We were poor Christmases would come and go.
But what with ten kids and my dad's Meager paycheck.
There just was not enough money to go around.
Especially for frivolous christmas presents.
I remember that year when it all changed though
so long ago.
The kids at school got spanking new
scooters and new racing bikes.
But my dad had attended a rummage sale.
At the church bazaar.
Where he normally bought our clothes.
But he struck a deal on large Hoop and stick
from the Victorian era.
It was not a bike but it was a Christmas present.
I was delighted I practiced with it doing swift turns
fast Burst down the road stopping on a sixpence.
The stick was like an orchestra conductors Batton.
I could make that hoop do anything.
I took it to school four miles away every single day.
I kept it within  the bike sheds
with all the gleaming sporty bikes.
I did not have the money to buy a padlock.
One day I went after last class to get my Hoop and stick.
And to my horror
It was gone.
I was inconsolable.
Weeping like a baby.
Then the police car came
The lady cop was sweet.
I'm sorry bout the hoop thing kid
I sobbed so badly
Stop crying she said
In an attempt to console me
But I sobbed harder.
Look it's not good in cases like these she fessed up.
I am not going to blow smoke up your *** kid.
It's unlikely to be retrieved.
No witnesses no fingerprints nothing
A clean heist.
But if it does
The next forty eight hours are vital.
If it shows I will personally
run it home for you in the squad car.
But I just wailed harder.
*** she said why are whining still?
I said  sobbing the words spurting  out staccato.
That's ...sob ..all well. Sob ...and good
But how the **** am I going to get home tonight.