The Adventures of Stevie #20
These stories were told to me by friends and other people. Some of them
are true. Some of them are only partly true. Some of them should have
been true. LOL
My first post about Stevie ("Call me Stephen!") was when he was 12 and
in summer camp and was told by another camper. This was from a time
before computers would fit on a desk and when people communicated with
friends in other countries by actual letters sent through the postal
service. When children did this those friends were called "penpals".
Carlos is Stevie's penpal in Argentina and knows English. This is a
fictional contrivance to enable Stevie to tell us his stories because
he isn't here in person. I think.
All characters are fictitious, even if some of them might have names
that belong to some actual people, or act like people we know.
Stevie's school is for gifted children who don't fit in regular schools.
The stories may not be posted in chronological order.
Stevie is 11 in this story, in summer camp.
The Adventures of Stevie #20 "Horsing Around"
Dear Carlos,
We have animals here at camp. I mean not just the campers. Tame
animals. Ha ha. There are cats who very nicely let us use their cabins
and the other camp things. They think they own the place. There are
dogs who run around everywhere. There are goats in pens. There are
horses we can ride. Some campers can ride. The animals like me a lot. I
don't know why, but they all run up to me and want to be friends. Cats
are nice. Small dogs are nice to me. Big dogs knock me over on my butt,
and slobber all over my face! I know they are just trying to be
friendly, but I don't really need a sore butt and a slimy face. I wish
they would do it to the other kids so they would know how it feels, and
they might not laugh so hard at me. Goats are different. They butt my
butt for attention. If I don't notice them fast enough, they run around
and butt my front. You do NOT want to get a goat horn in your nuts. It
doesn't just hurt, it's embarrassing when girls are watching. I would
just as soon not have goat friends.
I'm very sorry Carlos. I know how much you like horses. I do NOT.
They look nice from a distance. They are very friendly to me. They are
MUCH bigger than the big dogs who knock me down without asking. Horses
are very heavy. People find this out when a horse steps on their foot.
That's how I know. That lesson hurt. I asked the horse to get off my
foot. It didn't. I asked again in about a dozen languages, in case it
didn't know English. It didn't move. In fact it looked at me and I
think it tried to smile. I yelled at it. The stupid thing KISSED ME! I
punched it in the shoulder to try to get it to move. I don't think it
noticed. My foot really hurt and I didn't know what to do. Then I
remembered horses have sensitive hearing. I clapped my hands as close
to it's ear as I could. I'm short, remember? It moved off my foot then.
Winston yelled "Lookout!". Too late as usual. Maybe I should stop
calling him "The Lookout".
If you didn't know before, you will know now. It's hard to keep your
balance standing when you grab your foot in pain. I fell. RIGHT ONTO A
BIG STEAMING PILE OF FRESH SMELLY HORSE-SHIT! LIke it was from his butt
to my butt with hardly any time between. Then I discovered you can't
look at your foot to see if there is anything left of it, or rub it
better, when it has a shoe on it. I found out wriggling around on your
back trying to get your shoe off when you are on a pile of horse-shit
will smear that stuff all over you, and even inside your clothes! MY
clothes. I got my shoe off and rubbed my foot. It wasn't really hurt, I
think because the ground was soft. Then I took my other shoe off so my
feet would match, and because I knew what had to happen.
When you are covered with shit and need help, you find out who your
real friends are. Only Mike came to help, after an excited "Forsooth!"
or 2. He shouldn't have. I mean, who really needs a helper who throws
up on you? Then a counselor came with a water hose to spray me clean.
Cleaner, I should say. It was a little fun trying to guess where he
would point the hose on me, but I think I would have liked it better if
he didn't laugh so much while he was trying to aim. I got up and he
sprayed my back. I tried walking and it worked, so I went to clean up
in the shower building. Then I went to my cabin and put clean clothes
on, and then went back to get my shoes. That's when I saw something
very strange happen.
The counselor who sprayed me off was in the horse corral, and the
donkey was chasing him around. I forgot to tell you about the donkey.
There is only one, and I think he was very lonely. I said "he" because
I couldn't help noticing he was a very BIG "he". His monster was big
and hard and as long as a baseball bat. It was longer than his legs.
That wasn't so unusual, because animals have them too, and no clothes
to hind them in. What was unusual was where he was trying to stick it.
In the counselor! The counselor has a fat butt the donkey must have
fell in love with, because it had bitten the counselor's pants and
pulled them down. This made it a very slow chase. The donkey was trying
to stick it up his butt. Some of the kids were laughing at the show. I
thought the counselor might get hurt, so I grabbed the water hose and
sprayed the donkey in the face. That kept him busy long enough for the
counselor to escape. Then I turned to the counselor to see if he was
alright. Somehow accidentally the hose which I was still holding
accidentally got pointed at him, accidentally, and it accidentally got
him wet. Really! Maybe. Ha ha.
Your friend,
Stephen
--
Grant
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