Yankee Doodle
© 2001, Herb Hasler
With war paint and Mickey Mouse ears donned, I was ready to rumble.
I fluffed the pillow in my right hand and took up a sparring stance. We stared each other down for a moment. It was hard not to laugh at that stupid straw hat she was wearing, especially since she had named it Macaroni. I choked down the giggles and struck. Misti blocked my right cross and then caught me with a solid blow to the head. I fell to the bed laughing.
“Score!” she shouted, leaping toward me. I rolled out of the way and watched her bounce across the bed, falling off the over side and bumping into the computer desk.
“Be careful,” I said, “my mom has something running on there and she’ll be pissed if she has to start it over.”
Misti leaped up with a fierce look in her eyes. “Say goodbye, monkey boy, it’s curtains for you.”
I retreated toward the closet, watching her creep towards me. A scream swam up my throat but I swallowed it. Why had I offered this proposal. I could not win. The fabled pot of gold would always be out of my reach.
She charged and caught me daydreaming. I fell back into the closet door, and the handle gouged my side. “Son of a…” I shouted.
It took a second to catch my breath, then I gritted my teeth, and flew back toward her. “You’re gonna need crutches when I get through with you,” I said and then promptly tripped over one of dad’s shoes, falling flat on my face.
“Jerry’s kids on parade,” she said pointing, and then doubled over in hysterics.
“That’s it,” I said, slowly standing. “You are about to be boxed, wrapped and delivered to the purple house of pain.”
“Bring it on,” she said with a wide grin that deflated my courage. “I come for a long line of winners and the only way you are going to beat me is by divine intervention. And this is no X-files episode, so dream on.”
We circled each other, our plush weapons at the ready, looking for a weak point to strike. The doorbell rang and Misti dropped her guard. I cold cocked her. She fell on the bed, and I jumped on top of her. “Pinned ya!” I chortled with glee.
“No fair!” she protested. “The door distracted me.”
“No rules, no mercy,” I said.
“Alright,” she consented. “You finally won.”
I rolled off and sat on the edge of the bed, grinning. Humming Yankee Doodle. I was ready to go to town.
She sat up and shook her head. “Let’s get this over with.”
It had taken six months, and more bruises than I cared to count, but I’d finally reached the end of the rainbow. With hormones propelling my thoughts like a jumbo jet, I puckered up to receive my first kiss.