Hi...first I want to both thank and aplogize to the writers of Eight Is Enough, from whom I 'borrowed' the premise to this story...but a family is a family, no matter what your last name is!
LUCK OF THE PARTRIDGE
It was a warm summer day in San Pueblo, a Friday, to be exact. School had been out for 3 solid weeks, now, and already Danny Partridge was bored. He and Punky lounged in Danny's room, Danny on his back on the bed, and Punky on the floor. They had listened to records until their ears hurt, so now they just more or less vegged out.
Keith had gone to the park to play some flag football with his friends, Laurie was shopping, and Chris and Tracy were over at the Monahan's, most likely getting filled up with brownies and listening to Mrs. Monahan's stories of life back in Ireland.
Yes, sir, Danny thought, this was going to be one long summer.
There was a knock on the door, and Danny didn't even bother to look to see who it was. "Come in," he called, staring at the ceiling.
Shirley poked her head inside. "Here's your mail, honey. Oh, hi, Punky, I didn't know you were here." Shirley smiled, entering and handing Danny a small stack of letters.
"Hi, Mrs. Partridge." Punky said lazily. "I can go home if you want me to."
"Now, why would I want you to go home?" Shirley smiled at him, shaking her head. "You may stay as long as you'd like. I'll have lunch ready in about an hour, if you'd like to join us."
"Yeah!" Punky's eyes widened. "I'd like that."
"Now, in the meantime, why don't you boys go outside and get some fresh air? It's too nice a day to be holed up in here."
"Okay, Mom, in a minute. I wanna read my mail, first." Danny was already sorting through the letters she'd brought.
"Expecting anything interesting?" Shirley asked, starting for the door.
"No, but you never know. One of these envelopes could hold the secret to a very profitable summer."
"I see, well, good luck," Shirley said, trying not to laugh as she left the room.
"Let's see," Danny muttered, tearing open one envelope. "Huh. Garbage." He wadded up the paper after reading it.
"How can you tell?"
"It was one of those goofy chain letters, you know, where they want you to send a dollar to ten people you know. Sorry, but I don't send money to anyone!" Danny bulls-eyed the wad perfectly into the trashcan near the door.
"A chain letter?" Punky frowned. "Man, didn't you at least read it? Didn't it say you'd have bad luck for breaking the chain?" He scrambled over to the trashcan.
"Hah. Some bad luck," Danny pulled a dollar bill from the envelope. "I just got me a free buck."
Punky retrieved the letter, smoothing it out on the floor. He scanned the words, shaking his head. "Yep, that's what it says, all right. 'Bad luck will fall on you and yours should you break the chain.'" Punky looked up at his friend. "Aren't you worried?"
"About what?" Danny pulled a face. "Those things are just a hoax. They try to scare you into sending money out, and, well, you know me. Money is sacred to me."
"I know, but…" Punky waved the paper at him. "Wait until something happens! You'll change your mind!"
Danny rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever. Here's an idea, you keep the chain letter. I'm keeping the dollar!" He looked greedily at it, his eyes nearly dancing.
===
Keith, Skizzy, Gordy, Ralph, Archie and Mark were in the middle of their flag football game. As it was, Ralph, Archie and Mark were ahead by one touchdown, but Keith, Skizzy and Gordy were in the huddle, discussing a strategy to even the score.
As the quarterback, Keith called the play. "Okay, I'll fake a handoff to Skiz, then Gordy, you go around the left flank, head toward the goal and I'll throw it to you. They won't know what hit 'em."
"Okay, but make sure you get me right on the numbers. If I have to make any adjustments, the play'll be over. Mark's pretty quick." Gordy told him.
"Oh, I will," Keith grinned. "It'll be perfect."
"Watch out for Ralph. When he smells a trick, he goes for the throat. And you being a singer, well, that could be pretty bad," Skizzy peered over at his friends' heads at Ralph as he paced back and forth beyond them.
"Don't worry. We can't miss with this one, especially if you block Ralph for me," he told Skizzy. "Then we're home free." Keith clapped both boys on the backs and they broke the huddle, taking their places.
At center position, Gordy waited for Keith to call the signal to hike it. Hearing him, he tossed it to him and followed Keith's instructions, heading around the left toward the goal.
Keith had barely gotten the ball in his hands when he saw Ralph thundering toward him. As promised, he pretended to hand the ball to Skizzy, then backed up, preparing to throw the pass. Something wasn't right. Ralph was still charging at him; where was Skizzy? Keith looked over to find his friend face down on the grass, thanks to a counter block from Archie. Crap!
He had no time to find Gordy, now. He didn't even have time to think! Ralph nailed him right in the midsection with his shoulder, leveling him like a sheaf of wheat.
Keith grunted both from Ralph's vicious blow and having the wind knocked out of him as he slammed into the ground. The ball flew out of his grip and Mark intercepted it, running for their goal free and clear.
"All right!" Archie crowed, following Mark into the end zone and giving him a high five.
Skizzy crawled up, grass stains all over his shirt and a sheepish look on his face. "Sorry, Partridge…"
Keith huddled there on the grass for a moment, trying to catch his breath, and his teammates went over to him.
"You okay?" Gordy asked.
Keith winced, slowly sitting up and holding his left side. "Yeah, I guess…jeez, Ralph, you didn't have to hit me so hard! Besides, this is flag football, you jerk!" He breathed hard as the other boys surrounded him as well.
"Your flag fell off when you faked the handoff," Ralph explained. "But I am sorry, Keith. I didn't mean to level you like that."
Gordy and Skizzy pulled Keith to his feet. To their chagrin, he wasn't able to straighten up right away. Ralph exchanged concerned looks with the others.
"Come on, Keith, quit goofing around. It wasn't that hard," Mark kidded.
"How do you know?" Keith snapped, limping over to a bench on the sideline with Skizzy's help. It seemed that every breath he took aggravated the pain near his ribs.
"Maybe we'd better call it off. He can't play like that," Gordy frowned, watching Keith deal with his pain.
"He's faking!" Archie shook his head. "You're losing by two touchdowns, and this is Partridge's way of getting out of it."
"He's not faking," Gordy shook his head. "Keith's not a quitter, we all know that. He plays hard and fair. He's hurt, you guys."
Gordy moved over to join Keith on the bench. "Want me to drive you home?"
Exhaling gingerly, Keith thought for a moment, then nodded. "I guess so. Sorry I ruined the play."
"Not your fault. I told you Ralph could smell a trick. And all this time, I thought he was more into food."
Keith laughed in spite of the pain, letting Gordy help him to his feet.
continued...
LUCK OF THE PARTRIDGE
It was a warm summer day in San Pueblo, a Friday, to be exact. School had been out for 3 solid weeks, now, and already Danny Partridge was bored. He and Punky lounged in Danny's room, Danny on his back on the bed, and Punky on the floor. They had listened to records until their ears hurt, so now they just more or less vegged out.
Keith had gone to the park to play some flag football with his friends, Laurie was shopping, and Chris and Tracy were over at the Monahan's, most likely getting filled up with brownies and listening to Mrs. Monahan's stories of life back in Ireland.
Yes, sir, Danny thought, this was going to be one long summer.
There was a knock on the door, and Danny didn't even bother to look to see who it was. "Come in," he called, staring at the ceiling.
Shirley poked her head inside. "Here's your mail, honey. Oh, hi, Punky, I didn't know you were here." Shirley smiled, entering and handing Danny a small stack of letters.
"Hi, Mrs. Partridge." Punky said lazily. "I can go home if you want me to."
"Now, why would I want you to go home?" Shirley smiled at him, shaking her head. "You may stay as long as you'd like. I'll have lunch ready in about an hour, if you'd like to join us."
"Yeah!" Punky's eyes widened. "I'd like that."
"Now, in the meantime, why don't you boys go outside and get some fresh air? It's too nice a day to be holed up in here."
"Okay, Mom, in a minute. I wanna read my mail, first." Danny was already sorting through the letters she'd brought.
"Expecting anything interesting?" Shirley asked, starting for the door.
"No, but you never know. One of these envelopes could hold the secret to a very profitable summer."
"I see, well, good luck," Shirley said, trying not to laugh as she left the room.
"Let's see," Danny muttered, tearing open one envelope. "Huh. Garbage." He wadded up the paper after reading it.
"How can you tell?"
"It was one of those goofy chain letters, you know, where they want you to send a dollar to ten people you know. Sorry, but I don't send money to anyone!" Danny bulls-eyed the wad perfectly into the trashcan near the door.
"A chain letter?" Punky frowned. "Man, didn't you at least read it? Didn't it say you'd have bad luck for breaking the chain?" He scrambled over to the trashcan.
"Hah. Some bad luck," Danny pulled a dollar bill from the envelope. "I just got me a free buck."
Punky retrieved the letter, smoothing it out on the floor. He scanned the words, shaking his head. "Yep, that's what it says, all right. 'Bad luck will fall on you and yours should you break the chain.'" Punky looked up at his friend. "Aren't you worried?"
"About what?" Danny pulled a face. "Those things are just a hoax. They try to scare you into sending money out, and, well, you know me. Money is sacred to me."
"I know, but…" Punky waved the paper at him. "Wait until something happens! You'll change your mind!"
Danny rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever. Here's an idea, you keep the chain letter. I'm keeping the dollar!" He looked greedily at it, his eyes nearly dancing.
===
Keith, Skizzy, Gordy, Ralph, Archie and Mark were in the middle of their flag football game. As it was, Ralph, Archie and Mark were ahead by one touchdown, but Keith, Skizzy and Gordy were in the huddle, discussing a strategy to even the score.
As the quarterback, Keith called the play. "Okay, I'll fake a handoff to Skiz, then Gordy, you go around the left flank, head toward the goal and I'll throw it to you. They won't know what hit 'em."
"Okay, but make sure you get me right on the numbers. If I have to make any adjustments, the play'll be over. Mark's pretty quick." Gordy told him.
"Oh, I will," Keith grinned. "It'll be perfect."
"Watch out for Ralph. When he smells a trick, he goes for the throat. And you being a singer, well, that could be pretty bad," Skizzy peered over at his friends' heads at Ralph as he paced back and forth beyond them.
"Don't worry. We can't miss with this one, especially if you block Ralph for me," he told Skizzy. "Then we're home free." Keith clapped both boys on the backs and they broke the huddle, taking their places.
At center position, Gordy waited for Keith to call the signal to hike it. Hearing him, he tossed it to him and followed Keith's instructions, heading around the left toward the goal.
Keith had barely gotten the ball in his hands when he saw Ralph thundering toward him. As promised, he pretended to hand the ball to Skizzy, then backed up, preparing to throw the pass. Something wasn't right. Ralph was still charging at him; where was Skizzy? Keith looked over to find his friend face down on the grass, thanks to a counter block from Archie. Crap!
He had no time to find Gordy, now. He didn't even have time to think! Ralph nailed him right in the midsection with his shoulder, leveling him like a sheaf of wheat.
Keith grunted both from Ralph's vicious blow and having the wind knocked out of him as he slammed into the ground. The ball flew out of his grip and Mark intercepted it, running for their goal free and clear.
"All right!" Archie crowed, following Mark into the end zone and giving him a high five.
Skizzy crawled up, grass stains all over his shirt and a sheepish look on his face. "Sorry, Partridge…"
Keith huddled there on the grass for a moment, trying to catch his breath, and his teammates went over to him.
"You okay?" Gordy asked.
Keith winced, slowly sitting up and holding his left side. "Yeah, I guess…jeez, Ralph, you didn't have to hit me so hard! Besides, this is flag football, you jerk!" He breathed hard as the other boys surrounded him as well.
"Your flag fell off when you faked the handoff," Ralph explained. "But I am sorry, Keith. I didn't mean to level you like that."
Gordy and Skizzy pulled Keith to his feet. To their chagrin, he wasn't able to straighten up right away. Ralph exchanged concerned looks with the others.
"Come on, Keith, quit goofing around. It wasn't that hard," Mark kidded.
"How do you know?" Keith snapped, limping over to a bench on the sideline with Skizzy's help. It seemed that every breath he took aggravated the pain near his ribs.
"Maybe we'd better call it off. He can't play like that," Gordy frowned, watching Keith deal with his pain.
"He's faking!" Archie shook his head. "You're losing by two touchdowns, and this is Partridge's way of getting out of it."
"He's not faking," Gordy shook his head. "Keith's not a quitter, we all know that. He plays hard and fair. He's hurt, you guys."
Gordy moved over to join Keith on the bench. "Want me to drive you home?"
Exhaling gingerly, Keith thought for a moment, then nodded. "I guess so. Sorry I ruined the play."
"Not your fault. I told you Ralph could smell a trick. And all this time, I thought he was more into food."
Keith laughed in spite of the pain, letting Gordy help him to his feet.
continued...