The Wood Shed

He was quick and slimy. And boy could he jump! Jump like the dickens he could!

"This boy here's gonna fetch me a real nice prize. There's no doubting that", whispered Bobby as he worked to stuff the toad in the front pocket of his faded denim overalls. He was all business, his brow furrowed into a scowl that would rival the wolves of Wall Street. For all his life, long as Bobby Butcher could remember all he ever wanted was to own a prize jumping toad that would rival the likes of Sissy Cogburn's "Yella Princess" and Roy Klaus' "Sparticus". He and his brother Tommy would spend hours and hours hunting for toads in the swamps searching for that rare contender that evolution only spit out once in a blue moon. Millions and millions of years of life and death, reproduction and evolution leading to the creme de la creme of jumping toads. He was convinced he had just discovered such a specimen. Now it was time to train it into a world class competitor.

"Bobby!", came a shout from across a huge fallen log. "You find one? I got one here. Look! See, I think he's real good. I bet he'll jump real far!" shouted Tommy as he held up a massive toad from behind the log, it's legs dangling nearly to his elbows as he held it aloft.

"Hush now!" retorted Bobby. "C'mere and be quiet."

Tommy, crest fallen but obedient, climbed over the log being as careful as he could not to squish the frog in his hands. But he had to use his elbows and armpits to get the job done as his hands were too small to hold the massive frog in only one. As he strained to pull his body up Bobby could see the toad bulging from the pressure of Tommy's hands.

"Careful now", came the warning from Bobby. "You about to squish his guts right out his mouth."

Bobby stepped over the underbrush and took the toad from Tommy's hands, then holding it in one, gave the free hand to his little brother to help him over the log.

"You're a filthy mess!" said Bobby in a disgusted whisper. "How come you got to get so damned dirty every time we come out?" Tommy didn't pay any attention to the scolding. He looked down at the frog in his brothers hands and sized him up again. He looked at Bobby's face, measuring his reaction, trying to read his thoughts.

"Told ya", beamed Tommy. "He's a real prize aint he?"

"Sure is at that", agreed Bobby. "But I do believe I've got his big brother right here." Bobby patted the bulge in his chest pocket. "They'll be training partners. " Bobby helped Tommy down off the log and lifted the flap to Tommy's front overall pocket. "Think he'll fit in there? He's aweful big for that little pocket of yours. Best I just carry him so nothing bad happens. Here, hold him for just a sec." Bobby handed the toad back to Tommy while he pulled out a handcerchief from his hip pocket. "I'll wrap him up in this so he can't slime out of my grip til' we get back." Tommy handed the toad to Bobby and he carefully put the cloth around the frog.

"Lemme see yours", said Tommy nodding his head toward Bobby's bulging pocket.

"When we get back. Don't want to disturb him too much. Need to maintain his nerves so he don't become anxious or anything."

Tommy matched Bobby's business demeanor and nodded his head in agreement.

Whooowee! What a day! Two in one!" said Bobby a grin splitting his business scowl long enough to enjoy the spoils of their efforts. "What a day indeed!"

They both laughed patting one another on the back as they strode back, the spoils of the day carefully in tow.

As they came to the edge of the wood they could seen the cabin across the meadow. The both stopped instinctively at the edge careful to stay in the shadows.

"Think he's still out?" asked Tommy in a hushed tone.

"Just you get yourself cleaned up so there's no trace of our hunt today. I'll take care of the old man."

With that Bobby stepped out of the shadows into the sun light and started for the front porch. Tommy followed behind careful to stay in step so as to be hidden from sight until they got to the rusted out Chevy on cinder blocks where he could peel off to the well and wash up.

Fletcher was still passed out in the rocking chair on the front porch, the jug of moonshine dangling like an empty cistern from his calloused index finger. His shirtless sunken chest glistened in the humidity of the morning air and the smell of body odor, the likes that only strong drink and sweat can produce, stung Bobby's nostrils as he carefully stepped onto the first step.

The old wood creaked against his weight. His bare toes involuntarily wiggled in an effort to silence the sound and he could feel the slimy mud from the swamp between his toes. Fletcher jerked and jostled, the jug clanking it loudly against the arm of the chair like a bell. The last thing he wanted was Fletcher to awake. He would certainly ruin all their plans if he found out what they had been up to. Bobby carefully put the toad in the handkerchief on the porch and slowly slid the jug off his father's finger. Just as the ring slipped from the tip, Fletcher let out a horrible snort and tried to roll over in the chair. It startled Bobby so that he stepped back, his foot smashing the toad through the cracks in the wood planks making a muffled popping noise. Now it was more than just mud that was slimy between his toes.

"Nooo!" came a shout from the other end of the porch. It was Tommy. He had been watching the whole thing unfold in utter silence until the fateful accident that was the end of his prize toad.

Fletcher suddenly sat bolt up in his chair looking around like he'd just been dropped into a pot of boiling oil. Tommy put his hands over his mouth in an effort to stop his outburst but it was too late. He had awakened the beast and now the reckoning was at hand.

"What in the hell.." came the rumbling from the sleeping monster.

Bobby, quick to act shoved the jug into Fletcher's chest and jumped off the porch running to Tommy. Taking the toad from his pocket, he carefully placed it into his hands he said, "Quick, put him somewhere safe where he can't find him." Bobby surveyed the shock on his little brother's face. He did feel bad but there was no time for mourning. "I'm real sorry about your frog Tommy but we got to save this one." With that he turned Tommy around and gave him a shove. Tommy shuffled off still stunned from what had just happened.

Fletcher emerged from his lair and barked at the boys.

"And just what do you think you two are doing? What's that mess of guts and blood mucking up my clean porch and in my good handkerchief no less? You been out wasting time hunting toads again ain't ya? I told you boys to leave that nonsense alone. I ain't got time for you two playin' when there's work to be done here."

Just then, Bobby felt the claw of his Fletcher's fingers digging into his clavicle bone and squeezing hard from behind. "I'm talkin to you boy," spewed the words from Fletcher's mouth.

Bobby swung around to face him knocking Fletcher's grip loose with his forearm but just as he made the full rotation he was spun halfway back with a backhand strike across his cheek stunning him for just a moment. Instinctively Bobby jumped the railing and ran to the woodshed ahead.

Fletcher let out a deep growl but calmly walked down the steps and rounded the corner of the porch making his way to the back of the property toward the wood shed. Bobby got there first there on a full sprint. He opened the door and frantically looked inside. There was Tommy cowering in the corner with the toad in his hands.

"What?!... why are you in here?" demanded Bobby, panting and out of breath. "Of all places Tommy, why would you come in here? You... you have to get out. Put the toad down and just get out and hide somewhere."

Tommy was in tears and frozen to the spot. Bobby grabbed Tommy by his overall straps and drug him to the door. He opened it up to see Fletcher gaining ground on them. Shoving Tommy through the doorway he whispered, "Get out of here. I'll be alright. I can hold my own with him. Just get somewhere safe and I'll find you when it's over."

Tommy wiped the dirt and tears from his eyes and stumbled away into the woods. Bobby looked up and made eye contact with Fletcher. He put his business scowl back on his face, but this was a different sort of business. A nasty sort that he had too many dealings with in his young life already. He shut the door and propped an old chair under the handle, then went to the corner and sat waiting until Fletcher reached the shed. It wouldn't hold. He knew that but it might buy him a few seconds.

"It won't be long now", said Bobby. Looking up in the rafters at the barn owl that had always been his companion through these encounters. "You'll watch like you always do and just sit there. I wish you would do something. I wish you would stop him somehow." But the big bird just looked away hoping for peace and quiet so it could sleep. Bobby found a wood block on the Floor and threw it at the bird, barely missing it and hitting the roof. The owl only turned it's head and looked at Bobby showing no expression at all. Bobby let out a sigh of disgust and shook his head.

Slivers of sunlight cut through the shadows across the floor in striped patterns matching the warped boards that made up the walls of the shed. The silence was too much for Bobby and he covered his ears in preparation for the onslaught.

Suddenly the door flung open with a burst sending the chair careening into Bobby's shins and crashing to pieces, sunlight spilling in across the floor blinding Bobby with it's intensity. Fletcher stood in the doorway, his shadow filling the frame like a demon from the underworld. His fits were clenched and his chest was heaving. Only the dark outline of Fletcher was visible to Bobby. He could not see his face or his eyes. Did he have any? Or was he truly a shadow from the depths of hell come to destroy him?

"Get up", he spat. Bobby didn't move. "I SAID GET UP!" screamed Fletcher kicking an old paint can into oblivion.

Bobby stayed rooted to the spot. Any movement meant certain pain and anguish. He would not relinquish his position.

Fletcher stomped over to the broken chair and picked up a leg. Brandishing it like a Billy club, he threw the rest of the chair to the side and grabbed Billy's overall strap, yanking him to his feet.

"When I tell you to do something, you better damn well do it", he hissed in Bobby's ear, rancid spittle mixed with tobacco juice running down his cheeks from Fletcher's slurred speech. His breath was like that of a thousand year old crypt opening it's jaws to exude the death and decay of rotting corpses.

Bobby slunk down as if he were already dead, his body weight causing Fletcher to stumble forward, the overalls beginning to choke Bobby as he slid down and Fletcher pulled up. He could feel the seam in his crotch pulling tighter against his groin, but it was a relative discomfort.

Suddenly a great crack sounded in the shed and Bobby let out a shriek. Fletcher had brought the chair leg down hard across his hip and buttocks. Again and again the blows came. Deeper and deeper Bobby sunk into his overalls. His arms and hands now joining the abuse as he instinctively tried to stop the carnage.

Fletcher breathing heavy and sweating profusely was finally done, his stench from exertion filling the shed. He was worn out now and needed a drink. He dropped Bobby like a sack of dirt and released the chair leg to a rattle on the floor boards. A long string of black tarry spit hung from his bottom lip. Wiping the spittle from his mouth and the sweat from his brow he said in a low voice, "Maybe you'll remember this beatin' next time you decide to spend a day hunting for toads when you should be home doin' your chores and pulling your weight round here." He took a long look at Bobby, then spat on the floor before turning and leaving the shed.

Bobby slowly began to uncurl from his defensive stance. As he did his emotions released as well and he sat sobbing on the floor of the shed, wanting to rub his wounds but they were too tender. A small shadow slowly creeped around the corner into the door frame. It was Tommy. He peaked in to see if Bobby was alive.

"Can I come in?" asked Tommy timidly.

Bobby simply gave a faint nod. Tommy slowly walked over to his brother and sat on the floor next to him. He looked at his brother for a long time in silence, not sure of the surge of emotions running through him. "I'm sorry Bobby", he finally said.

"Hush..." said Bobby. "Forget about it. It's over now. He's gone."

"But he ain't gone Bobby. He ain't. He's in the house looking for more to drink. He'll be back and next time..."

" It's alright little brother. I can take care of myself. As long as you're safe it will all be okay."

Tommy leaned into Bobby's chest as they sat in the shed listening to the birds sing outside. He looked up at the owl on his perch. His giant eyes that were so powerful to see were closed to the world. Oblivious to the plight of these human boys. Oh how Bobby wished he were that owl. He would pick up Tommy in his great talons and fly them away to some magical place. But he wouldn't be like this owl. He'd never come back. He'd never set foot in that shed again.

"What did you do with the toad," asked Bobby finally.

Tommy didn't answer for a long time.

"Well," pushed Bobby.

"Don't be mad at me Bobby."

"What would I be mad about? You put him in a safe place right?"

"Yea. Real safe Bobby. Real safe."

"Ok then. Where is he?"

"He's,... well, I...., I put him back."

"Put him back? Back where?"

"Back home. In the swamp. I couldn't bear to have anything happen to him like what happened to his brother. I just couldn't Bobby. So I put him back."

Bobby looked at his brother for a long time. He thought of his dreams to have a champion jumping toad. Then he thought of the owl and his brother and what freedom from this hell would look like and realized it was a wise decision his little brother had made.

"I think that's a real good place for him Tommy. He'll be safe and happy there, just where he should be."