Tug Baker and the Silver Gloves (F)

The Bakers’ dogs Macy and Lacy were barking and chasing around beneath the apple trees down by shed. Tug stared at the trees to see if something was out there, something that should not be out there.

Yes, something shiny was hanging down from one of the trees. But what?

Down the hill, Tug jogged. Closer and closer, and then—what? Gloves? Gloves. Two bright shiny gloves. Kind of like boxing gloves. But not. Kind of like his daddy’s work gloves. But not.

They were hanging over a low branch. Tug saw they were very, very large, much bigger than his father’s. But he had to try them on. Yes, much too big.

But wait! His hands suddenly grew larger. The gloves fit just right.  “Awesome!” he said. His hands were as big as a soccer ball, but still shaped like hands. He closed his fingers and made a fist. Huge!

Tug reached up to the branch and—zoom—he pulled himself up as easy as one, two, three. He reached higher and again right up to the next branch.

Right away Tug thought about the elm tree up by the house. He climbed down and ran up the hill to that great big old tree so much taller than the Baker’s house.

One hand reached up to a low branch—up! The other hand the next branch—up! And again. And again. And again. He didn’t climb, he was being pulled. First one hand, then the next.

His hands were so strong. He could just hang from one hand and wave with the other.

What if he let go? No problem! He just reached out and grabbed a branch like he was grabbing a straw out of his mint chocolate chip milkshake.

Now, where was the biggest tree in the neighborhood? The maple in front of Mr. Dixon’s house. The oak at the entrance to the neighborhood. The tall pines next to the swimming pool.

Tug was so excited to try out the gloves, he almost fell. But he didn’t. He caught himself. One-handed! Down he swung to the ground.

“Now, what do I say to Mom?” Tug wondered aloud.

He thought he would take off the gloves, maybe hang them on his bike. Be hard to explain these great big gloves.

Tug pulled off the gloves and set them on the seat of his bike. Before he could turn to go inside, a loud explosion! Boom!

Bang! Bang! The gloves shot up into the air over his head. Pop, pop, pop, pop, like firecrackers. Then a loud whistle and the two gloves flew around in circles. Smaller and smaller the gloves and the circles they made.

He watched with wide eyes. Smaller. Smaller. Smaller. Poof. Gone!

Tug’s mother came out into the yard. “Tug, what in the world was all that noise?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing here to see, Mom.”

“Well, I never, but okay. Make sure you put out water for the dogs.”

“Yes, Mom.”

Tug looked one more time to the sky, but it was all just clouds and sun.

Lyman 2021