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Vol. I – Tales of the Wee Geek

From the final Star Wars movie to high school reunions, from old friends getting married to a Goonies anniversary with a man reading Growing Up Chunk; this summer has turned into the months of memories. Everything seems to be reigniting my childhood thoughts. With all that in that in mind I, thought I would pass onto you fine readers a tale of Aaron, wee Geek in the Country.

The Saga of Hairy Baby

There is nothing more uncomfortable then being the new guy. Having your home built on the unofficial BMX track doesn’t help matters. My fault or not, I had screwed up years of tire packed jumps and trails. Thankfully, my parents were sympathetic to my concerns and allowed the more ripping jumps to remain un-landscaped. Needing me to get permission from my parents to ride on our property, I made friends pretty past. (Okay, so that is kinda’ like bribery, but I formed real friendships). However, today I write not about my various bike adventures (like BMX jousting or the infamous Ghost Rider movie), no, I write about my crew versus the terror of Susanville:

The dreaded Hairy Baby!

Hairy Baby, a furry blue beast so ferocious that upon his birth he took to consuming his poor parents with his massive fangs. Local legend stated that he roamed the woods in my neighborhood for years attacking and feasting upon all who walked the night alone. It wasn’t until many years later that the parents of my neighborhood banded together and trapped the beast. Not knowing how to defeat the beast, they all decided to bury him alive within a block on concrete and so they did. Wanting to keep the creature a secret, old man Sweet volunteered to bury Hairy Baby within the concrete foundations of his massive boat garage. The neighborhood was safe, but the story of Hairy Baby lived on…

Years passed, I moved in, and the horror began anew.

Already an established member of the local kids I was fully versed in the legend of Hairy Baby, many a sleepover night spent scaring the crap out of each other with horrid tales of blue monster attacks. For you see, my bedroom window faced the very garage that stood as the concrete prison for the dread beast. It was during one such sleepover that my friends and I were awakened in the night by the most terrible of sounds! Slowly we crept to my window and peered through the curtains, not wanting to attract any attention from whatever was making such sounds in the dark forest we kept the lights off. Not that any such illumination was needed as the full moon provided the right atmosphere. Again, a scream filled the night air and all us He-Man playing, horror movie watching wee Geeks ducted for cover! Mustering my courage, I peered again through the curtains. There I saw it… A pair of glowing eyes glistened in the night. Staring. Right. At. Me.

Hairy Baby was back!

In the morning, we bravely set out to my neighbor’s garage to look for evidence. There we saw the terrible evidence; the concrete foundation had a crack. Not just any crack, but a crack large enough for Hairy Baby to slip out of, at least, that is what some of the older kids told us. Being that they were in junior high they simply had to know. They also knew that of all the weapons in the world the only thing that Hairy Baby feared was…guns? No. Swords? Nope. Harsh language? Not so much. No, the only item that would even give you a fighting chance against the dreaded Hairy Baby was…paper! As we all know, a paper cut is the most painful form of injury and as such it was the only thing the beast feared. From that moment on every kid in my neighborhood carried a fresh stock of college rule paper. (It held is edge the best without being too think, but it also cost the most so you still had to be careful).

It was the most frightening summer of our lives.

Reports coming in day after day of nearly fatal Hairy Baby attacks! Why weren’t the parents doing anything? Why didn’t they take us seriously? Then it happened, one night as my friends Trevor, Ritchie, and myself were power sliding into my yard a figure leapt from the shadows. Trevor, as he was want to do, promptly screamed the girliest of screams and ran home, his brother Ritchie frozen in terror. And I, your friendly neighborhood Geek? Was I the lone courageous one ready to face the creature like so many Darth Vader’s in a Dagobah pit? Well, I’d like to think that I was… But I landed face first into a tree and don’t remember much beyond Trevor’s screaming. Later that night we all, boys and girls alike in a rare moment of monster solidarity, vowed to hunt and destroy the Hairy Baby for the last time. Ritchie and Trevor’s dad had foolishly taught Ritchie how to weld and so the trashcan suits of armor would protect us. As I lived on the “front lines” as it were, I had become adept at paper fighting… I could slice between a persons fingers and be gone before they could scream. Heather, the local tomboy (and later runway model) would be our point man (or girl as it were). Although we boys were loathed to admit it, she was the best damn rider out of us all… Plans were made. Events placed in motion.

It was time to slay a dragon… A big, blue, hairy, toothy dragon.

Just what did our folks think of all this? To be honest, I believe they enjoyed fueling the fire. None of them told us what the sounds next door really were. Not that it would have mattered, it was Hairy Baby dammit and just because they refused to believe the legend didn’t make it untrue. The night came and we wee Geeks began our slow and silent assault upon the Hairy Baby’s lair. This was really happening. We were going to do what no other child or adult had been able to accomplish. (We assumed others had tried and were simply never heard of again). Not us though, we were knights of old, we were the Jedi generation and no buck toothed beast was going to keep us from riding out bikes at night or keep us up during sleepovers. More and more our courage grew. We snuck into the cracked concrete garage. A sound from within. We all froze. Slowly I raised my perfectly folded paper sword (bent just so for greater durability) as my friends prepared to cover me with soda can reinforced trash can lids. There, in the moonlight we saw a pair of devious eyes reflect back at us. Not a moment wasted we leapt. It was now or nothing. It was either us or the Hairy Baby. The line was drawn! From our lips the greatest battle cry a 3rd grader can muster. Battle was on!

At least, that was the plan.

In truth, the running for our lives plan was enacted. Tin shields and paper swords dropped. Heather long gone at the first sign of trouble. We had failed, but at least we had escaped with our lives. Perhaps all our effort had not been in vain though. While still a terrifying story to be told over Smores, no one really saw or heard Hairy Baby anymore. Strangely, none of us ever made the connection when my neighbor presents us with his six new kittens. It was better that way. Win or lose it was better to think that somewhere out there, in the dark forest a beast was simply waiting for us to challenge him yet again.

And every time I go home to visit?

I still keep a close eye on that ever-widening crack in my neighbor’s garage…