Borroughs and Fairground

I walked home from East Middle School in the spring afternoon. The sun was warm and the breeze nice; a perfect day to play outside. At the first corner Tim, my friend, made a right and I kept walking. Most of the way home, only a few blocks, I did alone.

I didn't mind. I looked at the the bugs that had crawled onto the side walk. I found a stick, which could become a new gun in my arsonal. I thought briefly of the homework I wasn't going doing, that would show Mr. Armstrong. Mostly, I thought about what I would play when I got home.

A couple doors down from my house, I realize my plans are for nothing. On the steps in front of my house are two bundles, black and white papers wrapped with a single solid blue paper all held together with a thin plastic strap. In addition, there are a few extra papers. I always got more papers then I neededs. I resigned to my fate.

I ran in the house and dropped off my backpack and headed back outside. I didn't walk immediately back up front, I needed to get the wagon. The lock on the garage door always sticks a little bit. It is because the doors are sagging with age. Behind the door is the smell of mildew, spiderwebs and clutter. Just inside the garage door is a golf bag full of cut down and taped hockey sticks. The swords Justin and I would duel with. I stick the stick gun I just picked up into the pocket of the bag, which is already full of golf balls, grenades. I grasp the black handle of the wagon and pull it out of the garage.

This wagon has been with me a long time. It has wood sides, the red paint faded and a little chipped. These sides slip into the metal brackets, which surround the bed of the wagon. In the wagons are the remains of my route earlier in the week, a couple papers, the straps and the solid colored paper. I throw these away as I walk to the front of the house.

I drag the wagon acrossed the bumpy front yard, to rest beside the papers I am to deliver today. The Plymouth Observer. I lift the bundles of papers into the wagon. The fragrance of fresh ink wafts off of them. The print will stain my hands before the end of the day. Once the papers are in place I pop the strap of the bundle in front. I do this by finding the place where the strap is melted together. At that point, you flip the plastic to reveal the loose end, which you pull. This causes a satisfying pop.

The wind seems to have gotten just a little colder, but this is my job. It is not how I planned my day, but it could be worse. I adjust the wagon to face toward the sidewalk and head off to the start of my route.