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True Confessions #8 - Nosey Neighbors
True Confessions #8 - Nosey Neighbors
“Hey! Lookit there!” Pete whispered loudly, shaking me awake. It was a hot one that night. Middle of August. We didn’t have central a/c back then (can’t remember if it had been invented yet for home use), and the only portable window unit was in the family room downstairs. Hot or not, Pete and I often slept out in our tent… that big-brother/little-brother bonding thing, I suppose.
“Wake up! You’re gonna miss it!” he said more loudly.
Wiping Mr. Sandman’s crap out of my eyes, I figured it must be something like Ed Sullivan used to say, a “really big shooo” for it to get my usually calm, cool, and collected older brother excited. According to the official time on my official Boy Scout wristwatch, it was a little after midnight.
“Look!” Pete beamed when I poked my head out of the tent flap. He was already crouching outside, wearing the altered Army fatigues that our cousin Jerry (a captain with the 2nd Armored Division - Hell on Wheels) had given him. (Pete later served with the same unit during the first Gulf War.) My brother was, uh, different. I mean, he was normal enough as boys are, but he was just absolutely obsessed with anything Army. He must have had a whole regiment of G.I. Joe dolls (oops! I mean action figures) and instead of choosing up sides for a sand-lot baseball game, he’d get the rest of us “guys” to “form up” for an Army game in the tradition of that TV show Combat! that was popular at the time. (Pete was always the Lieutenant, surprise, surprise!)
When my eyes finally adjusted to the new-moon darkness, I saw what had gotten “The Lieutenant” so wound up: the light was on in the neighbor’s master bathroom. Unlike our house, the neighbors lived in a one-story ranch style home. The master bedroom and adjoining bathroom were situated on the back side of the house. We knew this because on one of “The Lieutenant’s” missions, a “hand grenade” (which was just a really odd-looking rock) accidentally went through that particular window. (Pete got the ass-whooping that time!) The neighbors didn’t have a portable window a/c unit, and I saw that one of those wood framed adjustable screens was sitting between the sill and the sash. Instead of curtains, there was one of those roll-type shades… the kind on a spring that would snap back up if it didn’t catch right in the down position.
“C’mon. Let’s move out,” Pete ordered, complete with those hand signals he had learned from TV.
We crawled on our bellies like we were sneaking up on a German machine gun nest. Every so often, more often than not, Pete looked back to see if I was still there. Of course I was! It was a “really big shooo” that I wasn’t going to miss, but crawling a distance of 100 yards on my belly seemed a little silly, and painful since I wasn’t wearing fatigues; I had opted for shorts and a tee-shirt, not knowing (dumb me) that there would be a "mission" that night. When we got to a spot just outside of the window’s glow on the grass, Pete gave the “halt” signal, motioning me to stay put and stay low. He resumed his crawl to the window and slowly raised to a standing position beneath the sill. It became pretty obvious at that point that more mission planning would need to be done if this mission was to succeed. Even standing on tip-toes, he would have needed another eight inches or so to get to eye-level. He quickly returned to a crouch position, and dashed back to my location, looking kind of like a chimpanzee as he ran. Motioning me to assume the same stance, he whispered “Let’s go.”
Back inside the tent with our official Boy Scout angled flashlights dangling from strings tied to the ceiling support beam, Operation Sneak Peek began to unfold. With a piece of paper from his (you guessed it) G.I. Joe spiral bound notebook, Pete drew a map showing the “Command Post” in relation to the “target” complete with arrows and times and notations of where and when to begin the belly crawl. Two rectangles were drawn beside the representation of the neighbors’ house where the bathroom window was located.
“It’s too late to do anything tonight,” he said, concluding his briefing. “Any questions, Sergeant?” (When no one else was available to play Army, I was always “The Sergeant”… otherwise, when he got his friends to play, I was just another “buck private.”
“No Sir!” I responded, sitting at attention.
“Very well. We will rendezvous at the CP again tomorrow at 2300 hours. That should provide plenty of time for re-con.”
Yeah, yeah… whatever, I moaned, and laid back down on my sleeping bag as Pete turned off the flashlights.
“Get some sleep, soldier. It’ll be a tough mission… and we may not make it back.”
The next night we crouched again outside the “CP” waiting for that bathroom light to go on. We had “rendezvoused” much sooner than 2300, like about three hours earlier. Pete got up every once in awhile and paced back and forth, hands locked behind his back, looking mostly at the ground but occasionally at the “target” window. I read my Archie comic books and swatted mosquitoes every so often. I started thinking of things that I wondered whether or not The Lieutenant had considered during the planning phase of Operation Sneak Peek. Things like, what if she doesn’t go in there tonight? How do we even know that it won’t be Wendell, not Nancy who goes in there? What if it is Nancy, but she only goes in to pee, or poop, and not take a shower, or bath? What if it’s Wendell who takes a shower, or bath? Then a sudden, scary thought: WHAT IF WE GET CAUGHT!!! I DON’T WANT TO END UP IN REFORM SCHOOL!!!
Pete looked back at me during one of his silent marches, as if reading my mind. “Failure is not an option.” (That must have been one of the lines from that TV show… I wouldn’t know, since I never watched it.) Then, as if remembering one of my prior thoughts: “Wendell works nights, remember?”
He went back to his pacing, and I moved on to a Betty and Veronica comic book. About an hour later, which was around 10pm I guess, Pete came back to the tent and went inside. He emerged through the flap a minute later dragging an old concrete block that he must have taken from the pile Dad kept around the back of our shed. “Get the other one,” he said. “It’s time.”
I gotta tell you… my brother was a genius! (Still is.) He thought of everything, like positioning our step stools below the window after dark and before the bathroom light came on. We loaded the two blocks into Margaret’s little red wagon (so that’s why that was parked beside the tent!) and with cat-like tread, we “moved out.” That was a long 100 yards… crawling on our bellies and dragging a little red wagon loaded with two 10-inch concrete blocks behind us. At long last, we arrived at the window. Pete quietly lifted both blocks out and situated them on the ground, then carried the wagon over his head back to the tent. (He told me when he got back that he didn’t want the squeaky wheels to give away our position. What’d I tell you… Genius!)
“Shouldn’t be much longer,” Pete whispered, looking at his official Boy Scout wristwatch as we sat in silence on our concrete perches. “No talking from here on out, got it!”
Yeah, yeah… whatever, I thought and looked around, again, to see if anyone had spotted us.
“I said, GOT IT SOLDIER!” he whispered hoarsely, slapping me upside the head.
“Yes Sir!” I whispered back, cringing.
Pete shook me awake about a half-hour or so later, and with another one of his signals, no doubt learned from Combat! starring Vic Morrow and Rick Jayson, he pointed upward. The bathroom light was on, and it sounded like water running in the shower. He made another stupid signal pointing to his eyes with two fingers of one hand extended like a “V”, then waited for me to repeat the sign, and then we stood slowly, carefully, without a sound. Genius, pure genius! I thought. The height of those concrete blocks was just right to make our eyes exactly even with the top of the window sill, and as long as I could steady myself against the side of the house, it wouldn’t be so uncomfortable for me standing on my tip-toes.
“SHIT!” Pete whispered, backing away from the window. I guess he hadn’t considered this little detail in his plan. The shade had been drawn down, of course, and even though we could see a little through the gap between its bottom edge and the top of the sill, it wasn’t a big enough gap to see much more than a small part of Nancy’s leg as she stepped into the tub and pulled the shower curtain closed.
We sat back down on our concrete blocks to ponder the predicament. I could tell Pete was deep in calculating thought, so I just went on imagining what Nancy looked like naked. I mean, she was a real-life, honest to God, grown-up woman! Not as pretty as the grown-up women in Dad’s Playboys, but hey, this was something! A real-life, honest to God, grown-up woman! I visualized her wash cloth covered hand rubbing her breasts, her belly, her butt, her… and then I discovered the front of my fatigue pants (cousin Jerry had given me a set, too) getting a little tight. I didn’t even care if I lost my load in them… this was a real-life, honest to God, grown-up woman, dontchaknow!
Pete slapped me out of my trance and motioned me to join him back in our yard… not all the way back to the CP, but far enough back so he could whisper without her hearing us. Like she could hear us over the shower water running? Whatever… he was The Lieutenant!
“Okay. Here’s the scoop,” he said. (Yeah, he really talked like that!) “I’m going to slide the window up just enough to take the screen out. Then, you hold on to the screen while I pull on the shade a little to get it to move up another inch or so.”
“Got it,” I said. “No problem.”
Well… yeah, problem. Big problem! The shower was still running when we got back to the window, and we were relieved that we hadn’t missed anything. The first part of Pete’s plan went smoothly. He got the window up, with a little struggle, not much, then handed me the screen. Just then, the shower stopped, and so did our hearts. The shower curtain slid open and Nancy’s hand came out to grab the towel on the hook beside the tub. Before I could hand the screen back to Pete, Nancy’s whole body was out of the shower, but we really didn’t see much of it since we still hadn’t inched the shade up the way Pete planned. I would have been perfectly content to just put the screen back and get out of there, but not Pete. Nooo! He just had to be the brave one. Failure is not an option! I heard his voice say in my head. Yeah, but a major ass-whooping is a definite possibility! My own mind’s voice replied.
And then it happened.
Whooosh! Wap-Wap! Instead of an inch or so, the shade snapped all the way back to the top, giving us a split-second glimpse of this real-life, honest to God, grown-up woman’s huge boobs and dark triangle between her legs. If someone had been holding a stopwatch, we might have taken the Gold and Silver for our amazing speed in the 100-yard-dash back to our tent. We heard Nancy yell “Who’s there?” about the time we were half-way back.
After our heart rates and rates of respiration returned to fairly normal levels, we agreed that failure was indeed an option… but, luckily, a major ass-whooping, that time, was not. Pete got both concrete blocks back behind our shed before dawn.
11/30/2005 11:17 am
You lil pervs-in-training..|
12/1/2005 12:39 am
Oh bath time and peeping toms.....|
TBC on my own blog I think.
12/8/2005 8:14 am
Top - Boys will be boys!|
12/15/2005 12:39 pm