By Robert A. "Sunny" Brock

THREE LITTLE MUSKETEERS AND THE OLD LADY DOWN THE STREET
By Robert A. "Sunny" Brock

Whatever happened to the Three Little Musketeers of Eames St., who built their fort in my back yard in a giant Kleenex box the size of a stove and fought the dragons of life with swords from privet hedges growing wild along my back fence? Can't you hear them yell, "Time out!" to give my pink peonies a charge of nitrogen.

One was nine, one was six and the runt, what a kid, always losing his diaper keeping up, and he was three.

Now Eames St. is quiet. So, the real-estate ladies tell the lookers, "...a real fixer upper, and it is so quiet on this street, no children." What kind of neighbors want to live on a street with no children? ...like sitting out a death sentence in solitaire.

Now, I look out this window; there're no moon walkers, planting moon beans and crater taters, watching the man in the moon through a Campbell's soup can while he eats all the cheese.

...and their old ugly, white boxer that dug termites from holes under my shed. What was his name? Oh yes, Duke...used to scare me to death when he jumped up on my screen to smell what was cooking. They'd say, "Our mom said it'd be alright for you to give us some of your bread pudding."

I'd serve them out the window. We'd all smack and snack together, and they'd tell me what's going on in the neighborhood, in their school and in the universe. I knew first hand when they fell in and out of love, and they'd listen to my stories. No one wants to hear an old lady's tales of woe. But, they did. I'd tell them mine, and they'd tell me theirs. I knew all their family secrets. Wow, how they could spill the beans.

One by one, I received their graduation cards and put them in the box with all their clippings, homemade happy birthday, merry Christmas and well wishing holiday papers, colored especially for me.

Lately, I read about them in the newspapers. They've all gone to the Marines and Army and college, all married wonderful girls and have Little Musketeers of their own. They're making a difference in their world, just like they made in mine.

But, I still sit at my back window listening to the echoes of The Three Little Musketeers and watch the termites finish off my lawnmower shed.

**Congratulations to Dr. Robert Brock. He recently signed a contract with Tate Publishing of OK for Turkey Mountain Boys.