Chapter 4


This story has sexual content, if this offends you,stop reading now. Sex is not the major topic of this story. If erotic stories are banned where you live, leave this site immediately before you are arrested (you were warned), or if you are deemed to be underage by your government and two young to read this then you should leave now (in either case go look up the names of these people and be sure to vote against them when you are old enough).

This story is fiction. That means I made it up. As the author I may make real life problems disappear with a sentence or two. If you think you recognize yourself or anyone you know it is pure chance, go by a lottery ticket this could be your lucky day.

Copyright 2006: str8mayb –– that means the story is copyrighted by me in 2006. Do not re-post without my written permission.

There is also sexual child abuse in this story. It is not described in detail. It is in no way meant as a turn on but as an explanation and motivation, to the characters. The author is appalled by this type of behavior and in absolutely no way condones it. Where possible the guilty do suffer, one of the perks of fiction, the bad guys lose. Although this is posted in Adult – Youth do not expect hot sex.

I hope you enjoy. E-mail to

Keep reading and enjoy.



Chapter 4

Wanted: Live in housekeeper.

That was certainly short and sweet. The response was more than I expected. I scheduled interviews for Monday. Mitch and I pretty much had spent the weekend at the hospital. Dr. Turnman had made it possible for us to visit John for 10 minutes every half hour. He had noticed that John responded to our presence very positively.

Monday was the day we were going to interview. John was scheduled for some evaluations to determine if more surgery was required or was he ready to be brought back to consciousness.

There were two kinds of interviews: the one who didn't get in the door, and those who did.

First the turned away at the door:

The first to arrive, the 'Church Lady';

There she stood, all of five foot two inches tall, gray hair pulled back in a tight bun. Her facial expression made Mt. Rushmore seem fluid. Her square purse held primly in front of her reminiscent of Queen Victoria, herself. "Good day, young man. I am here to apply for the housekeeper position. I expect to be obeyed in all things. I require my Sundays off, I never miss services. There will be no foul language in my presence. I require at least $500 a week and three weeks paid holiday, and the beast must stay outdawrz."

At the word beast Ginger's snarl turned to a growl. Max was going ballistic trying to get through the chain link fence to vanquish this Foreign Foe.

"I'm awfully sorry," I told her, "but The position was filled last evening." I breathed a sigh of relief as she retreated back down the sidewalk with her nose held high above her forehead.

Mitch said, "Wow, Dad, you lied to her. Thanks, she was scary."

Just before lunch, 'Mr. Jock' arrived;

Super Jock stood there. Muscles even where there shouldn't be muscles and a tan to make George Hamilton jealous. "Hello there sport. I'll be having the lads in tip top shape in no time. We'll do weights and exercise and I'll have them ready for any sport. They'll be busy and I'll guarantee never a dull moment. My, but you're a scrawny little thing. I think we need to start with some raw egg, yogurt and carrot smoothies that will bulk you right up. What's wrong with him running away like that? Well I'll soon put a stop to that."

Ginger was right behind Mitch as he disappeared around the corner.

Another polite dismissal.

At lunch Mitch and I discussed the ones we had actually interviewed, They were either extremely rigid in their attitude and I wondered if they even liked children, or were so permissive I felt like Mitch would be the babysitter. We did have more interviews this afternoon.

Buffy The Babysitter

She was probably twenty eight but dressed like she was thirteen. Her lips snacking as she chawwed on her gum. She looked like her make up was applied by Tammy Fae Baker, on a bad day, with only a three inch putty knife. She fumbled with a cell phone and I worried she was going to impale herself with the nail file in her other hand. Her heals were about half her height and made her wobble, and her tight skirt held her thighs together better than Crazy Glue. "Like, wow, aren't you the cutie, I mean just so awesome dude, like, what do you dig doing little dude."

Mitch stood there pretty much in shock. Ginger had her hackles raised.

To avoid personal injury law suits, I escorted her back to her car and cringed as she careened down the road.

To cap off the day the last interview was 'Aunt Awful':

I had never seen such massive pillowy bazoooooms in my life. Oh, my God, it was the Great Aunt you hated to visit, you know always hugging waaaaay to much. The odor you never smelled before and would be quite happy to never smell again. The one who licked the hankie and then wiped your mouth, yeah, that one. She pushed right by me and enveloped Mitch in a hug. "Oh you lovely little boy."

Ginger sneezed and shook her head and looked at me accusingly.

Mitch was turning blue from lack of oxygen.

She released Mitch, and withdrew a cookie tin, "I baked these myself."

Ginger whined.

Before I could warn him, he took a cookie and took a big bite. His expression was priceless. I wished I had my digital camera in hand, he would someday be able to laugh about that 'cookie' but not anytime soon. She didn't even notice. "Oh I'm so looking forward to singing you lullabies." Yes, you guessed it the fat lady sang, and it was certainly over.

We managed to squeeze her and the bolt of cloth she called a dress out through the double doorway. Fast as a bolt of lightning Mitch bolted the door, then bolted for the bathroom to spit out the cookie he had tried to bolt down {Aw nuts, I'm using bolt too much, did I miss any that weren't bolted down?}. He then brushed his teeth and gargled with mouthwash, twice. He came out and asked, "Dad, how do I get the fishy taste out of my mouth."

A dinner of spaghetti with heavily garlicked bread, two kosher dill pickles, and side of jalapeño peppers seemed to pretty much do the trick. At least it killed his taste buds. Well, I was pretty well defeated. We had 14 interviews and not a single one of them would I trust to care for a statue of a child. I guess Linda would have to find another placement for John. I didn't want to tell Mitch, I decided I'd talk to Linda first and see if she had any magic solutions.

Just as we were rinsing the plates, the doorbell chimed. Mitch grabbed my arm, "Dad, don't answer it! She might have come back."

"Don't worry, son. She won't get passed the front door," I reassured him.

I opened the door and there was a woman in her mid forties. She was dressed in casual clothes and had a desperate look in her eyes. "Hi, I'm Martha Lawrence. I live on the next farm over and I'm moving, and I can't get the cable thingie undone so I can turn it in, and I have to be out of the house tomorrow and..."

I invited her in. She followed me into the den where Mitch was abusing Zombies. "My, you should meet my grandson, he loves that game too."

Mitch actually paused, the game. Ginger was wagging her tail, waiting her turn for attention. "You have a grandson? Wow, how old is he?"

"He's eight and a half, in the third grade. He lives in Maryland. Oh what a pretty puppy you have. What's his name?" She was talking to Mitch, like I didn't exist.

"That's Ginger. She is the best dog ever, well Max is good too, he found a hurt boy." Mitch informed her.

"Oh, that was what all the excitement was the other night." She remarked.

I broke into their conversation, "Mitch, this is Mrs. Lawrence, she..."

"I like her Dad. You should hire her. Look, Ginger likes her." Mitch said.

Ginger did indeed like her. Her tail was wagging at warp speed.

"Ah, Mitch she isn't here for a job; She needs some help. How about we go over to her place, and see if we can help her out." I asked my little buddy.

"Sure Dad." Mitch shut off his game and started getting his shoes back on.

I went and got my small tool box. When I got back, Mrs. Lawrence was sitting next to Mitch and helping him re-lace his shoes. When she finished up he was staring at his feet, "That is so kewl. Wow, thanks."

Soon we went out and there in the driveway was a huge van. "It was my husbands." she explained. "He loved going to visit the kids and in this thing we could really travel in comfort. Come on I'll drive and bring you boys back." We climbed in, and soon were pulling up to the small 'guest' house on the farm just south of my place.

"Stew found this place, when he retired from H. E., we wanted to stay near our friends but couldn't afford the rent on the big house we had raised the kids in. I have five kids, two boys and three girls; they are spread out all over the place. I'm going to visit and look for places, and hopefully I'll find a little place. Oh, I do go on sometimes. The cable thing is in the living room." She pointed us in the right direction.

Mitch went right up to the box and unscrewed the cables. He wrapped the power cord around it and looked at me. I shrugged and we went to find Mrs. Lawrence.

We followed our noses into the kitchen. She was just closing the oven door. She turned and saw us. "Oh there you two are. Is that the box thing? How ever did you get it off so fast?"

Mitch handed it to her, "I just unscrewed the cables."

"Unscrewed?" Martha Lawrence had a laugh that would light up any room. "I tried pulling those out all day till my fingers are sore. Unscrew, well that's one on me."

"Aw, that would be easy to get confused. Wha'cha cookin'?" Mitch asked.

"Well I had a few things left after the movers left, so I just threw something together. If you boys can wait a few minutes it will be ready pretty soon."

Mitch sure hoped it wasn't ... "Cookies?" he mumbled terrified.

Martha took a good look at Mitch, "So you tried one of Helga's fish & Chip cookies, huh?"

Mitch nodded.

"Well, we at the Ladies Auxiliary learned a long time ago, not to eat those things. At our bake sales, we take turns buying them and disposing of them before the public can get them. Unfortunately, she thinks we like them, and keeps bringing more. How in the world did you get a hold of one of those awful things?"

I said, "We have been interviewing for a live-in housekeeper. You see, my back is not worth anything, and my new foster son is going to need a lot of care, especially when he first comes home. I can't lift and bending over is risky. Today has been incredible, Helga was the last, and I'd not trust any of them with Mitch much less the new lad."

"Mercy sakes, alive. I hope she didn't hug you Mitch." Martha commented. "You boys don't need a housekeeper, you need Aunt Bea."

Mitch turned on those cute puppy dog eyes of his, (even Ginger's real puppy dog eyes were no match for Mitch's) "How about, Aunt Martha?"

Well that was a show stopper and we stood looking back and forth until Martha said, "Mitch that is the sweetest thing anybody has said to me in a long time."

Martha had paper plates and plastic spoons on the counter. The trashcan was full and the rest of the room was empty. As a matter of fact the whole house was bare. "Where were you staying tonight?" I asked her.

She blushed, "Well I thought I'd sleep in the van."

"No way!" Mitch said.

"I agree, we have two empty rooms, and you are sleeping in one tonight." I told her.

She turned and opened the oven door and pulled out a beautiful pie, she put it on the stove-top to cool. It smelled heavenly, not a trace of Cod Liver Oil. We then did a walk through; to make certain all the rooms were clean. When we were done, we gathered up the pie, cable box and remaining things in the kitchen and left.

Back at our house, we went into the kitchen. I got out some plates and Martha cut the pie. I got some vanilla ice cream out, and put a scoop on each slice of hot pie.

I took a bite and rolled my eyes. "This is the best pie I have ever tasted." I said honestly. "Apple pie wasn't my favorite until tonight."

"Huffy gluudd, clem a halpp sss murf?" Mitch asked.

"Don't talk with your mouth full. We couldn't understand a word you said." Martha scolded, smiling.

Mitch swallowed and wiped the ice cream off his chin, "It's very good, can I have more?"

"Son, it's 'May I have more'. And a 'Please' would help too." I corrected automatically.

Martha cut another slice of pie, "Here you go."

I held out my plate, and then realized she was talking to Mitch.

"You boys are making my day. Your enthusiasm will keep me cooking."

When we finished our pie, I noticed it was getting late. "Time to get ready for bed Mitch. Where is Ginger?"

"Right here," Martha said.

I looked, and Ginger was curled in her lap. I swear the puppy was purring. Mitch went and opened the door to let Ginger out, but Max came in and went right up to Martha, sniffed, and sat beside her, so she could pet him. Okay, I get the message. Boy, puppy, dog and man, all agree, now I just had to convince Martha. Sigh.

I shooed the dogs outside, and Mitch back to get ready for bed. I had a few minutes, "Martha, we need to talk. Some of what you said leads me to believe you are looking for a place, and, well, I feel this is the place."

Before she could answer, Mitch padded out in his pj's, "Aunt Martha, will you tuck me in? Please?"

She looked up at me and wiped away a tear, "You go climb in bed, and your dad and I will be right along." She reached out and gave him a hug and a little kiss on the forehead.

Mitch hurried down the hall to his room and we followed. I gave my boy a hug and kiss and then Martha leaned down and did the same, then tucked in the covers. "Sweet dreams, angel."

"I love you." Mitch replied.

Martha stroked his short hair. Mitch closed his eyes and slipped off to sleep and we retreated to the kitchen. Ginger was ready to come in. She trotted down the hall and into Mitch's room. I was totally shocked when she came right back out, and jumped up in Martha's lap.

"Are you serious about me belonging here?" She asked.

"Yes, the way you treated Mitch tonight convinced me you can love my boys the way they need to be loved. We all feel like you are family already, even Ginger. Mitch has just lost his family, and the boy in ICU is severely burned and has been badly abused. I need someone with a huge heart and loving soul to help me. I think we both know you belong here." I told her.

"Oh, my," Martha had tears in her eyes; "I'm really needed here, aren't I? Yes, I'll stay."

There was a flash of blue pajamas and Mitch was wrapped around her neck. "Thank you, Aunt Martha, I'll be a real good boy for you, I promise." We all cried for a few minutes, then took Mitch back to his room and tucked him in again; Ginger curled up at his feet.

Martha and I talked about her family situation, and she was actually relieved to have a place to be useful. It seemed that when her husband died suddenly from a heart attack, the rent was more than she could handle on his now reduced pension. She sent her furniture to the children who would inherit each item, and so was free of hindrance. All of her children had their own lives now. They each said she could stay with them, but she wasn't really needed.

I helped her carry in her belongings, the light things anyway. I put her in the room next to mine since it also had a private bathroom. The two bedrooms across the hall shared a bathroom. I figured that would be good for the two boys. I said good night and went to my room. I heard Ginger jump down and trot down to Martha's room. She talked to Ginger and then Ginger came and looked into my room then went back to her boy.

I woke up in the morning, and figured I had died and gone to heaven. There is nothing like waking up to the smell of cooking bacon. I quickly did my morning routine and went to check on Mitch. He was curled in a ball sound asleep. I sat on his bed and gently rubbed his back.

"Mmmmm," he mumbled.

"Wake up, son. Breakfast is almost ready." I said to him.

Food always works; He stretched, yawned then said, "What'd you fix, Dad."

"Nothin', son." I replied.

"Funny, I smell bacon," he returned.

"Yup, Martha's cooking." I told him.

Wow! That got action, "Aunt Martha! It's not a dream, WOO HOO!" He jumped out of bed, stripped off his pajamas, and dressed himself for the day, made a quick stop in the bathroom and still beat me to the kitchen.

Martha had set the table and had a plate piled high with bacon and another she was just putting a stack of pancakes on. "Good morning, boys. Sit down and dig in."

We certainly followed orders. It was so wonderful to have the meal fixed for me, and it was delicious. After we finished, Mitch and I cleared the table then Martha shooed us out of the kitchen.

We got our things ready for the hospital. I went back into the kitchen and Martha was just finishing up.

"Martha, we spend most of our days in the hospital now, so we can spend as much time with John as we can. You would be most welcome to come along, or if you would rather stay here, that's okay too." I explained to her.

"Well, Lee, today I need to run a few errands, and I want to do some grocery shopping." Martha told me.

"Oh, okay. Look, here is some cash for the groceries. If this isn't enough, I'll get you some more. If you need me for anything call the hospital and ask for the ICU and they will get me." I said.

We had just gotten settled when Dr. Turnman came to see us. "Lee, Mitch, how are you doing this morning?"

I thought he sounded awfully cheerful. "Actually, we are very good. We managed to find a wonderful woman to help us out, and man can she ever cook."

"That is wonderful. I have just reviewed the test results, and it's very good news. The grafts are all taking and we are lucky that he had a large foreskin it yielded enough tissue for the third degree areas. It looks like his feet will be usable. His lower legs and of course his feet are going to be scarred. I'm hoping other scarring will be minimal on his body, and his face and ears will be just fine." The Doctor informed us.

"How much longer until he regains consciousness?" I asked.

"That's what we need to talk about. We have two conflicting things to consider. The longer we keep him in a drug induced coma, the higher the risks of complications, such as brain damage, paralysis or being unable to get him out of the comatose state. The other is that the sooner we bring him around, the more intense the pain. And the longer he will have to suffer." The Doctor laid it right out there for us.

Mitch asked, "When do we have to decide?"

"Well, I want him to stay under for another couple of days. If we are waking him, I would start backing off the drugs Thursday, and with luck he will join us sometime over the weekend." The doctor said.

Mitch surprised me by saying, "We need to talk about this."

"Okay, Mitch, let me know or leave a message at the ICU nurses station for Me." he said. He shook hands and was off to finish his rounds,

"So, what do we need to talk about?" I asked.

"Not, you, Dad, Travis, ah, I mean John." Mitch said.

I looked at Mitch; he was blushing, and trying to look innocent. It wasn't working. "Maybe, we do need to talk," I told him.

"Its okay, Dad. I just know things sometimes. When I hold his hand I just know. He trusts me, but he's scared and he hurts." Mitch told me.

If that had been all, I would just say Mitch was giving the other boy the feelings he had, just a few weeks ago when he was in the same condition. That made good logical sense. The name thing really was strange. "Okay, I'll go along with that for now, but it is kind of strange to me. Are you telling me you can communicate with him?"

"Well, Dad, it's not like talking, but I can kind of tell how he feels about stuff, and if somebody says things I know how he feels about that." Mitch was so serious, as he explained that to me.

I hugged the little guy. He flinched a little. "Did that hurt?"

"My right arm still is sensitive sometimes. But the hug feels better than the arm hurts." He replied.

"I'm sorry Mitch, it looked so well healed, I didn't know it was still hurting. You never ask for the lotion or pain pills." I said.

"It isn't bad, and the other stuff is worse than the hurt." He said. "Can we go in and visit, John, now?" He asked.

"Let's go," I said, and we made our way to the ICU.

John looked better to me. His color was better and he seemed to be resting more easily. I happened to be watching the monitors when Mitch picked up John's hand. The signals got stronger. I told John about the decisions we needed to make. Mitch was very quiet while I was talking. He had tears on his cheeks when he finally let go of John's hand.

"Can we go back to our room, Dad? I need to sit for a little while." Mitch said, as he backed away from the bed.

"Okay, champ, let's go." I had never seen Mitch like this. He seemed to have really been through a lot in the past five minutes.

I sat in the recliner, and Mitch climbed into my lap. "Dad, he wants to wake up. He wants to see for himself that he's not there anymore. He doesn't care about the pain. I tried to tell him how bad it was, but he didn't care, if he was really free of them."

Mitch wrapped his arms around me and started to cry. When he had calmed down he told me, "I felt a lot more from him this time. It's scary, Dad, I felt what he had been through, and it's worse than me. Not just the fire but the other stuff. Dad, he is so afraid. Being where he is now, he can't really tell what is going on except when I'm there. He wants to wake up."

Wow, this was big time weird. Mitch was so upset about this; I sure didn't think he was making it up. "Okay, We'll let them know at the nurses station, when we go back."

There was a knock on our door and I answered it. There was a nice looking lady there. She was probably in her forties; she must have been a doctor, since she had on a long white doctor's lab coat over her street clothes. "Hello, Are you Mr. Harris?"

"Yes I am, and this is my son Mitch." I introduced us.

"I'm Dr. Billings. I've had calls from Dr. Hastings, Dr. Turnman and Linda Thompson, asking me to check on you and the boys." She told me.

"I'm surprised," I said honestly. "I'm at a bit of a loss, Mitch and I don't need plastic surgery."

Dr. Billings had a very pleasant laugh. "No, I'm a psychologist, I specialize in children. I'd like to help if I can."

"Tra... Ah, John needs all the help he can get. The only problem is he doesn't trust any grown-ups." Mitch offered.

"That's understandable, what about you?" She replied to Mitch.

"I trust Dad, and Aunt Martha."

"Well that's a good start. Maybe, if you will let me, we can talk and you might come to trust me too. Then you could help me help John."

"His name isn't John, it's Travis."

"Ah, well I didn't know that. See already you are helping. How are you with everything? Could you tell me about it so I know what we might need to work on?"

"Work on?" Mitch was suspicious.

"Not a great choice of words I guess. I help people work through problems that are bothering them."

"Well, I really appreciate your concern Doctor. I will need to see if this kind of thing is covered by Medicaid." I began, when Mitch clammed up.

Dr. Billings smiled, "Actually, most of it is, and what isn't is covered by a special T.G.I.F. Program. Here is my card. Please give me a call as soon as you can."

The rest of the day passed with us visiting twice an hour. I was amazed that John or Travis would seem stronger each time Mitch held his hand. At four o'clock, we said our good-byes and headed home.

When we entered the house, there was a heavenly aroma of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, broccoli cheese soup and home made biscuits. For desert there was peach cobbler. Martha was busy setting the table when we came in. "Oh, boys, right on time; go wash up and I'll get dinner on the table."

Dinner was fantastic. I offered to clean up, and Martha and Mitch went into the den. When I was done, I went and joined them. Mitch was snuggled up to Martha and Ginger was sleeping peacefully in Martha's lap. They were watching some show on the TV. It was a scene of domestic tranquility. I retreated and got the digital camera and caught the scene on disk. The flash, of course, got their attention, and a few joking words were exchanged.

Mitch insisted both Martha and I tuck him in again, setting the nightly routine. Ginger stayed with Mitch until he was asleep, then came back to spend the evening with Martha.

Martha went to the hospital Wednesday and Thursday morning. She and I alternated going to see Travis. Mitch was getting insistent we call him that. I figured it didn't really matter what we called him, until he woke up and told us his real name. After lunch, Martha went back home so that we had a wonderful home cooked meal when we got back. Mitch told me that Travis liked Martha.

Thursday night I took Mitch to Scouts, and all the boys seemed anxious to help his new brother when he got to come home. All the boys were excited about a big Court Of Honor just before Christmas that would be held with the Boy Scout Troop, and then a party. It was scheduled for the Saturday before school was out for the holiday.

Mitch got quiet on the trip home. Just before we got there he said, "Dad, Travis is coming out of his coma. I know, Doc Turnman said Saturday or Sunday, but he's becoming more aware of things. His butt still hurts from what they did to him and his dick hurts too and of course all the burns. He doesn't understand why his dick hurts."

How in the world did he know about the circumcision, and the reconstructive surgery? This was getting spooky. "I'm glad he is doing so well. When he wakes up, I'll explain it all to him. Those things should hurt a little, but will make him better in the long run."

"Okay, Dad, I'll let him know its okay." Mitch said, as we pulled into our drive.

This communicating with Travis was getting very weird. I called Dr. Billings to leave a message and was surprised when she actually answered. I explained what was happening, and my concerns that Mitch was getting in over his head, emotionally.

Dr. Billings was quiet for a few moments then said, "This is very interesting. What you are describing has been documented before, but a connection this strong has always been between identical twins. It will be very interesting to see how all this pans out. Try to be very understanding with Mitch, when John wakes up, and tells you his real name. I don't know where Mitch came up with Travis, but the chances of that really being his name are almost nonexistent, since the boys are completely unrelated."

I wasn't very reassured by the call. I made an appointment for Mitch to see her, the end of next week before we hung up.

Friday was pretty uneventful. Martha had started working on some of the home school lessons with Mitch. She liked the language and social studies, but left the science and math to me, which was just fine as far as I was concerned, since those were my strong points. The three of us did the art and music together and had a great time. We even had some of the nurses sing with us Friday morning. Martha's voice is wonderful.

Mitch was kind of restless Friday night, but we finally got him to sleep. Max was howling out back too, something he had never done before. Ginger stayed with Mitch, and did not come back out to be with Martha.

In the middle of the night, I was shocked awake by the screams I had not heard in several weeks. There was also whines and yaps from a confused Ginger. Before I could get up, I was covered by a crying boy.

"Dad! We have to get to the hospital! He needs us there, NOW!"

End Notes:

Here we go. This is not a cliff hanger (Yeah, right. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. I don't want another visit by the Cliff Hanger Police.) There sure seems to be something strange going on between Mitch and Travis. I wonder if we will ever figure that out.<evil laughter>

Let me know how you like the story so far you can also write Mitch at


Tom Str8mayb

Editor's Note:

Hmm, I could swear I heard some evil laughter. And that strange music.

Did anyone else ever notice that when something bad is going to happen in a movie there is always that eerie music and sometimes the evil laughter?

Did you notice that no one in the movie ever hears the music?

Well I just heard the music, so I am warning you. You had better watch out and don't go down that dark alley. Hey wait a minute that looks like a cliff ahead of me... HELP!!!!!!! I'm hanging here!!!!!!!!


The Radio Rancher.

Fort Chief Editor's Notes:

If the purpose of a Cliffhanger is to get me to ask for more it worked I want more. I have noticed that there are several hints to an underlying story in this chapter and the previous one; I will send my suspicions to Str8mayb in an email. A very interesting chapter that brings back fond and not so fond memories "pillowy bazoooooms and Cod Liver Oil" if I only knew then that Cod Liver Oil was high in Vitamin D I might not have spit it out when my grandmother gave it to me to cure what ailed me. Thanks again Str8mayb for evoking such fond memories of my childhood.