Johnny was sitting on the floor at the foot of his bed, wrapped up in his yellow, blue, white, and black afghan blanket that his mother had made.
“Come out’n play, Johnny!” Blurted Tommy through the open window outside Johnny’s room.
“I told ya, I’m grounded!” Replied Johnny.
“Oh, come on Johnny! It’s nice out and your dad ain’t home!”
“I can’t Tommy! Now get going!” Johnny yelled.
Tommy was a neighbor-boy 4 houses down and could be annoying as a licking dog. Tommy had fair skin and freckled cheeks and what seemed to be a permanent facial sunburn with white rings around his eyes.
Johnny was used to having friends wanting to spend time with him. He was a go getter and awfully, and sometimes horribly, hilarious. This week was no different when he hung his little 4-year old cousin up on a doorknob by his underwear. Now Johnny sits contemplating his poor actions. At least that is what his father hopes.
Johnny takes strong sniffs of his blanket and inhales. The scent is fading. Sometimes he has to flip it over, or turn it, to pick up a faintness. When his nose finds it, he holds it in. He then gets rewarded with a memory. He can then release.
“Johnny! Get your butt out here! Let’s skip rocks at the quarry! Something!!”
Johnny huffs. He tucks his blanket under his pillow. Peaks out the window to see Tommy jumping around and sweeping a stick like a sword.
Johnny runs out the door. Turns to the house and figures he’ll make it back by 5pm. He pauses for a moment and thinks to himself, “Behaving bad ain’t always bad.” He picks up his own switch and takes off with Tommy.
Tommy can be as fun as a frolicking pup sometimes.
– John Maurer