On Friday night, the sewy hole gang formed a circle jerk. We pulled our puds en masse to the rhythm of scratchy records like "Bang-Shang-A-Lang."

Me and my pals were vicious little devils on banana bikes peddling through town looking for trouble.

We taunted dogs and pulled pigtails. And when camping out by the sewy hole, we boiled frogs in pork 'n' beans cans.

I was slue-foot.

Bananas were something you only ate on holidays.

In my family, biscuits were a staple with every meal.