Welcome

You've entered Melodyland, where perception is slightly skewed, potential is limitless and imaginary people live happily ever after

Monday, July 23, 2012

My blog for 7/23/2012 MoneyBug Night Chapter Three

MoneyBug Night

And it came to pass that the only cousin who got the DNA gene to find the moneybug in the middle of the night is cousin Christopher.  So, armed with his trusty broom for bashing the bug and his flashlight for gathering money after the bug was bashed, Chris led the hoard of wranglers down the trail into the wilderness on their dark search.  Every hand clutched a bag or two for the spoils.

It happened after nine o'clock one night when Chris knew the bug was in the area, by pure instinct.  All the lights were vanquished, there was no moon.  Fearless and peerless, the explorers trudged through the night, all around the grounds of Cuzin Camp.  Out past the sleeping tents, beyond the furthest cabin they strode with nary a light.  Past the costume tent, around the cookhouse, through the shadowed path of the pool they crept in silence, all ears perked in anticipation of a notification from Chris the bug had been discovered.

Then, all at once it happened and Chris went crazy whacking into the night, yelling he'd caught it.  With every smack of that broom, money flew everywhere.  Kids hollered, ran amuck, diving for the money from the moneybug.  Finally flashlights came up, reflecting silver and copper and paper that had been stored inside the greedy bug.  After all the money possible to find there in the dirt of the prairie, the search began anew.  Chris had a hunch that bug wasn't entirely empty yet.

Out into the prairie again, out beyond the meadow, under the pin oaks and olive trees they snuck, nobody saying a thing.  It was a long way, and dispositions were stretched taut.  When they lit on a grassy knoll beside the trampoline, Mr. Moneybug was found one more time and Chris wailed on him like there would be no tomorrow.  Again the broom flew in the air, smacking the resistance on the ground to give up the loot. Again silver twinkled in the air on its way to oblivion/or a child's hands, whichever came first.  Flashlights beamed, copper gleamed, quarters flew, and all was gathered into the sacks of treasure.  Screams of glee and excitement could be heard from as far away as three counties in the darkness.

They carried their gold back to the saloon, where everybody counted the loot.

Then it was time for poker.

Last I heard, cousin Stacy had slickered her cousins out of their life savings.

1 comment:

  1. I do think you mean whaling on the Money Bug. It has always seemed to me the picture of the Whale's tail hitting the water rather than shouting at it. But that has always been my impression. Such fun. Only McCalls know the true joy of this.

    ReplyDelete