A Neighborhood Escapade

It was a weekend midafternoon in the very middle of summer. Big Bopper, also called Ace whose real name was Jerry S., six-foot six, 200-pounds, dumber than a blind-duck, never worked a day in his life, or if he did, it was on special occasions, a young man of twenty-five although goodhearted, was sitting on the wooden steps in front of Roger and Ronny's house, parallel Cayuga Street, right across the street from my home, at 186 Cayuga; I'm Chick Evens, fifteen years old. Roger two years my senior, and the neighborhood charmer with his good looks, and all, and Ronny his brother my age, and buddy. Roger's house was a four apartment complex, kind of ramshackle. Stretching outward in the back was the railroad yard, and Structural Steel Company.

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