[Enter Boruch]: Hey, guys! Where’re we goin’ today?
NOSSON: Hold it, Aron isn’t here yet.
BORUCH [squinting into the distance]: Isn’t that him over there? Hey, Aron!
[Enter Aron, face red and sweaty. As he rides vigorously toward them, he keeps casting furtive glances behind him.]
ARON: Hello, you guys have no idea what I had to do to get here. I had to sneak my bike out of the shed, without the cleaning help noticing — you know she’s got a thing about my bike, just ’cuz of one silly little accident a while ago. Anyway, at the last minute she almost spotted me. I hopped on and rode off like the wind. Whew!
BORUCH: Gosh, sounds scary! [turns to the others] So what’s the plan, guys?
GERSHON: Why don’t we cycle through the woods? There’s a path we can follow. And then we can stop somewhere for a picnic! Did everyone bring snacks?
[The others pull out offerings ranging from squashed taffies to luridly colored bottles of Gatorade. Suddenly, a voice is heard yelling Gershon’s name. The gang looks around in surprise — only to see Gershon’s big sister approaching, holding a little girl by the hand and looking determined.]
GERSHON’S SISTER: Oh, there you are, Gershon. Listen, I have an appointment, and Mommy’s not home. You’re gonna have to look after Dobra Baila.
GERSHON [looking stunned]: Look after Dobra Baila? But I’m out biking with my friends!
[Dobra Baila sticks out her tongue at him.]
GERSHON: I mean, look at her. This outing’s for big boys, not little kids. Why can’t you take her along to your appointment?
DOBRA BAILA: I’m not a little kid! I’m big! Na na na na…
GERSHON’S SISTER: I can’t — no kids allowed. You’ll just have to take over. Oh, I forgot, here’s her tricycle so she can join in your ride.
[The boys stare in a kind of fascinated horror at a small pink tricycle with shiny pink tassels hanging from the handlebars. Before they can react, Gershon’s big sister makes a hasty escape.]
DOBRA BAILA: Why’re y’all jus’ staring? Let’s ride.
[She mounts her tricycle and pedals off, as the others follow her at a snail’s pace. After five minutes, Dobra Baila suddenly stops, causing Boruch and Nosson to collide with each other and bump their heads.]
DOBRA BAILA: It’s snack time!
GERSHON [sarcastically]: Oh yeah? And did you bring a snack?
DOBRA BAILA [piteously]: Me? I’m just a little kid.
GERSHON: I thought you said you’re big.
DOBRA BAILA: I’m big for outin’s. Not for gettin’ snacks.
[Gershon pulls out some pretzels and reluctantly hands over his bottle of Gatorade. Dobra Baila drinks, but most of it spills.]
DOBRA BAILA: Next time don’t give me shmatteh drink bottles.
BORUCH: Erm — should we move on, guys? It’s getting late.
ARON: Uh — how about Dobra Baila rides behind us this time?
GERSHON [wearily]: Nah, I’ve gotta watch her.
[Dobra Baila starts pedaling again, as a line forms behind her. Her sticky hands prove attractive to a large number of flies]
DOBRA BAILA [screaming]: Waaaaaaaaaaah! Bees!
BORUCH: They’re not bees, they’re flies.
[Dobra Baila takes no notice. She swerves suddenly. Gershon and Aron swerve to avoid her, and end up falling off their bikes into a muddy ditch.
A little later, a line of boys is seen disconsolately riding back home behind a small pink figure. Nosson and Boruch nurse swelling lumps on their heads. Gershon and Aron are covered in mud. Only Dobra Baila looks smiling and refreshed.]
DOBRA BAILA: Nice outin’. I’m comin’ ridin’ again with you tomorrow.
