Coach Jimmy (story story)
Coach Jimmy While I stood staring at the rows of empty bunk beds down the long, narrow room, a rusted iron door straight ahead of me suddenly popped open. Randy took a leap toward me, stopped, and brought out a stuffed white bag. He gave me a mischievous grin. “Hey! There you are, Philip! I’ve got another surprise for you here in this bag,” he said as he looked into the bag. “We’ve got a lot of Snickers, Hundred Grand, Butterfingers, Twinkies, a bunch of cakes, and a whole mess of other sweet stuff!” “Wow, you got free candy from that minimarket owner again?” I asked. The minimarket owner near our guitar camp enjoyed the buzzing sound of rock music in our rehearsals, so he often generously donated free candy and other junk foods. “Yeah, that nice store owner gave me this big ol’ bag when I bought a pack of gum just right now. Problem is, Coach Jimmy hates us eating all that junk food ‘cause it hurts our guitar playing.” Coach Jimmy was the head of our guitar camp, w
