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Best Friends

Harry and Billy were best friends, and enjoyed doing all the stuff together which being best friends entails. Early in the morning Billy would jump out of bed and run urgently over to Harry's house. When he got there he would pound, pound, pound on the door to Harry's house, impatient for the fun to begin. Harry's mom would always answer the door and smile at Billy. She was a nice lady, who enjoyed watching the boys play together.

    One day, a day like any other in many respects, Billy found himself waiting outside the door to Harry's house longer than usual. This upset Billy a little bit, although he couldn't quite say why. Finally, after what seemed an eternity to Billy, the door opened. But standing there in the doorway, looking awfully glum, was Harry, not his mother.

    "Harry, what's the matter? Why so glum? I thought we could go put our fezz hats on today and ride our motor bikes around town. Wouldn't that be swell?" Billy always loved riding the bikes through town with Harry. They'd weave back and forth across the yellow line in the middle of the street and just have a grand old time. But today, something looked wrong with Harry, and Billy started to become concerned.

    "Harry, where's your mom? Why didn't she answer the door today? Normally when I come over to your house she answers the door and smiles at me. She invites me inside with a grand gesture and then she fixes me milk and cookies while you finish getting dressed and cleaning your room."

    "Billy..." started Harry, not quite sure how to proceed with this.

    "Yes Harry?" Answered Billy with a wide-eyed look of expectation on his face. Gee golly he'd sure like to know what happened to Harry's mom.

    "My mom's dead Billy."

    "What?" cried Billy.

    "Dead." answered Harry.

    "Dead?" questioned Billy.

    "Yes, she died." Affirmed Harry.

    "You mean like dead, dead?" increduled Billy.

    "Pretty much as dead as they come." confirmed Harry.

    "But I like your mom. She's nice. She gives me milk and cookies and watches us play together." whined Billy.

    "Yes Billy, but she was 105 years old. I mean, you yourself are what, about 75 judging from the picture? I mean people die man, get over it. My mom's dead, you want to ride our motorbikes or what?"

    Billy stopped for a moment to consider all that Harry had said. It was true that Harry's mom hadn't looked her best for some time now. It was also true that he and Harry were just fictional characters, based on a story inspired by a picture of two old men on three-wheelers. The more Billy thought about it, the more he realized that maybe it wasn't such a bad thing that Harry's mom was dead after all.

    "Gee Harry, I think riding our motorbikes would be swell. Maybe afterwards we could fix our own milk and cookies."

    "Sure Billy, whatever. Just as long as we wrap this up soon, because we're rapidly approaching the bottom of the page."

    And so Harry and Billy hopped on their motorbikes and wheeled freely around town for the rest of the day, laughing good-naturedly at the passing of Harry's mom.