Could You Move His Blood?

It is definitely spring. The neighbors grandkids are noisily playing outside and they always just kind of pour on over into our yard. There is something fascinating about our drive which has always been a big attraction to kids in the neighborhood, especially when there are no cars parked in it. (I say that like I don't know what it is... but I do. We sit on a hill and have a very steep drive. It is great for all types playing, but especially riding bikes down at a breakneck speed out into the road. Even the smaller kids love the speed they get up to on their Big Wheels. Yeah, it's scarey but thankfully no one has gotten killed or maimed yet!)

In the case of the neighbor's grandkids, it is more of an expansion of their small yard into our's, giving them a greater area in which to grow their imaginations. Trust me, these kids do not lack in the imagination department. It makes having them about just a tad bit entertaining. So when I heard their chattery noise I looked out the window to make sure it was them and quickly ascertained that it was. I watched them for a few minutes surprised at how much they had grown over the winter when they hadn't been tromping about our yard. They were completely oblivious to me staring at them from my living room window and went on about racing up and down our drive, spilling back down the hill into their grandparent's yard, plastic, colorful guns extended outwards, happily shooting each other and falling over dead as the action dictated they should. I grinned to myself, let the curtain drop and returned to the unimaginative task I had been doing before I went to spy on them.

I lost myself in reading when the jangling of the phone jarred me back to reality and I hurried to pick up the phone. My daughter was calling about some silly question or other and I was surprised when I checked the time to see that she would be speeding up the drive in just a few more minutes. I decided it was time to de-kid the drive before we wound up with various mangled body parts scattered over our yard and the neighbors.

I stood in the door watching one of the boys, squatting down, busily tearing something to bits and piling it in a nice little pile in the drive; right about the place where the front tire on the car usually comes to a halt. I was a bit curious about the characteristics of said pile, like did it contain any sharp pointy bits, you know? I called out to the kids and mentioned that my daughter would be coming in from work in just couple minutes and asked if they would leave the drive. They just stood there looking at me as if they were trying to figure out if they should shoot me with one of their guns or tie me up to a tree somewhere.

The boy creating the pile, stood and looked over at me, and then said "Somebody broke a pen and left it right here. See it's all torn up" he pointed at the bits and pieces in the drive.

"I see they did," I replied giving no indication that I knew exactly who somebody was.

He looked at me quite seriously, "You see, we're pretending that that's his blood there" not bothering to enlarge upon exactly whose blood his blood was, yet pointing to the stack of bits and pieces on the drive and the puddle of black underneath.

"Hmmmmmmmmmm! Looks like thats working really well" I said, shaking my head up and down in mock seriousness. "So, do you suppose you might be able to move his blood and parts out of the drive. Perhaps if you rush it to the hospital they can reinfuse it back into him."

He gave me one of those "kid glaring at a crazy adult" looks, shrugged his shoulders and continuted to stare at the puddle of blood on the drive. He kicked the pile with his foot, scattering the bits and pieces then trundled off the drive and back down the incline into his grandfather's yard, raising his gun into the air and firing off a volley as he ran after the other kids who were dissappearing around the corner of their grandparent's house. I grinned and walked back into the house just as I heard my daughter rev up the hill into the drive.

Another day safe fom the venomous evil ones that haunt our neighborhood. The only indication remaining behind of the close call we had was a dark puddle of blood in the driveway that still marks the spot where the poor, injured/dead, friend/foe suffered a fateful blast that ended his life/removed him from action... until the next sunny day when no cars will be parked in the drive.