The Crossroads

Zack and Davy sat with their legs dangling over the edge of their tree platform.

Zack had just nailed down a sheet of plywood they had found in one of the scrap piles up Stonebriar Road. Since the floor of their tree house was only ten feet high, Zack had been able to carry Zipper up with him.

“We should build Zipper an elevator,” Davy suggested.

“How?”

“Rig up a bucket on a rope. Loop it off that branch.”

“Hey, cool. Great idea.”

Zipper barked his approval of the plan.

It was close to six p.m. The first day of work was finished. Zack had never felt so good about anything in his life.

“This is awesome,” he said, taking in the view.

“I’ll say. Why, you can see just about everything from up here!”

“Yep.”

“Yes, sir,” Davy sighed. “You can even see the stuff you wish you couldn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

Davy gestured at Judy’s freshly planted flowers circling the ten-foot-wide stump.

“‘Ring around the rosies, a pocketful of posies,’” said Davy. “Kind of ruins everything.”

“Really?”

“Frilly little flowers? Docked so dadgum close to our pirate ship? Shoot, anybody driving by will think this is some kind of girl’s tree house.”

“Wow. I never thought about it that way.”

“Me neither. Not till we climbed on up. But it just sort of hits you right between the peepers when you’re perched here, don’t it?”

“Yeah,” Zack said. “I guess so.”

“And that white wooden cross? That makes it look like we’re back here playing Bible camp! Jiminy Christmas, I wish we could just tear it down, pull up the flowers, and rip that dadgum stump clear out of the ground. The whole thing razzes my berries.”

“Yeah,” Zack said. “Razzes my berries, too.”

“That Mr. Billings feller was right. We need to get rid of it.”

“Yeah,” Zack agreed. “But how?”