One of the structures on the boys’ playground was a sturdy ladder about 48" wide and not more than 5' high. It was a simple thing. Two 4" x 4" posts were set in concrete. Rungs were made of 2" pipes driven through holes drilled in the uprights. Several little guys could climb, twist, or hang by their knees at the same time.
An interesting thing about the ladder was that the pipe rungs were not capped. The ends of the pipes stopped at the outside edges of the uprights. Some of the boys made up games such as poking sticks into the pipes or using them as speaking tubes.
One of the second-graders, "Ronnie," was a genuine rascal. If there was trouble, he was sure to be involved. He argued with us monitors as well as with the teachers. They were constantly calling him by his entire name.
I was keeping an eye on the slides and swings one day when a boy ran up to me and said that Ronnie did something bad. That was no surprise; it was Ronnie’s nature to do something bad.
We hurried over to the climbing ladder. Ronnie was standing at one side of the structure. He looked kind of mad as he watched me approach, like he hadn't expected my interference. He was also covering his zipper with both hands. At the other end of the ladder there was a damp spot on the gravel playing surface and a crying boy whose clothes appeared to be wet. The wetnss was odd because no food or drink was allowed on the playgrounds. As I got closer, the wet boy yelled between sobs, "Ronnie pee’d on me!"
Believe me, that was a new development in my tenure as monitor! I could just imagine Ronnie whipping out his dickie and aiming a stream of piss through the air at another guy. But as I soon learned, that wasn’t quite the way it happened.
Ronnie had told the other boy to go stand at the opposite side of the ladder and see what would happen. Then the little trouble-maker pulled down his zipper (yes, right in front of the other boys) and poked his weenie into one of the pipes. As soon as he was situated to suit himself, he released his pee. From there his piss surged through the pipe and flooded the innocent kid’s pants.That wasn’t the end of it. Now that they had my attention, all the boys were talking at once. Ronnie apparently pee’d out in the open whenever he felt like it, as long as we monitors were busy elsewhere. Sometimes he flopped his wee cock out and pissed while riding the merry-go-round, sometimes from the steps of the slide, almost anywhere. He urinated during nearly every recess and dared the other guys to tell on him.
I should have marched Ronnie to the office and described his infractions to the staff. But the more I thought about it, the less willing I was to face the embarrassment of explaining the situation to an adult. Best to handle it right there. I called Ronnie over – still hiding his crotch -- and used my sternest sixth-grade voice while all the little guys listened: "If you want to show that nasty thing to somebody, show it to me, Ronald James Briggs! Otherwise, keep your bleeping zipper shut." While I spoke he crammed his little thingie back into his pants, giving me an inadvertent look at his miniature asset.
There was no genuine authority behind my words and I could tell that the kid was sneering at me.
I continued to get intermittent reports of Ronnie pissing in front of other boys (he seemed to like an audience) but he apparently had enough sense not to get anybody else wet.
Although I never told the principal or teachers about Ronnie’s water games, some of the guys my own age got a kick out of hearing the story. I would usually end by saying "At least I got a peek at his little wiener!"
We laughed so hard that we almost pee’d on each other.
Regi
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