| B.A.N.G Gang |

The B.A.N.G Gang — ACT 3: SCENE 3

The B.A.N.G. Gang, having narrowly escaped a herd of bulls, are rehashing the experience on the phone



ARON, a slow-moving fellow who likes to take life easy

BORUCH, trying to cope with a big sister who always knows better

NOSSON, clever and articulate, often talks in italics to make a point

GERSHON, creative and quick to think of new ideas


The B.A.N.G. Gang, having narrowly escaped a herd of bulls, are rehashing the experience on the phone.


GERSHON: Gosh, I thought I was a goner.

ARON: Me too. I’ve never run so fast in my life! It’ll take me a year to recover.

BORUCH: You know, when we leaped over the fence to get away, my pants tore at the knee. My big sister’s still going on about it: “Can’t you go for a simple walk without ruining your clothes, yada yada yada.”

NOSSON [sympathetically]: Ouch. Well, I didn’t rip my pants, but I’ve been reading up about traumatic experiences and stuff, and I’m pretty sure I’ve got PTSD.

ARON: Huh?

NOSSON: Post traumatic stress disorder. Soldiers get it sometimes, after fighting fierce battles, and they can have flashbacks for years afterward.

GERSHON: Well, if you ask me, the solution is to get straight back on the horse.

ARON: Horse? What horse?

GERSHON: See, if a person falls off a horse, they gotta get back on as quickly as possible, otherwise they might be scared off for life.

NOSSON: D’you mean we should go through that field of mad bulls again? There’s no way I’m doing that.

BORUCH and ARON: Same here!

GERSHON: [ soothingly] Chill, guys, that’s not what I meant. I was thinking more along the lines of going on another outing together. We’ll have a great time, and we’ll forget all about the bulls.

BORUCH: Hmm. What did you have in mind?

ARON: [sniggering] Got it! An outing to my favourite couch. With a detour for refreshments.

NOSSON: [ignoring him] I just thought of something. Why don’t we go boating?


[The boys mull it over and decide to give it a go. A few hours later, BORUCH, NOSSON, and ARON are at the agreed-upon meeting point near a small pond.]

Enter GERSHON: [arriving a few minutes late] Sorry guys, I had to give Dobra Baila the slip, and it took a while.

[A shadow passes over the faces of the members of the B.A.N.G. GANG as they recall their ill-fated biking trip following single-file behind Dobra Baila on her pink tricycle.]

GERSHON: [briskly] Right, everyone. To the pond!

[The boys find a bored youth there, overseeing a bunch of boats.]

NOSSON: We’d like a boat for four, for an hour, please.

YOUTH: Can’t.

NOSSON: What! Why not? I can see tons of empty boats.

YOUTH: Can’t do four. S’two per boat now. New reg’lations for coronavirus.

GERSHON: Okay, so make it two boats.

YOUTH: Can’t.

GERSHON: Why not?

YOUTH: Cuz I’m off on my break, ain’t I?

[And with that, he disappears. The boys stare at each other in disappointment. Just then, a family walks past.]

GERSHON: Hey, look at that!

ARON: What?

GERSHON: D’you see that kid? He had an inflatable crocodile. On the way here I passed a store that sells ‘em. Why don’t we buy some inflatable toys, and paddle them in the pond? It’s empty now.

NOSSON: Let’s see how much they cost.

[The store’s prices turn out to be dirt cheap. Nosson and Gershon choose a crocodile, big enough for a person to sit at each end, and Boruch and Aron choose a giant turtle. The boys make their way back to the pond, after finding some sticks to use as paddles, and set sail on the inflatables.]

NOSSON: Hey guys, race you to the side!

GERSHON: Come on, Nosson!

[Nosson and Gershon grip the crocodile with their knees, and paddle hard. Unfortunately, they squeeze too hard, and the plug shoots out of the cheaply made crocodile, letting out the air.]

NOSSON: What was that?

[The air escapes with a whoosh. The crocodile zooms up, down and around, with the two screeching boys holding on. The turtle flips over and deposits Boruch and Aron in the shallow water. The deflated crocodile becomes floppy, tipping Gershon and Nosson into the pond as well.

As the drenched boys wade to the side, they hear a loud angry yell.]

YOUTH: This here’ s a boatin’ pond, not a swimmin’ pool. Just wait ’til I get you!

NOSSON: Uh-oh…. We’re in hot water alright.

to be continued…

(Originally featured in Mishpacha Jr., Issue 821)


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