One fine Spring day, I was diggin in the shed and came up with a pair of climbing spurs. The kind that linemen used to climb telephone poles. I got an idea. Why not put them on and climb that old partly hollow oak that was a den tree for squirrels. Maybe I could see some of the babies. I was just heading out, when Raymond arrived and wanted to know what I was doing. I told him and he thought it such a good idea, that he should "go first".
I was about ten years old. Raymond was twelve and I was getting a bit fed up with his bullying ways, but off we went.
We got to the tree and I complained about his always having to be "first". He shook a fist in my direction and that settrled that. (Raymond was a champeen debater at times)
Once he had the spurs strapped to his boots, he began to climb. I waite unti his feet were head level and taking a rock the size of a grapefruit, drove the spikes deep into the tree.
Yuh might say that Raymond was stuck on that tree. He couldn't go up and he couldn't come down. There wasn't enough room for him to bend down and unstrap the spurs, so he started using language that cannot be repeated here. I figured that I didn't have to listen to such noise, so I went home.
That was just after lunch and come supper time, my granny asked "Where is Raymond?"
I muttered "I dunno.", but granny knew me well and demanded to know what I'd done with him this time.
"I nailed him to a tree." I finally confessed. (A statement that caused granny no little concern)
When the whole story was out, she wanted to know when I'd done this deed and when I was going to let Raymond down.
I mumbled something about "just after lunch" and "maybe after breakfast."
Well, it didn't sell and she made me go back down to get poor Raymond off that tree.
When I got there, I saw that Raymond had wet his pants....not that he had much choice. His voice was gone from screaming for help, but he started whispering curses and threats at me.
Not wanting a boot in my face, I didn't bother to unbuckle the spurs, but simply cut them with my knife. I need not have worried as Raymond's arms and legs were frozen into postion from hanging on the side of that tree.
The only thing about him that worked, was his mouth and it sounded so much better in that soft husky voice. But. Once again, I didn't figure I need to stay around for such verbal abuse and besides, supper was on the table. So again, I started for home. I'm about fifty feet up the path when I hear an anguished whisper and a thud.
Unable to move, Raymond had simply let go and fell backwards off the tree.
I was on my second plate of boiled cabbage, when Raymond finally toddered into the yard. He kinda looked like he'd been horseback for a week and it took a pint of linament and three hours before his arms would hang at his side. They kept springing up unexpectedly, like he was a demented jack-in-a-box. But best of all, it was mighty quiet around there for a day or two.
I was about ten years old. Raymond was twelve and I was getting a bit fed up with his bullying ways, but off we went.
We got to the tree and I complained about his always having to be "first". He shook a fist in my direction and that settrled that. (Raymond was a champeen debater at times)
Once he had the spurs strapped to his boots, he began to climb. I waite unti his feet were head level and taking a rock the size of a grapefruit, drove the spikes deep into the tree.
Yuh might say that Raymond was stuck on that tree. He couldn't go up and he couldn't come down. There wasn't enough room for him to bend down and unstrap the spurs, so he started using language that cannot be repeated here. I figured that I didn't have to listen to such noise, so I went home.
That was just after lunch and come supper time, my granny asked "Where is Raymond?"
I muttered "I dunno.", but granny knew me well and demanded to know what I'd done with him this time.
"I nailed him to a tree." I finally confessed. (A statement that caused granny no little concern)
When the whole story was out, she wanted to know when I'd done this deed and when I was going to let Raymond down.
I mumbled something about "just after lunch" and "maybe after breakfast."
Well, it didn't sell and she made me go back down to get poor Raymond off that tree.
When I got there, I saw that Raymond had wet his pants....not that he had much choice. His voice was gone from screaming for help, but he started whispering curses and threats at me.
Not wanting a boot in my face, I didn't bother to unbuckle the spurs, but simply cut them with my knife. I need not have worried as Raymond's arms and legs were frozen into postion from hanging on the side of that tree.
The only thing about him that worked, was his mouth and it sounded so much better in that soft husky voice. But. Once again, I didn't figure I need to stay around for such verbal abuse and besides, supper was on the table. So again, I started for home. I'm about fifty feet up the path when I hear an anguished whisper and a thud.
Unable to move, Raymond had simply let go and fell backwards off the tree.
I was on my second plate of boiled cabbage, when Raymond finally toddered into the yard. He kinda looked like he'd been horseback for a week and it took a pint of linament and three hours before his arms would hang at his side. They kept springing up unexpectedly, like he was a demented jack-in-a-box. But best of all, it was mighty quiet around there for a day or two.
