Sunday, December 31, 2006

Oh No, He's Got a Hoe

In the steamy summer heat of the Oklahoma plains, yellow squash grew in my grandparents garden, to grand proportions. Despite their size, they were quite docile, so I never really understood why exactly my brother found them so intimidating. Perhaps it was their crooked necks or their bright yellow skin.

It never really seemed important until one day my young friend Amy and I found ourselves accosted by the typical younger sibling wanting to refocus our attention on something much more fun such as wrestle mania or monster truck rally, or some other such thing not at all appealing to two prissy grade school girls. Try as we might, we just could not convince him we did not want to play.

Eventually we retreated outside, where he followed and where we happened upon the perfect tool of persuasion, the yellow summer squash. Perhaps in my brother's mind it was somewhat akin to the giant squid, because when Amy and I each picked one up and turned toward him, he ran. And screamed. Like a girl. Now this was fun. Maybe playing with your younger brother wasn't so bad after all.

And so we ran, each with a bright yellow squash in hand, chasing him round and round the house, around the outbuildings, through the yard, up and down the drive way, Amy and I laughing all the way, with him occasionally looking over his shoulder to see if we still brandished our squash, the magnificent summer squash.

There was just one problem with our squash waving rampage. In this larger than life game of rock, paper, scissors we were playing, there were several things that would come out on top over squash. Something probably Amy and I should have considered. Then we wouldn't have been so surprised when he emerged from behind the house wielding a hoe.

"Oh no! He's got a hoe."

When we saw it we ran. And screamed. Like girls. And so he chased us both, round and round the house, around the outbuildings, through the yard, up and down the driveway, laughing all the way.

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