19 July 2025, @mariannewest's Freewrite Writing Prompt Day 2803: pass me the helmet
“The cool thing, George, about your grandfather and my dad, is that they don't spend a lot of time just being mad when kids mess up – they just deal with us and we ain't gotta tiptoe around them. It's bad when it is bad, but it's over when it is over.”
“Yeah, Milton, and now that we voluntarily co-ground in advance, life is actually not that bad.”
Nine-year-old best friends George Ludlow and Milton Trent were reading, talking, staying out of trouble, and figuring out life under the watchful eye of Milton's father, Sgt. Vincent Trent, who smiled gently as Milton recalled an example.
“So, there was this time when our cousin Joe was doing motorcycle life when he came to visit, and Melvin decided he was going to get in on it for a joyride – he wasn't always 21 and settled down like he is now.”
“Yeah, like it took us until nine years old to figure out how to voluntarily co-ground,” George said.
“Right, and since we invented that, Melvin and Tom had to go through some stuff when they were like 15 and 16 because we weren't old enough to help them out,” Milton said.
“Right, right,” George said.
“Anyway, Melvin got all dressed up for his night ride, only to run into Dad in the garage. You know Dad reads minds and stuff,” Milton said.
Eleven-year-old Velma, Milton's sister, was coming up onto the porch and was going to point out that no, their father just knew his sons and their friends never looked behind them, but Sgt. Trent put his finger to his lips, and Velma went on into the house, shaking her head for reasons George and Milton didn't even see, much less understand.
“But all he said was, 'We don't steal in this house, and that includes joy riding. You haven't done anything wrong yet, though, Melvin – pass me the helmet and go back to bed, and all this goes away.'”
“Wow – your dad is really chilled out – no lectures and stuff,” George said.
“My dad's attitude is that he's going to explain things if he needs to,” Milton said. “But if he is telling you to do something, that's going to be plain and clear and you won't need to do anything but to do exactly what he said.”
“Well, Grandma said that for enlisted men, a master sergeant is about where a captain is in how they operate, so, yeah,” George said. “Papa is like that too – his voice alone gives you the idea that there really isn't anything to do but what he said, because the earth might open up if he has to say it twice.”
“Yeah, and when your grandfather is Robert Edward 'Hell to Pay' Ludlow, that definitely ain't what you want,” Milton said.
“I think better listening to him, though,” George said. “It's like his voice calms my nerves down a lot of the time.”
“Yeah, he has that going for him like Dad does too,” Milton said. “We just gotta teach your grandfather to rap real quick. It's like chicken has Colonel Sanders – your grandfather can be the Capt. Ludlow of rapping.”
“Nope – where is Melvin getting a beat lower than his voice?” George said.
“How could I forget,” Milton said. “That's just unfortunate – another music career limited by the fact that we just don't have the technology yet.”
“Life is just not always fair, and I hate that for Papa,” George said. “But if we don't tell him, he won't know what he is missing.”
“Yeah, that's the kindest thing to do,” Milton said. “Sometimes we just gotta keep things that people just wouldn't understand to ourselves, to protect their minds and stuff until we can get the technology to solve more problems in the world.”