The storyteller

Looking expectantly at Simon, the small crew of unkempt boys waited for him to tell the tale.

“You see sir, we found this ball, torn up and dirty when we were picking blackberries by the creek.” Simon felt most at ease when he was in the spotlight. He puffed up proudly as he continued, “And we figured it was as good a ball as any and we wanted to try some stick ball in that empty lot by the closed Pic n Save, and we planned just that.”

He took a breath preparing to go into greater detail. What he was saying was not how the other boys remembered it, but they all loved his storytelling so they never let on if it was a fib or not.

“Then we had to find a stick, but not just any stick, sir. No, it had to be the perfect stick, the perfect partner to this ball. It didn’t have to be pretty or fancy, no sir, it had to be rough and beaten up, to match that ball, sir.” He wiped his brow, “So we went on a quest to search for the stick, you see, and when we turned the corner and saw the tumbled bag of sweets we sort of forgot.” All the boys nodded emphatically, some lips still red from the treats.

“And we thought they were lost, so we could find them. They call us the lost then found club, you see sir, so we figured it was just another case of us finding something that was lost and putting it to good use.”

The man stood there suppressing a smile, even a laugh. “So you thought you’d pick it up and eat it all did you?” He was trying to use his harsh voice, but little bits of levity kept sneaking out. He remembered what it was like to be a boy. An unaccompanied bag of sweets was ripe to be plundered and he well knew it. If his daughter had not dropped it, or even said anything when she did, this wouldn’t be a situation at all.

“That’s right, sir. You see, possession is nine tenths of the law, sir, so the way we figured, we had all legal rights to it, as it had no possessor.” The boys’ mouths gaped in awe at him, this was the most brilliant argument they had ever heard come out of Skip’s mouth.

“Is that right?” the man asked, though he found this boy’s banter enjoyable.

“It is, sir. So we don’t think we did anything wrong. Besides, sir, those sweets couldn’t have gone to a more happy crew than ours, sir.” He smiled big motioning for his friends to do the same, and they did. They all stood there smiling huge, even with the candy dye still staining their mouths.

“On that point, I believe we can both agree. You certainly are a happy bunch. But what of your stick ball?”

“Holy moly! Mister you’re right! We gotta find that stick and get to playing!” He turned to go, but turned back, “That is, if we’re not in trouble, sir.” He looked as contrite as a 10 year old boy could be and the man just shook his head smiling and waved them off.

They ran in the direction of the empty lot whooping and hollering. “SKIP! SKIP! SKIP’S THE MAN!”