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No Step for a Stepper – Humorous Short Story

No Step for a Stepper – Humorous Short Story

No Step for a Stepper: Stupidity and Revenge…mostly Stupidity.

Sometimes when we’re young we do things that are extremely stupid.  I know.  At one point in my life my father told me, “It will be a miracle if you make it to twenty-one.”

No Step for a Stepper is a humorous work of fiction loosely based on facts from one such event.  Mostly the story is about stupidity and revenge.  Remember…it’s my story and I can tell it any way I want.  So without further ado I present the humorous short story:

No Step for a Stepper

I mustered every ounce of courage as I climbed onto the bridge railing. I looked down and shuddered as the river flowed beneath me. How did I get myself into this mess?

The day started innocently enough. It was a hot day, and my older brothers, Larson and Dell, decided to walk to the river.

“Can I go?” I asked.

“You remember the rule?” Larson asked

“Yes.” I replied.

I knew strict adherence to the rule was a must. To break the rule meant banishment from my brothers’ adventures. The rule was simple. I must obey their every command.

The river was only a mile from our house. It was our main source of recreation; we swam, we fished, we noodled, and generally horsed around. We arrived at the bridge and looked down.

“How far is it to the water?” I asked.

“About thirty-five feet,” answered Larson.

Larson and Dell debated the merits of jumping off the bridge into the river. They decided to jump. They thought it would be fun. They determined the water would be deepest in the middle of the river, therefore the center of the bridge, which was the highest point, was the selected jump site.

I felt an impending sense of danger.

“Mason,” Larson said, “You should jump first, because you’re the lightest.”

“Makes sense to me,” I muttered.

Now, here I am standing on this bridge railing. If I refuse to jump I will no longer be included in my brothers’ excursions. On the other hand, I could get hurt. I made my decision. Banishment was unacceptable.

The first rule of idiocy demands that the idiot-elect shout some foolish slogan while performing an incredibly stupid act. Such a statement serves as an epitaph if one does not survive the ordeal…or it indicates courage of the mentally challenged participant which allows him to brag after escaping death’s grip.

So, with a touch of bravado I shouted, “This ain’t no step for a stepper!”

I closed my eyes and jumped. I had learned to keep my knees slightly bent from past painful experiences. I felt coolness as my body passed from sunlight into the shadow of the bridge. The end was near.

Swoosh! I hit the water.

Wham! I crashed into the sandy river bed which was only three feet below the surface of the water. Bending my knees kept me from breaking both my legs.

My knees shot up into my chest and crushed the air out of my lungs. My head ached and my chest gasped for air while my entire body screamed in agony! My head popped above the water. I caught my breath. I had survived!

Dell shouted to me, “How was it?”

I thought. ‘How was it? I almost died! But…wait…why should I tell them?’

A smile crossed my face. I gathered all the energy in my being, moved out of the drop zone, and yelled, “It’s great! Come on down!”

Dell climbed on the bridge railing and jumped. I heard the swoosh, saw the bone jarring crunch, and finally heard his gasp for air. Dell too had survived.

‘Take that, Fish-breath,’ I thought. ‘Not so much fun is it?’

Larson shouted to Dell, “How was it?”

Dell and I grinned at each other. I could almost read Dell’s mind as he thought, ‘Why should I tell him?’

He gathered his strength, moved out of the way, and shouted,

“It’s great! Come on down!”

Dell and I knew that Larson would beat the tar out of us because we concealed the pain involved in the jump. We waited for him to jump and headed for town.

We climbed the river bank and gimped home as fast as our pain racked bodies allowed. We looked back once. We saw Larson climb over the river bank. His face told us we were in big trouble.

Several hours later Larson tracked us down and administered knuckle-bump treatments on us. Later, when we were on speaking terms we laughed about our stupidity. We decided it was best to wait several days before we told Mom. Somehow, we knew she wouldn’t be too proud.

Copyright 2009 J-me

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