Mr. Tony stories

Yesterday, I told Ezra a Mr. Tony story. The story of Papa as a young man. The man that I knew was 23 when I was born and a very fast runner. He didn't have to whistle for us because he could chase us. The whistle developed as the legs grew slower.
One day I saw a boy pull the fire alarm on the corner across the street from the Polinese's,(our neighbors). Papa's feet came bounding down the steps from his shower, still somewhat damp and fully dressed. Out the door he bounded and caught that boy and held him there, a teenager, until the firemen came to take it from there. He was a hero on the block and a protector of his little pea patch of chilluns (us). I still remember the sound of my father's feet like tiptoes, lightly running past me and the wind that I felt from his fast body running past me.
Mr. Tony, said William, can I take Jayne on a date? Dad just looked at him and went inside to get the gun. Never again, did anybody on the block, even ask that question.