a pirates field trip by ray rebmann (chrome ebook reader .txt) š
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him playfully as he slowly
looked around to regain his bearings.
He especially marveled at the leaves. He began picking them up by the fistful, shoving as
many as he could into every pocket. Then he ran, old man fashion, giddy as he kicked
up leaves, stirring up the secret things hidden in the woods.
The woods began to open up, spreading out before him like a sea, waves rushing all
around him. The swaying branches began to assume form, straightening, crossing. The blizzard
of leaves changed too, solidifying, becoming great white sheets billowing in the wind.
Masts and sails parted the trees. The earth rocked beneath his feet. Rolling waves
thundering far off, running up and down a distant shore. Closer now, waves splashing across a
shipās deck. The distinct smell of salt as the wind changed course.
Kelly stayed close beside him, silently watching, having seen such changes beforeā¦
A ship appeared where trees once stood. And he and the dog stood upon a deck, looking
up as shaking branches turned into groaning mastsā¦
A man stood above them at the shipās wheel steering. His skin was brown, the color of
the leaves fallen off the oak trees. His big hands were covered with scars, the fingernails, broken
and dirty. He bore a nasty scar on his neck. Looked like rope burns. As he looked out over the
steering wheel, he blew his nose. It had been broken several times, in close fighting and when he
blew, he let out a blast like a horn at a football game.
Field Trip Pirates --16
He wore a long blue coat, with large shiny brass buttons. Once quite elegant, now frayed
along the edges and tattered and patched in numerous places. He wore a large lace trimmed hat
that he obviously took pride in it being the only neat and well-kept part of himself.
He looked down at Mr J and the dog.
āAhoy and shiver me timbers, if it aināt Barnacle Bill. Give a hand and heave to. Weāre
headinā into a strong wind. If I aināt mistaken, adventure lies aheadā¦ā
āAdventure? And what adventure would that be for a retired school teacher?ā
āTeacher? Bill, aināt you learned yet that teachers is swabs?ā He roared.
Mr J frowned at the scoundrel. This was not the lovable rascal Long John. This was a true
rogue, worse than Flint on his bloodthirstiest, money grubbingest day. A breaker of young
hearts. A spoiler of youth. A thief of dreams.
He raised his umbrella and waved it menacingly at the ship. Then he positioned himself
preparing to duel, his umbrella now a sword. The other laughed grimly and stood back.
āNot yet, laddie, not yet. Mark me shipmate, Iāll be there to greet ye when the time
comes, Bill.ā
Suddenly, one of the masts snapped. A large spar fell, knocking Mr. J to the deck. He
lay there, not moving, Kelly wagged her tail thinking he was playing. But when the man didnāt
get up, the dogās wags became more insistent. Then the dog yipped. Then he barked.
Finally, the ship disappeared. The woods were back. Kelly wagged her tail. That was her
signal that it was drawing close to 4. Time to be getting home to prepare dinner and have the fire
burning cozily in the living room fireplaceā¦
āIām getting too old for this.ā Mr J thought to himself, as he blacked out.
* * *
Field Trip Pirates --17
Momās become totally obsessed with protecting me from, well, from everything. The
whole world. She has my name sewed everywhere on all my clothes. Even my gym socks have a
great big āJā for Jason stitched in red on the heel. āJā for jerk is how it makes me feel.. Itās
humiliating.
I swear if I let her sheād tattoo my name, address, and her cell phone number across my
forehead along with a message like āif Jason the jerk does or even thinks about doing anything
consider it a serious medical emergency and call 911ā.
Sheās so jumpy these days. She hates any sign of conflict. Thatās why she dreamed up
stuff like this loving brother bit. Whenever me and Huey fight she separates us like sheās a UN
peacekeeper. Makes us do our homework in separate rooms and if weāre really trying to destroy
each other, eat in separate rooms at separate times which is fine with Huey because he gets to
watch teevee while he eats in the living room and I get to sit and keep mom company at the
kitchen table.
I feel so sad for her. She works two jobs just to take care of us.
One of her jobs is as a hash slinger. I know thatās slang for working as a waitress but I
canāt help but laugh when I imagine my mom running around juggling trays on both arms,
another tray balanced on her forehead, tossing plates of spaghetti and scrambled eggs at starving
people sitting in booths.
Maybe splat somebody in the face with a nice fat cream pie like they do in the Three
Stooges.
Thatās the job that really tires her out. She goes to the diner after weāre in bed..or at least
after weāre supposed to be in bedā¦Huey usually sneaks out after sheās gone to call his dumb
Field Trip Pirates --18
friends or look up bad stuff on Internet and always to terrorize me. I never say anything to her
though, ācause thatād only make the punishment worse when he gets me at school.
Her other jobās in a nursing home. She takes care of really old people whose bodies are
falling apart. Really. Sometimes sheāll come home from work and her uniform will be stained
with something, blood maybe or something worse and sheāll say āpoor Mr. Gibbs, his kidney fell
out of his backside or he threw up his stomach and parts of his lung came along with it.
My favorite was the story she told about a lady who was about 137. She sneezed so hard
her wig popped three feet up in the air and then all this white stuff poured out of both nostrils. It
was her brains coming outā¦
I just wish she didnāt have to do either of those jobs. Then she could play the piano and
maybe teach kids music lessons at home the way she used to. At least sheād be there for us and
not always be so tired.
* * *
Field Trip Pirates --19
I reach school early the morning of the field trip. I always reach school early
to avoid having to deal with Huey. He hates being my brother and takes it out on
me as soon as weāre out of sight of home.
I keep asking mom to let Huey go to school by himself. Huey whines
and carries on for hours every morning begging her to let him go by himself but every
morning she makes him take me with him. There weād go down the street, Huey half a mile
ahead, me looking around, dragging my backpack, looking at everythingā¦Huey every two
seconds yelling come on Jason, come on Jason, come on Jasonā¦
ā¦until weāre far enough away from the house that Huey could turn and yell
āHope a truck runs over youā
And there like magic at his side are Dewey and Louis, and the three of them run
off laughing.
āIām a big boy mom. I can walk to school by myself.ā I always tell her. āBesides, Huey
would rather be with his friends.ā
āWell, heās your big brother and he should love and watch out for you. You should be his
best friend.ā
Right mom, I always think, never say. I love her but the way she lives in lala land
especially about the way her kids are supposed to be. Whew!
Truth is Huey hates me and everyone in the world except mom knows it. Iām the last kid
Huey would āwatch out forā and as for love, please gag me.
Hereās another truth. I hate Huey too.
I have fun imagining all sorts of neat ways for Huey to die. A meteor falling out of the
Field Trip Pirates --20
sky lands right on his head. A 300 foot tsunami crosses the Atlantic Ocean and carries him off
making him swallow a zillion gallons of salt water. Terrorists kidnap him, tie him up on
one of their terrorist airplanes and blow him up over the white house with only Huey on board.
Or how about a virus brought here on a ship from some foreign country that infects him and
makes his eyes fall out and pus and blood pour out of every pore.
Oh yeah, I really get into inventing ways for Huey to die.
I think I hate Huey even more since dad died.
That part about dad dying is a lie I tell myself. I tell people that my real dad died in a ship
wreck during the war. Iām not sure which war but this is my very own personal kid legend. My
real dad was a war hero, I tell people.
The guy we were stuck with later was like an evil step dad, something like one of those
changelings you read about in fairy tales, you know, human kid switched at birth with a fairy
kid only this changeling is in reverse, grown up switched with an nasty ogre.
I guess I should admit that my dad didnāt die. Maybe just a part of him died. What really
happened is he just gave up trying and one day left.
So the truth is, I really hate Huey every since dad ran away.
* * *
Field Trip Pirates --21
Mom had been crying again. I could tell first thing when I saw her this morning. She tried
covering it up with make up and then when that didnāt work she tried faking us out with too
many smiles and then too many frowns. They are the masks she puts on so as not to show us
boys how much sheās hurting inside.
Show us boys? Show me at least. I feel her hurt.
Huey doesnāt feel anything. At breakfast he had his face so buried in the box of whatever
sugar loaded crap he was pigging out on that if youād called his name and he lifted his head up to
answer, the box would come up too.
āBox headā.
Iād called him that once when that actually happened and I paid for it on the
way to schoolā¦right into Mrs Barrettās thorn bushes he tossed me. I was still picking out the
looked around to regain his bearings.
He especially marveled at the leaves. He began picking them up by the fistful, shoving as
many as he could into every pocket. Then he ran, old man fashion, giddy as he kicked
up leaves, stirring up the secret things hidden in the woods.
The woods began to open up, spreading out before him like a sea, waves rushing all
around him. The swaying branches began to assume form, straightening, crossing. The blizzard
of leaves changed too, solidifying, becoming great white sheets billowing in the wind.
Masts and sails parted the trees. The earth rocked beneath his feet. Rolling waves
thundering far off, running up and down a distant shore. Closer now, waves splashing across a
shipās deck. The distinct smell of salt as the wind changed course.
Kelly stayed close beside him, silently watching, having seen such changes beforeā¦
A ship appeared where trees once stood. And he and the dog stood upon a deck, looking
up as shaking branches turned into groaning mastsā¦
A man stood above them at the shipās wheel steering. His skin was brown, the color of
the leaves fallen off the oak trees. His big hands were covered with scars, the fingernails, broken
and dirty. He bore a nasty scar on his neck. Looked like rope burns. As he looked out over the
steering wheel, he blew his nose. It had been broken several times, in close fighting and when he
blew, he let out a blast like a horn at a football game.
Field Trip Pirates --16
He wore a long blue coat, with large shiny brass buttons. Once quite elegant, now frayed
along the edges and tattered and patched in numerous places. He wore a large lace trimmed hat
that he obviously took pride in it being the only neat and well-kept part of himself.
He looked down at Mr J and the dog.
āAhoy and shiver me timbers, if it aināt Barnacle Bill. Give a hand and heave to. Weāre
headinā into a strong wind. If I aināt mistaken, adventure lies aheadā¦ā
āAdventure? And what adventure would that be for a retired school teacher?ā
āTeacher? Bill, aināt you learned yet that teachers is swabs?ā He roared.
Mr J frowned at the scoundrel. This was not the lovable rascal Long John. This was a true
rogue, worse than Flint on his bloodthirstiest, money grubbingest day. A breaker of young
hearts. A spoiler of youth. A thief of dreams.
He raised his umbrella and waved it menacingly at the ship. Then he positioned himself
preparing to duel, his umbrella now a sword. The other laughed grimly and stood back.
āNot yet, laddie, not yet. Mark me shipmate, Iāll be there to greet ye when the time
comes, Bill.ā
Suddenly, one of the masts snapped. A large spar fell, knocking Mr. J to the deck. He
lay there, not moving, Kelly wagged her tail thinking he was playing. But when the man didnāt
get up, the dogās wags became more insistent. Then the dog yipped. Then he barked.
Finally, the ship disappeared. The woods were back. Kelly wagged her tail. That was her
signal that it was drawing close to 4. Time to be getting home to prepare dinner and have the fire
burning cozily in the living room fireplaceā¦
āIām getting too old for this.ā Mr J thought to himself, as he blacked out.
* * *
Field Trip Pirates --17
Momās become totally obsessed with protecting me from, well, from everything. The
whole world. She has my name sewed everywhere on all my clothes. Even my gym socks have a
great big āJā for Jason stitched in red on the heel. āJā for jerk is how it makes me feel.. Itās
humiliating.
I swear if I let her sheād tattoo my name, address, and her cell phone number across my
forehead along with a message like āif Jason the jerk does or even thinks about doing anything
consider it a serious medical emergency and call 911ā.
Sheās so jumpy these days. She hates any sign of conflict. Thatās why she dreamed up
stuff like this loving brother bit. Whenever me and Huey fight she separates us like sheās a UN
peacekeeper. Makes us do our homework in separate rooms and if weāre really trying to destroy
each other, eat in separate rooms at separate times which is fine with Huey because he gets to
watch teevee while he eats in the living room and I get to sit and keep mom company at the
kitchen table.
I feel so sad for her. She works two jobs just to take care of us.
One of her jobs is as a hash slinger. I know thatās slang for working as a waitress but I
canāt help but laugh when I imagine my mom running around juggling trays on both arms,
another tray balanced on her forehead, tossing plates of spaghetti and scrambled eggs at starving
people sitting in booths.
Maybe splat somebody in the face with a nice fat cream pie like they do in the Three
Stooges.
Thatās the job that really tires her out. She goes to the diner after weāre in bed..or at least
after weāre supposed to be in bedā¦Huey usually sneaks out after sheās gone to call his dumb
Field Trip Pirates --18
friends or look up bad stuff on Internet and always to terrorize me. I never say anything to her
though, ācause thatād only make the punishment worse when he gets me at school.
Her other jobās in a nursing home. She takes care of really old people whose bodies are
falling apart. Really. Sometimes sheāll come home from work and her uniform will be stained
with something, blood maybe or something worse and sheāll say āpoor Mr. Gibbs, his kidney fell
out of his backside or he threw up his stomach and parts of his lung came along with it.
My favorite was the story she told about a lady who was about 137. She sneezed so hard
her wig popped three feet up in the air and then all this white stuff poured out of both nostrils. It
was her brains coming outā¦
I just wish she didnāt have to do either of those jobs. Then she could play the piano and
maybe teach kids music lessons at home the way she used to. At least sheād be there for us and
not always be so tired.
* * *
Field Trip Pirates --19
I reach school early the morning of the field trip. I always reach school early
to avoid having to deal with Huey. He hates being my brother and takes it out on
me as soon as weāre out of sight of home.
I keep asking mom to let Huey go to school by himself. Huey whines
and carries on for hours every morning begging her to let him go by himself but every
morning she makes him take me with him. There weād go down the street, Huey half a mile
ahead, me looking around, dragging my backpack, looking at everythingā¦Huey every two
seconds yelling come on Jason, come on Jason, come on Jasonā¦
ā¦until weāre far enough away from the house that Huey could turn and yell
āHope a truck runs over youā
And there like magic at his side are Dewey and Louis, and the three of them run
off laughing.
āIām a big boy mom. I can walk to school by myself.ā I always tell her. āBesides, Huey
would rather be with his friends.ā
āWell, heās your big brother and he should love and watch out for you. You should be his
best friend.ā
Right mom, I always think, never say. I love her but the way she lives in lala land
especially about the way her kids are supposed to be. Whew!
Truth is Huey hates me and everyone in the world except mom knows it. Iām the last kid
Huey would āwatch out forā and as for love, please gag me.
Hereās another truth. I hate Huey too.
I have fun imagining all sorts of neat ways for Huey to die. A meteor falling out of the
Field Trip Pirates --20
sky lands right on his head. A 300 foot tsunami crosses the Atlantic Ocean and carries him off
making him swallow a zillion gallons of salt water. Terrorists kidnap him, tie him up on
one of their terrorist airplanes and blow him up over the white house with only Huey on board.
Or how about a virus brought here on a ship from some foreign country that infects him and
makes his eyes fall out and pus and blood pour out of every pore.
Oh yeah, I really get into inventing ways for Huey to die.
I think I hate Huey even more since dad died.
That part about dad dying is a lie I tell myself. I tell people that my real dad died in a ship
wreck during the war. Iām not sure which war but this is my very own personal kid legend. My
real dad was a war hero, I tell people.
The guy we were stuck with later was like an evil step dad, something like one of those
changelings you read about in fairy tales, you know, human kid switched at birth with a fairy
kid only this changeling is in reverse, grown up switched with an nasty ogre.
I guess I should admit that my dad didnāt die. Maybe just a part of him died. What really
happened is he just gave up trying and one day left.
So the truth is, I really hate Huey every since dad ran away.
* * *
Field Trip Pirates --21
Mom had been crying again. I could tell first thing when I saw her this morning. She tried
covering it up with make up and then when that didnāt work she tried faking us out with too
many smiles and then too many frowns. They are the masks she puts on so as not to show us
boys how much sheās hurting inside.
Show us boys? Show me at least. I feel her hurt.
Huey doesnāt feel anything. At breakfast he had his face so buried in the box of whatever
sugar loaded crap he was pigging out on that if youād called his name and he lifted his head up to
answer, the box would come up too.
āBox headā.
Iād called him that once when that actually happened and I paid for it on the
way to schoolā¦right into Mrs Barrettās thorn bushes he tossed me. I was still picking out the
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