Zebra Chief

Posted: July 5, 2012 in Uncategorized

Somewhere between the first case of chicken pox and the first case of pinkeye, Tommy Hoolihan managed to fall out of a tire swing and bust his arm up so bad, he had a cast as thick as his dad’s neck. Now I wasn’t there, so I can’t tell you how it happened, but the story goes that he was trying to set up a swing that he could jump into one of those above-ground kiddie pools. For all I know, he might have made the landing in the pool but just didn’t have the common sense to know that success in this endeavor was not going to provide any possibility of glory.

But of course, the way the story goes, he didn’t even clear the jump, landed square on his shoulder and rolled like a tossed sack of flour, barely dipping his toe in the cool water. Now at this point in Tommy’s life, he knew that if he vocalized his pain it would only land him in a summer’s worth of trouble, so he kept his mouth shut, and I’ll admire him for the kind of pain tolerance that took because I’m told his shoulder was up to his ear. But it was for that reason that no amount of machismo could save his summer.

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