Jeffery knew he
was in serious trouble now. The broken shards of glass and wood splinters left
dozens of tiny cuts all over his father’s palms and fingers. Jeffery couldn’t
take his eyes off them as his father sternly asserted for the second time, “Tell
me right now or it’s no t.v. for two weeks.”
“I..I don’t’ know.”
But of course he
knew. His oldest brother had started the game. All too often he got swept up in
the twelve year old’s various schemes with promises of fun beyond imagining. And
as usual, something went wrong. The ideas flowed from his twisted and warped mind,
a mind deprived of its Saturday morning cartoons. Take a way a boy’s cartoons
and he truly has nothing left to lose.
The game was indoor
baseball. The one thing their mother forbade inside the house. After the
parents left to visit the neighbors for an hour, all four of the boys gathered
in the living room, turned on the television, and flipped through the guide to
find the Philly’s game. They broke off into two teams and the game was set.
At his first turn to bat, Morgan pointed
to the mirror at the far end of the room.
A clearing of his
father’s throat brought Jeffery back to attention. As he struggled to look his
father directly in the eyes, he snuck a quick glance to the screen flashing on
the opposite wall. He saw the umpire on t.v. pointing up into the sky exclaiming
his victory over a short old man wearing a blue jacket and hat who stomped off
the field and down into the dugout.
All became clear. Jeffery hoisted his arm into
air and pointed to the heavens before shouting, “It was Morgan.”
Two weeks without
t.v. is a steep price to pay.
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