July 3, 2010

I was mostly a very good boy

However, I have a particularly

vivid memory

of the first really

wicked thing

that I did

of my own volition

when I was just about

four years old.

My sister and her friend

Sally Gardner

were playing in the front yard

on a beautiful summer day.

The lawn was spotted

with hundreds, thousands 

of dandelions,

The pretty yellow sticky flowers

Reduced to fluffy seed pods

that would soon blow

into the neighbor’s lawn,

where they would reproduce

their evil weedness.

My siblings and I

would frequently

pick the white dandelions puffs

and blow the fluffy seeds

into the wind

and watch them float away

on the summer’s breeze,

as most kids will do.

But on that fateful day,

as we were all outside playing,

I picked a dandelion

and instead of blowing away the seeds

I received a Vision

for an entirely new

and different thing

to do with those fluffy dandelion tendrils.

It involved my sister.

It was brilliant,

and I acted upon it immediately.

I bent down

and picked the stem

of the biggest, fluffiest dandelion

I could find,

heavy with the burden

of the thousands of spores

clinging to its head.

I held it behind my back

and walked up to my sister. 

“I have a trick.” I said.

“It’s magic.”

“Yeah?” she replied, intrigued.

She stopped whatever she was doing,

and glanced at her friend.

A trick will be fun,

she’s thinking.

And my brother is such a Good Boy.

“Here’s what you do.

First you have to close your eyes.”

She looks at Sally Gardner,

and her friend nods

with approval

and eager anticipation.

“Ok, my eyes are shut.”

I wanted to be sure.

“Tight! You can’t look.”

“OK!” she giggles,

pressing her eyelids

together so hard

that her face is all

puckered up.

“Next,” I say,

like a professional trickster,

“you have to

open your mouth

real big

while we get ready

to say the magic words.”

Her mouth opens

into a beautiful oval

with perfectly white

five-year old teeth.

Her pretty brown hair

is twitching with the wind.

She obediently waits

for the next instruction.

I bring the dandelion

right up to her face,

real close.

Then, as hard as I can,

without any further warning,

I blow all the seeds

right into her mouth.

Her eyes burst open wide.

She starts choking.

I didn’t really think

about what would happen next.

Sally Gardner glares at me,

horrified, shocked.

My sister starts spitting

and crying

as she grasps

at the realization

that she has just

been absolutely betrayed

by her brother.

Fiercely angry,

she screams that she is

telling on me

and bolts for the house

with her friend running behind,

comforting her. 

Honestly, I thought

it would be clever

and funny.

And, yes,

a little mean.

That was part of the fun.

Only I hadn’t


the consequence.

She has probably

forgotten about it

by now.

3 Responses to “Consequence”

  1. Kathleen said

    She has forgotton about it only if you ‘repented’. I always wanted an older brother, until now. 🙂 Consider this confession. Take one of Gordon Atkinson’s left over wafers. It was a very creative idea, though.

  2. Delightful. (After the fact of course 🙂 )

    Kathleen, that made me laugh.

  3. Glynn said

    I’ll bet she hasn’t forgotten about it. And one day, when you least expect it, POW!

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