When I was in Jr High (tho I don’t recall ever referring to it at Jr High at the time), my best friends were Clarence Pickel,Jim Book, ’n Ron Brickey. Clarence was tall, I was short, Ron was lean and Jim Book was built like a tank.
One of the things that we did to pass the time in those halcyon days of our youth was to wrestle. Jim Book was a very good wrestler, since he was larger and stronger than the rest of us. I was small and relatively quick and Jim couldn’t throw me when he couldn’t get his hands on me. I, of course, couldn’t throw him simply because of his size.
We went round ’n round one day ’n Jim got increasingly frustrated, his face got redder and redder, mainly because Clarence ’n Ron were laughing.
Then, in a burst of enthusiam, I said something to Clarence. Don’t recall what it was but he quit laughing, grabbed me as I circled Jim and the two of them hung my by my belt to a gym hook.
There I was, two or three feet off the floor, my back to the wall, helpless with the three of them laughing at me.
We, being young and tender country boys at the time, didn’t curse…well, not real curse words (we called it cussing) but we had a wide range of euphemisms that we used in place of the real thing ’n I used every one that I could think of ’n maybe even made up a few.
The bell rang and they threatened to leave me hanging but, of course they didn’t.
It’s kind’a funny the things a body thinks of in the middle of the night…
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