Cluhouse Revisited

                                         CLUBHOUSE REVISITED
                                                 BY:  Francesco James

         
                                       I  HOUSE RULES-INITIAL STEPS


         Bang..bang..bang, the hammer hit the floor bounced and landed on frank's toe. "Shit" he shouted, hopping about like a one legged man in an ass kicking contest. "damn, damn, double damn. That is what I get for not wearing my shoes." Yelling out to the others around him, busy doing their own hammering.
         "Yeah, being bare foot wasn't the smartest thing you have done, cone head."
         "Hey, easy on the criticism their jumbo, we had to reinforce the bracing to weather your footprint."
         "At least I wore my shoes up here." Alex was standing by the ladder shaking his head at them both, not saying what he was thinking in response to the vocal abuse being leveled by pete and Frank.
         They had decided to build their tree house club a month ago and argued about the design and structure for three weeks, meeting a couple of times a week at the local bar to discuss the project; as the alcohol consumption increased so did the vocal arguments. The owner insisted they tone the noise and foul language on numerous occasions. They lowered the tone but the negative verbal abuse continued.
         Friends since childhood , criticism and vocal banter was the norm, now in their thirties they would still go at it. The tree house was the idea of Alex in hopes of creating a special place for the three of them to talk privately. They couldn't  be open at each of their homes with the wives and kids running about.
         Alex looked at them both and started to laugh, saying, "You know it isn't anything like our first clubhouse, made out of cardboard boxes and old plywood sheets nailed to the branches."
         " Well, we were just kids and much smaller. So cone head what are you drinking?" pete quipped as he finished off his pint.
         "I will have another pint if you don't mind. My toe is throbbing like hell,          maybe some whiskey is in order, and we were much lighter as well."
         " Hmmm, you are doing it again, eh Frank. Well, that is the best thing I have heard all day, not the weight crack cone boy. I'll be right back, got some in the truck" Pete started for the ladder, the floor creaking under his 300+ pound mass.
         "Geez Pete, thought you slowed down on that stuff" Alex had tried to stir Pete in slowing down on the whiskey weeks ago after he got into a fight with Frank in the bar. The owner banned them for a month.
         "Nah, I figure since we can't drink in the pub I carry a bottle with me. I can afford the good stuff with the money I save not paying billy bob at the bar.” The owners nick name for a multitude of tattoo's and slim build.
         As Pete disappeared down the ladder, Alex took the private moment to speak with Frank.
         "I think you should go easy on Pete."
         "Why, he is fat, he knows it and you know it."
         "Look we agreed to set some boundaries with our creating this space."
         "Yeah, well it is not finished yet, so I figure why stop something I get an edge with."
         "But, Frank having an edge got us kicked out of the bar. You went too far, announcing he couldn't see his penis even if he had a mirror and his wife has to use tweezers to pull it from under his belly so they can have sex."
         "That was a good one, eh." "No, it wasn't a good one, it was crass and abusive."  Alex pursed his lips and about to make another comment when Pete could be heard struggling his way up the ladder. "Not another comment Frank, zip your lip."  Frank made the motion across his lips and sent raised eyebrow in the direction of Alex as Pete stumbled at the top of the ladder.
         "Aye, that ladder keeps getting taller every time I climb up.  How are we going to get the chairs up here?"  Frank jumped on that with a statement about a couch, not a chair. His eyes met Alex looking at him with a squint and corrected his statement. "Ah, you think a couch would be better than just chairs?"  Pete sighed, breathing heavily from his climb and said. "That actually might work Frank, good idea." Everyone was quiet for a moment as Pete took a long pull on the bottle of whiskey before handing it off to Frank all ready with his hand out.
Clearing his throat after his swig of whiskey, Frank started to explain the next phase of construction being a makeshift roof for protection from the weather.
         The cardboard clubhouse when they were young kids provided a sanctuary from the riggers of youth. A place to hide, sneak cigarettes and playboy magazines. The normal activities of pre-teen young boys, curious about girls, sex and body parts. Pete was always overjoyed when a new issue came along courtesy of the next door neighbors garbage can. They may have been three or four months old, yet the issues were hot off the presses for them; googling over the centre-fold and each tugging at it to get a closer look or turning the page on its side as if they could see under or behind the bunny on display.
         Yes, those were the days of carefree afternoons and weekends when not playing baseball in the empty lot across the street from Frank's house. Alex passed the bottle back to Pete without having a sip and pulled three folded pieces of paper from his shirt pocket. "all right you two, we skirted these issues over the last three weeks; now is the time to consider the club house rules. It is almost finished and I think the rules should be brought up ahead of time. So look these ideas over and think about what they mean to you." He handed each of them a separate paper with a bullet list of rules Alex felt should be addressed. Frank being the first, read quickly and before Pete could garner a glance was off to the races.
         "What is this shit?" No F words, C words or any continuous use  of"….Pete chimed in nearly choking on the whiskey still in his mouth, he read, "respect the other persons space. "Crap Alex you are going to need to move across town so you can't hear what I say and only be offended by the motion of my lips, as you look through those monster hunting goggles you call glasses."
         "I see your taking the lead from Frank and his mouth."
         Pete and Frank both mumbling the words of different bullet points while Alex leaning against a tree limb, folded his arms in a defensive posture, getting ready for the onslaught of objection he felt was sure to build into a hurricane. Frank reached over and took the bottle of whiskey from Pete and poured a large quantity into his beer glass before starting into his usual level of exasperated discussion.
         "What do you mean no alcohol, no side comments, no attacks of character flaw, Jesus-H-Christ-no, no, no. Where are the yes, yes, yes?
         "Listen Frank, the whole purpose of this" raising his arms in a sweeping motion to indicate the clubhouse space. "Is to have a safe place to share our feelings and allow each other to have a personal voice. Don't you at least agree to that ?"
         "The bar suited Pete and I fine, you on the other hand, since you have been back from God knows where the last year or so….Alex cut in without elaboration, "Lets concentrate on the paper shall we Frank."
         "I don't know after reading this."  'holding' up the paper and shaking it in the air in front of him. Alex just stared in his direction without saying anything to fuel a heated debate. He wasn't interested in engaging Frank in the fashion Pete did in the bar, especially ten feet off the ground with no rails in place as yet.
         "So, what exactly are we to do Alex? Just sit around here and discuss the weather with tea and crumpets?” Frank continuing his affront of the rules. Pete shook the bottle of whiskey in the direction of Alex and chimed in with Frank.          "Listen Alex I happen to enjoy my whiskey and if it happens that we are here when I do, then tough for you."  Helping himself to another long swig.
         Alex began his defense with a simple statement, actually a question. "I see, if we allow alcohol, which one of you, is going to throw the other off the edge first? You know how volatile each of you get when the alcohol kicks in, consider the bar and the result it had on both of you; on our being there."
Both Pete and Frank shrugged their shoulders looking at each other, grizzled their teeth. "Just like when we were kids in the old clubhouse, and I threw you off Frank." Pete swung his arms like he was emptying a pail of water. "But I broke my arm," Frank interjecting with his right arm extended out in a show and tell motion.
         "My point exactly."  Alex said. "So what is it going to be gentleman? Are we going to agree to disagree and allow each of us the latitude we deserve?"  Pete was the first, “I guess so Alex, but, no alcohol; you are killing me here!"
         Alex through their childhood, was the voice of reason.  Two years older he might as well have been twenty years older the way he was able to stir their interests all over the map of childhood mischief and talk his way out of most difficulties as a negotiator, a kind of defense attorney for the three of them.
         He was also the experimenter, tasting or drinking just about anything except household cleaners for a kick, sometimes even money. In they're early teens they blindfolded Alex at Frank's house. Then began to spoon the contents of food jars, sauces, hot peppers, anything they could find into a mixing bowl, and on the request of Alex, a shot of every liquor bottle in Frank's parents bar. They really didn't have a bar per-say. The right hand side of the hutch in the dinning room contained the spirited goods. Alex sat patiently waiting while the noise of the handheld cake mixer scrapped the side of the large pottery bowl Franks mother used to mix cakes and such in.
When the mixer had stopped, Alex cajoled them each into kicking a two dollar bill into his pocket for them to witness the result of their kitchen chemistry experiment. After paying up, Alex took the blindfold off and took a sniff of the contents bubbling in the bowl like larvae flow; created by the coca-cola poured in by Pete at the last minute. When he said, here is a little something to settle the tummy Alex, giggling as he poured.
         Alex said out loud,”well, down the hatch.” He picked up the bowl in both hands and started to chug the contents without stopping. Both Frank and Pete sat down on the floor with legs crossed looking up at the bottom of the bowl as Alex finished it off, letting out a series of vocal gas belches long and loud before placing it back on the chrome legged fifties table in the kitchen. “Wow, Frank yelled, you are the man. We put so much shit in that bowl we couldn't stand the smell, never mind even consider putting it any where near our lips, and you drained it.”
Alex sat with a big grin and a hand on his tummy. He pulled out the two bills and snapped them flat saying thank you in belch language, a way of speaking while burping. All three of them chuckled as Alex continued his oratory speech. Without warning the cheeks on Alex face began to turn red, then white and sweat began to run down his face. Pete, was the first to get up and say he don't look so good. Alex rubbed his tummy repeatedly, trying to settle the eruptions inside by letting them outside through what ever orifice the gas chose to exit. All three still laughing as Alex began walking quickly, then running for the bathroom. “I think we got'm good this time Pete.” Both knodding their heads yes and smiling when the first guttural sound echoed from the bathroom into the kitchen. Followed quickly by the splash of the oral waterfall hitting the toilet bowl. Frank screamed out the word yes, in satisfaction of making Alex sick to his stomach. Then Pete handed Frank the two dollar side bet wager because he didn't think Alex would get sick.  Another round of agonizing moans came from the bathroom and the two of them couldn't stay away from the show any longer. Upon reaching the bathroom they found Alex curled up next to the toilet with his head perched on the porcelain, hugging the bowl for support. He continued to speak out his favourite "F" word expletive between belches and heaves, while his buddies made grotesque faces as they watched the show….
         As they made their way towards the ladder Frank motioned to his friends to look at the large branch in the corner of the club house floor. "Hey guys, you remember when we did that?" Alex and Pete glanced over and spotted the remnants of words carved out in a space where there once was bark. The words had worn from the weather over the years but they didn't have to read them to know what they were. Alex said, " Yep, ah ha, Curly, Larry, and Moe…stooges n company. Well, the both of you got off easy since the wives are waiting dinner on you. But on Saturday, when we put the roof on we will come to an agreement about house rules."
         "I guess as long as we stall the roof, there is no house to have rules under, right Pete?"  "Right cone boy.."
"          OK, I'll give you that one, round mound, since you are still coming down the ladder."
As pete stepped on the ground he turned to Alex. "So, what are you doing for supper Alex? "
         Before Alex could answer, Frank jumped in with, "He is probably going off to some shit hole diner to get some street meat or such. You do still eat mystery meat ?  Shit, when we were kids you 'd eat anything that wasn't alive. I take that back, save for the occasional worm, fly, beetle or goldfish."
         Pete was taken aback by Frank's sarcasm. They hadn't seen Alex in over a year and before that almost five years accept for the six weeks in the area before disappearing again.
         Alex got into trouble one too many times when his parents split and lost interest in chumming around. He would show up on the nights of school sporting events and hang out with Moe and Curly. Pete being Curly, grew physically right into that role.
          His mother didn't stick around, she just left one day. No note, a half empty closet and one draw of the cloths chest. His father took everything out back of the house including the bed when he came home from work, poured gasoline on the pile and put a match to it. 
         The blaze was quick and hot, turning the cheeks on Alex face red. He had to turn away from the pain in his eyes trying to watch the flames from only five or six feet away. The neighbours called the fire department when it spread to the shed down wind of it, but they weren't quick enough to put it out. It was a pile of smoking ash when they got to the house.  His dad was arrested, something about uncontrolled burning in a residential area. But, he was back three hours later with a fresh bottle of whiskey.
         Alex sat down next to him on the back porch stairs and drank along with him as he cried and cursed about his mother. The two of them staring out at the smoldering pile of debris. His father repeating between chugs on the whiskey bottle, "That pile of shit smoldering over there is my life, it is your life kid."
The next day it was close to noon when Alex awoke, his head and eyes hurt, not sure if it was the alcohol or the smell of gasoline and smoke from the fire. All he knew his head was pounding and it was hard to keep his eyes open for any length of time without tears rolling down his cheeks. Holding a cold facecloth over his eyes helped a bit, He saw his mother do that after she had been out with his dad, coming home drunk on their asses. He opened a can of pork and beans and ate it straight out of the can. He didn't go to school that day, or the next. With his father not around to check he walked the streets till dark and would show up in time for take out fish and chips his father picked up at the shop around the corner from the house. The conversation was short, 'hows the fish?' how was school?' and it was off to the cabinet for a fifth of VO. Alex would sneak his share from the bottles left open unfinished. He learned that if he took a fresh bottle and poured it into one from a couple of days ago. His father would think he had more than he really drank seeing the empties on the coffee table in the living room.
         So began the life and times of Alex.  Within 8 months of his mother leaving his father left him a note and one hundred dollars.
         The note read; I have gone out of town to find better work, this should tide you over till I get back. Take care of yourself and stay away from Pine Street, I saw you down that way a few weeks ago. Shit!  Alex thought to himself, what the hell was he doing down there. Besides stealing his fathers VO whisky, he frequented the more robust and entertaining area of the city at night after his father passed out.
         At fourteen he was smoking cigarettes and drinking from the fifth in a brown paper bag while hanging out with whores and other street kids trying to hustle some spare change, a meal or another bottle. He was luckier than most, he had a roof over his head to go back to whenever he finished his rounds for the evening; always making it home before his father got up.  Now that was history and sometimes he never went back to the house, save to change cloths or crash for of time; sometimes sleeping for a twenty-four stretch from the marathon.
This lasted for four months after his father left. He never returned and the utilities were the first to get shut off. The bank came around a few times, Alex never answered the door. Finally after a two day binge, when he returned everything was chained, nailed or boarded up. He broke in to his own house through the basement window under the porch. Who ever did the job never bothered to look under there. He was able to spend the next six weeks in the house burning everything in the fireplace he could find or drag though the small basement window to burn for heat and cook over.
         Frank had offered Alex the chance to stay at his house but his pride got in the way. Until the winter made the decision for him. Franks parents were welcoming at first, but Alex was a stray cat and followed his own clock. It didn't sit well with Frank's church going parents. So in the Spring, two months into his visit, they asked him to leave.
         Alex was fourteen years old, lost, abusing himself and getting what ever he needed on the street, Then, it all went to hell in a hand basket. His life of luxury cams to screeching halt when he got talked into rolling a John for a hooker he shared drugs with and the occasional bottle of Rye. The John was an undercover cop. Man what are you doing being a cop? He asked when the cuffs went on and the click of the metal sent shivers into his spine, they were so tight, when taken off in the police station an indentation and a small cut in the skin marked their presence.
While in the holding tank, seven others were sharing the digs. Three alcoholics, two bikers, himself and two guys in suits. He figured the high steppers were either Johns or on warrant. He found out later they were a team. Passing bad checks and scamming money from who ever they could. The others, were a no brainer by looks of them. One of the bikers started up a conversation and gave him an invite to the family house when he got out. The offer was contingent on his ability to run fast. Alex didn't quite get the gist of the whole thing and shook his head, saying no thanks, that he had a steady job to go to.  What a crock of shit, he said under his breath, when he was far enough away for the biker to hear.
         Alex spent the next thirty days in juvenile as the guest of the Province of Ontario; upon his release he tried to find the small ring of people he hung around with. Anyone he asked had no idea, and thought they may have been arrested and put in jail like him. Well, cold and hungry as the fall was coming on fast, he saw a motorcycle drive by with a figure he thought he recognized. He ran down the street, but couldn't get close enough to yell and be heard.  Stopping out of breath he walked a few blocks in his old stomping grounds when he saw a long row of bikes out in front of a broken glass, boarded up storefront. Some unsightly looking bikers smoking weed out front and passing a bottle around were laughing and pushing each other, proclaiming who's ride was faster.
         Alex took a deep swallow of saliva and just walked right up and asked for a swig and a puff. The roar of laughter was stifling as they circled around alex with all eyes on him, and continuing the ruckus. Alex thought maybe he showed a little too much testicular fortitude for the crowd of fur balls in leather. He decided at that very moment, in for a penny, in for a pound and puffed out his chest reaching for the bottle in front of him being clasped by a burly six foot two inch mountain with tattoos on his face and everywhere skin was visible….

         “What do you want with this here bottle boy?” The burly one with technicolor skin blurted at Alex. Alex held onto the bottle as it was pulled away. The motion nearly took him off his feet, but he held on as he said he wanted a swig and a puff of that joint your buddy has. The guy with the joint took a drag and blew smoke in Alex face and asked the one holding the bottle what he planned on doing with him. Another yelled; hell half pint just give him the bottle then kick 'm in the ass and send him on his way.  A voice from behind the crowd blurted out "you kick him in the ass I will kick you in the balls and then drag your ass with my ride." Every one turned and parted like the red sea as the mystery man moved forward; Alex turned half out of fear and curiosity about who would speak up for him. When they looked at one another, each showed a half smile of acknowledgement for the other. "Well, it took you long enough," the biker said. Alex still with his hand on the bottle just nodded. "I thought you said it was a house, there are no houses around her."
         "I guess I lied, and that was almost ten months ago." Half pint let go of the bottle and Alex stood tall amongst them, putting the bottle to his lips, started to drink and didn't stop until he had consumed seven swigs in a row, then lowered the bottle, said ahh that was good, and wiped his mouth with the back of his forearm.
The next two years Alex spent running drugs for the gang. He stopped smoking cigs so he could run faster. It saved him a couple of times from getting caught not only by police but rival runners who were much bigger and willing to maim or  kill to make a point. Alex didn't want to take a chance on them making that decision on the spot. Now almost seventeen, he hadn't grown but a couple of inches and was a skinny, scrawny five feet five inches tall. Even at that he developed a leather tough attitude, a mouth and two fast fists to match.
         Naturally he was no match for the bikers, but he held his own and got the handle scrapper from half pint after an encounter when they were both reaching for the same bottle of rye whiskey and Alex got it first, pushing half pint to the side, knocking him over a chair. It was a messy game of cat and mouse, each getting a shot in on the move. Alex tried to stay out of half pints reach, but being much bigger his arms could do some damage. Alex didn't give up one eye closed shut from one solid hit that sent him into the arms of another biker who just pushed him back into half pints grasp. While holding him steady and ready to level Alex with a controlled swing, Alex swung his leg hard and landed a solid kick to the groin that put half pint to his knees. Alex hit him in the face but it was like giving someone a love tap even though he swung with everything he had. Half pint took the hit and just smiled back at Alex and said; "Why you little shit scapper," the name stuck. They shared the rest of the bottle along with another, before passing out in the middle of the overturned furniture and broken chair.
         Six months later Alex was coming through the back door with his pockets full of cash when he felt a large hand fall onto his shoulder. It was a cop. his eyes adjusted to the darkened back room and the place was full of police and plain cloths. There wasn't a gang member in sight he was alone and carrying a derringer one of the bikers had given him.
         Alex just stood still and before the police could ask him anything, he said a loud "I have things in my pocket I want you to know." At that, they briskly pushed him to the floor and another officer emptied his pockets. "Shit, he is carrying a weapon, and oh, look here a whole lot of cash too."
         As the cop went through the rest of his pockets he found more money and then Alex directed them to his underwear. " I got more in my crotch, any takers?" "You got a smart mouth kid." The one with his knee in his back commented as the others laughed and told him he was in charge, it is all on you.
In the police station, alone in the holding cell he spent time in on his first visit. This time he spent the night with a blanket curled up in the corner facing the barred door.
He heard the key in the lock and opened his eyes. A very middle aged cop with a beer gut the size of a Buick came in and addressed Alex. " How was your night kid? Any mice curl up for body heat?"  Before Alex could even consider the questions the sergeant continued his babble. OK, kid these are the rules. This is our house and we can change the rules anytime we like. First, you've now been arrested for possession of a firearm and lord knows where you got the cash. Second you are going before a judge this morning, so if there is anything or anybody you want to turn on best do it now so we can put it in your sheet. OH yeah, this is strike number two for you. You may be a jeuvie but your close enough to get some serious time for the gun. Aren't rules grand? By the way there is someone to see you, but not to bail your ass out of here. He said he was your older brother.
         Alex looked at him with dead eyes and said, really, that's interesting. The cop said "turn around, time for some cufflinks before I take you out of here. You will get two minutes before You get in the court transport, got it?" Alex said, got it and turned around for the hand cuffs.
         He was brought to a caged room with a table and two chairs on either side. He sat down, then another door opened and a vey large figure filled the doorway.          "Hey, scapper." It was half pint. Alex couldn't believe his eyes. "What are you crazy coming in here saying you are my big brother!" "Take it easy Alex."  He hadn't called him by his real name since before their fight. Half pint sat down and put his arms on the table. He wasn't wearing his colours and there was something else different about him, he looked cleaner, not as many tattoos.
         Alex sat with his mouth partly open and Half pint spoke out; "My real name is Jacob Alex I am a federal agent working undercover for the past three years. There were a lot of things you had no idea the gang was into; you were a piss hole in the snow for them."
          "What do you mean? They took care of…you took care of me."  "Yes, that is true, they took you into the fold. You were expendable if you got caught or hurt they would find someone else to fill the needs of the house. They use people, pray on the weak and needy. Those emotionally undeveloped, lacking identity or innocent, unable to speak out and point a finger to hurt them. They were the house; their rules, their game."
          "Seems I heard that earlier, in fact a few minutes ago. So what are your house rules? I seem to be at a disadvantage here; I am playing by everyone else's rules but my own."
         "That is unfortunate, but you have a chance to create some rules of your own. Alex, you are in a unique position once you cross the threshold."
         "Why is that half pint, eh Jacob?"
         "Because, you have a voice. A voice that can be used to bring out the injustice of what was taken from you, you lost something that was very precious Alex"  "What do you know about precious?"
         "I know more than you realize or remember. That night we fought, you called me a bastard and in the same breath you called me dad. When we finally called a truce and started to really get serious about drinking you told me about being abused. There wasn't anyone around. You apologized for kicking me in the nuts.
         What you didn't know is that I was wearing a cup, it was my wire. You really sent a clear message to guys listening in."  You mean they know?….about?…" "Yes, but there is no way of telling who is on the tape since it is an on going recording. If I can't recognize the voice you are just someone I had a fight with and I don't know who you are." 
         "Well, that sounds a little too convenient."
         Look Alex you obviously have some deep issues here. Things you have been carrying around and justifying through your action growing up. Your code so to speak…your house rules. See, you have house rules and didn't even know you developed them; for in your mind you were just being you. In reality you were being the eight year old who was abused by your drunken father since he couldn't get it from your mother." 
         "I told you all that?" 
         "To a degree yes, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what went down in your childhood and how it destroyed you're understanding of self-esteem, sexual identity, acceptance, belonging, wanting a family like 'leave it to Beaver' where you could be a kid; instead of becoming a young adult with a child at the helm. Over compensating, pushing yourself to be accepted as part of the gang."
         "So what happens now, can I go free?" "Unfortunately that won't happen, your having a gun took that chance away. I can try and get you some help. The first thing is a lawyer; I know a duty counsel and he agreed to take your case off the rotation. So he will be in court when you show up. He is going to ask you some questions and then present on your behalf. He will only be there for the bail hearing, after that you will have to find help through legal aide."
         "But I am just a kid, you said so yourself. They will send me to jeuvie for a month then let me go…right?"
         "No, not this time; you are named in the charges along with everyone else. What was it you said when we got drunk and you told me what you were thinking that first day. Now I remember, In for a penny, in for a pound.  That's what is at stake here Alex. For your one penny investment you will have to pay a pound of flesh…. court rules."
         "Rules, This is what I think about rules." Alex leaned to one side and extended his hand out as far as he could and flipped his middle finger towards Jacob. "Fuck the rules."
         Suit yourself Alex, They are going to try you as an adult. If you think the current rules suck; wait till you go to the real jail after being in juvie for a few months. They have house rules to make your hair stand on end. Oh, thats right you don;t have any hair."
         The window air conditioner made an ungodly clunk and woke Alex from a sound sleep…
         “Christ, I am soaked,” talking out loud as he sat up on the edge of the bed, putting his wet face into his cupped hands. “Ah, this not going to fly; Frank and Pete are going to buck me like a stallion.”
         Well, speaking aloud again, grabbed a bunch of crumpled papers off the floor and smoothed them flat, them folded them neatly and put them into his shirt pocket as he closed the door behind him.
         Frank and Pete were already at the pub waiting for Alex. Still wet from the heat he sat down with his back to the fan moving the hot air around the bar.
         "Well, it took you long enough, where have you been?" Frank's statement had an edge to it that Pete liked and chimed in with "Yea, where have you been, we called but no answer."
         "I was sleeping." Pete continued , "How can anyone sleep in this heat?"
         " Had to take my mind off things, it didn't really help much, thought about being arrested; you remember.
         Frank just smiled and said. "And which one was that?"
         Alex shrugged off the comment and put the crumpled papers in the middle of the table. All of them stared and Frank picked them up, unfolded them and began to read the first page. Pete grabbed one and followed suit. Neither of them had any drink except for a glass of water in front of them. The agreement which  Billy Bob put before them so they could meet there. They still had three days to go with the sentence of being banned for a month. Alex took the role of mediator as he had done in the past and got a short reprieve just for the day.
         "Gentleman what say you to these changes?" Pete hesitated with a finger to his lips and spoke first. "I don't see any real changes here Alex." There were significant changes to the original Frank and Pete were fixated on the no alcohol. They overlooked the allowing of moderate vulgarity as long as it wasn't directed at each other. "What is this about other people coming into the clubhouse?" Alex shook his head and defended himself by saying, "guest; we can have guests." Pete started to laugh uncontrollably as Frank and Alex looked at one another and then at Pete. "Woman guests, like dancers or like our wives."
Frank chuckled but said to Pete; "take your head out of the gutter would you, You sound like you just found an old issue of Playboy, and the wives are out of the question."
         "Ok, Ok; just saying it would be more interesting." Alex jumped on that quickly and explained the purpose was so they had a place to express themselves without conditions, that is, freely without criticism. The guest aspect was so they could allow someone else to come only if they all agreed.
"Are we in agreement?" Alex put his fist out into the middle of the table as they all traded stares at one another, then Frank and Pete both thrust a fist into the middle clinking fists as one would a drink. Alex, made the last comment before they got up to leave. " Guys, in for a penny, in for a pound. We will be crossing the threshold into a near era for the clubhouse; not to go back but glance back with fresh eyes and hearts and maybe understand where the responsibility lies for our lost childhood...
         Pete couldn't resist the temptation to get a word in at the last minute by saying,"All for one and one for all." He put his hand up and motioned as Curly from the Three Stooges and finished with, "Nyuck Nyuck..Nik, Nik, Nik."  Frank waved to Billy Bob as they passed the bar and nodded a thank you in his direction as they pushed through the door into the light of day….