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I came to the sixth one. I kicked in the spade and immediately felt resistance. I figured there was just a stick down there or something, so I pushed harder. Still stuck. So I lay on my belly and looked in the chicago street fairs hole. There was a plastic tube, white and slender, chicago street fairs and it was oozing out air. I had punctured it. Even though I couldn't figure chicago street fairs out why there was an air line buried in the back yard, I knew Dad would be mad. So I figured I'd try to fix it. Dad had told me just a couple weeks beforehand that plastic was easy to repair. Just take a match, melt the plastic and smooth it over. But I searched left and right in the garage for some sort of incendiary device and couldn't find one. Then I saw Dad's work truck pull in the drive. He was definitely going to be mad. It seemed like every time he gave me a job, I broke something. I prepared for the yelling. He asked me if I'd finished the holes. I told him I'd completed five, but, um, in the last one, I'd accidentally severed the air line hose in the yard, and that I'd tried to find a match to fix it, just like he'd taught me, but I couldn't come up with one.
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