A Short Story About Chance, Luck and Kharma-Part 1

Have you lived long enough to wonder about why things happen the way they do? Do you think we have control of our lives and actions or do you believe we are but puppets controled by the Masters hand? Sometimes I think I know but mostly I just wander and wonder.

I grew up on the plains of Kansas in the heart of america. The product of a generation that would be known for hatching boomers in great numbers. It was a farming community where I was raised. Life was pretty casual and laid back in our little town. Nobody locked thier homes or autos at night. The only crimes we heard of happened in big cities far away.

One of my early childhood friends was Richard Wilson. Butch is what he went by. My first encounter with Butch was at a sandlot football game at the age of 12. He had just moved to town. He was big for his age and had a tendency to bully others. After the game ended, Butch proceded to push me around. And a wrestling match ensued. I was a pretty good scrapper and soon had him in one of my famous headlocks. He was begging me to let go and I did as he seemed to be in a great deal of pain. He allowed that since he had previously injured his neck he was at a disadvantage.

Apparently he thought it was best to be allies with the kid who had just whooped his butt. So we were best of friends from that day forward. We did a lot of crazy things together as we were growing up. Like the time we dripped hot wax all over our face and arms and went to school Halloween morning. Or the time we played strip poker with the school Principal's two daughters in the cellar out back of Butch's house. We were 14 and they were 16 and 17.

We were young men in search of the frenge elements in life. Always open to anything which had risk or danger envolved. Which may or may not have lead us on our journey.

Fiction? By X.