Make Up a Story
Stories from Around the World
The Three Stupids
They’re
at the beach—the dunes on Lake Michigan. They’re on a trampoline, if they’re
not on the beach. They’re jumping and having a good time. They feel happy. They
feel good. It looks like they’re flying. It looks like they did it on a dare.
“I can jump higher than you can!”
Happy now, but not when they leave.
Going up is fine but coming down is hard! They feel daring. I don’t know if
they’re all boys—Billy, Bob, and Jim. They’re friends. They met in school. It
looks like the beach. They’re flying in the air.
It would be a hard beach. Maybe it’s
Allen County dirt. It’s not pretty white sand. It’s the old, marshy grass. The
roar of the ocean.
The parents say, “Stop doing that!”
It’s in the summer, daytime. It
looks like a clear, cloudless day, probably the last day before school. They’re
probably trying to break a bone. There’s somebody around—a lot of people.
They’re gonna bandage their knees and go swimming. They’re in different
positions—they’re flying in the air. On the way to the beach, they got a car
and did the up-down. They were gonna do the YMCA, but they were short one.
They’re all jumping at different
heights. After the beach, they’ll go to eat (and to the hospital). Not old
enough to go get a beer, but their parents are off getting one. They’re flying
in the air. It looks like they’re not holding on to each other. I’d like to be
there with my toes in the sand (if it were pretty, white sand). I’d rather go
south, like to Daytona. They wish for a soft landing, not to fall and hurt
themselves, that girls were somewhere nearby. They want some cheap food. Their
legs are in different positions.
The girls say, “Those guys are
idiots. Surprise, surprise.”
They get along well. They look like
they’re different ages, a little bit—12, 13, 14, they’re in their teens. Gee,
ain’t it funny how time slips away?
One of them’s the leader. The rest
of them followed.
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