Throwing Darts

I was 8 or 9 and Jimmy was three years older. Hannah had made the purchase of some new furniture, perhaps a Lazy Boy. The furniture store delivered it in a pickup with tall solid wooden sideboards, that displayed the store name on it. It made have been WF & JF Barnes Lumber and Furniture, but I can’t be for certain about that. But what I can be for sure about, when the men headed in the house to get the new piece setup, Jimmy and I started throwing darts at the side of that pickup, having a good ol’ time.

Everything went pretty well until I walked over to retrieve the darts and Jimmy let go with one last lone dart. I felt it hit me in the middle of the back. While it probably hurt, I was more interested in Jimmy pulling it out. I couldn’t run around with a dart stuck in my back. Wearing our usual attire of summer, a white pullover tee shirt, it didn’t take but a few seconds for a red circle about the size of a saucer to appear.

The next thing of upmost importance was to get me off those high steep steps, down to highway level and across to Nonie’s house and out of site of Hannah. There just wouldn’t have been a satisfactory way to explain that incident to Hannah and he knew his britches wouldn’t hold shucks if she found out what happened.

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