Rock On!

Well I am not going to run away

I am just going to walk

after all, it wasn’t me that through the rock

I didn’t even dare him to throw it!

He asked if I thought he could “chuck” it over the twisting road

over to the hill on the other side.

Before I could answer he was grunting and heaving.

I’m not even sure something weighing 8 pounds is even still considered a rock

I don’t think the driver of the black Porsche 911 who slammed on his brakes really cared about those descriptives

So up the hill I go, my lame brained cousin, hell bent for leather and nearly at the campground before I had walked 10 paces

Sweating and nervous, he sat at the table,

his face non-verbally pleading with me as if to say “please don’t tell”

I would not. It was a scary moment as the rock hung on its high arch as the car came from around the bend

But that was over now

We can enjoy a coke and a hotdog without worry

Its been a half-hour already, what’s to worry?

I’d always thought cop cars warned you of their approach with lights and sirens

I suppose this protocol is reserved for more hardened criminals

Those boys in blue are a salty bunch

I didn’t go to jail as an unsuspecting accomplice that day nor did my cousin

Instead, a whooping awaited he when he got home

as for me

I had to collect trash around the campsite

And that certainly beats a whooping.

Thank you for reading


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