The Thwacker

During my nephew Eric's missionary farewell, he told a very funny story of an incident with a box of rubber bands.  I thought it needed to be recorded as a story, and that it might be good material for a story telling festival.  I have written it the way I recollect it, with plenty of artistic license in the dialog, etc. I'm sure some of the details are incorrect.  Anyway, perhaps artistic license will cover me.  Here it is.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Color was irrelevant. Red, green, brown blue – it really made no difference. Eric reached inside the small cardboard box and pulled out a handful of elastics. He slipped each one inside another, creating a chain that grew quickly in length. His paper route days were now over. The elastics were no longer essential to his occupation. So what else was there to do on a lazy Saturday afternoon? One after another he strung the rubber loops together. The chain must have been ten feet long now.

“Yo, Eric, Whassup?” Braden was suddenly there observing Eric's handiwork. Eric's blond, buzzed head looked up.

“Not much, man. Just tryin' to keep from bein' bored out of my mind. Wassup with you?”

“'Bout the same. Whatcha' gonna do with the rubber rope?”

“Dunno. Just wastin' my time. Wonder how far this will stretch.”

“You gonna hook all those eleastics on?”

“Sure, why not? I betcha I can stretch it all the way to the street.”

“Yer crazy, man. Yer mom know whacher doin?”

“She doesn't care. Man, I'm just playin' with elastics. Besides, she's not even here. She's out shopping.”

“So each one stretches, say, 10 inches, and it's 50 yards to the road. You gotta have a zillion elastics.”

“I got this whole box. Don't know how many's in here. I'm just gonna see how long this gets.”

“So which ones stretch the longest – red, green, brown, or blue?”

“Who cares? Whatcha' wanna make some kind of science project outta this or somethin'? I'm just gonna stretch these babies out. Who knows, maybe we can use this to launch water balloons or somethin'.”

“Now you're talkin'. Here, lemme help.” Braden grabbed a handful and began looping them together. He was thin, with dark hair and deep brown eyes. “So how come you quit your paper route?”

“I dunno, it was just getting boring. You know, it's the same thing every stupid day. Ya gotta get up early in the morning, drag the bundles in from the curb, put the stuffers in, fold 'em in thirds, snap the elastic on and pack 'em in yer bicycle bags. Then hope it don't rain or nothin' while ya peddle through the neighborhood, cuttin' across everybody's lawn to get close enough to chuck 'em on the front porches.

“Ah, but come on, yer makin' big bucks fer a 12 year old.”

“Yeah right, IF you can get people to pay you. Collectin' is such a drag. And you end up payin' fer lost papers and stuff. Man, fer the amount of work it is, I ain't sure it's worth all so much.”

“There, here's another 5 feet to hook on.”

“Okay, thanks. Look how long it is now.” Eric stood up and hooked one end of the rubber chain to the front storm door handle, then backed up about 30 feet. Braden took a few steps to the middle and pulled back the elastic links and let go. The chain responded with a vibrating T-w-w-a-a-a-n-n-g-g!

“Awesome,” Eric chanted. “Come on, we still got rubber bands left.”

The boys continued working for another half an hour, until the chain was almost 100 feet long.

“Whoa, look at this baby now,” Eric said as he hooked an end of the rubber chain to the handle on the storm door. He backed up quickly from the door, slowing down a little at a time as the chain became longer and longer, and the bands began to stretch.

“Whoooo-eeee, look at that thing,” Braden shouted. “Wonder what kind of release power it has.”

“Just watch,” Eric offered. He took another 5 steps back, stretching the linked elastics to their limit. He held up the arm he was pulling with, and, with a ceremonial flourish, let go of the band. A multicolored blur lined through the air and loudly SWACKED into the aluminum bottom panel of the storm door. The sound boomed into the air like that of the firing of a black powder muzzle-loader. A cat who was prowling nearby jerked and scampered into a nearby hedge. Eric and Braden burst into peels of laughter and delight. They broke into a run toward the storm door. The rubber chain was crumpled and slightly tangled, but was otherwise none the worse for wear.

Eric's younger brother, Tyler, came running up to the door from inside the house. “What the heck was that?” he yelled.

“That, little bro,” replied Eric, is the sound of the end of my newspaper business. I am a free man. I can sleep in and stay in my warm bed in the morning. I don't have to go collecting any more, and I don't have to be polite to any cranky customers either.”

“You forgot something,” said Braden.

“What's that,” Eric shot back.

“You also don't have money anymore. You just joined the ranks of the poor,” Braden replied.

“What're you guys talkin' about?” asked Tyler. He opened the storm door and stepped outside. “And what's with all the rubber bands?”

“Just watch and learn,” Eric said. He began to stretch out the elastic chain again. He carefully backed up from the door one step at a time. “Two more steps this time, Braden.” He grinned, and slowly and methodically backed up. “Everybody ready?”

“Just a sec, man” shouted Tyler, and he hurried out of range of the thwacker.

“Let 'er rip,” squealed Braden.

Eric ceremoniously lifted the flexing chain above his head and let it go.

The chain collapsed into a speeding mass and slammed into the door. THHHHHHWWWWAAAAAACCCCCKKKKKKK!

All three boys burst into peals of laughter. The sound this time was loud enough to be heard a block or two away, but amazingly enough, there was no one visible or paying attention. The fact that Eric and Tyler's house was a forty year old structure in the middle of the block and was pretty well surrounded by trees and vegetation was a great cover. Besides it was three in the afternoon. Who is out and around on a hot summer day at three in the afternoon? The graveled driveway to the house stretched 150 feet to the street. Eric had been backing up the driveway to operate the thwacker.

“Do it again, do it again,” yelled Tyler, his face bursting with excitement.

“One more time,” urged Braden. “Only this time, let me launch it.”

“All right,” Eric responded.

The boys sped to the door, gathered up the thwacker, and untangled it for another shot. The end was still hooked to the storm door. Braden, just slightly nervous, began to back up the driveway, stretching the elastics as he went. When he got 70 feet from the house, Eric raised his voice.

“Wait a sec,” he said, “I wanna strum it once like you did.”

Braden stopped and stood still. Eric scanned the extended band to find the middle, then strode up and grabbed the elastics. He took three steps back and let go.

BOOIIIINNNGGG! The vibrations of the band made a rubbery, flapping sound. The boys laughed again. Braden continued stepping backward, this time with renewed confidence.

“Watch this,” he said. “This is going to be the loudest thwack you've ever heard. He stepped to where Eric had last let go, then carefully and dramatically stepped back a few more steps.

“Five, four, three, two, one.”

Tyler and Eric were riveted. The band was taut and straight.

“Ready,” Braden shouted. “Set.” He paused for dramatic effect. But before he could say “Go”, there was a pronounced “snap” as the elastic broke where it grasped the strom door handle.

There was no time for anything but to watch what then happened. The band hurtled toward Braden. He couldn't even dodge out of the way. The rubbery chain bulleted right for him and nailed him hard in the forehead. “SLAP.” He grabbed his head and dropped on his knees. “Owwwwwwwwwww.”

Eric and Tyler rushed to him, shouting unintelligible moans and groans.

It took a couple of minutes before Braden could respond. His hands covered his eyes and forehead. Finally, Eric and Tyler convinced him to pull his hands away so that they could survey the damage. The skin on his forehead was not broken, but there was a 2 inch long red mark, shaped like a square root symbol. The impact had burned the image in. Braden's eyes were glistened as he tried to hold the water in. All he could say was, “u-h-h-h-h-h-h-h.”

“You ok, bro?” Eric pleaded. “You ok?”

“U-h-h-h-h-h-h,” moaned Braden.

“Braden, are you all right?” questioned Tylker.

“U-h-h-h-h-h-h,” moaned Braden.

“Tyler, run and get a washcloth and soak it with cold, cold water!” Eric commanded.

Tyler jumped up and bounded into the house.

Braden swallowed hard then squinting, looked over at Eric. “Guess I'm scarred for life, eh, Bro?”

Eric stared back. “Don't think so, “ he said, “but right now Harry Potter got nuthin' on you. That old thwacker really let loose on you.”

“Ain't gonna do it again,” Braden moaned.

“Me, neither, bro. We're done with the thwacker. Paper route AND elastics be hanged!” Eric replied.

“What we gonna tell my Mom?” Braden asked. “What's it look like?”

“You got a big ol' square root symbol right smack in the middle of your forehead. Like I say, kinda looks like Harry Potter. I wonder if he had a paper route,” said Eric.

Tyler came back with a saturated wash cloth. He handed it over to Eric. Eric took it and said, “Man, this is cold. Ya got frickin' ice cubes in here.”

“Well, yeah,” Tyler said. “I figgered he needed to cool down fast. Besides, they always give bags of ice to athletes.”

“Athletes?” replied Eric. “Shoot, Braden, ya get swacked in the head and now you're a great big athlete.”

“Just give me the washcloth,” Eric moaned. He grabbed the washcloth with the ice out of Eric's hands.

It took a couple of weeks for the red mark on Braden's forehead to disappear. Everyone wanted to know how it all happened. Braden couldn't bring himself to tell everyone what really happened. So he concocted a story about falling down on a tree branch lying on the ground at Eric's place. Tyler and Eric were, of course, in on it and didn't betray the secret. But they did consider sending an email to the local newspaper with a warning that elastic bands could be classified as hazardous material.