Josh's Weird Idea
by Guy Belleranti

I made a new friend this week. His name is Josh, and he and his parents just moved into the neighborhood. In fact, they moved into the house right next door.

One thing about Josh - he's a little, uh, different. Oh he's nice enough and all, but sometimes he gets weird ideas. He's got one of those ideas right now. What is it? Well, he thinks there's gold in his front yard. Yep, that's right. You see he found a couple of shiny stones lying next to this big bush, and now he thinks he's living on a gold mine.

"I guess we're gonna have to dig, Carlos," Josh called to me. He was sprawled flat on his stomach beneath the bush and his voice came out sort of muffled, but I understood him all right.

"Dig?" I asked. "What do you mean?"

Josh rolled his flashlight out, bonking it into my tennis shoes. Then he rolled himself out. "I mean I didn't see any other gold rocks under there,” he told me. He slapped a bunch of leaves and a few clumps of dirt off his clothes and hair and stood up. “So the only thing to do is to dig. Maybe then we'll find the gold vein."

"Gold vein?" I shook my head. "Come on, Josh, there isn't any gold vein. The shiny stuff in those two rocks you found is just pyrite.”

“Pie-what?” he asked.

“Pyrite. P Y R I T E.”

“What’s that?”

“Just a kind of shiny mineral that’s pretty but nothing else. Not valuable or anything, I mean. Its common name is fools gold."

“Why’s that?”

Because only fools would think it’s gold, I thought, but I didn’t say this. Instead I was more polite and said, “Because it fools people into thinking it’s gold.”

"Oh.” Josh scratched his freckled chin with a finger, leaving a streak of dirt where he’d scratched. “How do you know it’s fools gold or, uh, pie. . .pyrite? Are you a geologist or something?"

"Of course not, but I've seen fools gold before. My science teacher brought some to class. And he said it wasn't worth anything."

"Well, my rocks are different. They've gotta be. They're cool looking."

I sighed. "Yeah, I know, but there's probably lots of cool looking rocks in your yard. And in mine, too. But you don't have to dig to find them."

"But I want to dig," Josh insisted. "I have to. If it is gold there's gonna be a lot more. . .a whole vein. I read about that once."

"But it's not gold," I said. "And you won't find any by digging here. You'll just make a mess."

"Then we'll dig in your yard."

"No way!" I exclaimed. "My parents will ground me for the rest of my life if we do that."

"Why?"

"Why? Well because, uh, because they wouldn't want the yard dug up. They've got it fixed just how they like it. That's why."

"Oh. Hmm. Then I guess we better dig here. I think there's a couple of shovels in the garage. I'll go get them."

"Wait," I called as Josh started off.

He looked back at me, hands on his hips. "Now what?"

"Don't get me a shovel." I crossed my arms across my chest. "I'm not digging."

"Okay." He again turned toward the garage.

"But you could get your basketball," I yelled. "If you have one."

Josh swung around. "Basketball? You'll never find gold with a basketball, Carlos."

"You're not going to find gold with a shovel either," I said.

Josh made a face, then walked back over to me. "Maybe I won't but that's okay because I might find something else."

"Something else?"

"Yeah."

"Like what?"

"Like, uh, like. . . .” Josh glared at me. "Like maybe oil. That’s what"

"Oil?"

"Yeah. It's in the ground, you know."

I rolled my eyes. First gold, and now oil. "Not in this ground. And even if there is any it'll be way deeper than you can dig."

"Maybe, maybe not. But even if I don't find any gold or oil I still might find something just as good."

"What could be just as good?"

“Lot’s of things.”

“Name ‘em.”

Josh frowned. "Hmm. Let's see. . .there's got to be something. . . . Got it!” He grinned. “How about pirate loot?"

"Pirate loot?"

"Yeah. You know -- jewels and gold and silver in a big chest."

"Josh-"

"Just think -- if we found jewels and gold and silver we'd be rich." Josh laughed and danced around. “Yeah! And we'd be famous, too. We'd get our names and pictures in the papers and on TV. Someone might even write a book about us."

I shook my head. "We're hundreds of miles from the ocean. How would any pirate loot get here?"

“Easy. It, uh...Hmm. I didn't think of that. That is a complication. But there’s got to be an answer. Pirate loot. . .pirate loot. . .pirate loot," Josh mumbled over and over. “Hmm.” Then he suddenly laughed. “Maybe not pirate loot, but how about pyrite loot. Get it? P Y R I T E, not P I R A T E. Ha! Ha! Pretty funny, huh?”

“Not really,” I said, and I gave a weak groan to show him just how unfunny I thought it was.

”You sure are a grump,” Josh complained. “But that’s okay because I’ve got an answer to your question about what we might really find.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Outlaw loot.”

“Outlaw loot?”

Yeah. You know, stuff from a robbed stagecoach. Or maybe from a stuck-up train or a bank robbery. Those kind of things must have happened around here. There were all kinds of outlaws -- Jesse James, Butch Cassidy--"

"Josh,” I interrupted, “I don't think Jesse James, Butch Cassidy or any other outlaw ever left any loot here."

"How do you know?”

"Because the loot would have been discovered when this neighborhood was built."

"You think so?"

"Sure. The ground had to be graded with big earthmoving machines. Any outlaw loot would've been found."

“Hmm.” Josh thought a moment, then nodded. “Okay. You're probably right. But there might be new outlaw loot."

"New outlaw loot?”

“Yeah, Something buried in the past couple of years.”

I sighed. “Man, you sure have an imagination."

"So. What's wrong with that?"

"Uh. . .” I frowned. He had me there. Nothing, I guess, but. . . ." I threw up my arms. "Okay. You win. Go get the shovels. I'll help you dig holes all over your yard just to prove you're wrong."

Josh smiled and shook his head. "Oh no you won't. I've been thinking about that comment of yours about getting grounded for the rest of your life. I'm not gonna take that chance. Neither of us is will dig any holes in my yard. Besides, I have a better idea."

"Better idea? Like what," I asked, dreading the answer.

"We’ll start a rock collection. We'll search both my yard and your yard, just like you suggested before."

"I didn't suggest--"

"You said there were probably lots of great rocks in our yards. And I bet you’re right. I bet we can fill a couple of boxes with ‘em. We can search that empty field up at the corner, too. And not just for rocks. Treasures.”

“Treasures?” I asked.

“Yep.”

"You mean like pirate or outlaw loot?"

Josh said waved a hand. "Of course not.”

"Oil?"

Josh chuckled. "Nope again."

"All right," I demanded, "then what?"

Josh grinned. "Dinosaur bones."

"Dinosaur bones?"

"Yeah. Maybe some big plates from a Stegosaurus’s back or some long neck bones from an Apatosaurus.”

“Wha--“

“Or if we're really lucky maybe a whole T-Rex skull filled with huge teeth."

I stared at him. "You can't be serious?"

"Sure I can, but. . .I'm not." And Josh broke into wild peal of laughter as I chased him toward the house.