Billy Putnam shot my dad in the butt with a BB gun. It was quite a feat, as nailing a middle aged man on a ladder cleaning out his rain gutters couldn’t have been easy all the way from the house next door—a house whose gutters were always full of old leaves and debris.
My father’s screams of outrage brought my brother Sam and me tumbling right out of our backyard tent. The tent itself was a heavy canvas monstrosity, one held up with bent aluminum poles, yet perfect for us to play in. We’d been taking Polaroids, scrawling down dates and times on the back, to add to our Summer Fun collection. At the end of every summer, Sam meticulously filed the Polaroid pictures, dutifully recording our memories and storing them in a shoebox.
When we saw our father, Sam was holding the Polaroid camera in his hand. We looked at each other, then at my dad rubbing his backside where a BB-sized hole appeared in his pants. I nodded at my brother, who quickly took a picture of our father, still on the ladder, still cursing a blue streak. We added it to the box.
🜋 🜋 🜋
“I tell you, Evie. This neighborhood is going to pot—literally going to pot—with that marijuana-selling hooligan next door.” My father punctuated his remarks by stabbing a piece of Salisbury steak. He chewed malevolently. “He dented the station wagon, too. I saw gold paint on the front bumper of his Chevy. Where’d a boy get a car like that, anyhow?”
“I don’t know, dear.”
“Well, I’ll tell you something, Evie—I do know. I know exactly what that societal parasite is doing over there. He’s selling marijuana. Right here in our neighborhood. You keep our kids away from that punk. Any day now, we’ll have junkies strung out on the front lawn!”
“Do you think so?”
“It’s the gateway drug, Evie. I blame Jimmy Carter. It’s a good thing we'll have a new president one day who understands that those types of people need to be locked up!”
“Do you think we should move?” my mother asked, eyes wide open.
“We may well have to, Evie. We may well have to.”
Sam and I looked at each other. From that day on, Billy Putnam represented everything completely amoral in the universe, an agent of chaos to orderly Christians everywhere.
🜋 🜋 🜋
When I started middle school, my father and Billy Putnam were still engaged in a holy war. On Saturdays when my father mowed the lawn, he’d balefully stare at the few cars who briefly dropped by the Putnam’s home. Sometimes my father would write down license plate numbers. In return, Billy Putnam would simply walk over and boldly present him with both middle fingers.
“How do you flip the bird?” I asked Sam. “I can’t get my pinkies to stay down.” We had set up the canvas tent in the backyard, determined to sleep in it one more night.
Sam pumped the Coleman lantern, trying to get it to light. “Why? You’re a girl.”
“I might need to flip off someone,” I replied, slightly aggravated.
“Girls don’t flip the bird.”
I sulked, picking up his handheld electronic baseball game. I watched the red lights beep before tossing it aside.
“Lawn darts?” I asked.
“Nah,” he said.
“Toss Across?”
“Boring.”
“What do you want to do?” I asked, finishing the last of our Jiffy Pop.
“I want to spy on Billy Putnam,” Sam replied, grinning.
We unzipped the tent flap.
🜋 🜋 🜋
The fireflies blinked on and off as Sam and I scrambled quietly out of the tent. Barefoot, we muttered childish swear words whenever we stepped on an errant aluminum pop-top.
“I think his room is in the basement,” Sam informed me. “We can hop the fence and crawl along the bushes. I hear he’s got a pachinko game in his room and everything.”
“Okay—” was all I could manage, as my brother’s wealth of knowledge on Billy Putnam impressed me. We dropped and crawled like commandos on the ground, which smelled of loam and moss. I followed Sam closely, sure that if I deviated even an inch, Billy Putnam would murder me.
The blinds were open. As we peered into what was clearly Billy Putnam’s bedroom, we noticed posters with blonde girls in tiny bathing suits hanging on the wall, the legendary pachinko machine with its lights glittering, and a tangle of bodies in bed linen.
“Don’t look—” Sam loudly whispered, a warning that only made me look harder.
“What?” I exclaimed, sure I was missing something fantastic.
“They’re doing it.”
“What?!”
“It. They’re doing it,” Sam said, scrambling backwards like a crab. I followed him, saying nothing until we returned to the tent. We didn’t say much after that, either.
🜋 🜋 🜋
It didn’t take long to learn I would be a total failure in middle school. The girls seemed to dress and wear lip gloss in a way a tomboy like me could only imagine. Alone in the backyard where Sam and I no longer set up the tent, I looked heavenward.
“Hey, kid.”
I looked up. Billy Putnam.
“You want to throw that back?” I looked at a frisbee that had sailed over the fence. I quickly retrieved it for him.
"Here."
"Thanks."
"You're welcome." I started to walk away.
“Hey, you look sad,” he remarked.
“School sucks,” I replied, my voice breaking as I tried to hold back hot tears.
“What part?” he asked, folding his lanky arms on top of the chain link fence.
“The friend part.”
“Well, people totally suck,” he explained. “But why would you want to be friends with anyone who didn’t want to be your friend? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“I guess not,” I decided.
“You’re cool. Just wait until everyone figures it out, too. Okay?”
“Okay,” I smiled and watched Billy Putnam flick his wrist, sailing the frisbee high across our yard, right onto our roof where my father would have to climb a ladder to get it down on a Sunday morning.
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55 comments
Loved this. Transported me back in time.
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Yep. 1970s…great time to be a kid!
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Excellent nostalgic story..... just missing a lemonade stand and freeze tag! It perfectly captured an innocent childhood/ coming of age...... that has long ago died out. Well done.
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I do miss a good game of Kick the Can or Midnight Ghost.
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Strangely, the beginning reminds me of "A Prayer for Owen Meany"? Anyway. I absolutely adore the dialogue and the way the characters interact and perceive each other (even if indirectly).
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A comparison to John Irving?! I'll take it :) Thanks Jubilee!!
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You captured such a youthful energy in the narration. What a capturing read--it felt like a real recollection, so if this was not, incredible work in bringing this to life, and if it was, I want to know more about this Billy Putnam fellow and if he's living life like a true king.
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Let's just call it "historical fiction..." The real pothead next door was a very nice young man who grew up to be an old stoner, brain utterly fried eventually by drugs. Shame, but not surprising. For a short time, he was living the life -- girls, convertible cars, money. But ended up a cautionary tale.
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And my father hated him like the devil :)
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Awww I loved this so much I didn't want it to end. Great narration. Very funny. I laughed out load at "He chewed malevolently." Good job !
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Yep. Dad's in the 1970's chewed a lot things up. Generational Gap Rage. hahaha
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I write stories including language and usually something violent. Reading your stories are always a wonder refreshing break. Truly amazing.
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You should check out Daniel Hayes. He's an amazing horror writer :) https://www.readlotswritelots.com/podcast/episode-06-daniel-hayes/
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Oh that's cool!
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https://lindsayauctions.hibid.com/lot/98438323/set-of-lawn-darts Closes 31 Aug 2021
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Absolutely buying these. Great weaponry for imminent Civil War Pt. 2 - Mask Edition.
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Wow. Amazing. Fantastic. Great. All of it. You did a great job on this story, Deidra. Never stop writing. Breckin- ;)
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Thanks, BN :) Your encouragement is wonderful -- YAY
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Thank you Deidra. I loved reading this beautiful peice. Breckin- ;)
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Cute, funny, and sweet! I loved it. 😊
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Thanks, Kate :)
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You’re welcome ☺️
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A great story!
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Huzzah! Thanks for the accolades.
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What a sneak peek into the fun and frolic that goes into a great childhood. The characters were so real, and yes the dialogues were spot on. As I said earlier too I am a huge fan of your writings, and every single story of yours is tike worth spent. This was too, short, sweet a d with enough dollops of tanginess to keep the literary taste buds tickiling. P.S. Would appreciate if you could any one of stories and critique. I would understand if you don't
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I always appreciate your wonderful support, Neel. It's been very hectic with my travel schedule and school starting shortly. I'll zip over to your page as time permits. :)
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Thanks, really do appreciate it. And with your tight schedule, I do understand, Deidra.
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EXCELLENT : Characters were real, story flowed.
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Woo hoooo - thanks for the ALL CAPS comment. Thanks for the read.
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Great story! Short with a positive message.
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Appreciate it, Mr. Murphy :)
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Also, If you would check out one of my stories I would be delighted. Obvoisly they are not as good as yours(Well duh) but I would be very happy If you checked one of em out. _Breckin N ;)
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I’d love to read one of your stories—which one should I start with?
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It would be great if you started with which ever one you want.
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You got it :)
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Wow! This was a great story and I absoloutly loved it! I was one of my favorites that I have read on reedsy so far. The ending just light me up and was even better than the rest of the story. Keep on writing and follow your dreams-Breckin N ;)
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Thanks, Breckin. Same wishes for you :)
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Hey Deidra! This is probably the first time I'm commenting on your stories, but yep, here I am, after spamming your notifications with what would seem a liking spree, but is actually not. I read each one of them before liking and found myself stifling my laughter each time. This time again, the first few paras sent me in fits(sadistic lil me) and kept me hooked throughout to the point that I didn't want the story to end. As usual great job and looking forward to reading the rest of your stories! :D Also, I hope you can leave critique on min...
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You got it, Queen 😃
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#freebillyputnam.
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ROFL. ROFL. ROFL. This is my favorite Reedsy comment ever. Kate Mengel wins Queen of Everything.
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already won, deidra. 👑 (and guess who posted? yup, that's right. me.)
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Greetings! This was just the refreshing jolt I needed on a humid, simmering day. Gosh reminded me so much of my (nerdy, tom-boyish) youth. I liked everything about it. Only one tiny thing that I stumbled over was this: "Sam meticulously organized the Polaroid pictures at the end of every summer, squinting at my childish scrawl from years gone by." It sounds like she's older now, looking back at what Sam used to do when they were kids. After re-reading it a few times, I think it means that they'd been doing that for years, and he's still ...
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Great catch :) I'll go tighten it up -- Absolutely appreciate the wonderful comment and close read. Thanks for being a great colleague!
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My pleasure. :)
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Hi D I love these stories that glimpse right into childhood. Makes me wish I was a kid again. Good work.
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Hey Phil — I’d go back to being a kid if I could skip adolescence. Ages 13-23 were kinda useless…haha Hope all is well in the UK
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Wow. This was hilarious/friendly. A nice mix! Tbh when I read your stories, I feel a sweet savoury mix, which is really awesome. Btw, I visited your website, its awesome, and I gulped down 6-7 comedies :), they're really nice though. Awesome read!
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YAY -- I am so honored. Thanks for giving me your time to read my random babblings.
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God, no, I am! Haha, of course, I enjoy it!
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I dare you to write a story on the prompt: "End your story with 'I'm never going out with you again' lol I want to see this, and, I have a hunch that another Jax and Jillian might come out on the introvert-extrovert best friends one ;)
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Oooo you’ve inspired me…
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*evil laugh*
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