Retribution

We had been going through a long rain spell back in the summer of 1966 and the downpours we had been through had managed to flood the streets, bar ditches over flowing, yards standing several inches of water, creeks over-flowing their banks and lakes running over their spillways. I can still remember what had started out as a normal summer thunderstorm had developed into a two week plus rain spell that at times would produce 3 to 4 inches of rain and hour with sprinkling or misting in between dour pours. These were times boys lived for, the first day after the rains when the sun was out you headed for the creek to see if anything interesting had washed down from up creek, something you could use or at least claim before you father eventually stacked it out near the curb for the trash man to cart, because most likely that treasure you had found was probably washed from out in front of someone else’s home sitting by the curb for disposal after it had been lying in their garage since its last flood rescue.

So anyway, my next older brother and his fishing friend decided to go to the creek and seine for bait, minnows, crayfish, small perch and the large earthworms that are dislodged from the eroding shore, but he had lost his seine in a trade with another friend of his, so his next inspiration was to use non other’s than our dad’s seine. Now normally if you asked dad he would have said yes and upon accepting that responsibility of the, “If you loose it you have three options, 1. Find it before you come home. 2. Replace it before you get home or number 3. Don’t bother coming home if you can’t do one of the two before. Are we agreed?” Then after letting that go in one ear and out the other agreeing to anything asked of you, you took off running for the creek. He failed to talk to dad about borrowing it and agreeing to the usually ironclad stipulations that went along with it and decided to run on down to the creek as if he did not need permission. I never gave it another thought and went on about my business and at that moment was several houses down where a friend of mine was out in his front yard eating a popsicle and if rhyme stood to reason then there should be more where that came from and so I headed that way, again not giving another thought about the borrowed seine.

About three hours later and two popsicles my younger brother came down to get me, “Dad wants to talk to you and he said now, not to wait.” He had informed me and I could tell by the tone of his voice that there was a reason dad wanted to talk to me so I started retracing my steps and I could not think of a thing I had done that he would want to “talk” to me about. Without worry I headed for him, secure in the fact that I knew I had not done anything to have him upset or mad at me. Well I should have thought more realistically and let history be proof that he never calls you just to talk to you, he always has his reasons and it was never found to be in a benevolent nature, quite the opposite, oh there was someone who would give and receive and it was usually the one he was wanting to talk to and the one he was talking to was going to give up something whether they wanted to or not and be receiving his just punishment in the process. The closer I got to some, the more my feet would slow down and as I was crossing our next door neighbor’s yard my feet were virtually dragging. Each step becoming more and more labored, it felt as if you were in a chain gang and you had the heaviest iron ball.

Before long I walked through the door and my next oldest brother was standing in the kitchen drinking a glass of milk, “Dad’s out in the garage waiting for you.” In the garage and waiting, this was beginning to diminish my innocence in anything I cannot think that I had done to warrant a garage session with him. I could see him waiting, leaning against his work bench, elbow of one arm resting on the surface and in his other hand his belt and staring down with all the authority a father’s glare could muster. My heart was pounding in my chest as I placed my hand on the door knob, palms sweaty and they slipped on the knob when I had lost my grip, all my strength sapped out of me with just the thought of hearing, “This is only to teach you a lesson, don’t think I enjoy it.” The belt would meet flesh on the last word and the whole time you would be receiving he would be telling you why you were being punished and what you were going to be doing with all your free time for the next several weeks to come. These are times I would wish for miracles, anything would have done, a hurricane, a tornado, lightning storm or even mom yelling out the back door that the stove was on fire and she couldn’t put it out, anything short of the second coming would have been welcome at that point. “Open it, its not locked” came from the other side of the door. “Please” I prayed silently, “Just one small disaster to divert his attention for the next ten years or so.” Yes there was a disaster waiting to happen and it was not the answer I had prayed for that I was sure of. It was dimly lit in the garage with the only light coming through was through the four small panes of glass at the top of the garage door and it lit my dad up from the waist up like in one of those old 1950 B horror movies. His free arm was dropped to his side so I could not tell if he was holding the belt or not. My knees were weak now and trying to buckle on me as I slowly drew near him. “Know why you are here?” I heard him ask. Immediately my mind went into motion, thinking, thinking and thinking, then it hit me. “You know dad if I had done something I was aware that I had done and that you were going to use your belt on me; I don’t think I would have come straight home when I was told to. I mean, I never have before when I knew I was in trouble, I would always take my time hoping you would get tired of waiting and if I had done something I would have come in making excuses why I did or did not do it, so I am stumped.” I thought I could have set him back long enough for this to sink in and then let him chew on it a while before I tried to get him to swallow it. Staring down at me he shook his head, “None of that made sense, just like the stunt you pulled today” Again my mind started retracing my steps of that day and I still could not think of anything that would have put me in such dilemma, I was baffled. “Dad you’re going to have to tell me because I can’t think of a thing I have done wrong.” Hoping playing dumb might play on his pity and think to himself, “Poor kid, he is so stupid he doesn’t even realize when he has done something wrong.” Didn’t work, he never believed in stupidity as an excuse. “What did you do today?” staring a hole through me as he glared down at me. I went through my day with him, minute by minute detail hoping to lull him to sleep with my in depth oration recounting my personal dealings for the day. “You didn’t go down to the creek with my seine today?” he asked as if I had left it out on purpose. “Nope, no creek today.” I answered looking back at him with a sigh of relief knowing that it wasn’t me he really needed to talk to. “You sure?” he rebutted. Now one thing that we held to between me and my brothers was that we do not snitch on each other, we just get even later, but throwing them under the bus to save your ass was perfectly permissible, but only if you had plans that you did not want to be restricted from doing and my older brother had a camping trip coming up so I kept to see the underside of the bus on this one. “No dad I didn’t go to the creek today, I was down the street all day.” If he would have only looked on the front of my purple and red stained tee shirt he would have seen those were the only stains on my clothes, no mud or grass stains anywhere on me. “That is not what I was told.” He would continue and even though you knew who threw you under the bus, there was nothing you could really so about at this point, if I would have told him the truth this late in the game and given my older brother up, I would not be believed and I would have been in deeper trouble because I didn’t choke him up right away and I wasted his time. “I don’t remember going.” I whispered hanging my head down so I didn’t have to look at him. “Go find it.” was all he said.

I walked back to the house, my older brother staring out the screen door, “Where did you lose it at?” I asked him pissed that he did that to me. He looked over my shoulder as my dad exited the garage, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I didn’t lose anything.”

So I set out trying to figure out which creek he had went to, there were three in close proximity to where we lived, and then figure out where on the creek he went. I could not find it anywhere and there wasn’t anywhere I didn’t look. I got back home well after dark and as I walked through the door my older brother was sitting in the middle of the living room floor eating a bag of potato chips and drinking a coca cola, my dad was sitting in his chair drinking his glass of ice tea, “Did you find it?” he asked as our eyes met. “No sir.” I said looking over at my brother who was pretending not to be paying attention. I could have given him up then and he would have been in trouble for losing it, for blaming me and for me getting his punishment, but I didn’t give him up, he was mine now and my turn would come. “Go to bed then.” were my instructions. Seeing how I had missed dinner I walked into the kitchen. “I didn’t say get something to eat and then go to bed, I said go to bed.” I heard the clarification of his instructions, so I went to bed to “think” about what I had done and what fate awaited me.

I thought alright, I thought about what I could do to get even with my older brother, what could I do to make things even? It didn’t take me long to figure it out, there was a buzz outside my window, the buzz of a wasp and an epiphany hit me. It was almost a year and a half ago when he had his first serious encounter with wasps, yellow jackets, nasty little things that let you know they were not afraid of anything. It was the morning of his birthday and he had decided to retrieve a wasp’s nest from the rubber tree on the side of the house, the same rubber tree that he had been told to stay out of because of the yellow jacket nest my dad was going to take care of later. Off he went up the tree with a stick he had tied a piece of cloth to and soaked it in gasoline, he had heard the fumes would dupe them and keeps them from stinging him. Now I don’t know who he had got this little tidbit of information from, but I had a feeling it was not from researching that he was informed of this “protection” that would keep him safe. There he was, high up in the rubber tree waving his stick with the gasoline soaked rag tied to the end. It did get them away from the nest alright, just like he was told it would, but it did not give him the protection he was told about. It was like one swarming mass moving from one place to another in a blink. Before I knew it there he was, falling through the branches waving the idiot stick like he was trying to slay a dragon. Thump, bump, crack and a host of other sounds wafted through the air along with a few expletives of his own. He screamed louder than my sister that time a scorpion came out the over flow drain on the tub while she was showering and twice as high a pitch as she had. It was music to me; I mean we have always been told that if we do something we had been warned not to do, then you had no one to blame but yourself. “Get momma! Get momma!” he was yelling as he rolled on the ground. I walked over to the screen front door and yelled through it, “Hey mom come quick.” She ran out the door hearing the screams of my older brother rolling around on the ground under the rubber tree. “Ronald Edward, go get me the hose now!” she barked, so I went and got her the hose and handed it to her, she held it towards my brother as if waiting for something to happen, “You could turn it on too.” I mean she said nothing about turning it on, all she said was get her the hose and I did that, so back I went to turn the faucet on and then ran back as fast as I could as she doused him with water scattering the wasps, he looked pretty sad if I say so myself and was starting to swell pretty fast. Mom got him into the house and stripped him to see how bad he was, there wasn’t a spot on him and I mean not a spot they had not stung him. She called the doctor; these were the days when doctors still made house calls on an emergency basis and before long he arrived and started to tend to my brother. Over 240 places he was stung, the doctor instructed my mother to mix vinegar and baking soda together in a paste and apply this poultice to each sting, as it dried it would pull the poison out and help it fester to remove any stingers left behind. All this happening on his birthday with a big party planned for that afternoon. The doctor even gave him something, a shot in the butt to help the healing and if there was one thing about our family doctor then, he had a shot to heal everything and he did not mind administering them one bit.

Later that afternoon my dad arrived home to be at the party, he was the hot dog cook and he would be needed to light the charcoal and cook the hot dogs. Mom failed to call him before he got home to tell him about what had happened to my older brother, so she informed him then, “So I think we should call everyone and tell them it has been canceled.” My dad shook his head; I never liked it when he shook his head at me because I knew it meant that there were consequences to pay. He went into the bed room and looked down at my brother, all swollen, in pain, tears rolling out of his eyes and fear building up. “Mom tells me you were climbing the rubber tree you were told to stay out of.” He looked up at my dad, tears pouring out of his eyes and barely able to talk, “I was just doing it for you.” That never worked with dad either, I knew that from experience and so should this Bozo, but he tried to play it anyway. “Mom thinks we should call off your party and have it another time.” Looking down at my brother and brushing the hair out of his eyes, “But I told her no, not to call it off and go ahead and have the party anyway. You can lay here in bed and listen to it and think about missing it because you couldn’t do as you were told.” I had to turn and smile, my sibling nemesis was in trouble and I did not have to lift a finger to instigate anything. I reminded him several times during the course of the party that he was missing a lot of fun. I had my plan now well formulated as I thought back almost a year and a half ago.

I let several days go by as I served my punishment, doing chores that normally were not mine added to the ones I was required to do and all along he never said anything to me about me taking his punishment, I informed my dad I had almost forgotten about a summer science project we were assigned before school let out. “What are you going to need?” was all he wanted to know, never asked what it was about. “Six one gallon jars with screw on lids is all, I can get the rest from the garage.” Now my younger brother was curious and as he wondered what I would be needing with six one gallon jars with screw on lids he asked, “What is the project?” “Going to measure the life cycles of wasps.” I answered slowly turning my head to smile at my older brother. “Just be careful, you saw what happened to your older brother.” was dad’s only warning.

The next evening dad gave me the jars I had asked for and over the next several days I sought out wasps flying alone and with a large aquarium fish net I started capturing wasps for my summer science project. I collected red wasps, yellow jackets, paper wasps, fruit wasps and anything else that looked like if it stung you it would definitely leave its mark on you. Soon I had them in my jars and I placed them on the dresser in a long row with a clipboard next to them. Every day I would act as if I was taking notes as I went on with my science project charade. Every night I would lie in bed talking a little to my old brother, “So what did the doctor say about your allergies to wasp stings? What did he call it if you got stung again, said something about going into shock, throat swelling, choking? What was that he called it?” Working on him little by little, he knew why I was doing this and he knew he owed me. “Anaphylactic shock stupid.” he snapped back. “No stupid was throwing me under the bus telling dad that I lost his seine. Sure would be a bitch for you if those wasps got out of the jars, wouldn’t it?” then rolling over to go to sleep. I let him stew for over a week and watched him begging dad to have me do something with the wasps in the bedroom. “Just make sure he keeps the tops on tightly.” was his answer. Each night I would repeat basically the same thing to him and then watch him out of the corner of my eye as he stared at the one gallon jars all lined up on the dresser.

One evening while he was taking his bath I took a little rubbing alcohol and soaked several cotton balls with it and dropped them in the yellow jacket’s jar and then tapped the holes over on the lid. I waited until I saw them all drop to the bottom and then with tweezers I took them out one by one and using an exacto knife I relieved them of their stingers and then cut the small ligament under each wing so they could not fly. I placed them back in the jar less the alcohol soaked cotton balls and let them revive. Once my older brother was in bed I sat up in mine and started staring at the jar with the yellow jackets in them as if I spotted something wrong, getting out of bed I walked over to the jar and started tapping on it, “Leave them alone, you’re pissing them off.” my older brother said nervously. “Stop whining, something isn’t right, stop acting like a baby, you would think I let them out.” I said smiling at him as I started taking the lid off the jar. “See?” I said as I spun around pretending to trip over his shoes lying in the floor and the jar flung out in front of me the inhabitants landing on him. He couldn’t utter a word, he was so scared he could not scream, he couldn’t even brush them off, he was frozen with fear and I smiled at him. “Damn, that is a bitch.” is all I said. Finally after turning blue from not being able to catch his breath, it caught and he screamed and screamed until mom and dad both came running in the room and they were just in time to see me saving my older brother from those nasty yellow jackets as I picked them off of him and placed them back in the jar. As I took one from his pillow I whispered, “Don’t choke me up on this or I will tell dad about the seine and who lost it.” He knew the longer dad waited for the truth the one who would pay for it was going to hurt in more ways than one. “I tripped over his shoes he left in the middle of the floor.” I said as I was screwing the lid back on the jar. “If you kept your crap off the floor and where it belonged this wouldn’t have happened. Both of you get to bed now and I don’t want to hear anything out of either of you.” I lay there in the dark and then turned looking across the room at my older brother, “You going to ask mom to change your sheets? I thought that grass snake made you pee.”

The next morning he kept staring at me with that same hateful look I had grown used to seeing, I smiled back and said, “Pee me a river stupid.”

Later…

Some might think this is cruel, but when you have 4 brothers and being next to the youngest, survival was at any cost. No I do not regret what I did.

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