How are the boys feeling?

Updated: Apr 24

We were conversing over dinner which was a basic meal of Grilled Cheese and Tomato Soup, which my mom had made. We called ourselves the No Beaches. Yes, this is a play-on-words, pun, or whatever you want to call it. There were seven of us in total. Obviously, all boys because no beaches. Back in seventh grade, we all thought it was funny. Plus, the moms couldn’t get mad about it because we lied about the reason behind the name.

“Well mom, we’ve never been to the beach,” I said. “Can you even imagine the sand between your toes in Los Angeles? That’s our goal!”

“OK, honey,” she said, “that’s very sweet and I wish you all the best.”

We are from a small town in Wyoming called Chugwater. You can say it a few more times; it truly is fun to say. One thing about all of us is that we’ve never actually seen water chug. The waves crashing and chugging on the shores? A myth to us. Let alone a vast amount of water as it is. You should do one Google search. I’ll wait. Got it? Well, you’ll notice the only thing we are famous for is a Soda Fountain. Big, freaking woop. Name one person who has ever wanted to travel to Chugwater, freaking Wyoming, and see a Soda Fountain! Update, you can’t find a single soul on this God-forsaken planet.

Anyways, that Grilled Cheese and Tomato soup meal is where we started planning our venture.

“How are you doing?” My friend Brandon asked me. He probably saw me not eating my soup.

“I woke up feeling Kangaroo,” I said, “and now Turtle, but on the edge of Sloth.” Maybe I should’ve mentioned that. That was a thing we did. We decided emotions were too boring and linear, so now we describe how we feel based on a stereotypical animal’s actions. You know? Just no beaches things.

“I agree,” He said, “I woke up feeling Lion and now I’m heavy Sloth, maybe light Panda.”

“We should do something about this,” I said, “How about we actually get to the beach!” All the boys started cheering, yelling, laughing, and everything else seventh-grade boys do with their mouths full of food.

“I have an idea,” Kyle, from the other end of the table, said. “We can get bus tickets.”

“No,” Brandon said, “You need someone 18 or older to get on the bus.”

“My brother’s 19,” another boy said.

“No way, José,” I said, “no beaches only, or no trip.”

“Right,” Brandon said, “this is a no beaches trip.” To my shock, but satisfaction, my mom chimed in.

“I could just drive you all,” my mom said, “it’s really no problem with the new Honda Pilot.” She had to present the car as if she was an advertiser for Honda, I guess.

“Thank you, Mrs. Drew’s Mom,” Kyle said.

“So,” Brandon said, “when are we leaving?”

“Wait,” I said, “you’re serious, mom?”

“Why not?” My mom said, “could be fun.”

“Brandon, Drew, guys,” I said, “Didn’t we decide this was going to be No Beaches or nothing? We can’t have my mom go!” There were some subtle murmurs, but the boys agreed we’d just have to wait till we were older and could with just us.


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“Why did you tell me that dumbass story, Dad?” My 21-year-old newly engaged son asked me.

“I really don’t know,” I said, “I guess I wanted you to know to always keep the boys close. Don’t feel like you can’t have no beaches moments.”

“Thanks, Dad, but I hang with the boys all the time.” He paused. “Do you?”

“No, son.” I started to tear up, “the no beaches and I are all dino-thors.” I was slurring my words, “we went to the beach. Just not together.”

“OK, Dad. Let’s get you and your drunk ass home.”

“Congratulations by the way. I think you and Katie will be happy together.”

“Uh-huh. Just so you know, we are both feeling squirrel right now.” I started to laugh harder than I could possibly remember.


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