Author's Note: I couldn't resist writing this quickly... Davy's idea of a perfect bachelor's night.
— Davy —
Monday, August 8th, 4:00am
Green Gables, Avonlea, PEI
I of course left a note for Marilla before grabbing my fishing gear, heading to our rendezvous point where the fellas were waiting. Just in a hallow near Berry's Pond, or as Anne calls it, Lake of Shining Waters. Anthony brought our gear, to help us look the part. Feathers, paint, and costumes. We were going to be wild men, Indians. He'd raided his aunt's feather duster, which he'd died green and spread the feathers among us. Truth though we couldn't decide who we were, Robin's Merry men or indians. So while Fred laughed at us, the four of us argued over which we were. Then, all of us grinning we slipped over to Apple Bough, with a quiet signal, Fred lead us fellas into the house, up the stairs to tip toe.
We jumped onto Gilbert in his bed with yelps and screams, and dragged him out of bed. Didn't even let him dress, instead, with whoops and hollers we carried him down the stairs and out the house. And we left with the roaring laugh of Mr. Blythe as we kidnapped Gilbert for a proper bachelor's night.
Our first stop was the fishing hole, where we finally let Gilbert dress (Fred had stashed some of Gilbert's old clothes there earlier. And covered him with paint and stuck feathers in his hair. Then we'd tried to fish. Must have been too loud for the fish.
So instead, we'd all come up with poems for our future brides, or current brides in the case of Fred and Gilbert. Fred compared Diana to Sunday dinner. Best meal of the week. Sam compared his future bride, whom ever she might be though Anthony laughed and claimed it was Alice over in Carmody, to warm darned socks on a winter's night. He'd just blushed and claimed that his dad always insisted that was the best thing in a wife. You can tell a bad wife by holes in a man's socks.
Anthony compared his future wife to a fashion plate, insisting that she'd be the best dressed girl. And Milty said he wouldn't bother with a wife. But if he had to she'd tell him he was incredible at least once a day. I said my future wife would make me plum salt water taffy every week. And keep me well supplied.
Gilbert just got dreamy and we made him make up a poem for Anne. Even write his down. He kept arguing over with us about it, and we were all grumbling for our breakfast, which we ate over a camp fire while we waited for him to finish it. He wrote two, refused to let us see the second claiming it was for Anne's eyes only. And the first he read to us. Sappy stuff. Mine was way better. So of course Fred wrestled him with our help, got the second. He took one look, blushed and shoved it into the flames. He told us younger fellas that we could write saucy poems to our future wives when we married them but not before. All I saw was a comparison of Anne to a milking cow. I figured I'd just have to ask Gilbert later, and add it to my list.
Gilbert tried to leave, insisting there was much to do still, working on his speech for the committee, preparations for the wedding, picking up Reverend Allen and Mrs. Allen…. And Aunt Mary Maria. Well, we had it all covered. Even promised to clean out Mr. Harrison's barn if he'd pick up Aunt Mary Maria that afternoon. Which was why, still dressed in our indian garb, while Mr. Harrison went to Carmody that afternoon, us fellas were mucking out the barn, while making up songs for Gilbert and Anne.
We even went fishing. All in all we didn't let Gilbert think too much on anything but being a boy one finally night. He'd be a man tomorrow Fred said. Not that I understood why. I guess because he'd have more responsibilities. Have to take care of Anne. And around Supper time, we had moved onto the barn at Apple Bough, and with several of the older men joining us, we all laughed as we ate Mrs. Blythe's cooking there in the barn. And I proudly passed out salt water taffy. I'd spent all my savings on it, as a gift for Gilbert. "What real men do."
They all laughed, and with promises to wake us, we fell asleep that night in the barn, with Mr. Blythe having set his alarm clock early enough so we wouldn't miss the sunrise. And to see if Reverend Allen would keep preaching as the rooster crowed.