During this December day, I wanted to take a detour and share with those of you who are enjoying the Podcast a short story. Consider this a teaser, far, but not so far into the future to be unfamiliar. Johnny Becker is a little older now, but definitely not wiser.
So take a moment, listen to the audio, or read it so the kids (or kids at heart) in the room can hear you.
~ Enjoy
Johnny’s Little War
Bringing forth a sudden surge of emotion, a great war horn sounded off a long note as it drifted through the fog of the valley. It was a call to arms, a call to honor, a call of retribution.
Johnny ran at first, but then quickly slowed as Lorenzo came into view. Both displayed a moment of boyish, proud nobility as they reached the old stone staircase at the same time. With a slight nod to the side, Lorenzo slowly flipped his right hand over, “You first, sire.” He calmly remarked.
Feeling a bit of pride, Johnny quickly raised his chin, announcing, “This, my good man, is no time for calmness; the bears have a war to win.”
A touch of mischief quickly raised Lorenzo’s right eyebrow as he remarked back with a sparkle in his eye, “Then…let us be off.”
With a spark of preteen zeal igniting their steps, they quickly slapped each other’s right hands as they turned. Doing their best imitation of a bear roaring, they scrambled up the long, winding staircase to the roof of the tower keep.
Bursting forth into the open air, four young lads, not much older than Johnny himself, stood on the roof. In full salute, as they await the return of their general. Returning it, Johnny then looked around to notice the boxes of ammunition. “Are we well stocked?”
“Yes,” the boy named Benjamin responded as Johnny ordered them to relax. “We raided all the houses under the valley fog.”
Nodding his head as he grasped his hands behind himself, “And what of the enemy?” Johnny inquired as his chin raised.
The second boy, Osmod, handed Johnny a set of binoculars as he pointed across the valley. “They make ready, my sire.”
Watching for a moment, Johnny slowly spoke up. “Oh…there she is. The bane of my bane. The unyielding, relentless, and smelly dragon of the valley. And the leader of the destroyers of all that is fun, the daughter of Dìorbhail Arbuckle… Iona Arbuckle.”
“And my cousin,” Osmod responded in a low tone with a little embarrassment.
Giving a pat of sympathy on Osmod’s shoulder, Johnny glanced at the small gaggle of girls assembled near the edge of the forest, and then up at their own flag of a crudely painted bear. “Do not worry, my men. Today, we, the bears, will have victory.”
Everyone nodded in agreement as Johnny raised his voice in proud defiance, “LOAD THE DUNDEE’S.”
Lorenzo jumped to the side to grab a box and drag it over to the catapults. Filled with excitement, soon both weapons were ready. Lorenzo gave Johnny a head nod to let him know all was ready at his command. Pulling out his sword, Johnny yelled and pointed it at the girls. “LET IT FLY.”
Within seconds, the trees above the girls’ heads had broken up the assault of Dundee coffee cakes. Raining down an assortment of dried fruit, bits of cake, and nuts into the girl’s hair. A girl screamed. The boys laughed, and everyone high-fived Johnny’s right hand.
Hoots and hollers rained down from the castle walls as the festive boys suddenly broke into a unified bear roar. Johnny roared the longest and the loudest until a sudden “SPLAT.”
The spirit of festiveness was broken; the true war was afoot. For the moment of forced silence that followed the splat was only interrupted by the sound of dripping Cranachan cream and broken strawberries slipping off the right side of Johnny’s face to strike the stone floor.
The boys all stood in shocked disbelief as Lorenzo whispered, “Oh, no.”
Clearing his right eye of the cream, Johnny looked across the valley as little Iona smiled with a very mischievous grin. She picked up the corners of her fair, simple dress. Keeping her eyes locked on Johnny, she gave him a very deep curtsy. The girls laughed; the boy, however, did not.
Red-faced and yelling, the insults of boys were soon matched by the girls’ as comments about smell, personal character, and bathroom habits were hurled like volleys of arrows at each other's positions across the valley.
Moments of prideful zeal filled the combatants’ minds as Lorenzo’s keen eyes noticed the activities of two girls who had slipped away from the rest. Looking around, his eyes widened as he yelled, “INCOMING!”
Everyone but Osmod ducked. A wave of horrible green Soor Plooms ascended the tower in the air, plastering the poor round fellow. Each little marble of sticky sweetness brought forth a momentary pain upon impact as he buckled over for a moment.
Johnny saw it and yelled, “THAT’S UNFAIR, YOU COULD HAVE HURT HIM!”
Grasping his knees as the pain faded. Osmod slowly opened his eyes to see himself covered in Soor Plooms. One eyebrow raised as he reached over and plucked one off his jacket. Examining it for a second, he popped it in his mouth. In a low, pleasant voice, “hmm… Plooms.”
With narrowed eyes, Johnny looked down at the green-dotted little boy, “Traitor.”
“What shall we do?” Lorenzo asked.
Narrowing his eyes, Johnny’s voice went as deep as it could, “If this is how they shall fight, then fairness it will not be. Prepare the caldrons of Cullen Skink for the walls; make it hot! We will destroy their hair. Load the catapults. We will pound them with pound cakes!”
“Sire, what of the other ammo?” Benjamin asked.
“You have slingshots, do you not? Fire when ready,” Johnny ordered.
As the fires under the black caldrons burned hotter. Cookies and finger tarts of all kinds flew back and forth. Soon, the first wave of pound cakes crossed the valley, only to be followed by a return of Black Buns and more Cranachan creams. The floor was covered in sweet, slippery goodness, and so were some of the boys.
Johnny was yelling orders to add more fish to the caldron as he happened to glance down and see Osmod sitting on the floor in a corner. “STOP EATING THE AMMO!” Johnny yelled in aggravation as bits of cake fell from his matted, sticky hair.
Osmod almost looked offended as he shrugged his shoulders with his hands encased in the evidence.
Johnny’s right eyebrow raised as he turned his head away, as he stormed off whispering, “Should have figured, once an Arbuckle always an Arbuckle.”
Then something like a big nut, or perhaps it was a cake, flew so close to Lorenzo’s nose that he jerked his head back. Then one boy paused, then another, who manned the caldron. “They have stopped,” Lorenzo whispered.
“Where did they go?” Benjamin inquired.
Johnny ran to the edge to look down. The girls were gone; the only evidence of war remained broken pastries scattered on the grass below. Then suddenly Johnny’s eyes opened wide as he cranked his head to look at Lorenzo. In that second, Lorenzo said it first, “There in the castle!”
Before anyone had a moment to ponder the implications, Osmod was alone as everyone grabbed their weapons and ran down the stairs. Jumping from step to step, the bears made a thunderous clamor as they dropped down.
Their arrival on the bottom floor was quickly greeted by a small wave of strawberries and clotted cream. The three girls squealed with glee even as shortbread cookies bounced off their heads. The fighting was fierce as the old stone floor grew slippery and gritty from broken pastries, then, in a moment of victory, Johnny noticed the three girls were retreating back out the doorway.
“Come, my men, come. We shall have victory if we press them to the trees,” Johnny yelled in triumph. Soon, all were running. With only one eye clear, Hugo charged at full speed, hurling small cakes with extreme precision at the back of one blond-haired girl's head. Finally, one clipped the side of her head hard enough that she stumbled as he took the opportunity and then pushed her into the edge of the small pond nearby.
Little Iona watched from the window of the now-empty castle as everyone ran away as planned. With a bit of mischievous glee, she flicked a little cake of her blouse and spun on her heels. Within a moment, she was ascending the staircase to the keep. And a few moments after that, her eyebrow raised as she looked upon her cousin, half awake from over-enjoying his desserts.
“Your mother shall not be pleased if you eat too many sweets,” Iona informed him.
Never opening his eyes, Osmod shrugged and said nothing in return. “How predictable,” Iona muttered as she put her hands on her hips as she looked out to see people running in all directions in the forest below. Turning, she smiled as she noticed the bear flag, “We will be the bears now.” Gathering it into her hands, she looked around one last time to see the caldron, a few tools, and a bit of rope, and of course… Osmod.
The sweets had taken their toll on poor Osmod as he leaned his head on the stone wall he sat next to, now fast asleep. With a grin, Iona knew what she needed to do, for an opportunity had just made itself available.
Exhausted and panting for air, Johnny's hands met his sticky knees as he took a moment to recover. Two of his men were soaked to the skin after swimming to the shore as the girls sought revenge for Hugo pushing Carol into the pond. As his eyes slowly scanned the battlefield, they narrowed for a moment as something seemed off.
The flag was missing from the keep.
“OH NO,” Johnny yelled as he pointed at the missing flag. Soon, all the boys saw it and ran to the keep. The laughing of the girls faded with the distance as Iona secretly returned to her comrades.
Arriving with care, Iona motioned the girls towards her as she showed off the flag. “It worked,” Carol remarked.
“Aye, and the foolish boys were none the wiser,” Iona responded as she gave a new set of instructions. They all giggled, nodded their heads, and waited for her final command. Watching the boys run inside, she waited another second and then ordered, “Now.”
In one large voice, all the girls yelled, “OSMOD, DINNER TIME.”
The sound soon made Osmod’s ear as he jerked awake with surprise, unaware of what he had just done. The jerk of his ankle moved the tied rope and pulled the block of wood out from under the caldron. Soon, the hot Cullen Skink flowed with gloppy ease down the steps.
The roar of the ascending bears was soon placed with, “WHAT… YUK… THAT’S NOT FAIR, as well as I DON’T LIKE FISH. WELL, IT WAS YOUR IDEA, came another voice.
Johnny was growing angry when suddenly he was snapped out of his faraway daydream and back to his classroom by the voice of his teacher, Dìorbhail Arbuckle. Looking straight at him while she stood in front of the class. “Johnny, did I hear you correctly? You hate bears?”
Slightly embarrassed, Johnny shot a side glance over at Iona, who was clueless about what was going on while she moved the pages of her book. “Ah, sorry ma’am, I was… just remembering something from back on Earth.”
Dìorbhail’s right eyebrow came up a little, “I see… well, please do a better job of paying attention.” She remarked as she moved towards her desk.
Glancing at Iona one more time. Johnny then wrote down on a piece of paper in big letters, “You stole our flag, I hate bears.”