I was in a Saturday afternoon rut. Me and my buddies had done about everything there was to be done.
Of course, the recent battle I waged against the Rogers’ boys on Market Street didn’t help. Mama had me on a short leash.
What started as a mud ball fight ended up in full-blown warfare after somebody put a rock inside a mud ball.
And it found its mark, too. I took a direct hit; the mud ball popped me square in the mouth, drawing blood from one lip and chipping a front tooth.
The outcome of that battles was two “nevers.”