Free Christopher Paul Curtis by Bucking the Sarge

kidding.”
    “Luther, don't make me beg.”
    “I can't do it, Sparky. Besides, you're cutting into my science fair project time. Plus I gotta put the Crew to bed, that's going to take at least half an hour.”
    Sparky said, “If that's the best you can do, half an hour then, behind the Taco Bell.”
    “Cool.”
    He said, “I just hope the wind hasn't died down by then, it'll be on you if it has. Your half hour could be costing us a whole lotta benjamins, my brother.”
    “I'll see you in half an hour, but this better be quick, I'ma just whack you in the head, then I gotta bounce.”
    Sparky didn't have to worry, by the time I'd settled everyone down and started walking to Taco Bell the wind had even picked up some.
    The stop sign on the corner was twisting back and forth in the wind, sounding like a rocket made out of tin cans and duct tape getting ready to blast off. The wind was hot in a way that made you want to close your eyes and tilt your head back and breathe real deep. Or maybe even howl.
    Something from the roof of Taco Bell somersaulted through the air, then smashed into the parking lot. Sparky popped out from behind a Dumpster and ran toward me with a tile in his hand.
    “Sparky,” I yelled, “this is insane, man, let's just go home.”
    Sparky shook his head and said, “Come on, bruh, hurry up, this ain't real easy for me, you know.”
    I took the reddish-brown clay roofing tile from him. I was surprised how heavy it was. He leaned toward me, closed his eyes tight and showed his teeth.
    “Come on, Luther, quit torturing me,” he whined, keeping his teeth clenched. “Do it!”
    I shook my head and closed my eyes. I raised the tile about shoulder high, brought it down on his head and felt a little shimmy run up my arm. Sparky was still standing with his eyes squinched shut.
    He looked at me. “That's it?” He brought his hand up, rubbed at the spot where I'd hit him and said, “Man, you gotta be kidding, don't forget this thing's supposed to have blowed off a roof, you really gotta knock the snot outta me, bruh.”
    I dropped the tile. “This ain't me, you gotta get someone else.”
    Sparky looked hurt. “What? You supposed to be my boy, who else can I trust?”
    He picked the tile back up and reached it toward me again. “Remember what we used to say, ‘We'll have each other's backs from womb to tomb, you'll be my boy from birth to earth.’”
    What could I say? He was right, we had said that. I took the tile again. It must've weighed ten pounds.
    The wind was really starting to get serious. The stop sign had stopped shaking and was now whistling and going back and forth like one of those piano metronome things. Two more tiles jumped off the roof and exploded in the parking lot.
    “All right, fool, bend your head over.”
    I closed my eyes, raised the tile over my head and let it drop on Sparky's skull. Again my arm shimmied. When I opened my eyes Sparky was looking at me the way you'd look at a kid who brought home all Ds on his report card.
    He said, “Man, all you're doing is giving me aheadache! Swing that tile, brother! I bet if I went and got your crusty old mother she wouldn't have no troubles lighting me up.”
    If only he knew. The Sarge would've paid big cash to take my place right now. Sparky isn't one of her favorite people. She would've hit him so hard it would've knocked his head clean off. I laughed. “Leave my mother out of this.”
    “Oh! Maybe that's what I gotta do, maybe if I talk about your nasty old momma you'll get mad enough to really crack me with that tile.”
    Sparky knew I didn't care what he had to say about the Sarge.
    “Your momma's so old,” he started, “she was the maid of honor at Adam and Eve's wedding!”
    He closed his eyes and bent his head over again.
    I couldn't help laughing.
    He yelled out another stale joke: “Your momma's so ugly, she entered a ugly contest and they told her, ‘Sorry, ma'am, no professionals allowed!’”
    I laughed