#top
VIRTUES
& VICES
The Clubhouse
Ego
No one likes to be
left out.
Once
upon a time there were three little boys. And these little boys, like
many, perhaps even most little boys, were not very good at anything
they tried.
In
baseball they, "Threw like girl." In dodge ball they were always hit.
In tag they were always "it." In hide-'n-go-seek, no one sought for
them.
They
were out. Out of everything.
One
day, a cloudy day, as I recall, the boys happened upon a large
cardboard box. Now to you and me that box would not be so large, but to
three small boys, it was a very large box.
"Let's
see if we can fit in the box," one of the brighter of the little boys
said.
"Ok,"replied
one of the other boys, the outspoken one.
So
that's what they did. And, to their great pleasure, they all three did
indeed fit into the box. In fact, it was so large that they wondered if
maybe, if they all squeezed together, they could even fit a small puppy
in with them.
"Do
you have a small puppy?" one of the boys queried, to no one in
particular.
"No,
I don't have a puppy," replied another. "Do you
have a puppy?"
"I
asked you first. Remember?" Responded the first
of the inquirers.
"Oh,
yeah," remembered the second inquirer. "Do you
have a puppy?"
"Nope,"
replied the outspoken one.
"No
puppy. But at least we have room for a puppy."
All
this to say; it was a very large box for three small boys to find.
"I
have an idea!" exclaimed the first of the small boys, who obviously was
rising to his place as leader of the three outcast boys.
"What?"
inquired the second, obviously suited best to be a follower.
The
outspoken little boy said nothing. He was obviously the intellectual of
the three.
"Let's
make a clubhouse out of this box."
"Good
idea,"said the second in command. He had already learned that it was
good policy to massage the ego of the one who had elected himself to be
in charge.
"Can't.
No room," the outspoken one spoke out.
"There's
room for a puppy," replied one of the other boys. I'll let you decide
which one it was.
"Who's
going to be in our club," inquired boy number two, careful not to usurp
the authority of the one in authority.
"No
room," said the intellectual child. "Just for a puppy."
"He's
right, said the obvious leader. "So we'll just have us three in the
club, and no more."
"The
Three Musketeers," boy number two hollered.
Boy
number one, who had the foresight to bring into the box with him a
stick, held it high in the air like a sword. "One for one, and all for
all," he exclaimed!
Then
the three studied the hole the sword-stick had poked in the top of
their box.
"Hope
it don't rain," ventured the intellectual child.
"We
need rules," said one.
"And
signs," responded another.
The
outspoken one said nothing. He had already begun to scribble on a piece
of cardboard with a crayon he always carried with him for just such a
momentous moment.
"Write,
keep out."
"And,
that means you."
"And,
no girls allowed."
"For
sure. And make that the biggest one."
"Only
puppies."
"Yeah,
only puppies. No cats, only puppies."
"No
girl puppies though. Only boy puppies."
"We
have that covered with the no girls sign."
"How
will we know if it's a girl puppy or a boy puppy?" quizzed the second
in command.
"Boy
puppies have longer ears than girl puppies," informed the intellectual
child.
"Oh,
yeah."
So
the clubhouse was finished. And what a magnificent clubhouse it was!
There was not a finer cardboard clubhouse on that entire block. And certainly
not one which advertised for one small puppy.
*
"It's
not fair," said the gathering children of the neighborhood. "Why should
they have their own clubhouse, and not let
us in?"
"I
wish I was born a boy so I could join, and get to go in that big box."
"It's
just not fair."
So
said all the children of the neighborhood.
Baseball
games were suspended. Hop scotch squares sat idle on sidewalks. And
jump ropes hung limp at little girls sides as all watched and glared at
the forbidding keep out
signs taped threateningly on all sides of the cardboard clubhouse.
"Let's
kick it in," menaced one of the bigger boys standing outside jealously
admiring the magnificent structure.
"Naw,"
replied one of the more sensitive of the spectators. "I got a better
idea. Let's go find a box and start our own club."
"Good
idea," responded another. "And we won't let any
one in. Not even puppies!"
"That's
no fair," exclaimed the girl with the jump rope laying limp at her
side. "Why can't we join too?"
"That's
ok," conjectured the girl with the large stick of sidewalk chalk in her
hand. "I know where there's an even bigger box.
We can use it and start our own clubhouse."
"And
paint it blue."
"No,
pink."
"Yes,
pink."
"And
no boys allowed."
"Only
us girls."
"Right.
And no puppies."
"Only
kittens."
"Kittens
only. Right. No boys or puppies."
*
On
that neighborhood block now stood a number of large cardboard boxes,
one painted a magnificent pink that emitted an occasional meow.
All structures dedicated to individualist isolationism
and each having the certainty that they are the truly
superior one, and that all others were merely imitations.
*
"What
do you want to do?" inquired one of the little boys nestled
uncomfortably in their cardboard clubhouse.
"I
don't know. What do you want to do?"
"I
don't care. What do you want to do?"
"It's
raining."
"I
know. And it's dripping on my head from that hole you poked in the roof
with that stupid stick of yours."
"Don't
call me, stupid, stupid. You're
the stupid one."
"I
didn't call you stupid, stupid. I called the stick
stupid."
"You
can't call my stick stupid, stupid. You're
stick is the stupid one, stupid."
And
so goes yet another establishment, as the rains continued to fall.
And
the cardboard clubhouse did, as all cardboard does, what cardboard is
intended to do, especially when the weather
changes for the worse.
Tumbleweed
*
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