Ahh, youth

After a nasty hot and sweaty ride out Hollow Road and back down Spring Hill, on which I saw many fine examples of New Jersey excess (how bout 9 frickin garages) cheek to jowl with country gumba white trash bungalows, I was standing astride my bike next to Maggie's playground at the circle at the end of Spruce St talking to Carol and Craig. We looked down the street and here comes a black Nissan, going suspiciously fast for these child-filled parts.

The Nissan parks. Out get five people, a totally hot young mestiza chick, a buff Rafael Nadal looking dude, and another motley trio of guys. The one black guy, sensing our suspicion, walked passed us and said "good evening." What can you say to that?

Meanwhile, young Nadal had begun his courtship ritual. "Cmhere," he says to the doe-eyed young Mexican girl. "I'll put you on my shoulders." She passes. So he proposes a demonstration of his prowess. He walked across the field to an oak by the basketball court, pulls down a branch, and climbs all the way to the top of the tree.

But he was not finished with his display of masculine skill. No he was not. He gave us a cartwheel of sorts, and then he jumped up on a picnic table and did a diving somersault, after which to played dead most infectiously. Then he climbed up on the jungle gym and hung by his knees. I for one wanted to fuck him by then, but I had to go home to water Mary's plants. But I do hope he got some. She was cute.