Sweet sweet REVENGE, Part 3

The Crow family rumpus room had everything that most kids could want and more. Especially on those middle of winter, blizzard type, days. They had a Ping-pong and Foosball tables, two giant stow-a-bed couches, 4 or 5 bean bags, a refrigerator full of every kind of snack, and a pretty cool entertainment system for family movie night. The Crows had two folding card tables that doubled for board and card games, as well as science project stations. Off in the corner of the mostly wide open space was Mrs. Crows sewing machine and personal craft station. Mr. Crow had the garage for his hobbies. He was always ready to accept a challenge to his Championship title of KING OF THE PING PONG TABLE. Over by the fridge was a heavy duty two tub concrete wash basin. The Crow Boys had a few lessons on hand washing some abused socks and jeans in that tub. Mr. Crow believed boys would be boys, but there was no excuse for running out side with only socks on. Next to that was the laundry chute box. The chute went all the way up into the 2nd floor bathroom, where when you undressed to get your shower you would drop your clothes down to the basement. Since the laundry room was in the far back corner, Mr. Crow put wheels on the chute box. For their plan to be a success, the boys would need to sneak in and out of the laundry room with out being noticed.

Sandy had spent a few hours down in the basement, preparing for her guests. And several more up in the kitchen getting snacks ready. It drove the boys nuts trying to get down there with no success. It was like Sandy had radar focused on anyone who came near her parties. After hearing just one of the stairs, leading down to the rumpus room, squeak, she poised a fist and swung , luckily missing Mr. Crow coming down to change a light bulb. “I thought it was one of the boys coming to make a mess Daddy.” She said with her pouty bottom lip protruding ever so slyfully. Dad knew the pouty lip was fake and for gave the attempt anyway. “It’s okay princess.” He answered. She didn’t particularly like that nickname very much.

Through out an agonizing day of anticipation and anxiousness, the boys would find out that there would be but two chances to get in and out of the laundry room. Since no-one at the parties really talked all that much, the boys would have to rely on rumors for accurate time lines. And now, if rumors were true, and Sandy stuck to her regular agenda, the opportunities would include when the girls would start their “beauty regiment”. The music would be on high, organic facial mask applied on thick, and with heads tilted back, cucumbers placed on their eyes for 25 minutes. At this time the boys, could get in. (Food?!? They were putting food ON their faces instead of IN their faces. People are so strange.) The chance to get out would be during the time when the girls all went upstairs, at 12:30 sharp, to peek out of the big picture window in the front room, to see Mark Thompson come home from late night classes. Mark would come home, sit on the porch playing his acoustic guitar, and just unwind his mind. He was 23 years old and these “pre” and teen girls just thought that he was the coolest, cutest, and most handsome man alive. He was known in the neighborhood as the bad boy with the great smile. And the only reason he had the bad label attached was because his motorcycle was a bit to loud for the older folks. Other than the bike noise Mark was a model citizen, extra kind to the widows in need of house work, and more than generous with his time at both the kids shelter in the next town, and Grubervilles retirement home. At night he was studying to get his degree to be some kind of engineer. Anyway, all the googling and giggling that the girls would be doing would give ample time for the boys to escape from the paroles of having forced themselves to observe a girls sleep-over.

So the windows of opportunity were set, the equipment was ready, the boys were as anxious as a dog in a butcher shop, and there was nothing left to do but wait. So the boys decided that they would lay on club house roof and watch the clouds go by. And for only a moment, while they watched the evening sky reflect shades of orange, and red, and violet, did they loose track of time because they started to day-dream about the girls they both liked. But when they heard the undeniably recognizable sound of the girls screeching their hellos, they were brought straight away back to earth. “It’s time to implement Operation ‘T-B-I-B ‘. “ Stephen said. “Huh?!?” Jarred asked. “You know!” Stephen barked back. “Oh, yeah, Like Duh!” Jarred barked himself. ‘. “ Stephen said. “Huh?!?” Jarred asked. “You know!” Stephen barked back. “Oh, yeah, Like Duh!” Jarred barked himself. Did you notice? All I can say is PUH_LEEZ. The boys Barking!? If that was barking, they need to work on their accent, cause I didn’t understand a word. Funny though, I do tend to understand them a lot more when there is food involved.

Jarred handed Stephen a walkie talkie. “What’s this for?” he asked. Jarred dramatically looked around to see if anyone was listening. “In case we get separated and captured and need to call for help.” Stephen then moved in closer toward Jarred and said “Good idea comrade. You know the enemy as well as I do, and you know the kinds of torture they can inflict when they wanna know something.”

Well…this wasn’t all out war and the enemy was only the girls, but their brand of torture was not to be discounted or underestimated. In its own way it could make the kinds of torture that the boys saw in old war movies seem like a day fishing at the pond, which was the whole reason for the Operation. The girls have been known for holding a boy down and stuffing pudding up his nose. If they suspected that some boy had information that they wanted, they would gang wedgie him. And in cases where there was all out war, they have even gone to Defcon levels. In level 1 they would tickle some kid until he either gave up the information or wet himself. Level 2 was the 30 second make-over with lipstick, blush, and eye shadow. Level 3 was the 30 minute makeover (Stephen’s little brother James knew all about that. Once caught in the cross fire, he was tortured with mascara, lipstick, eye shadow, blush, hairpins, nail polish, and threats of Defcon 4) Defcon level 4 was a combination of levels 1 and 3, but with pictures taken for future blackmail. To this day, when ever cornered by 3 or more from the girls club, James has to recite the Pledge of “The BOB”. And he better not mess it up. “I pledge allegiance to Miss America, and all her beauty secrets. I will stand tall, and pretty, and walk with a delicate stride. In public or in private I will always present myself as a lady, crossing my legs when I sit, sipping not slurping, and always with my bosom’s held high.” Few of the BOB had even a bump that could be misinterpreted as bosom’s, but that was their pledge.

“Just trying to be ready for anything.” Jarred said while he squeezed the talkie button. “Testing, testing. 1-2-3.” And they started across the rope………………

to be continued…