Friday, November 19, 2010

Rosie Lost Her Flip-Flops


Rosie Lost Her Flip-Flops

It was a real dungeon, just like the ones in monster movies and Disney castles with sweaty prisoners and mean-looking guards holding spears and truncheons. It was a real dungeon but the prisoners and guards were only actors, at least that is what the guide book told us. Rosie was braver than me, but she wasn’t stupid. She kept her distance from both the mangy criminals and the well-fed officers.

Rosie and I talked about what we should wear when we visited the castle. It was hot so we chose light t-shirts and shorts. We both wore flip-flops. I know now that we should have worn laced shoes, sneakers anyway, but flip-flops it was. Here in Scotland we probably looked strange with our beach shoes but we were tourists and tourists can get away with anything as long as they are not in church.

Rosie and I grew up in a small coal town in Pennsylvania. We had been to Philadelphia and D.C. but never out of the country like this. Rosie was only two years older than me but she was much taller and I was the tagalong little brother all the time. I wished I could be the boss sometimes. At least I was boss of our cat, Sprinkles. Well, sometimes anyway.

I don’t know how we got separated from Mom and Dad in the castle. I don’t know how we got down into the dungeon either. I know there was not an elevator. I think Mom and Dad slipped off to the wine-tasting tables in the refectory. I don’t know what a refectory is but it was really big. Anyway, Rosie and I just sort of drifted away and found ourselves surrounded by these stinky old buzzards and their caretakers. Rosie wanted to talk to one of the prisoners. I didn’t.

She waltzed right up to one of the cages; I think they called them cells. I don’t know why they called them cells. I thought cells were batteries. Anyway, there she was, talking right in his face. I told you she was brave. The man raised up, rattled his chains and yelled huge un-understandable words at Rosie. Rosie jumped ten feet and ran like mad. I could see that she had lost her flip-flops but I wasn’t about to go back and get them for her.
 She’s supposed to be the brave one and she is two years older than me, so let her take care of her own flip-flops.

Well, I didn’t lose mine, but I don’t know how that happened ‘cause I sure wasn’t thinking about keeping them on my feet. When we got up to the refectory floor, Rosie looked down and saw that her feet were all red and blue and she had no flip-flops. So, guess what? We have to figure out how to get the flip-flops back without running into that scary prisoner.

 Mom and Dad seemed to be feeling pretty good so we didn’t bother them, just put our minds to work on the problem. There was our tour guide. Maybe she could help. Nope, she was at the wine-tasting table too, smiling at all the guards.

How about our driver? As usual, he is out by the coach smoking a cigarette. Imagine! Smoking! In this day and age! I don’t know why they call the bus a coach. I thought a coach showed you how to play football.

So that left me and Rosie all alone to get her flip-flops back. We didn’t have a fishing pole so that was out. Rosie’s feet were getting sorer and colder. We rummaged around and found some gunny sacks piled in a musty corner of the castle room. I’ll bet you didn’t expect me to know a word like musty. Rosie taught it to me. I don’t exactly know what it means but it isn’t good.

Anyway, we both put gunny sacks over our heads for a disguise. I don’t know why they call them gunny sacks. We slithered down the stairs to the dungeon, hugging the walls. We didn’t really hug the walls but that’s how you say it. When we got to the floor, we were standing almost next to the biggest guard and we could see Rosie’s flip-flops. Boy, were we lucky. The guard was snoozing; standing straight up and snoozing. How did he do that?

There was another guard down the hall but he was leaning against the wall and paying no attention since there weren’t any tourists around. We tip-toed across the big cobblestone floor, which was hard for me because I was wearing flip-flops, and hard for Rosie because she was barefoot and the stones were cold. We snatched Rosie’s flip-flops and turned to run when the mangy prisoner saw us and started yelling those un-understandable words again. The guards came to life and we ran like the dickens. I don’t know why we were so scared; we weren’t criminals. Anyway we got our little selves out of there, Rosie’s flip-flops in hand and sat down outside the refectory. Rosie put on her flip-flops and just about then, Mom and Dad and the tour guide came out of the refectory and patted us on our little heads and said what good children we were to wait for them so quietly.

Hah! That’s what they think!




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