getting home to prepare dinner and have the fire

burning cozily in the living room fireplace…

“I’m getting too old for this.” Mr J thought to himself, as he blacked out.
* * *
Field Trip Pirates --17

Mom’s become totally obsessed with protecting me from, well, from everything. The

whole world. She has my name sewed everywhere on all my clothes. Even my gym socks have a

great big “J” for Jason stitched in red on the heel. “J” for jerk is how it makes me feel.. It’s

humiliating.

I swear if I let her she’d tattoo my name, address, and her cell phone number across my

forehead along with a message like ‘if Jason the jerk does or even thinks about doing anything

consider it a serious medical emergency and call 911’.

She’s so jumpy these days. She hates any sign of conflict. That’s why she dreamed up

stuff like this loving brother bit. Whenever me and Huey fight she separates us like she’s a UN

peacekeeper. Makes us do our homework in separate rooms and if we’re really trying to destroy

each other, eat in separate rooms at separate times which is fine with Huey because he gets to

watch teevee while he eats in the living room and I get to sit and keep mom company at the

kitchen table.

I feel so sad for her. She works two jobs just to take care of us.

One of her jobs is as a hash slinger. I know that’s slang for working as a waitress but I

can’t help but laugh when I imagine my mom running around juggling trays on both arms,

another tray balanced on her forehead, tossing plates of spaghetti and scrambled eggs at starving

people sitting in booths.

Maybe splat somebody in the face with a nice fat cream pie like they do in the Three

Stooges.

That’s the job that really tires her out. She goes to the diner after we’re in bed..or at least

after we’re supposed to be in bed…Huey usually sneaks out after she’s gone to call his dumb

Field Trip Pirates --18

friends or look up bad stuff on Internet and always to terrorize me. I never say anything to her

though, ‘cause that’d only make the punishment worse when he gets me at school.

Her other job’s in a nursing home. She takes care of really old people whose bodies are

falling apart. Really. Sometimes she’ll come home from work and her uniform will be stained

with something, blood maybe or something worse and she’ll say “poor Mr. Gibbs, his kidney fell

out of his backside or he threw up his stomach and parts of his lung came along with it.

My favorite was the story she told about a lady who was about 137. She sneezed so hard

her wig popped three feet up in the air and then all this white stuff poured out of both nostrils. It

was her brains coming out…

I just wish she didn’t have to do either of those jobs. Then she could play the piano and

maybe teach kids music lessons at home the way she used to. At least she’d be there for us and

not always be so tired.

* * *


Field Trip Pirates --19

I reach school early the morning of the field trip. I always reach school early

to avoid having to deal with Huey. He hates being my brother and takes it out on

me as soon as we’re out of sight of home.

I keep asking mom to let Huey go to school by himself. Huey whines

and carries on for hours every morning begging her to let him go by himself but every

morning she makes him take me with him. There we’d go down the street, Huey half a mile

ahead, me looking around, dragging my backpack, looking at everything…Huey every two

seconds yelling come on Jason, come on Jason, come on Jason…

…until we’re far enough away from the house that Huey could turn and yell

“Hope a truck runs over you”

And there like magic at his side are Dewey and Louis, and the three of them run

off laughing.

“I’m a big boy mom. I can walk to school by myself.” I always tell her. “Besides, Huey

would rather be with his friends.”

“Well, he’s your big brother and he should love and watch out for you. You should be his

best friend.”

Right mom, I always think, never say. I love her but the way she lives in lala land

especially about the way her kids are supposed to be. Whew!

Truth is Huey hates me and everyone in the world except mom knows it. I’m the last kid

Huey would “watch out for” and as for love, please gag me.

Here’s another truth. I hate Huey too.

I have fun imagining all sorts of neat ways for Huey to die. A meteor falling out of the

Field Trip Pirates --20

sky lands right on his head. A 300 foot tsunami crosses the Atlantic Ocean and carries him off

making him swallow a zillion gallons of salt water. Terrorists kidnap him, tie him up on

one of their terrorist airplanes and blow him up over the white house with only Huey on board.

Or how about a virus brought here on a ship from some foreign country that infects him and

makes his eyes fall out and pus and blood pour out of every pore.

Oh yeah, I really get into inventing ways for Huey to die.

I think I hate Huey even more since dad died.

That part about dad dying is a lie I tell myself. I tell people that my real dad died in a ship

wreck during the war. I’m not sure which war but this is my very own personal kid legend. My

real dad was a war hero, I tell people.

The guy we were stuck with later was like an evil step dad, something like one of those

changelings you read about in fairy tales, you know, human kid switched at birth with a fairy

kid only this changeling is in reverse, grown up switched with an nasty ogre.

I guess I should admit that my dad didn’t die. Maybe just a part of him died. What really

happened is he just gave up trying and one day left.

So the truth is, I really hate Huey every since dad ran away.

* * *


Field Trip Pirates --21

Mom had been crying again. I could tell first thing when I saw her this morning. She tried

covering it up with make up and then when that didn’t work she tried faking us out with too

many smiles and then too many frowns. They are the masks she puts on so as not to show us

boys how much she’s hurting inside.

Show us boys? Show me at least. I feel her hurt.

Huey doesn’t feel anything. At breakfast he had his face so buried in the box of whatever

sugar loaded crap he was pigging out on that if you’d called his name and he lifted his head up to

answer, the box would come up too.

‘Box head’.

I’d called him that once when that actually happened and I paid for it on the

way to school…right into Mrs Barrett’s thorn bushes he tossed me. I was still picking out the