The Bells! The Bells! - 2nd Grade.
Entry posted by Gaius Octavius
673 views
At first, you must understand that Jacky Kelly and I were the best of friends. Common assaults on each other were a daily practice. Aside from a lot of first-aid, they were of no consequence to neither ourselves, the flatfoots nor our parents, as they all felt that it was much better and safer for us to try to kill each other than for them to do the work. It would also do some little good for our black, sin stained, damned souls.
Visitation Place was a one block street, bounded on one side by a great library building, and a lot in which delinquents practiced mayhem on each other. Even the little angelic girls did not exempt themselves from this form of entertainment. On the other side, stood one end of the church, the rectory, a small graveyard, the school, and the nunnery. (For later reference, at one end of the avenue was Taffy Dick's, and on the other a small park.) No vehicle ever trespassed on this Sacred Boulevard, lest it incur the rage of the nuns. The fact that the criminal urchins would set their tire valves free, and most likely set their wrecks ablaze, did not escape their teamsters.
One day, as usual, we were all having at each other in the lot before school began. Then of a sudden, The Bells!, The Bells! Everyone froze. The Bells made an unbelievable racket. They were as big as the Liberty Bell. How those four foot nothing nuns ever swang those things is well beyond my ken. This meant that we were to gather in front of the girl's or boy's entrance to the asylum according to our preferences. Nuns and priests paraded fro and to, to no great advantage, save to put the fear of God into we innocents. Smacks were administered to the boys on general principle. The nun's habits made a provocative swishing sound. Their perfume was enticing. The next broadside meant that we were to line up in size order in the mud gutter. Wound up in fights, and never resulted in the same order twice. Do you know what a carpet gun is? Never mind. This is when Jacky let go with his gun. The missile hit the left ham of my tender coolie. The resultant was a most unbelievable oweee, and terminal harm to my pantaloons. And there was Jacky with a malignant smirk on his devil blessed Irish visage. Since we were on line, I couldn't get at him. I was left with vowing eternal vengeance against Jacky, and his entire race beyond infinity. The next salute meant for all to march into the institution. Girls on one side; boys facing them. Things and insults were hoven at each other. The Bells! The Bells! The flag; the Pledge of Allegiance; the rote prayers for the good of our feculent souls. Off to class. Boys on one side; girls on the other. What ever did those nuns think that the boys would do to the girls - at this time? We never even thought about patent leather shoes. Did you know that they were forbidden in Catholic society? Well, Sister Felicita gave us some worthless chore, and joined her brethren in a prayer meeting. The ammunition we used for our sling shots was salted chick peas. They could either be used in battle or as a snack. In the latter case, I shan't impinge upon your tender sensibilities with the resultant odiforous qualities. Well, I rose to the occasion, slang my pea shooter at Jacky's iron bound head, and let go. Nailed headquarters but good. Pea shattered into dust. Jacky let out a most hellacious feigned yell that woke the deads in the graveyard. Sister thought it best to revisit her crime lab. Caught me standing there with the evidence in hand and chortling. Gavelled the session to order; confiscated sling shot; wrote out a note, and ordered me to bring it to the nunnery. Had to walk down some steps - a positive evil omen. My stomach churned and vaulted. Pressed upon The Bells. A gorgonish looking nun appeared. Doom was at my heels. She read the note and invited me into the vestibule, and then misappeared behind the inner door. The space was about the size of a small closet. Dark, wood paneled. Yellow stained glass and dim yellow lights. Yes, this was the much dreaded entrance to hell! No place to sit, and thus one wants most to sit. Therefore, I perched my personal coolie on the floor. The inner door opened a crack, and I beheld a bald nun! Bald as a tomato! Yes!, this was hell! Would they roast me? Toast me? Fricassee me? I spent a few terror laden hours there with my heart in my gullet.
Next day, Jacky got me with an ice cream cone - down my shirt!
Thank you Jacky, I hope that you get shingles, and pass your days in agony.
1 Comment
Recommended Comments