The Almost Summer

Chapter 19: Arthur♥

I should probably explain. Arthur is a drumstick.

(Not the chicken kind.)

Arthur has become the kind of inside joke that so many people know about it can’t really be counted as “inside” anymore. I can’t even remember why we thought naming a drumstick Arthur is funny, but it still manages to make me laugh a little, even now.

This is why I’m sat, in high 20’s weather, in Matty’s garden in itchy tights (tights are respectful), a black top and a skirt for a funeral held for a wooden stick. And I’m not the only one, the entirety of our gang is here, also decked out in black.

“Thanks for coming. This day marks the passing of a person who is kind. Generous. Loyal. A true friend.” Matty stands by the swing set, clutching a shoebox lined with tissue paper.  “Today is a day without Arthur, and therefore a day which is just that bit darker. And now, Charlie will read us a poem.”

Matty sits down unceremoniously on the grass as Charlie makes his way to the front. He clears his throat before pulling a crumpled slip of paper from his pocket and smoothing it out.

“A poem for Arthur:

You were the mightiest stick to hit the stage,

No, that is not an innuendo Lucas.

Don’t look offended, we know you were thinking it,

Do not disgrace Arthurs name with your perverted teenage mind.

Anyway, the point is you were mighty,

Fresh out the package and already chipped,

You used your splinters as armour,

Playing us through the intros and outros and solos,

One time we left you on the bus,

But we are deeply sorry for that.

Two breaks didn’t stop you,

You wore your sellotape like a battle scar,

But sometime sellotape isn’t enough,

Duct tape really is your colour,

And when duct tape isn’t enough,

We all know how “super” superglue is,

Hint – it’s not very super,

And now your time is over,