I’ve decided to stop breathing. How I came up with this decision, I can’t really say, but all at once, it seemed like a good idea, and so I’ve got to follow through. After I take the next breath. One last gulp of air. Well, now that it’s inside me, I very well can’t leave it here. This is a pickle. Which breath will be my last? The one that goes in, or the one that blows out?
This no breathing goal won’t work. I’ll need to find another way to bide my time while I wait for my friends to find me. We’re playing hide and go seek. At least we were. For all I know, they’ve given up on the game because it’s been over an hour and they still haven’t found me under the trap door in my Grandpa’s barn.
So here I am biding my time in this dusty cavern where I peek through the rickety floorboards to spot the fading sun that’s peering through holes in the walls. No need to check for seekers – I’ll hear the creaks and groans of the wooden floor when it bends under the pressure of little sneakers creeping through the barn door.
I sure did pick a good spot where I’m certain to win. As long as no one’s forgotten about me. Would they? Would anyone notice I’ve disappeared while playing ball or at the dinner table? Would Sis pass the beans to Dad, who would then look at Mom and say, thanks for making such a wonderful meal, honey, and then they would all dig into the warm, home cooked meal without asking, where’s our son? Would anyone notice I hadn’t begged for a second helping of whipped potatoes or the buttered corn, fresh from our fields?
Well, this wouldn’t be good at all, if they forgot about the hiding under this trap door. I don’t want to miss out on Mom’s churned strawberry ice cream and Dad playing catch with me in our backyard. Someone better find me real quick, or else I’m busting open this darned door and hightailing it hone to make sure my seat’s still at the dining table when Mom calls out, supper is served!