The Funk

I was about 6, Jon, maybe 8. Jeremiah was 6 too. And we loved our junkyard. We were in there day and night. We had fortresses and a bathroom and a large food supply in the little junkyard out back.
         Momma decided one day that she was going to clean it, but she gave us the wrong idea. What we heard was “I’m taking down the junkyard” but she had no idea how much we loved it. So within two days after hearing that, us three had everything ready. We had piles of mud-balls and rocks and various rotten fruits to throw at her.  My brother, Jon, had sharpened sticks to stab her, and we had thorny tendrils laying out, along with spiky pine leaves all in front of the gate that led into our junkyard.
          We called the Junkyard our base. Jon had a fortress, reinforced with metal, in the far left corner. It was totally covered except a hole in the front, just big enough for his 8-year-old body to squeeze in. mine was next to his, in the far right. I had mine made of wood and there was an opening in the side for me to get in. jeremiahs was right in front of mine, merely a glass door leaning against a fence, and the bathroom was a little pit squeezed in between.
         Directly in the middle is where we dug a very large pit, that when mama walked in she would fall through and we could bury her. Yet our secret weapon was the worst. We had this thing called The Funk. It was a black, average sized safe that we filled with every gross thing imaginable. None of us remember all the ingredients, but some of them were: rotten yogurt, little boy piss, cat crap, dog crap, cat puke, and various forms of garbage. We were planning on hurling chunks of this at momma. We had meetings, with every intention to literally kill mama, no lie. We were ready to defend out base.
          Then we found out a couple days later that momma only planned on cleaning it. But that was after she started working on it. When we got home from school she was about halfway done, and there was a HUGE red dumpster in out driveway. All three of us jumped in and explored the old forgotten treasures that mom found throughout the house and junkyard.
          After about 30 minutes of fun in the trash, we heard mama cursing and saw her drag out this little black safe spilling over with funk. And we fled screaming “THE FUNK!!! THE FUNK!!!!” we were literally flying out of that dumpster like people would jump out of burning building or sinking ships in the movies. Mama was like “what the hell is the funk?!” and it turns out some spilled on her leg.  She was pissed. 
         8 years later, we are talking about, as it had been a humorous tale that we have told for many many years, and we tell momma everything we had planned for her and she looks at us incredulously and said “maybe I should have just let you live there!”
         After the cleaning, the pit we dug for mom became a prison for the three of us when we were bad, mainly Jeremiah and I because Jon was bigger, and stronger, therefore he was always right. The funk was thrown away, The sharpened sticks are probably still eroding somewhere in the junkyard, the rotten eggs and fruit have been thrown at my old base, causing me to created a new one that was near to the front, and the thorns were dragged away.
         The junkyard is abandoned now, we haven’t uses it since about half a year after what could have been a fatal battle. The pit we dug has become a grave for an old cat I found 3/4ths of the way to the next life, and the only thing that really shows what it once was, is Jon’s base, aged, but not fallen, and a permanent aura around the area where the funk was once held.