Stones & Rock Lords
Brassy was one of those friends who lived across the road who you were best mates with one day and worst enemies the next. He loved to whinge and whine, especially as he was an only child.

One day, we were 'bezzing' around on our wideboards (c 1989) when Brassy cut me off. I fell off, grazed my knee and Brassy scuttled off indoors, aware that I was less than happy.

*plan hatches*

Being the little bastard that I was/am, I decided to drop Brassy in it. I took a stone from the side of the road and proceeded to his Mum's Opal. I crouch down. I start writing "Brassy was ere" and "Brass = skill" in shitty kid-writing across various wings, doors and panels...

Satisfied that my work is done, I creep off home. I glance back one last time before making my escape. To see Brassy's Dad watching from the upstairs window. Bugger.

Brassy triumphantly struts outside the door and makes toward my front door. I beg for him to stall, oddly, he agrees. I sprint off home and come running across the street with my car-boot-sourced pride and joy: A collection of 'Rock Lords' (http://www.ikp.uni-koeln.de/~scholl/rock/rl.html)... think geological transformers. I bribe Brassy. He accepts and walks away...

But he doesn't. He takes the toys, goes around the side of the house and blurts out to my horrified Mother what I've done. I'm now grounded, toyless, friendless and shamed.

Caught twice. Don't blame him. Love you Brassy!
( elgordo, Mon 7 Jun 2010, 19:28, Reply)