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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.
