It was the 1990s-
I was like, what, ten years old? Down by the neighborhood lake, kicking the dirt, exploring the little wooded area by the shore next to the dock, too much TV, I was forced to go outside. The trees around here were sparse little stalks. That’s where I first met Timmy. He was crouching over something, next to the clurping water along the banks.
-Hey, I said.
-Hey back, said Timmy.
-What’s that? I pointed at what looked like a pile of muck.
-Check it out.
It was a rotting bullhead fish, its head splayed open into a pulpy mush, but the base and tail were still cleanly intact.
-Did you do that? I asked.
-No way. Found it like this.
I crouched down beside Timmy and said, -Gross.
-I know.
I looked at the headless fish for a bit then noticed a dull sheen from inside its body.
-Look at that, I said.
Timmy grabbed a bent stick with the bark crumpling off and pushed it into the neck of the fish. Out slid a coin. He held it between it fingers. The fish gunk gave it a slick membrane. It was a penny…
-Want it? Timmy asked.
-Sure. I took the penny and stuck it into my awkwardly fitting jeans. I hated jeans back then. They never fit right.
-You think it’s magic? There was a sparkle in Timmy’s eye. It was contagious, dangerous.
-Yes, I said, I think so.
Something queer was up with that fish. Why was it smashed like that? We decided to investigate the scene like a pair of detectives. We pushed along the thin whip-like branches and looked for clues until we ran into a grassy clearing. A neighbor’s backyard. We paused.
-Mom says I shouldn’t go into people’s property, Timmy said.
I just shrugged and kept walking like I owned the place. Timmy caught up, eyes peeled to the lake, afraid of getting yelled at by neighbors. We cut through about ten sloping, manicured lawns that slid right into the water.
-This is my backyard, I said. Timmy looked at the hill leading up to my big house.
-Cool.
We charged up the worn dirtpath that Dad kept reseeding in a losing battle. Grass would never grow there. I slid open the glass door into the walkout basement. -Shoes off, I said. And we ran through the comfortable carpet up to the granite kitchen and straight to the stainless fridge. We both scarfed down a yogurt, and then a bowl of cereal, and then a slice of cheese, hardly speaking to each other.
-Cool house.
I nodded as I chugged some OJ.
-That was messed, he said.
-I know.
-Can I see it?
I reached into my pocket for the penny. I couldn’t find it.
-Dude. I swear it was there.
-Check for holes, Timmy said, panic all over his face.
I kept digging. Eventually I dropped to my undies to fully confirm there were no holes in my jean pockets.
-You saw me put it away. I swear I didn’t touch it, I said.
Timmy then stuck his hand in his pocket and stopped. His jaw went slack as he slowly pulled out a penny from his pocket. He handed it to me. It still had the fish gunk on it.
My eyes exploded. As much as any kid wants to believe in magic, there was still small skeptic in me tickle-suggesting that it was a second penny. But I quieted all that nonsense immediately.
-Let’s go back to the fish! We both raced downstairs and started cutting through backyards until we hit the little public wooded area that surrounded the dock. The headless bullhead fish was still there. We looked around, feeling watched.
-Caaw, said a crow.
We both hunched over the remains. This time, I stuck my fingers in. We both gasped as I shit-you-not, I pulled out another funky penny.
I put the penny to my nose. It stunk.
-Do you want it? I asked.
Timmy took it and put it in his pocket.
-Do you think we can get rich? asked Timmy.
-What if it gives us like, a million pennies? I said.
#
I became best friends with Timmy over the next few days. We were outside almost every day, still obsessing over the mystery of the headless fish. One time he was over at my house and he took a bite of an apple and he started to choke. He had apple drool sizzling down his chin.
Timmy ran over to the sink and retched out the chunks. He started drinking water straight from the faucet, his feet dangling off the ground as he leaned over the counter. The pulp-specks of apple-slurry spun clockwise down the drain hole.
-That thing tasted gross, Timmy said.
-Gross, I said.
Timmy then said, -My cousin Rick was fishing on the other side of the lake. He said he saw a sleeping bag in the sewer drain. I bet it’s a bum. Bet he smashed that fish up.
We left my house to go check out the storm-drain, heading the opposite way from where that penny-giving fish was. We cut through a different batch of fairway-worthy backyards that abutted the shore. We arrived panting upon a cement pipe that stuck out of a steep hill. It was a big wide drain. We didn’t see any sleeping bag. But at the mouth of the drain, there was a penny. We both looked at each other.
-That’s messed. You wanna go up it? I asked.
Timmy hesitated for a moment. -Sure, he eventually said.
I went in first and Timmy followed just behind. At first it was big enough to squat-walk, but as the drain steepened in elevation up the hill, the hole got smaller. There was a thrill to this exploration. We both could feel it. As the hole tightened and darkness became almost complete looking forward, we stopped. A cool gust of wind pushed my face with a hollow moan.
-You wanna—
-Let’s go back.
We crawled backward for a moment until the tube was big enough to spin around. I scuttled out back into the holy light at the end of the tunnel, blinded by suburbia.
-We gotta get flashlights, I said.
-Wanna tell my cousin? He’d want to come.
-Sure. Let’s go back tomorrow.
It rained the next day and Timmy didn’t show. The day after that I wasn’t around because I had karate. I hated karate.
#
The next few days I waited anxiously around my house hoping Timmy would ring my doorbell. The penny was warm in my soft palm. I kept eyeing it. Back to school commercials were littering my periphery, worsening my unease. I didn’t know where Timmy lived. I wandered to the spot where we first met, where we found the pennies, then would hurry back home. I didn’t want to be gone too long in case Timmy came by.
I decided to take to my bike and search the neighborhood. It was a big black mountain bike with 21 gears. It always had issues when I switched them, so it was essentially a 1-gear that was comfortable up hills but had enough torque to get moving down them.
The further away I got from the lake, the smaller the houses became. I approached Dinkler Road, that thick busy street Mom didn’t allow me to cross. The houses that backed up to Dinkler were coupled together and unkept. The yards were messy and had plastic toys hidden in the grass. I think my dad owned some rentals in this area.
Down a few houses I saw Timmy biking around with another dude. They had Nerf swords and were doing some kind of joust. I rode over to them full bore.
-Danny!
-Hey, I said, as cool as I could muster.
-This is my cousin, Rick.
-The fish is gone, I said.
-I know. Rick doesn’t believe us. I told you we should’ve taken it back.
-I thought you were gonna come over.
-I tried! I didn’t know what your house looked like in front. Then I tried going through the backs and some lady started screaming at me. I booked it.
-Oh. So did you want to get some flashlights and check out that drain?
-We already did, Timmy’s cousin, Rick said.
-Barely, Timmy said.
-I ain’t going back in that thing. It was freaky.
I felt my neck prickle. I was savvy enough not to make a fuss about being left out. I’d witnessed that weird kid Jaren make broody fusses when the other kids weren’t playing fair. Nobody liked Jaren. One recess Albert found a skipping rock and chucked it at Jaren and split open his ear. The screams Jaren made were cold right up the spine. He drooled and cried and cursed and chased, but there was no way he would come close to catching Albert. Albert always got first running around the track, except to Nadji, but she didn’t speak English. Albert ran to the Recess Aid with Jaren right behind him. The Aid stopped Jaren in his fury and he punched her in the mouth for it. Jaren got in more trouble than Albert that day.
I should’ve just let it go. But I was jealous and wanted to go up that sewer.
-Let’s do it, I said.
#
-Gimme the flashlight. I’ll go first, I said.
We were standing at the mouth of the tube about to begin our expedition. I was still a little salty about Timmy going back in there without me.
-Nah man. It gets tight up there. I’m smaller. Rick was in front last time and froze up at that same spot.
I was going to protest, but then I noticed another penny at the mouth of the tube. Something felt off.
-Whatever, I said.
Timmy went in front with the flashlight in his hand. I crawled behind him.
We had made it past the spot where we originally turned back. The tunnel had shrunk to half its size this far in. It was steep too; the lake was essentially a deep round pit with yards and parks drooping into it, but on this end it was practically a sheer cliff up to street above. I had to snake flat onto my belly to push forward. I crawled, half expecting a rat or something to jump at me. In the darkness, Timmy’s flashlight movement was disorienting.
I heard a faint scraping sound. They say if you get stuck in a cave, the worst thing you can do is panic. Go ahead and say it was all in my head, but I could feel the cement walls tighten around me like a boa constrictor. I wanted to get back on all fours. I wanted to stand up. It started to become hard to breathe. I wanted to bend and look back but I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. The tube tightened.
-I’m stuck, I groaned.
-Just keep crawling.
-I can’t. I… I can’t breathe.
I tried not to cry as the walls constricted on my chest.
-Let’s go back.
-No. I’m stuck. I was speaking as if the wind was knocked out of me.
-I’ll go forward and yell for help. Stay here.
-No!! Even in my panic I felt ashamed for sounding like a girl when I screamed.
-Everything all right down there? A voice called out. It sounded like Rick but softer.
-Rick? Danny’s stuck. Get help.
-Keep moving. There’s a ladder here, said Rick’s oddly calm voice.
-I want my mom, I said. I needed to get out of that tube before my eyeballs popped out. The walls squeezed tighter around my shoulders. It was going to crush me. I started to squirm and scream, concrete dust tickled down the back of my neck. Or was it little spiders crawling on me? I couldn’t move my arms to reach back there, making it worse.
-Moooommm! Help! I want to go back. I want to go back. Mommy! My high-pitched squeals rang throughout the tube, deafening me. I felt my hot piss begin run down my leg.
-I’m going to get help, yelled Timmy.
-Don’t leave me!
And then Timmy looked back at me, flashlight in his hand. Something about his demeanor soothed me.
-It’s cool, he said.
-You’re so close, Rick’s voice washed over me.
My breaths were fast. I could smell the dank concrete. I laid my cheek on its grit. Its hard coolness slowed things down a bit. I closed my eyes. The tube loosened its grip.
-Sorry… it’s okay. I’m okay… I think I can keep going now. Sorry.
-Let’s get to the ladder. Follow me. We’re really close. See?
I opened my eyes and looked forward. Between the gaps of Timmy and the tube I could see a clearing ahead. There was a musky blue light shining on a service ladder. The opening promised a place to stand up and stretch. God that’s all I wanted. I started to furiously worm forward as fast as I could, nipping at Timmy’s heals. I was making little cry-grunts with each push. I heard my jeans rip.
-You guys can climb out from here, Rick’s call echoed down from above.
I swelled at Rick’s voice. The thought of having to crawl back through that tiny pipe again… I wriggled forward even harder, avoiding that thought.
-We made it, Danny. We made it, Timmy said as his head popped out of the tube into the clearing. I heard a heavy scraping of metal above.
With that, the rusted rectangular grate that covered the storm drain, some 60 pounds of iron, fell from twenty feet above. It split Timmy’s promising skull instantly with a dull clunk. He was smiling at me as I saw all of his life’s possibilities splatter into a brainy halo, mixing in with the damp leaves and twigs and a couple of Keystone Lite beer cans.
I screamed for help but no one answered me. I begged for Timmy to keep moving but I knew he was done. I screamed and screamed but I knew if I didn’t get moving something bad was going to happen to me too. I had to push the rest of Timmy’s body forward and crawl over him to climb up the ladder. Rick was nowhere to be found. It took forever for my horrified mom to figure out what I was saying had happened.
In the end it was determined to be a terrible accident. When the police eventually talked to Rick, he vehemently denied ever being there. I know I heard his voice. I don’t blame him. I would’ve denied ever being around too if I had dropped a sewer grate on someone’s head. But then again, something about his voice sounded different… Off…
All I really know is if Timmy hadn’t insisted on going first, it would’ve been my brains oozing down that storm drain pipe. It still haunts me. And I still can’t shake the feeling that the drain wanted it to be me.