The Mummies of El Toro (Part 2)
I LOOKED FAR ACROSS the field, realizing that the cluster of eucalyptus trees where we would build our world-famous treehouse was about 200 yards away. It didn’t take me long to come up with the idea of running home to swipe my kid sister’s red wagon with the big bouncy tires. It took us two long, hot and sweaty days, but we eventually dragged every piece of stud, plywood, and support beam all the way across the El Toro field, to the home of our soon to be magnificent treehouse.
Like I was saying before, Jerry knew just where to hammer those nails, and he knew just where the boards needed to go. He almost had an instinct for it, I guess you could say. We decided early on that Jerry would be the construction foreman, and that I would be in charge of entertainment. For Christmas I had asked for a great big radio that played cassette tapes, with two massive speakers that could push out 100 watts of flaming loud heavy metal. I had a few bucks saved for my allowance, and I rode my bike down to the liquor store on the corner and bought a great big sack of D batteries. Sometimes the music from the radio was so loud that I was afraid that the vibrations would cause a few of the taller trees to just tip over and crush us to death. But that never happened.
Chandler, Jerry and I met at the field at 9 AM sharp each morning. Well, if I am being completely honest, I would show up closer to 10 AM because I just can’t force myself to wake up early in the summer. After rolling out of bed, I would enjoy a few bowls of Fruity Pebbles before hopping on my bike and making my way down to the field, balancing my obnoxiously large radio on my handlebars the whole way there.
We finished building the first level of the treehouse in two weeks. It was complete with what we called the “front room,” and the “back room.” That first level was about 15 feet off the ground, and when we finished building it, we thought that we might as well go ahead and build a second level while we were at it, just like a real house would have.
Jerry was out there from dawn until dusk, hammering one nail after another, with a tidy row of nails shooting out from between his sunburnt lips. He would just hammer, hammer, hammer, all day long, while Chandler and I would fetch pieces of wood for him and make sure he had enough water.
The second level of the treehouse really made the whole thing come together, I think. We built a ladder going from the first to the second level, and we even took an old garden hose and nailed it to the very top of the second level. Just for kicks, we would cling to that firehose and slither our way down, when we didn’t feel like using the ladder.
Once the treehouse was finally completed, I think we all sat back and looked at it with a great sense of pride, then thought Now What? What were we supposed to do with this great big majestic treehouse, other than sit around, drink Pepsi, and chew on candy bars all day?
“We need to live out here for the summer,” said Jerry.
“Are you kidding, man? My mom still flosses my teeth for me and tucks me in at night,” said Chandler, with a look of embarrassment on his face after he realized what he had just said.
“Well, maybe we can’t live out here like a group of cavemen, but perhaps we could have campouts here on Friday and Saturday nights. Heck, I’ve been getting on my parents’ nerves so much this summer, I’d bet they’d be thrilled to get rid of me for a night or two,” I said.
I was actually right about my parents, after all. They didn’t put up much of a fight when I told them that I wanted to spend Friday and Saturday nights for the rest of the summer living in an abandoned field on the other end of town. But my dad wanted to check out the treehouse first, to make sure that it was not going to come tumbling down in the middle of the night, and fling the three of us across the dark field and send me to the hospital. My dad agreed to stop by after work the next day, to inspect our handiwork.
I spent the next day making sure that every nail was completely hammered in, and that all of the boards were set in place, and that nothing was squeaking, especially the ladder going from the first to the second floor.
I saw my dad pull up to the side of the field in his old brown sedan. He got out of his car, and I waved him down with both hands, until he nodded at me, and waved back. I couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of my dad tromping through the tall, dead grass, wearing a business suit and wingtip leather shoes. He looked like an accountant who was on the run after the police raided his office.
“Well, well, well, this is what you boys have been working on all summer, huh,” said my dad.
He was standing with his arms folded and his feet spread widely apart, with his sunglasses propped up on top of his shiny bald head. My dad had a look of pride on his face, and I could tell that he was impressed with what we had accomplished. But he also looked a bit concerned about all of the crooked boards, and I’m sure he noticed how loudly the nails squeaked every time the wind blew and made the trees shift back and forth.
“All right fellas, let’s take a little peek,” my dad said, as he took his first step up the ladder, making his way up to the second floor.
“You guys have quite a view from up here,” my dad said, as he gazed off into the horizon, staring at the Saddleback mountain range.
“Are you sure there is enough room for three sleeping bags? I wouldn’t want someone to have a bad dream, roll off the edge, and crack their neck when they fall to the ground.”
“No need to worry, Mr. Lovecraft. In case you haven’t noticed, the three of us are a skinny bunch of runts, and we’ll be dead asleep by the time night falls. Scouts honor,” said Jerry, holding his hand over his heart patriotically.
Jerry always knew what to say in a pinch. He might’ve looked like nothing more than a scrappy kid, but mentally, Jerry was light years older than his physical age of 13 years. When Jerry was talking to my dad, he pushed his shoulders back and threw out his chest, holding his head up high, proud of his construction conquest. My dad looked at Jerry, then looked at me, then took a glance at Chandler, who was staring off into the distance, as if an eagle had stolen his wallet and flown away into the horizon.
“All right, you guys. Here’s the deal. You can spend Friday and Saturday nights out here. I’ll report back to the other parents that everything looks A-OK to me. But if there’s any problem at all, I need you guys to come home. Our house is just up the road, so let us know if you need anything at all. We can call your parents from there, if need be. Can we trust you guys?” Asked my dad, with a concerned look on his face.
“Yes sir, Mr. Lovecraft, absolutely. Thank you so much!,” Jerry said.
As I watched my dad walk out of the field and step into his old junky, brown Dodge sedan, I couldn’t quite believe that we had actually pulled this off. Our parents were going to let the three of us knuckleheads campout in a dirt field all by ourselves for two nights in a row. I started to have second thoughts about all of this, but as I watched Jerry standing there shirtless in the middle of the field, gazing proudly at his construction masterpiece, I knew that there could be no turning back.
Stay tuned for PART 3…
J.S. Lender’s new book They Are Here Now (Short Tales) is available in paperback on Amazon.
