Copyright 2012 Scott Thigpen
It was going to be a good day. Maybe the best ever.
Nine year old Ronnie knew that as soon as he woke up that Saturday morning. Seven AM sharp, no alarm clocks needed. Scooby Doo was about to come on and Ronnie never missed it.
'Can't hardly get you up during the week but every damn Saturday mornin', you're up at seven on the nose. Beats all I've ever seen!', Pops would mutter most every Saturday morning when he would stumble through the living room into the kitchen where he would produce a knock out breakfast, regardless of how much he was regretting his Friday night drink.
Ronnie knew better than to point out the obvious: One, it's Saturday and no School and Two, it's Scooby Doo. Scooby Doo. Ronnie thought if they ran Scooby Doo every morning, a lot of nine year olds might get out of bed a bit better. But he had Saturday mornings at seven so he made sure to get up in time. He knew some kids he went to school with had cable and they had cartoons in the afternoon. But he lived in the country and they had three channels on the TV. How many did you need?