The Birth of Billy No-Do
Of all our friends, Billy No-Do was the cleanest. In the summertime, he’d wear white tennis sneakers, which were as white as virgin arctic snow. And all of the other boys, a devious group of pranksters, stepped on them to soil them and make Billy's sneakers as dirty as their own. At times, the pranksters would succeed in leaving their dirty footprints on Johnny's sneakers. But the black marks didn't remain there too long. Billy would go home, and in twenty minutes, return in the street with his sneakers glistening white again.
Besides his sneakers being spotless, he was dressed immaculately too. His pants were always pressed, having a nice crease in them. And his short-sleeved, button-down shirts were wrinkled free and had a fresh scent coming from them. Billy's mom made sure her boy was neat every day. By dressing him so nice, it was difficult to tell which day of the week it was whenever you saw him because he looked like he was always wearing his Sunday best. In fact, his mom dressed in the same manner as her boy. She always had nice clothes on too.
She was a wonderful woman who was friendly to all of her son's friends. She and Billy lived on a corner building in a fifth-floor apartment which overlooked the street on which we often played. It was his mom who could be credited with giving Billy the nickname of "No-Do." She liked looking out her window in the summer time, and one hot August day we boys, including her son, were about to open the corner fire-hydrant to refresh ourselves in the water. Unfortunately, we were surprised by two police officers.
Of course, it wasn’t much of a big deal. Nearly all of us were ten- and eleven-year-old boys. The police officers just wanted to give us a good scare, so they lined us up against a wall and started asking us our names. It was at this moment that Billy’s mother, who had been watching from her window, decided it was time to act. She immediately left her post at the window to hurry down the five flights into the street. As soon as she emerged from her building, she started to shout at the police officers that her boy didn't do anything.
"My boy do nothing. My boy do nothing," she screamed, rushing across the street where we were lined against the wall. Her screaming was music to our ears because I do believe it put the fear of God into the cops. No longer able to take her behavior, the two cops retreated to their patrol car and left the scene, tires screeching. And when they were out of sight, we finally opened the hydrant to cool off. Billy though never did play in the water; his mom dragged him home by the collar. We teased him "Billy No-Do, Billy No-Do," as his mom led him away.