“No, that’s not how you do it,” I remember her saying to me.
We’d play in the sand box and I’d make my GI Joes build forts and point guns.
“This is where the barbed wire will go,” I’d say and pour some of my cherry kool aid in a hole. “That’s the blood of all the dead guys.”
“No, that’s not how you do it,” she’d say again.
“But you have to have guys on the look out.”
“No.”
“Then how do you do it?” I’d ask, since she knew everything.
“Set up a well,” she said. “Make them chop wood for fire to keep warm. Make that guy carry water,” and she gave him a bucket to carry.
“But what about the bad guys?” I protested.
“Oh, they’ll be doing the same thing.”
