ADD v3: Sticky FingersBill Clinton was asked during an interview why he messed around with Monica Lewinsky. His reply, "...because I could." Bill must've learned his moves from Ducka, cuz he did some stupid crap for no other reason than "...because I could".
Summer was high time to swim in the river, fish,
paint turtles, and bike all over town. One of our frequented destinations was Swede's Market, the closet dime store to our homes, and the source of much joy and trouble.
I'd shave a pittance off my sub-welfare allowance (though I worked more hours than my step-dad, Little K), and peel out heading to Swede's. If I was lucky, I would have enough for a pouch of Big League Chew and a can of "Rondo! The thirst quencher! *crunch*". Ducka, on the other hand, felt earning allowances and spending that said money was all a waste of time. Who needs that when Swede's Old Hag (SOH) never pays attention anyway?
So there we were, on a mid-week afternoon, in the heat of the summer. We had been riding bikes all morning, jumping curbs and cutting corners through people's yards when we decided to build a jump at the end of the 8th Street dock and take the plunge - nobody ever used the boat launch mid-day during the week anyway. We'd start on top of the hill, pick up some speed, then cruise down the dock and jump our bikes into the moving current of the Sludgewater River.
My bike was pretty heavy (steel mags sink fast!), and had to struggle to bring my bike up out of the 6-7 feet of water we landed in. (My bike was a yellow & blue Coast King 6000, same frame & mags as this red one - SUH WEET!) The current didn't help either - just ask Bucky Linder, who once lost his bike for a couple hours after taking a header into the current. Someone snagged it fishing that evening down by the bridge, and he had to pay $5 to get it back. He was heckled enough by the older kids that he cried and ended up swallowing his Copenhagen juice, causing a green shade to come over his 8th grade complexion, but I digress.
I had taken great measures to hide my allowance under a rock in the landscaping along the bridge - didn't want any soggy Washingtons for Swede's Old Hag (SOH). After an hour or two of trying to do different (failed) tricks off the dock jump, resulting in a collection of bruises, belly flops, and faceplants - including a nice raspberry on Ducka's chin - we were looking for something to do.
"Whaddya wanna do now?" asked Ducka.
"I brought my candy cash for a Swede's run", I replied.
A resounding "Great idea, Dooger!" came from the Duck.
We decided to celebrate our newly tested dock-jumping manhood with an ice cream sandwich, a Rondo or Grape Crush, and a handful of Bazooka $.01 gum. I retrieved my cash stash and we pedaled our half naked, dripping butts to the brick box of a store.
One thing about Swede's - fat people never shopped there. They couldn't. The aisles were roughly 10" wide, or at least they felt that way. It was a hassle to run into someone in the same row - much easier to go around the next aisle. I'm still not sure how SOH got from the front door to the cash register? The tight quarters may explain why Ducka's scheme wasn't initially picked up on by SOH.
Ducka never mentioned that he didn't have any money with him, but hey - the 5 finger discount would cover anything he wanted today. I picked out my Rondo, a pouch of Big League Chew, and started eating my ice cream sandwich at the register in front of SOH with my dollar and change on the counter. She was reading her usual Ann Landers column and didn't even bother looking up at me. Ducka was working up & down the candy aisle, over to the chips, then back to the soup/pasta area. I didn't think anything of it, but he was stuffing candy into every nook & cranny of his shorts while SOH guffawed over someone else's relationship misfortunes - something she knew nothing about.
Ducka was obviously having fun doing this, and was getting a bit bold...and stupid. He grabbed a couple Bazookas and walked past me at the register. Of course, he could barely pass without knocking me over due to the 10" aisles, and he tried slipping the gum into my hand. I had no clue what was happening, and the gum hit the floor. There was a splash of psychotic fear and total exhilaration in Ducka's eyes, but SOH never looked up. Ducka grabbed the gum, walked another aisle, and plowed into me again, and the gum hit the old wood floors a 2nd time. This time the Hag smelled a rat, and glanced up over her bifocals. A couple minutes later, Ducka made a 3rd fly-by with a pile of Tootsie rolls, Bazooka gums, and small jawbreakers in his hand. I silently shook my head and mouthed "No! No!". I should've known - you can't stop Ducka when he's in motion. My hand opened, a dozen or so candies hit my palm, and the remaining 5-6 loudly hit the floor.
The Hag jumped to her feet.
Lightning shot from her eyes and seared fear directly into my soul.
Ducka's mouth was silently hanging wide open - the breath gone from his skinny little frame.
The 3 of us stood in an awkward moment frozen in time.
As the Hag unsuccessfully tried to dislodge herself from behind the register and nab the 2 troublemakers just out of reach, Ducka yelled "Let's get outta here!" and bolted for the door. Not knowing what to do, I chased after him after I grabbed my Chew and Rondo off the counter.
"You kids get back here right now!" the SOH bellered.
"Screw you, Hag!" was Ducka's intelligent response from the front door of the store.
I hopped on the old CK6000 and spun those steel mags like a Corvette engine. Ducka also got on his bike, and I could hear him taunt the SOH a couple more times as he picked up all the candy that just fell out of his shorts. We both got away clean, and peeled off on the first bike trail into the woods.
We never made another trip to Swede's after that when the rusted army green Dodge Aries was parked outside. That was the SOH-mobile. We never spoke a word of that experience to anyone, or each other. It was almost as if it never happened.
In that vein, I'm sure if you asked Ducka about it today, he'd take a cue from old Bill Clinton and say:
"I never had relations with that candy or that lady, Swede's Old Hag".
Good times.
It's Mrs. Wildman's fault. She encouraged me. She prodded me. She dared me. So I started running. I was not being chased by a bear nor by the police - the only 2 justifications for running that I've held for over 35 years. There I was, shiny shoes and all, and I was-a-RUNNANG! (spoken with Forrest Gump accent)
