The Good Friday Fight Club

When young children have too much time on their hands, it is guaranteed formula for trouble. It was in my case, anyway. As soon as I had some days off from school, the wheels would start turning and my friends and I would think of some of the most devious things to do this side of the Mississippi. And so on Good Friday, a group of ten-year olds gathered in the basement of my suburban Chicago-land home to discuss the day's itinerary while we watched wrestling

"What do you want to do today," Jeff asked.

"Not sure. It's too cold for baseball," I said while watching Dick the Bruiser body slam his opponent. The wheels inside my head were turning.

Got it!

"Let's go outside in front of the house by the street and when cars come by we'll stage a fake wrestling match─except it won't be a wrestling match. One of us will get on the ground and the other three will pretend to be kicking the shit out him. When the cars come by and see the action, they will stop to render aid and we'll run away."

"That's hilarious," Don said, "Let's do it!"

We put on our coats and went to the front of the house.

"Who's going to be the victim?" Jeff asked.

"Greg will," I said.

"I'm not doing that," Greg said, "I have Boy Scouts" tonight.

"You do it first, and then I'll do it next; we'll all take turns," I said.

"Why do I have to go first?"

"Because you're a really good actor─You really nailed down that Tiny Tim role at the Christmas play this year."

"I guess you have a point there," Greg said, "Let's do it."

"Get on the ground and when the first car comes, Jeff, Don, and me, will pretend we're kicking the crap out you. You roll around on the ground and scream like you're in a lot of pain. When the driver gets out to help, we'll all run away. This is going to be a gas!"

Greg got on the ground and we prepared for the first round.

"Here comes a car; get ready," Jeff said.

The black Buick came to a stop at the corner and the car approached. As soon as it reached the house before mine the action commenced. Lights, Camera, Action! We pretended to knock the hell out of Greg by repeatedly stomping and kicking him in the side. I could see a woman pointing at us from the passenger side as the car came to an abrupt halt and a Good Samaritan jumped from the car running towards us. "Hey, stop that!" he shouted. We took off running in different directions while Greg continued lying in a supine position on the ground with his eyes closed, while the man knelt over him. Suddenly Greg's eyes flashed open and he jumped up hitting the ground running, startling the man. "Why you little M... F... I'll kill you," he said. He began chasing Greg into the open field behind my house but gave up after a short jaunt. Breathing heavily, the man returned to his car and pulled away mumbling a plethora of invectives.

We hid behind some evergreen bushes that had been pre-determined as a rendezvous area and watched Greg approach the pine-needled fortress. "Why didn't you run away as soon as the car stopped?" I asked.

"I was trying to make it realistic."

"If that guy would have caught you, he would have rung your skinny-ass neck," Don said.

Greg's hands were shaking, "All I know is that my turn is over─ who's next?"

"I'll do it," I said, "That was funny."

Returning to the front lawn we continued the play acting, except this time we added some special effect props. Plastic baseball bats that mimicked real Louisville Sluggers were brought in to use during the beating. I could here a car approaching as I lie on the ground while being beaten to death by the baseball bats. There was a screeching of the tires and could feel now feel the presence of someone standing over me. Time to fly. Opening my eyes, I looked up at a man with a navy blue uniform and a badge. Holy shit─it's the cops!

I was grabbed by the collar and brought to my feet, "What goes here young man?"

"Uhhhhhh, nothin' sir, we're just goofin' around."

"Goofing around? Don't you realize that you could have caused an accident or worse yet, caused someone to have a heart attack? Don't you realize that this is a holy day? Where are your parents?"

"They're shopping up at the Jewel store," I said as my father pulled his car into the driveway.

"What's happening here?" my father asked.

"Your son and his friends are staging fake fights in order stop traffic and scare people," the officer said.

"He what?"

Now I really was going to get the shit kicked out of me.