The Fort
This one time we decided to build a fort. So we went scavenging around the neighborhood and stole borrowed wood that didn’t seem to be of use to anyone. I have to set the scene for you so you better understand.
Our yards were identical. There was a front yard, two side yards, a back yard and the back lot. In our back lot, we planted a garden, kept the farm animals and built a shed built right up next to the property line. In Pudd’s back lot there was nothing but dirt and rocks. This was separated by a huge hedge of oleanders. Anything we did back there was shielded from his mother’s and more importantly my mother’s eyes.
We started out with a little one room Little Rascal’s looking play house which quickly grew to a 3 room shack with an unfinished second floor. I was playing Spanky to his Alfalfa. It was pretty cool. There was a special button you pushed that would open the window, though we had to close it ourselves. The ground was carpeted with old swatches of different colored carpets. It leaked badly when it rained. We had holey bean bag chairs that squirted Styrofoam beads out when ever you sat on it. At night we ran 30 extension cords plugged together across the yard to give us light. Oh and it smelled that special kind of funk that only young boys can. We would sit in there reading comics and talking about our plans to build our own amusement park. I think it was that talking that gave us the plan to build the tunnels.
I don’t remember what got us started but I remember that we put the opening on the back side of the fort and dug under neath. You had to access the fort through a trap door under the futon. At a certain point about 5 feet into the tunnel we decided that we needed a dungeon. But because we were tired of digging tunnels, we decided to dig a hole and cover it with a roof and then cover the roof with. The roof had a trap door so we could have a quick exit if we needed it. It was so easy, we decided to build all our tunnels that way. We dug like crazy that summer. By the end of it, there were tunnels and rooms all over that lot.
Then we decided that we were going to dig under the fence and build a room under under the neighbor, Mr., Chavez’s yard. Boys at that age don’t think things through. Okay, boys are stupid. This was our downfall. After we created the trapdoor, we forgot one thing. When you open a trap door, all the dirt falls off and people can see the door.
I need let you know the neighbor was a Vietnam Veteran. Now when he found a door in the ground of his property, he wasn’t really thrilled to say the least. He ran running around, screaming that the Viet Cong was here and they were after him. When we heard the commotion, we just poked our heads out of the trapdoor on our side and looked to see who it was. We couldn’t understand why he thought King Kong was after him. But I do remember the look on his eyes when he saw two very tanned, dirt encrusted boys stick their heads out of a trap door.
Mr. Chavez ran to the house and got his gun. And ran back to the trapdoor on his side. Thankfully Mrs. Chavez was of the mind to take the gun from him or I might not be here today. The cops were called. We were forced to return his “stolen property” (dirt) and made to work around his yard for a month until the grass grew back.
Pudd’s mom was not thrilled when the police revealed the extent of our diggings. They brought a bulldozer to fill in the dirt. It was a sad day when our fort came tumbling down.
But to this day, if you look at their back lot, you can see where the dirt settled after being filled in. And when it rains it looks like a miniature water park with all the crisscrossing rivers and streams.