The Hughes brothers were no strangers to mischief in the otherwise tranquil town of Lemon Grove, California. However, it was not uncommon for the local police to pay the neighborhood a visit and check up on the young teens when something went awry. But both Greg and Vernon would soon find themselves in handcuffs over what began as a friendly game of darts.
“Dad won’t let us go down the street because of you stealing a newspaper from old man Johnson’s porch,” Greg lamented.
“A few days house restriction is nothing; you got us two weeks for shooting the porch light out with your BB gun at the Benson’s house,” Vernon retorted.
The energetic boys always seemed to find trouble wherever and whatever they did, much to the chagrin of their father, a US Navy officer based in San Diego. His style of military discipline never went over well with his sons, noticeable to the extent that they grew ever more rebellious.
It’s not that they were dumb. Greg had straight A grades and was in the 9th grade, while Vernon maintained a B+ average. Greg never studied, as he did his homework in class. Vernon never really applied himself, preferring to pass notes to the hot girls. He passed because of his great memorization skills.
“So how about a game of darts?” Greg asked his brother.
“Boring, like watching paint dry on a park bench,” Vernon replied.
“Oh, not the game of darts I invented.”
“I’m all ears, Mr. Hasbro. What are the rules?” Vernon folded his arms waiting for what he believed would be another lame game.
“Here’s the deal. Simple, really. You grab 20 darts in one hand and throw them all at the dartboard in one throw. Then we add up the score and the first one to 1,000 points wins,” Greg explained.
“All right, let’s do it. Bet $5 I win,” Vernon added.
“Bet!”
Vernon, or Vern as he preferred to be called, flipped a coin to see who would toss the darts first. Greg called heads and won as the dime landed on heads. The dartboard was on the back of the garage door, a ping pong table separating the space and serving as the line from which they would throw.
Greg heaved the colorful darts first and they counted the score. Then Vern threw his 20. After a few throws, the score was somewhat lopsided and Vern as far from happy. He threw the sharp missiles at the board and then as Greg was counting, disappeared from sight. Thinking Vern had gone out in the backyard, he tossed the handful of darts haphazardly to catch up with his brother. In midflight Vern stood up from under the ping pong table. Several darts struck him in the back, and one lodged in his right ear lobe.
"You're all ears now, dude," Greg mumbled to himself.
Greg scooted out the garage door and into the yard, headed towards the cement wall that separated the Hughes house from the Downey’s ranch style home. Vern snatched a bow and arrow from near a water heater, then launched the arrow at Greg as he scaled the wall. Miss! The arrow has barely missed hitting Greg's head.
Greg peeked through a redwood gate. “Holy crap, you hit the Downey’s swimming pool! The arrow is stuck five inches below the water line!” Greg jumped back over the five foot wall and they both dashed back into the garage. “Now what, genius?" Greg inquired.
“Simple. I grab the arrow, pull it out, and nobody will be the wiser,” Vern answered rather confidently. He hopped over and did just that. The teens went about their playful habits for the next few hours until it was dinner time and their mother called them to the supper table.
The family gathered for their meal. Just then, old man Downey, balding, perhaps in his mid-60s, appeared at the wall staring. “Honey," mother said, “Mr. Downey wants to talk to you.”
“I swear I can never eat a meal in peace around here!” Dad pushed back his chair, opened the sliding glass door open and strode to the wall. In moments he turned around and gave the boys his infamous 1,000 yard stare. Trouble!
“What did you boys do now?” their Mom asked suspiciously.
“Nothing!” they blurted in unison. Then their Dad returned quickly. He was hot as a BBQ grill, his face red as a freshly picked beet. “There’s 2 inches of water all over the grass over there and a hole in the lining of the pool,” he began, “who did it?”
Greg ran from the dining room table, Vern on his heels. They were much too quick for their father. He whistled and yelled for them but there was no reply to be heard. They had scattered to the winds. Meanwhile, Mr. Downey called the police because the father of the boys said he wasn’t about to pay for the damages.
Two patrol cars pulled up at the Hughes house and the nosy neighbors came out to “water their lawns.” The cops began their search for Greg and Vern, knowing them very well from previous incidents. Officer Brown found Greg hiding under a speedboat and cuffed him. Officer Diggs found Vern hiding in an oak tree three houses down, the elderly woman neighbor having ratted him out.
The officers brought the teens back to their house and informed the parents that the boys were being taken to the local precinct for questioning. Their Mom sobbed softly, their father just stood silently with his hands on his hips.
“Hey, Officer Brown, bet you couldn’t catch me if I would have run,” Greg crowed.
The cop laughed and said, “Yeah, why is that?”
“Because you stuffed your face with 11 donuts on the way here.”
Three hours later the teens were picked up by their father from the police station. Mr. Downy agreed to let the boys off the hook if they would mow and trim his front and back yards for six months. They got off easy. Again.
On the drive home, Greg and Vern knew they were in for a belt lashing. Greg asked, “Dad, how do you tell the difference between an alligator and a crocodile?" He paused as his Dad drove in silence.
"You will see one of us later and one of us in a while.” With that, the teens jumped from the car and didn’t return home until their father went on a mission overseas.
