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The Trampoline Story By Rachael Sims consider this an attempt to make up for months of no rants. mia culpa. the war with the kids across the street began three weeks ago. upon pulling > into the driveway of our new house, we were greeted by three children, all > young boys between the ages of 7 and 9, whose names will not be revealed > because i hate them and do not want to think of them. ever. they approached > sweetly yet shyly, offering only small grins and timid handshakes. the first > two introduced themselves and then did the same for the third boy, > explaining to us that he was deaf, but a "really good lip reader". i was > enthralled - moving to a neighborhood far from campus had been my ideal, not > only for the cheaper rent, but for the more family-orientated atmosphere. > after living behind the co-ops of eugene for three months and downstairs > from three continuously alcohol-related vomiting girls, i was ready for the > change. and change was here! - in the form of 3 youngsters eager to > introduce themselves and play with our two cats, billy and slayer. > > i liked the boys immediately. we referred to one of them as "the emperor" > because he was constantly adorned in a "cape" (aka old bed sheet) with his > trusty "sword" (broken plunger handle) at his side. the deaf boy would teach > us bits of sign language, and within days i could make over 30 obscene words > with my fingers. all was going well.... or so we thought. > > the fourth day after our arrival, my roommate dan decided to unpack his > contribution to the house - his 12' trampoline. i was stoked - a badminton > net and a trampoline? surely i was a virtuous person in a former life to be > given the use of such cool toys. i was already imagining aerial maneuvers > and sleeping under the stars when the trouble began. > > within five minutes of the trampoline's appearance, the emperor was on our > doorstep breathlessly begging and pleading to "pplllleeeeeeeaaaaaaassseeeeee > jump on the trampoline, pretty please?!?" i laughed at his childlike > excitement, and granted his wish, on the simple condition that he get a > permission slip from his mother. knowing the neighborhood children would > want to make our trampoline their new stomping grounds, my room mates and i > had discussed the matter of liability, and possible injuries they might > encounter. we agreed that by having their parents sign a release form, it > would be understood that the children would only be able to jump while > supervised by one of us, and in the unfortunate incident that any of them > were hurt, we would not be legally responsible. so i sent the emperor back > to his mother, telling him he could jump as soon as his mom provided us with > the release form. he ran at full speed, cape flapping in the wind as his > chubby legs carried him away. five minutes later, he was back, waving a > yellow post-it note in my face. i reached for the paper, surprised at it's > small size - i had been expecting something a little bigger... maybe his > mother had small hand writing? perplexed, i read the following: > > "ok for ____ to jump on trampline - n.s." > > hmmm. this posed a problem. nowhere in the note did she specify we wouldn't > be sued if the emperor was hurt. nor did she sign her full name, (which, at > this point, i had no idea what it was). nor did she spell trampoline > correctly. > > i had to explain to the emperor that mommy hadn't quite written the right > kind of note, but no matter; i would go over and talk to her myself. so we > walked, (or rather, he ran and i was dragged) across the street to the > emperor's castle, where i met his mother for the first time. i introduced > myself, explained why we wanted the note, just for clarification, and > because we wanted to make sure the children understood that they could only > jump when supervised. i smiled inwardly, proud of how mother'ish i sounded. > surely she would understand, perhaps even commend my room mates and i on our > maturity. > > instead, she became a raging, stupid bitch. > > first she questioned why the original note wasn't good enough. i calmly > explained to her that although the note was fine for permission reasons, it > didn't free us of liability, nor did it even give her name. before i could > finish explaining myself, she cut in with attack number two, which basically > was that she thought a release note was "too extreme" and made her question > why we wanted one in the first place. in fact, her exact words were, "when > you ask for something like that, it almost makes me think you want the kids > to intentionally hurt themselves." yeah right, lady, i'm going to give the > emperor here a real sword and send him out a-bouncing. of course i didn't > say that, but i was seething inside. here we are trying to do something nice > for those kids while at the same time trying to save our asses from a > possible future law suit, and she accuses me of trying to HURT children? > realizing that this confrontation was going nowhere, i suggested she talk > the matter over with the children's father, and get back to us. i haven't > heard from her since. > > but i heard from the kids. oh god, have we heard from the kids. moments > after the confrontation, the emperor, flanked by thing #2 and the deaf kid, > were on our doorsteps whining and crying, asking why couldn't they jump on > the trampoline, and did we really smoke crack? apparently their parents > instructed them with scare tactics to keep them from venturing to our house, > so my room mates and i magically acquired a white-drug addiction. i sent the > children away, telling them there was nothing that i could do, and if their > parents wanted them to stay away from us, they should do so. > > the war began the next morning with the rise of the sun. since it was close > to the fourth of july, there were more than enough pyrotechnics in the local > area to bear the wrath of the children. and bear they did. i was awakened at > 6am sharp the next morning to a loud bang outside the front of my house. > thinking it ws just a car backfiring, i tried to go back to sleep.... until > i heard bellows of evil, childlike laughter. i ran from my bedroom out the > front door to discover my mailbox, charred and smoking, bearing the words, > "die crack smoking f*ckers die!" in blood red crayola. inside i found a > total of 20 crackling balls taped together, with a exploding whip used as > the fuse. i stood in shock, trying to imagine who would do such a thing. and > it was while i was standing there that i heard the "whiz" of bicycle wheels, > followed by a sudden sharp blow to the back of my skull. i reeled in pain, > trying to balance myself, only to be knocked to the ground by a second hit. > once i was on the concrete i played dead for a moment, to give my attackers > the sense that i was fallen. as i heard them pedal away, i opened my eyes > narrowly enough to see two large potatoes laying by my feet. it was with > shock that i realized: i had been the victim of a ride-by potato gunning. > > later that afternoon, my room mate matt needed to go to the store to > purchase condoms, (no, really, he did. matt has sex, honest.) dan and i were > in his room listening to his new daft punk vinyl, when matt re-entered the > house, fumingly pissed. we asked him what was wrong, and he thrust a handful > of jax in our faces. apparently they had been left behind his tires, and > later pried out of the tires when matt backed over him. oh yeah, and they > wrote "we hate you and want to kill you" on his windshield in the same, > blood-red crayola. but matt was more pissed about the tires. > > matt, dan and i decided to try not to think about it. we couldn't even > really prove it was the kids across the street, and who knows, maybe every > morning around 6am some random person in southeast eugene fires off a potato > gun in close proximity of our house. and perhaps a militia group in a > neighboring block practices a strange, ritual "welcome-to-the-neighborhood" > ritual on the cars of all new-comers that involves puncturing tires and > scrawling out death threats on windows. it could happen. that didn't really > explain our mailbox, but we chose to overlook that. it was ugly and rusted > anyway. instead, we decided to relieve our woes by indulging in the very > object that had began this whole mess. and we went out back to jump on the > trampoline. > > i ran ahead of the boys, eager to be first on the springy fixture, before > they had a chance to gain momentum and throw off my bounces. i put both off > my hands on the metal railing and raised myself on to the nylon... only to > slide off, hit my crotch on the bar and land face-down in the grass. for a > moment, all was black. then, as i came to, i noticed a slightly greasy yet > familiar smelling coating on my hands; i raised them to my blurry eyes, > inhaled, and realized it was crisco. but before i had a chance to warn my > room mates, (who were laughing at me as i writhed in pain), they had already > befallen a similar fate, and also taken out their crotches on the metal > railing. which was very painful, because they have wieners. > > lying there together, face down and reeling in groinal-area aching, we were > able to hear the shrieks of laughter from deep in the bushes through the > haze of near unconsciousness. we heard them run away, cheering their victory > to the rest of the block, and undoubtedly to their bitch of a mom. and at > that very moment, we realized we had unintentionally waged a deadly battle. > no longer we were safe in our own backyards, or even by our mailboxes for > that matter. we were officially at war with the kids across the street. > > it was dan who came up with the master plan to fight fire with fire. if the > kids across the street wanted the trampoline so badly, they could have it. > the next morning i went back to the house of the emperor and queen bitch to > inform them that we were going out of town, and would appreciate if they > could keep an eye out for any suspicious characters in the neighborhood. i > made sure the children were within earshot when i told their mother of our > fake vacation plans. i could literally see the evil wheels in their brains > turning behind their hamster-like eyes. that and i watched the sign-out to > the deaf boy, "the crack smokers are leaving this weekend - we can go jump > on their trampoline!". all was set for the ultimate revenge. > > the next day the three of us removed the majority of the springs from around > the edge of our jumping device. we left just enough on to keep the nylon > stretched and off the ground, but not nearly strong enough to sustain the > bouncing of three, evil children. when we were finished, matt and his two > inflatable dummies, (which he declined to tell us about, or explain why he > had two inflatable dummies), took off down the street en route to their > "vacation". from the second floor window, dan and i could see the emperor, > thing #2 and the deaf boy crouched in the bushes, waiting for their very own > holiday on our trampoline to begin. after matt had finished parking the car > two blocks away, (which is weird, because it took him three hours, and when > he came back, both of the dummies had gone flat from mysterious holes that > had punctured near the rectal area), he snuck back to the house without > being seen by the three amigos. they were smart, those children spawn from > hell: they knew that to be safe, they should wait until nightfall, so as not > to be seen by other neighbors. > > it was late, near 10 or 11, and we were still perched at the upstairs > window. dan was drifting off to sleep, i was listening to weezer, and matt > was trying with all his might to seal up those holes in the dummies, when we > spotted them, there in the corner of our front yard, sneaking to the back of > the house. they had come prepared, with flashlights and flips flops, shoes > that were easily removed for hours of bouncing pleasure. when they reached > our backyard, they squealed in delight at the sight of our trampoline. for a > moment, i almost felt guilty about what was going to occur; then i reached > back and touched the knot in the back of my head caused from high-speed > potatoes, and i changed my mind. fuckers. > > they took their flashlights and set them on the railing of our porch, > pointed at the trampoline, almost creating a spotlight affect while they > jumped. which was great for my room mates and i, since it was dark and we > wanted to be able to see the action go down. then they removed their shoes, > and began to walk towards the jump-o-matic. the three of us crouched at the > window held our breaths. it was that really great nervous excitement, the > kind that makes you feel like you have to pee when you're kidding from > someone in a game of capture the flag, or commando. when they reached the > trampoline, they all climbed on, and stood on the metal railing. they joined > hands and said, "on the count of three, we'll jump on!" perfect!, i thought. > they'll all hit at the same time. in their childlike voices, they excitedly > counted down to their own destruction. > > "one...two... THREE!" > > > the whole thing happened in slow motion, set to "chariots of fire". they > leapt high into the air for maximum bounce. then, the chaos ensued. the > emperor, who was the biggest of the three, stole the momentum from his > comrades bounces, and was sent hurtling 17 feet up and 12 feet to the left. > as he was coming down, he was closing in on the peg of our badminton net. i > closed my eyes momentarily, fearing i was going to witness firsthand a 9 > year old be impaled by a wooden object. instead, he came down beside it, and > it caught his underwear. the emperor screamed in pain as he was given the > official largest melvin in the world. later we would learn that his > underwear were lodged an actual 14 and a half inches up his anus. > > thing #2 was the luckiest of the three, really. he didn't hit the trampoline > until after the emperor had been shot off, and by then the nylon had > collapsed. he just kind of flopped down, cried a lot, and then got roughed > up by our carnivorous cats, billy and slayer. i think they took a chunk out > of his left ear, but i'm not sure. > > but it was the deaf kid who really got it the worst. after falling through > the circle of where the nylon should have been, he landed hard, at the wrong > angle, with his legs tucked under them... and they snapped off. just like > that. i'll never forget the sound, either - like those popsicles you would > get as a kid that had two sticks, and you would break them apart and give > one to a friend. definitely a snapping sound, but kind of mushy and wet. i > saw one of the legs pop off into the bushes, but to this day we've never > found the second one. which is weird because our backyard is only 30x30. oh > well. > > we stood agasp at our upstairs window. this was far greater turmoil than we > had expected to cause. anal-scarring melvins? feline bloodshed? leg > snapping? matt decided out of human decency to call an ambulance, to help > the kids, and also in hopes of surgical tape that would mend those pesky > holes. dan went across the street to get the parents, and i just kind of > stood there, thinking, damn. i haven't had this much fun on a friday night > since ryan evans snapped off my hood ornament in high school. > > the media was all over the story. at first we were frightened they would > make us look at the bad guys, but surprisingly, it worked in our favor. the > children were viewed as reckless delinquents, and were actually charged with > trespassing on private property. we sued their parents and received enough > money to pay off our student loans. hallelujah! > > now as i look back upon the whole incident, i try and find what the meaning > in all of it was. is it that karma is an ever-present factor in life, > serving out disproportionate fates to those involved? is it that the old > belief of "love thy neighbor" is an outdated, useless proverb of old? or > maybe it's something as simple as don't always try to be the good guy - it > all started when we offered to let the kids jump with a permission slip, > anyway. what if we had just declined? maybe this would have happened anyway. > maybe not. > > no, i think the real lesson here.... is that there's nothing funnier than a > paraplegic deaf kid. man, that's classic. |
