When Boys Play

     Brett needed someone to play with, and I needed some peace and quite, so I drove over to Brains house.     (Picture: Left Brett, Cearra, and Brian)

“Okay, kiddo get Brain…your partner in crime.” 

“Be right back.”  Brett shouted.

Brett jumped out of the back of my truck and ran up to Brains door.  It opened before he could knock.  Moments later the terrible two returned and the laughing began.  Brian carried a several of his favorite toys in plastic containers. 

  “Every body in?”

“Yes.”  Brett and Brain answered.

I looked at Cearra, Brett’s little sister, who sat next to me in my truck and said,  “What have I gotten myself into?” 

Now that Brian was here, Brett was no longer bored.  He had someone too play with.  They ran upstairs then came back downstairs with toys guns.  The garage door opened and slammed shut.

“Two down, one to go.”  I said aloud.

“Cearra do you want to watch a video?”

“Yes.”  Cearra answered.

“Which one?”

“Hooch.”

“Hooch…you must mean “Turner and Hooch”?

“Yes that one.”

“But, Cearra, Hooch makes you cry, why don’t you watch another tape?  How about “Ace Ventura Pet Detective?”

“Okay.”  Cearra answered.

I put the tape in the VCR and left the room.

“Three down.”  I said aloud.

Then I walked over to the blue recliner, picked up my book, sat down, turn turned the page and…

whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!  Brian was shooting me.   Terminator bow & arrow set, sending foam projectile darts at my body. It was an ambush; the Navy Seals killed Cearra and me.   I fell out of my chair and lay dead on the living room floor.  A door slammed, I heard footsteps coming down the hallway.   There was an exchange of fire in the kitchen then Brian ran into the living room.   Took aim and shot me in the head with another foam dart, my body quivered like a person being electrocuted.   “The baby-sitter has been assassinated.  The mission was a success!”  Brain announced.

Then he ran over to my body and put one foot on my back.  He nudged me to see if I was still alive.

“I must make sure the baby-sitter is dead.”  He cried out. 

Then he fired two more rounds into my torso.  I jerked and convulsed just like they do in the movies.   He loved it. 

You killed my babysitter!  I am Brett Dickman, you killed my babysitter prepare to die. Shots were fired; there was nothing Brian could do for it was too late to return the fire so he died slowly then fell on top of me!  Brett walk over to us and looked down:

That’s what we do to babysitter killers around here.  Let that be a lesson to you.  At that moment we all started laughing.

Okay, enough.  Get off of me you are squishing me.  I cried out.

Conquer the World --Imaginary Games

In the beginning, there was a boy and this boy’s name was Brett. One Saturday Brett was bored, so he complained to his baby-sitter, that’s me so I went and got Brian so he could have someone to play with.  What was I thinking?   Where there was one now there is two and three and four.  Through the window in the living room I watch the boys gathering on the front lawn.  What have I done…

They wanted power…they wanted to rule the world; so they gathered all the boys in the neighborhood and the universe to waged war on each another.  Their aim was to divide and conquer.  Dictatorships would follow.  They were recruiting officers:

“Hey, kid!  You want to play war games don’t you?”

“Well…ah”

“Well, what whooshes?”  A big boy nicknamed Babba gnashes his teeth.  The recruit has one course of action.

“Sure.”

That my friend, is how recruiting is done—it works in the world of grownups too. 

  The recruiter divides the boys up into two groups—the hunters and the prey, so it begins—the strong against the weak.  All recruits are armed with weapons of destruction and the prey with a desire to live and escape.  What was I thinking when I brought Brian over here?  I have a desired it is for peace and quite, but that isn’t going to happen today.

  War Games

The war games were played-out in every conceivable fashion and location: inside the house, outside the house, in the garage, on the roof and fence.  In Brett’s fort, in the trees, bushes, shrubs, you name it—commandos were on or behind it.  Seek and destroy, bodies were falling everywhere!  When they ran through the house they sometimes paused long enough to shoot me.  Yes, it was open season on baby-sitters, and anyone in general.  The boys played out their war scenario many times. 

The Battle Field is Too Quite

They were having so much fun killing each other that I did not have the heart to put a stop to all of their roughhousing. Silence can be a good thing when kids are napping or at camp but when they are outside playing around the house…it is alarming.  I call sudden silence The Quite Syndrome—to me it means mischief is afoot... I walked through the house cautiously looking in every corner. 

  “ I don’t like this at all...it is too quite outside.”  I said aloud.

“Cearra take cover, we may be attacked at any minute.  I’m going to checkout the playhouse.  Cover me.”  She didn’t answer…she was sleeping.

I opened the sliding glass door, stepped out on the patio, turn right, went around the kiddie-pool to the corner of the house.  There I could see the playhouse.  All was quite. I slipped into character (as is mandatory on these types of situations) and became an Indian friend of Brett’s.  The playhouse was assembled from plywood, nails, and prayer.  It was assembled next to the house and fence; it was a lean-to with one side, a roof, and a door.  Footstones lead up to the shanty.  I drew my imaginary gun…

“Who’s there?”  I asked in a loud voice.

Brian, Daniel and Keith jump over the fence and scurry off like jackals in the night. 

  “Cowards.”  I mumbled.  “They were up to something…but what?”

  With caution I approached the shanty.  This might be an ambushed; I have been ambushed all day today it’s not going to happen again.  I was now crotch down at the door of the playhouse.  I listen, but all I hear is a muffled sound of someone inside. 

  “Brett, are you in there?”  No answer.

“I’m coming in…prepare to die!” 

  The hung on the door creaked as I opened it.  Filtered light filled the small cavity and lit up a small boy who was stripped down to his underwear and tied up with duct tape.

“Brett, is that you?”  I asked pretending not to recognize him.  He did not answer.  Duct tape covered his mouth.  I stood there looking at him wonder what to do as he struggled to free himself.   Then I closed the door and asked the great spirit what I should do? 

“You must be the Indian boy we named Falls-A-Lot.”  He nodded yes.

“I am your blood brother, Screams-A-Lot.  Who did this to you little brother?”  Brett’s big blue eyes widened and he’s replay was muffled.

“Me see you all tied up.  Me Indian scout …must consult Indian handbook to see what I do next. Umm, here on forehead 25 it tells me you are paleface.  Yes, I know that. The other scalps are missing…Runs-away, tribal dog, ate scalps—rest of book is missing—it was a bad winter.  We finally killed buffalo; Runs-away came back to tribe.  We were all happy to see him.  Me think now.”

“Falls-A-Lot, you are going to die.  I want your woman.  I will tell others you were killed and eating by mountain lion.  Soon you will be just a memory.  Good-bye Falls-A-Lot.”   

Then I went back to the tribe and broke the bad news.  I took Falls-A-Lot woman and we had many children. When boys play; expect anything and what they do will not surprise you.  I knew Brian would free Brett so I sat down in the recliner and thought nothing of it.  A couple of hours passed and the noise ceased, I looked out the window-- the yard worriers were heading home.  Brett was set free and Brain went home.  Brett and Cearra laid together on the floor watching a movie.  I reached for my purse and took a couple of Tylenol then went into the kitchen to make the children dinner.  Tomorrow it would play it's self out all over again. 

When boys play "sometimes" sister's come up missing.   "Brett!  Stop that!  You can not bury your sister!"

    The End  

Written By Cynthia E. Martin

December 30, 1996  

Active Participants

Brett Dickman—Age 12

Cearra Dickman—Age 4

Brian Age 12—Brett’s best friend.

Daniel Age 11, friend and neighbor

Cynthia E. Martin Dickman Babysitter

Location:  Dickman Home, Oceanside, La Jolla Shores Beach-California

  Copywrite© 2001 Visions West Inc. All Rights Reserved