Originally published in Dogzplot
Because Julia Farley's face was concave, we made her our buddy.
On Saturdays, after H.R. Puffnstuff, the guys and I would bang on the Farley's front door and ask Mrs. Farley if Julia could come outdoors to play. Of course, Mrs. Farley always agreed. She even offered us brownies if we promised to return our spoon-faced friend before noon.
We sometimes laid Julia down on her back on the grass, then lugged the long garden hose over. So she wouldn't drown, one of the guys poked a couple of straws into her nostrils. We released a dozen guppies, and laughed as they splashed in the shallows of Julia's sunken face. Once, one of the guys whistled over a stray dog and encouraged it to lap the water out of Julia's face.
In the playground, we boys gripped Julia by her ankles, raised her feet into the air and used her face to shovel the sand for treasure. When the dreaded hour of noon drew near, we took turns resting our elbows in Julia's sunken face while watching planes soar in the sky overhead.
Like the cherry blossoms and the nesting of birds in the trees, our fun with Julia repeated itself year after year. But about the time Julia's face filled out, her breasts and behind did the same. Older boys began to drop by the Farley home.
We truly did miss Julia Farley's company. Her replacement - Duck-Lipped Donna Dixon - was neither half the fun, nor nowhere near as willing.