The Night I killed a Hippie and the Pope was Proud

(continued) Tuesday Evening: Though my brain had been consumed in thoughts about sex (now that I knew something), I managed to apply some unused gray matter to come up with a plan at getting back at Chewbacca for marking up my body. However, I would not be able to employ my devious plan at the moment, it would have to wait until after my Boy Scout meeting - because snakes have this propensity for crawling away. I would have to put the ooze inspired plan of payback into action after coming back from my Boy Scout meeting tonight.



In an effort to recruit by neighbor buddies, Tommy Blaser and Jeffery Lennon, to join troop 32, I invited them to come me over at the scout house by bribing them with some "Dahlin" deviousness. I told them that we could put some pennies on the railroad tracks that ran along West Washington Blvd.

I know this temptation of dangerous living was out of their normal comfort zone and was attractive to the male psyche that is naturally Wild at Heart.

 *

Between you and me, I think Steppenwolf was on to something and believe that is why so many people liked hanging out our house - because we were so out of control. People could come over to our house, handle snakes, fight against our attack rooster, get close to danger with our alligator, get electrocuted if they wanted to or not, smoke marijuana, maybe even come close to a confrontational encounter with the cops and then return to the safety of their normal lives.

That's why our house was such a popular hang out spot in Venice! It was the center of the universe!


With my pockets filled with pennies and my two friends filled with mischievous optimism we headed down Woodlawn towards the railroad tracks at West Washington. We wanted to make the most of it knowing that the train inched along the tracks with less and less regularity - but this was going to be our night.

We heard the clatter of the train and hurriedly ran down to where "X marks the spot." After some coaxing I got Tommy to join me and Jeffery in strategically lining up our soon to be copper souvenirs on the cold metal rail and took cover. Our imaginations were on overload from all the stories we had heard about pennies being shot out and piercing through cars and killing people. This was bound to be one of these events where Mrs. Blaser would line us up and have the, "If-Mark-were-to-jump-from-a-ten-story-building, it-doesn't-mean-that-you-have-to-Tommy" speech.  

Anyway, the slow train was coming down the tracks and we hid behind some old car so that we didn't get killed and as the train passed, shucks, no copper missiles shot in our direction and the train didn't derail. It was kind of a bummer that no one got hurt - to a Dahlin it always made the story better. A couple pennies had fallen off, two were missing and one indeed had been transformed into the thin-oval, squished-copper memento that we had hoped for.  

That's when we spotted the guitar - an abandoned guitar in the bushes on the other side of the tracks.

The strings were intact and there was no reason to throw a perfectly good guitar away... UNLESS...one of our pennies shot out and killed the owner. Our imaginations ran wild and we began telling a story that grew like Dr. Seuss' kid on Mulberry street.

It was a hippie who owned the guitar chasing fortune and fame on his way to Hollywood when he suddenly got hit by a copper bullet and died. "It might have been Bob Dylan" Tommy said. I thumped him on the noggin and said, "No, Bob Dylan is still alive - don't you know anything? Don't you know about the birds and the bees and sex and stuff like that?"

Turns out they did - darn it!

Building the story, Jeff said, our hypothetical hippie was singing a love song to his hippie chick and in the middle of his ballad, he was so focused and enamored - looking deep into her big brown eyes- that he didn't see the train coming and WHAM! He shouted causing Tommy to jump! We all laughed, but then went silent for minute thinking that we may have been responsible for killing someone as though we were at the guys funeral or contemplating a life sentence in prison.  We search for blood - couldn't find any and picked up the lonely guitar. 

Half of the irony of this whole thing was that begin related to the Famous Lennon Sisters (and though it seemed as if every single Lennon in the history of the world could sing) neither Tommy and Jeffery could sing a lick. That's understandable for us Dahlins - none of us...not one of us could sing - expect for my Dad. And none of us - not one Dahlin had the raw talent for playing an instrument...of any kind (even though my older brother could play a folded leaf). Hence the mountainous stack of old instruments that cluttered the entry into our old house near the cussing mynah-bird. The other half of the irony was that it was me, of all people, who brought the gift of music to the younger generations of Lennons, like Kippy and Michael, with my air guitar renditions of silly songs that I performed in the Blaser's backyard. Kippy and Michael did not want to appear on the Lawrence Welk show - NO... they wanted to be a rock star like Markie D.     

Anyway, as the oldest member of our impish adventurers, I picked up the guitar and began an imitation of the last love song of the murdered hippy for my two cohorts.  I had the boys in stitches, but this wasn't enough. Adrenaline was pumping through the veins of our pre-pubescent bodies and felt like we needed to find more trouble. 

"AH-HA" came the collective epiphany when we looked across the street and saw people in suit and ties entering the old  brick-faced Kingdom Hall building that was mostly hidden by thick green overgrowth. The door was open and we were attracted like mosquitoes to the light. After the doors shut we went over to put on a show or I went went over, strumming the guitar to put on a show for Tommy and Jeffery AND of course this had to be authorized by the POPE since this whole Jehovah Witness thing had to be a cult not sanctioned by the Catholic Church (I knew that when I stood in front of Mrs. Lennon or Mrs. Blaser at the inquisition... I could roll my eyebrows into the look of innocence and claim to be fulfilling my duty as a canonized saint for which - it was Tommy and Jeffery's catholic-bound duty to jump off the 10 story building with me. How could the best of Catholic mothers reason against the POPE). 

Facing my audience (of two) with my back to the front doors, I wailed in the loudest version of the "Kingdom Hall Blues." I had the kids in stitches and think Tommy pee'd his pants...when the doors swung open and a hand shot out and collared me. 

My days were numbered. Two other men came around behind Tommy and Jeffery and the three of them invited us in. INVITED US IN?  They escorted us in with phony smiles. It was more like a kidnapping. We were ushered down front of the little building and directed to sit in the front pew. We were trapped like rats! This is what must have happened to our long lost hippie friend. This must be how they recruit - they leave things as bait and they make prisoners of their captives until you put on a suit and tie and become one of them. 

I have no idea what the guy was saying about Jehovah (Who-ever that was) and how he had two sons: one Michael and one Lucifer - it was all too complicated, especially since the three couldn't stop giggling. Tommy made sure to keep showing us the wet spot on his the front of his pants near his taliwacker. He was doing a good job of messing up their Mass...or what-ever-it was and this is when I decided to drive a nail in the coffin and make a run for it. 

I picked up my (murdered-hippie love-ballad) guitar, jumped up right in the middle of center isle, faced all the people, strummed away and put on the performance of a lifetime.  THEN RAN!  I ran out of the doors with Tommy and Jeffery closely drafting behind.  Mrs. Blaser should be happy because we knew that THE POPE WOULD BE PROUD!  

After boy scouts tonight - it would be Chewbacca's big surprise!    Bwahahahaha.  

Kipp, Tom, Jeff, Kevin, and Michael on the front stairs of the Harding house.  

* "Born to-be wild-steppenwolf-45" by Source. Licensed under Fair use via Wikipedia - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Born_to-be_wild-steppenwolf-45.jpg#mediaviewer/File:Born_to-be_wild-steppenwolf-45.jpg