start of chapter 2

Chapter 2 Taking a poison pill

You would think that since Sam was at one time my best friend, he would
be my most trusted friend but he was not. Let's just say that we had a
history. There was the time when he convinced me that I had magical
powers, not a hard thing to do. All my life, I was convinced that I had
something, some magic or some ability that would make me great. And when
I was six, I really believed I did. All I had to do was say the magic
word 'Scuzzbuzz' and I could make the garage door go up - yes, he had a
garage door opener in his pocket and yes this was in the days when one
garage door opener could open nearly all gargage doors. So I am going
down the block yelling 'Scuzzbuzz' making doors open and close, when I
hit the one that won't open.
"Maybe you didn't say it right," says Sam "maybe you didn't say it loud
enough. Maybe you need to say the full magic force power phrase." Which
of course was the real trick, getting me to yell at the top of my lungs
"YOU SCUZZBUZZ GET OPEN FOR ME NOW" at Mrs. Cravite's garage door. Mrs.
Cravite was the one adult in the neighborhood who never trusted us kids
and always thought we were doing some sort of gang trouble making. Her
garage was stuffed with newspapers and boxes in which there was
magazines and newspapers and smaller boxes filled with smaller magazines
and pieces of newspaper and tiny boxes. I am not sure how much further
this cycle kept on because I had to run away due to the police coming.
When Mrs. Cravite heard me scream for the third time, during which Sam
was rolling around trying hard not to laugh, she pressed her garage door
opener because she was convinced we street gang kids were going to break
the door anyway. This was not supposed to happen and Sam started to
wonder if I really had magic powers. I, of course, knew I did, and I
immediately went into the garage. Why ? Because I was convinced that
someplace this hard to get into was hiding something valuable like a
magic ring or a genii in a bottle. Sam followed and wondered to himself
what was going on.
It was at this point, Mrs. Cravite hit number 6 on her speed-dial - the
police. Numbers 1 through 5 were also the police but in her mind each
number went to a special part of the police. Number 6 was the
'streetgang police', number 5 was the 'roudy teenagers skateboarding
police', number 4 was the 'barking dog police', number 3 was the 'loud
neighbor police', number 2 was 'suspicious person walking by police' and
number 1 was the 'my newspaper is missing police'. To Mrs. Cravite any
group of 2 or more kids (not children, children wore proper clothes not
dungeries) standing around, walking by or running past her house
constituted a street gang. If said gang walked on her grass (perhaps
accidentally stepping off the sidewalk) they were counseled by her about
the error of their ways. This usually involved a few choice words such
as 'You kids get off of my lawn, right now or I am calling the police.'
Which is something she did often. Which is why the police were never in
a hurry to get there. Even if she had upped the ante by claiming the
gang had broken into her garage. She was known to have cried 'POLICE'
one too many times.
So what if the police are coming. I could handle them. I had the power
of Scuzzbuzz. I could open doors. I was drunk on power. Me, a small for
my age 6 year old, was now entering the deep dark forbidden land of
Cravite's Dread. Some where hidden in this dungeon was a treasure beyond
imagining. I would find it.
I started opening boxes looking for my prize or at least a clue to its
real location. It was Sam that became the voice of reason. "Arie, we got
to get out of here quick. Mrs. Cravite will call the police." I,
however, was having no part of reason or logic or sanity.
"Run away if you want to, little baby boy, I am getting the treasure." I
opened another box, filled with national geographics but not good ones
(the ones with space pictures or half-naked women). No treasure there.
Another box revealed its contents - old Family Circles. I was about to
reach for another box when Sam frantically grabbed my arm. He put a
strange object in my hand.
"This is what made the doors open. A garage door-opener. Not you. This.
Now let's get out of here." I looked at the object. It said 'GENII
Garage door opener' on the side with the button on the bottom. A GENII !
My treasure ! At that moment, I knew had to leave because that is what
Indiana Jones did when he got treasure - ran to get away from the bad guys.
So when the police came, there was a open garage, some open boxes filled
with magazines and newspapers. And no gang of ten or so heavily armed
street youths, ages 12 and up, some black, some hispanic and some white
trash which is what the police wrote in their report. There also was
nothing missing. Except two heavily breathing out-of-breath six year
olds who were several blocks away at the park, collapsed under an oak
tree, one of whom held a GENII in his hand.
>>>>>>>>Dear classmates <<<><<
How do you like this story so far ?
What confuses you ?
What does this story need ?
I need your answers.