Impel or Instigate

Impel or Instigate

David C. Russell

Word Count 1,378

Summertime days droned on into late July. The living had been easy for two eleven-year-old boys named Phil and Robert. The hours stretched having become a bit too routine, dull, boring; sun up, sun down repeatedly.

“Having some Hormel mac-and-cheese for lunch. Want some?” Phil asked?

“Yeah, and a glass of lemonade, too.”

“It’s in the red pitcher, labeled lemonade, second shelf. Get it yourself.”

“Better turn that down, smells like it’s burning,” Phil observed slurping from his glass of lemonade.

“Oh goodness, you’re right. Burnt the bottom of the pan,” Phil said.

He dished up two plates and ran water in the pan twice with added soap, and placed on the stovetop. He figured someone would get to it later.

“Gonna go out for track or soccer when school starts?” Phil asked.

“Probably track. I enjoyed relays in Spring, you?”

“Thinking soccer. Looks easy from watching on TV.”

“You might think so, but those people unlike you are experienced,” Phil said.

The boys finished and tossed their plates and silverware in the sink, and headed for the garage.

Phil was the first to look at two moped bikes that his father recently purchased.

“Dad got these two mopeds recently. He says we’ll go riding when I turn fifteen and get a license.”

“Hey, let’s go ride around town today. Who says we have to wait until we’re fifteen?” Robert asked.

“Dad says.”

“Isn’t your dad at work?

Who’s going to know?” Robert asked, smile wide.

“Have you ever been on a moped?” Phil asked.

“No, but the key for each is in the ignition. It has a twist handle like a lawn mower,” Robert observed.

“I don’t know. Do they have gas and oil?” Phil stated.

Robert checked both and they did have fuel. He proposed “Let’s ride to the tennis courts and back, which would be close to a little over 3 km or 2 miles.”

The boys each wheeled their moped of choice out the garage. Phil secured the garage door. As they rode their first couple blocks, they noticed Mrs. Priester was trimming her hedges. She looked up, her expression showed concerned. She called to the boys, but they ignored her and kept going.

“This is fun,” Robert said and added, “Let’s keep going to the strip mall and we’ll go back to your house.” Phil shook his head in agreement.

He surmised, the breeze blowing in his face, sunshine, quiet neighborhoods joy of the ride, does restore a sense of summer excitement. Phil did have a good idea.

As they reached the tennis court, they noticed some of their friends were present.

“Aren’t you guys a little too young for mopeds?” asked Terri, a tall brunette whose athleticism was pronounced in both girl’s basketball and volleyball.

“Don’t tell. We’re only doing this once,” Robert said.

“Once is once too many,” Terri shouted back.

“You’re just a goodie-goodie. Shuck those Baptist or Pentecostal traits and have some fun,” Robert urged.

“Yeah, leave her alone. She’s fine the way she is,” said Tyrone, a chap known for bully mannerisms.

“Robert, we better go. This isn’t looking good,” Phil said.

Robert bade the group farewell, and the lads headed back to Phil’s house.

“As the boys proceeded on Pine Street, Robert noticed lights in the distance. Pine was a two-way street. The only options were hope and prayer. Hope that they weren’t the object of concern, prayer that they would be passed by.

“Boys, turn off those mopeds,” Officer Webber ordered.

“Aren’t you a little too young for riding around on mopeds?” He questioned.

“Funny you should ask. One of our friends said those exact words minutes ago,” Robert stated.

“I kind of gathered this,” Officer Webber said, playing along.

“Where you headed?”

“Home,” Phil said.

“And you?” Officer Webber asked, pointing at Robert..

“I guess to Phil’s to return the bike and then home.”

“Mind if I follow?” Officer Webber asked.

Silence included both answers from each of the three persons.

As they arrived at Phil’s house, they noticed his mother on the porch reading a paperback. The look on her face said much.

“Madam, my name is Officer Webber with the St. Clair Police Department. Your son and his friend are in trouble. They were operating two mopeds as under-aged youth.”

“Put those bikes in the garage, and Robert, you head back for your home,” said Phil’s mother.

“Before you go, give me your parents name and address,” Officer Webber said.

“My parents are divorced. I live with my grandmother, Ingrid Oleson, and have since age six,” he said.

“I’ll be over when I’m done here. Tell her you’re getting company,” Officer Webber stated.

Once Robert left, the three stood by the porch and decided on disciplinary actions to be enforced with Phil.

“Listen up young man, you get a warning this time. Repeat this again and you’ll be facing more dire consequences like a stint at the youth home,” Officer Webber said.

“Phil, I expect amends. Go to your room and text me three to five ways you will make amends,” Mom directed.

The officer excused himself and next went to Robert’s home occupied by Robert and Grandma Oleson. Grandma Oleson opened the door and bade welcome to the officer.

“Robert tells me he got in some trouble today,” she began, setting a glass of ice tea in front of the officer.

“I think the three of us should talk. Would you ask him to join us?”

The incident was relayed to Grandma Oleson by both the officer and Robert. On the topic of disciplinary action, Grandma commented,

“Let the warning suffice. We will remember next time will be more serious results.”

“Is this agreeable to you, Robert?” The officer asked.

“Yes sir. No more moped or joy riding for now.”

“I am the boy’s grandparent. Once you become a grandparent, the whole thing changes. You make bargains instead of hand out orders,” she said.

“The legal system is now much like you, Ms. Olson. We’re in a collective flux as a nation when it comes to law enforcement,” The officer said and then excused himself to other matters.

Meantime Phil’s mom had thanked the officer by text message for his involvement. He had told her that two persons had reported the boys joy riding.

An hour passed. Phil felt his mother was stalling way too much. Twenty minutes prior he had texted,

“Mom I’m truly sorry. It won’t happen again.”

A few minutes later, Mom knocked on his room door and entered.

“I’m going to discuss this with your dad when he gets home. We will both be quite livid at your choice. I’ll bring you a bowl of soup, but stay there for now,” she said.

Phil thought, “Stay here for now. This is like jail or prison now.”

A minute later, he noticed the power to his room had gone out. This meant no electronics until power restored.

A little while passed. He heard his dad arrive home. Immediately, he came to Phil’s room.

“Son, what on God’s green earth got into you? The bike is yours but not usable until age fifteen,” he said.

“It was Robert’s idea,” Phil said.

“Son, two wrongs don’t make a right. How often have you heard this from us?”

“A lot, sir.”

“Mom says all you admitted was you were truly sorry. That’s halfway there,” his dad said.

“What can you do to show you are sorry? What can you do to show us your word can be trusted?”

“I don’t know, Dad.”

“I suggest three things: cut the grass on Saturdays, wash my car once a month, vacuum the entire house once a week,” dad suggested.

“May I pick two out of three?” Robert asked.

Short silence occurred before dad nodded yes.

“I’ll vacuum the house and wash your car,” Robert said.

Robert tended to exhibit an allergy condition, and cutting the grass would likely exacerbate effect.

“Okay, these are acceptable terms. You are forgiven. You still have consequences though.”.

“Do I have to stay in my room?” Robert asked.

“From 10:30 until morning, like every other evening,” dad said.

Both dad and son shook hands; this followed by a full hug.

End