Rick, Sam and Alex were three-way best friends and the three best players on their school’s basketball team. Successful sports had been the school’s pride and joy for the past three years and unfortunately for the rest of the school, the athletic program was really the only thing that the school ever put any money into. Before long, the school had an amazing gymnasium, brand new uniforms, a wonderful basketball team and a building full of classrooms that were totally falling apart. After a while the board shut down their school and all of the kids had to find new places to study. Big schools from the city came and collected students for enrolment, and one of these schools was the B. Ball Academy for Boys.
Sir Benjamin Ball, the man that the school was named after, was a huge fan of basketball. Down every hallway of his school there were gigantic trophy cases filled to the brim with all kinds of metals and pictures and awards. Mr. Nezz, the basketball team coach at B. Ball Academy, was always looking for more players to help him win. He had the best basketball team in the whole province and he hadn’t lost a single game all season. As soon as he heard about a school closing its doors, he made sure he was right in the middle of the chaos to scoop up all of the really great players.
Rick, Sam and Alex were at the very top of Mr. Nezz’s list. Before they even realized what was going on they were suited up in the Academy uniforms at their first practice. “Welcome to the team, boys!” said Mr. Nezz as everyone got together before their work began. “As many of you know, this year we are finally in the running for national championships! And this is what we are going to be working for...”
Mr. Nezz unrolled a giant poster of the national championship trophy. It was a huge, shiny, golden masterpiece of metal. “Okay boys, here’s what we’re going to do. Ten minutes before every game we play this season, I’m going to start this CD and for the first three songs we are going to sit in front of this poster and visualize.”
Mr. Nezz explained that visualizing meant that they were going to picture themselves winning the final game and holding this trophy above their heads. Then they were supposed to think hard about how much the trophy meant to each person and to the team as a whole. After the third song was over they would get up and chant “Champions! Champions! Champions!” until the game began.
“Anyone who does not do this as part of the team I will assume does not want to part of the team at all. I won’t kick you off, however you won’t be allowed to play for the rest of the season. Instead, you will become a waterboy and equipment manager, in charge of doing the laundry and washing the change rooms. Make your choice and make it quickly. Our first game starts tomorrow morning.”
The next day the team gathered together in the locker room. The poster of the trophy had been framed and put up on the wall above the drinking fountain. The whole team sat in a circle and ten minutes before the game began, Mr. Nezz started his music. The team closed their eyes and started to visualize.
Rick, Sam and Alex did not shut their eyes or bow their heads in visualization. Instead, they stood up and walked over to Mr. Nezz who was mumbling “championship” under his breath. Alex tapped him on the shoulder. “Umm, sir? We really don’t want to do this... it’s... wrong. Can we please leave?”
Mr. Nezz looked frustrated. “Are you sick? Are you going to throw up?” Rick shook his head. “No, sir. We just think it’s wrong to focus on the trophy like this. We don’t want to visualize. We just want to play basketball.” Rick and Sam nodded.
Mr. Nezz stood up and cleared his throat. Everyone looked up from their visualization. “Well boys, looks like we found ourselves a couple of waterboys already! Let’s get these kids to work!” Two of the older kids got up and grabbed Alex under the armpits and lifted him up off the ground. A few other boys came and picked up Sam and Rick the same way. Then the bigger players carried Rick, Sam and Alex through the locker room and into the change rooms where the laundry was kept. Rick, Sam and Alex were thrown into the bins along with the dirty uniforms and smelly gym socks.
“Have fun cleaning, boys!” Mr. Nezz and the rest of the team walked out to the gymnasium to play the game. All that could be heard was the chanting of “Champions! Champions!” as the door to the change rooms swung closed.
Rick, Sam and Alex climbed out of the laundry hamper. They looked around the room, expecting to see a huge mess but instead they saw sparkling floors and tidy equipment. They looked back in the laundry hamper they had just climbed out of. The laundry was mysteriously clean and folded. They looked towards the door that the team had just walked out of. There, leaning against the wall with a mop in hand was a kid in a strange uniform.
“Enjoy your night, boys! I'm pretty proud of you for standing up for yourselves and for what you believe in. Well done.” At that moment the door opened and Mr. Nezz came back in. He was reaching out for his whistle when he froze and stared at the floor. It was all... sparkly. His jaw dropped as he looked around the room and then up into the faces of Rick, Sam, Alex and the mysterious new kid. He blinked hard and gave his head a bit of a shake. When he opened his eyes again, the fourth kid was gone. “What just happened here?!”
“That kid...” Rick was having a hard time making sense of it himself. “He just... did everything so fast and he saved us like... hours and hours of work! Then he just... disappeared!”
Mr. Nezz was in shock. “Wow, I... don’t know... I mean, that kid! ...You know? Okay, boys. I don’t know what just happened, but if you can clean this fast you must be like Speedy Gonzalez on the court! You’re back on the team for sure. And no more of this crazy visualization stuff anymore. Clearly you don’t need it! It’s probably not a great idea anyway. Maybe it’s even wrong. I’m sorry I tried to force you. Will you come and play now?”
Rick, Sam and Alex played an amazing game that night and Sam was even made captain a few weeks later. The coach made sure they never had to visualize anything about that trophy ever again... and they still won the championship!
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
The Nicest Know-It-All
Gregory Tattle was a pretty special kid. He was great at math, read tons of books and he knew so much random information that it could make your head spin. He was pretty good at picking the right news to tell to the right people, too. If you were feeling kind of sad, Gregory could think of a brand-new joke that would make you smile and maybe even laugh right out loud. If you didn’t know what to do, or if you were having a tough time making a big decision, Gregory was the guy to ask because he always seemed to have an answer, even if it was completely silly or a little impossible. So, Gregory became pretty well known around the school as the nicest know-it-all that the fourth grade had ever seen.
Gregory loved to learn all kinds of things, and one of the places he learned the very most from was the radio that he listened to right before he went to school every morning. While he was munching down on his breakfast cereal (usually a mix between Rice Krispies and Cap’t Crunch), he turned up the radio in the kitchen and listened very carefully to whatever the voices were saying. Sometimes Gregory learned about what was happening in one of the popular TV shows, other times he heard about new stores that were going to open or new movies, and every once in a while he listened to the news.
This was one of those mornings. Gregory, running a little bit early for breakfast, flicked on the radio at exactly 7:02, just as the news reporters started talking about the weather. “Wow, Jim it sure is going to be hot-hot-hot out there today!” “You bet, Sue! You could roast an egg on the sidewalk on one of these days! Hey, a word of advice to all of you listening out there this morning, don’t forget to bring a water bottle wherever you go today! You’re going to need it!”
With that, Gregory stuffed the last bite of cereal into his mouth, swallowed up the left over milk, gave his mom a hug good-bye and grabbed his water bottle, heading out the door to school.
Every year, Mrs. Mallow’s fourth grade class goes on a field trip to the farm in the next town. They usually go in the middle of their animal unit, but this year it had rained the entire week, so their trip was postponed almost a month. Now, even though they were already studying the Solar System, it was finally time for their field trip to the farm. The entire class was super excited for the trip, and Gregory was no exception. He loved travelling anywhere on a bus, which might seem a little silly except that he lived really close to the school and never got to ride on one except for field trips. He spent the entire night before reading about horses and goats and cows and chickens so that he could answer anybody’s questions when they finally got to the farm.
Right after "Oh Canada", Gregory and his class lined up at the class room door. They all boarded the bus together and settled into a round of “the wheels on the bus go round and round” that seemed to last the entire 45 minute trip.
The farm was really big, and there were so many animals to see that as soon as the bus pulled up to the big barn, the kids jumped out and started going everywhere. Some of them ran over to the horses right away, some went to the pigs, some went to the sheep and Gregory went to the pond in the back to see the two huge white swans. “Be back here in an hour!” shouted Mrs. Mallow as everyone scattered. Then she went into the barn to meet up with the farmer and probably find a drink of lemonade. It was REALLY hot! Gregory had already finished his water bottle on the ride over, so when he got down to the pond he did the most sensible thing he could think of, and filled it up right out of the pond. Gregory wandered around for a while and had a look at the horses and goats, but eventually he ended up back at the pond with the swans. I could stay here forever, Gregory thought. Then he lied down on the soft grass... and fell asleep!
Gregory woke up two hours later. It was still really hot. He jumped up and ran out to the bus. Well, he ran out to where the bus should have been. The bus was gone. His friends were gone. His teacher was gone. Even the farmer was gone! They had left without him.
Gregory walked back to the pond and filled his water bottle right to the very top and then drank the whole thing. It was really hot! Then he filled it up again and started to walk down the long dirt road back towards his home. He walked for a long time in the heat, walking quickly in the sunny places and a little slower in the shady ones, trying to get home. He walked and walked and walked. An hour later, his water was gone. An hour after that, he was just about ready to dry up he was so thirsty, and an hour after that he felt like he was going to shrivel up like a raisin die! He was just about to give up hope when he caught sight of a billboard: Fresh blueberries, 1 kilometre. Gregory was overjoyed! Suddenly he felt like he had a bit of his energy back. He stood up straight and ran all the way to the blueberry stand.
The girl at the booth was counting up a jar of quarters when he got there. “Hey!” He tried to shout but because he was so thirsty and his mouth was so dry, it came out more like a whisper. “Do you have any water?” The girl looked up from her money. “Yes, of course! Here!” She handed him her own ice-cold water bottle. “And, do you think you might be able to spare a few blueberries? I’m starving!” The girl stared at Gregory sadly. “Hey, I wish I could, but I just sold my last box and I already picked almost all of the ripe berries. I’m just counting up my earnings so I can take it home to my Mom. She’s kind of sick, and we only started this stand so we could get a little money so we can take her to the hospital and get the right medicine. I need the berries that are left for tomorrow, so we can earn enough. So, I wish I could help you, but I’m really stuck.”
Gregory smiled at the girl. The girl looked confused. “Go and take the money to your parents, but first, get me a small handful of berries and then pick the ones you need for the morning. I heard on the radio that it is going to stay super hot for the next few weeks, and I know that blueberries get ripe really, really quickly when it’s super, super hot. They happen to get a lot bigger too. Not only that, but it’s the long weekend and the radio said there was going to be a huge number of tourists up this weekend, so your stand should do really well. So, don’t worry! Between the costumers and the heat, you will definitely have enough until it rains again!”
The little girl gave Gregory a funny look, turned around and gathered the berries. She gave a handful to Gregory and put the rest of them in a little plastic basket. Then they walked to the girl’s house so that Gregory could call his mom... and his school. Twenty minutes later, Gregory’s Dad was on his way to pick him up from the blueberry stand. Gregory and Alicia, the little girl, walked back together. Alicia went to collect a few more berries for Gregory and herself to eat while they were waiting, and after a few minutes, she came running back.
“Gregory, I can’t believe it!” She half shouted, half sang. “It’s the berries! They’re already more ripe, and look at how many are ready to eat right now! Dozens and dozens! Here, come and see!”
Sure enough, Gregory had been right about the blueberries. There were more bushes than he has even imagined, and there were large, blue berries hanging off of every one. “There are even more little ones, just beginning to grow, too! Look!” They picked and ate berries until they heard Gregory’s dad honking the horn. Then they took what they had picked back to Gregory’s car.
Alicia opened her stand again every day for a week, and the berries kept growing in the heat until the day it rained, just like Gregory had said. Her family did get the right medicine for Alicia's mom and she got much, much better. In fact, every year since all of this happened Alicia and her mom run that road-side blueberry stand together for three weeks. And as for Gregory's class and his teacher? Well, let’s just say that now they make sure to count every person twice before they leave to go anywhere on a bus!
Gregory loved to learn all kinds of things, and one of the places he learned the very most from was the radio that he listened to right before he went to school every morning. While he was munching down on his breakfast cereal (usually a mix between Rice Krispies and Cap’t Crunch), he turned up the radio in the kitchen and listened very carefully to whatever the voices were saying. Sometimes Gregory learned about what was happening in one of the popular TV shows, other times he heard about new stores that were going to open or new movies, and every once in a while he listened to the news.
This was one of those mornings. Gregory, running a little bit early for breakfast, flicked on the radio at exactly 7:02, just as the news reporters started talking about the weather. “Wow, Jim it sure is going to be hot-hot-hot out there today!” “You bet, Sue! You could roast an egg on the sidewalk on one of these days! Hey, a word of advice to all of you listening out there this morning, don’t forget to bring a water bottle wherever you go today! You’re going to need it!”
With that, Gregory stuffed the last bite of cereal into his mouth, swallowed up the left over milk, gave his mom a hug good-bye and grabbed his water bottle, heading out the door to school.
Every year, Mrs. Mallow’s fourth grade class goes on a field trip to the farm in the next town. They usually go in the middle of their animal unit, but this year it had rained the entire week, so their trip was postponed almost a month. Now, even though they were already studying the Solar System, it was finally time for their field trip to the farm. The entire class was super excited for the trip, and Gregory was no exception. He loved travelling anywhere on a bus, which might seem a little silly except that he lived really close to the school and never got to ride on one except for field trips. He spent the entire night before reading about horses and goats and cows and chickens so that he could answer anybody’s questions when they finally got to the farm.
Right after "Oh Canada", Gregory and his class lined up at the class room door. They all boarded the bus together and settled into a round of “the wheels on the bus go round and round” that seemed to last the entire 45 minute trip.
The farm was really big, and there were so many animals to see that as soon as the bus pulled up to the big barn, the kids jumped out and started going everywhere. Some of them ran over to the horses right away, some went to the pigs, some went to the sheep and Gregory went to the pond in the back to see the two huge white swans. “Be back here in an hour!” shouted Mrs. Mallow as everyone scattered. Then she went into the barn to meet up with the farmer and probably find a drink of lemonade. It was REALLY hot! Gregory had already finished his water bottle on the ride over, so when he got down to the pond he did the most sensible thing he could think of, and filled it up right out of the pond. Gregory wandered around for a while and had a look at the horses and goats, but eventually he ended up back at the pond with the swans. I could stay here forever, Gregory thought. Then he lied down on the soft grass... and fell asleep!
Gregory woke up two hours later. It was still really hot. He jumped up and ran out to the bus. Well, he ran out to where the bus should have been. The bus was gone. His friends were gone. His teacher was gone. Even the farmer was gone! They had left without him.
Gregory walked back to the pond and filled his water bottle right to the very top and then drank the whole thing. It was really hot! Then he filled it up again and started to walk down the long dirt road back towards his home. He walked for a long time in the heat, walking quickly in the sunny places and a little slower in the shady ones, trying to get home. He walked and walked and walked. An hour later, his water was gone. An hour after that, he was just about ready to dry up he was so thirsty, and an hour after that he felt like he was going to shrivel up like a raisin die! He was just about to give up hope when he caught sight of a billboard: Fresh blueberries, 1 kilometre. Gregory was overjoyed! Suddenly he felt like he had a bit of his energy back. He stood up straight and ran all the way to the blueberry stand.
The girl at the booth was counting up a jar of quarters when he got there. “Hey!” He tried to shout but because he was so thirsty and his mouth was so dry, it came out more like a whisper. “Do you have any water?” The girl looked up from her money. “Yes, of course! Here!” She handed him her own ice-cold water bottle. “And, do you think you might be able to spare a few blueberries? I’m starving!” The girl stared at Gregory sadly. “Hey, I wish I could, but I just sold my last box and I already picked almost all of the ripe berries. I’m just counting up my earnings so I can take it home to my Mom. She’s kind of sick, and we only started this stand so we could get a little money so we can take her to the hospital and get the right medicine. I need the berries that are left for tomorrow, so we can earn enough. So, I wish I could help you, but I’m really stuck.”
Gregory smiled at the girl. The girl looked confused. “Go and take the money to your parents, but first, get me a small handful of berries and then pick the ones you need for the morning. I heard on the radio that it is going to stay super hot for the next few weeks, and I know that blueberries get ripe really, really quickly when it’s super, super hot. They happen to get a lot bigger too. Not only that, but it’s the long weekend and the radio said there was going to be a huge number of tourists up this weekend, so your stand should do really well. So, don’t worry! Between the costumers and the heat, you will definitely have enough until it rains again!”
The little girl gave Gregory a funny look, turned around and gathered the berries. She gave a handful to Gregory and put the rest of them in a little plastic basket. Then they walked to the girl’s house so that Gregory could call his mom... and his school. Twenty minutes later, Gregory’s Dad was on his way to pick him up from the blueberry stand. Gregory and Alicia, the little girl, walked back together. Alicia went to collect a few more berries for Gregory and herself to eat while they were waiting, and after a few minutes, she came running back.
“Gregory, I can’t believe it!” She half shouted, half sang. “It’s the berries! They’re already more ripe, and look at how many are ready to eat right now! Dozens and dozens! Here, come and see!”
Sure enough, Gregory had been right about the blueberries. There were more bushes than he has even imagined, and there were large, blue berries hanging off of every one. “There are even more little ones, just beginning to grow, too! Look!” They picked and ate berries until they heard Gregory’s dad honking the horn. Then they took what they had picked back to Gregory’s car.
Alicia opened her stand again every day for a week, and the berries kept growing in the heat until the day it rained, just like Gregory had said. Her family did get the right medicine for Alicia's mom and she got much, much better. In fact, every year since all of this happened Alicia and her mom run that road-side blueberry stand together for three weeks. And as for Gregory's class and his teacher? Well, let’s just say that now they make sure to count every person twice before they leave to go anywhere on a bus!
Pencils
Katie was an artist. Everything she did was beautiful; she could draw people so real that you would expect them to speak, she could write in a way that painted vivid pictures in your mind and she even decorated her sandwiches with creative designs using mustard and mayonnaise. Katie was a good student in school, but by the last month of classes, her mind and her heart were not in her homework... she was thinking about art camp.
For the past three years Katie had dreamed of and waited for the day that she would finally be old enough to go to camp all by herself. Katie’s sister had gone to camp for soccer, her older brother went to a camp that taught you how to canoe and rock-climb and both of them would talk about nothing except camp for the rest of the summer. But this summer wasn’t about her siblings or their memories... this summer was about making her own memories at a camp of her own.
Katie has been looking through art camp brochures for months. Finally after a lot of thinking, Katie had made her decision: The Paintbrush Ranch. Granted, it was in the middle of nowhere, but it had the best of the best instructors. The only scary thing about it was that the program she wanted to go into was three weeks long and started the day after school was out for the summer. It was a long time to be away from home and the camp started so soon... she had only six more days until she was no longer in the fifth grade. One more week ’til camp!
Katie started packing her bags the night before she left. “I don’t know why you left this packing until the very last minute, Katie,” commented her mother at about 8:00 that night. “You’ve known you were leaving for camp tomorrow for a long time! Why didn’t you pack anything last week? Or even yesterday?” Katie rolled her eyes, just a little. “Mom, if I had packed before I would have forgotten something. But I have been making a list all year! Here, see?” Katie held up a very neat checklist for her mom to look at. “Everything I need to pack and a little box I can check off when it’s in my bag. Don’t worry, Mom! I know what I’m doing!” Katie had gathered all the things on her list in an hour and a half and the bags were piled against the front door.
The next morning, Katie’s parents drove her to the Paintbrush Ranch. They signed her in, dropped off her bags, gave her a hug and drove away, headed for home. Katie hardly had time to feel homesick at all because two minutes later, Katie’s cabin was filled up with eight other girls and two cabin leaders, both with red hair. The girl that was living on the bottom bed of Katie’s bunk introduced herself as Theresa and explained the schedule for the day: lunch at 12:00, introductions and rules and a few games until dinner, then dinner, then their first art class. It was going to be a pretty long day, but Katie was so excited that it wasn’t until after dinner when they were getting ready for their first class when she finally had time to get a little nervous. Theresa came and sat down beside her. “Wow! The first lesson! I wonder what we’re going to be learning?” “I don’t know! But I can’t wait to find out!”
One of the leaders of the camp, a tall guy with blondish hair, stood at the front of the room. “Welcome everyone! And welcome to your first art session. My name is Max and I’m going to be your instructor in Sketch Class. Can everyone please take out your pencils and some paper and we will get started!”
Katie’s heart stopped for a second and her face went a little pale. So did Theresa’s. They looked at each other. Katie whispered first, “I don’t have a pencil! I don’t think I brought one! It wasn’t on the list!” Theresa wasn’t smiling anymore. “I don’t have one either! How did we get to ART camp without remembering to pack a pencil?!” Max was waiting for the other kids to get out their pencils too. Nobody moved, but everyone looked a little squirmy. Some of the other leaders came up to Max. “Max, they don’t have pencils! Our craft order hasn’t come in yet and even if we get it tomorrow, it’s not going to help tonight!” “Go and find some pencils for them, then,” Max answered. “Max, there aren’t any. We can’t just go to the vending machine and get fifty pencils you know! The store would be closed by now and even if it were open we can’t get there! What do you expect us to do?”
Max looked around the room at all of the people. “Well, how many pencils do we have?” The leaders looked a little awkward and then walked around the room asking every kid if they had any kind of pencil that they would share. Finally one of the leaders brought back a half-chewed eraser-less knob of a pencil. “Here, from the kid three rows from the back... blue shirt over there.”
Max was beaming. He thanked the leaders and thanked the kid, held up the pencil and snapped it in half. Then he took both of those pieces and snapped them in half. Then he took those pieces and snapped them in half and so on and so on. The leaders cupped their hands together and Max poured little one-inch pieces of pencil into them. The leaders walked around with a fist full of pencil bits and a sharpener, handing out pencil chunks to every kid. Somehow, every kid got a one-inch piece of pencil and there were still a few left over... not just a few... enough so that the extra pencil jar was overflowing with little chunks of sharpened pencil!
Max turned around and started drawing on the board without saying a word about what just happened. Katie was in shock... it didn’t make any sense! How could a chewed-up five inch pencil make so many one inch pencils?! It was by far the coolest thing she had ever seen.
Katie was definitely going to have the best camp memories when she got home after this... But she was going to have a tough time getting her family to believe the story about the multiplying pencils!
For the past three years Katie had dreamed of and waited for the day that she would finally be old enough to go to camp all by herself. Katie’s sister had gone to camp for soccer, her older brother went to a camp that taught you how to canoe and rock-climb and both of them would talk about nothing except camp for the rest of the summer. But this summer wasn’t about her siblings or their memories... this summer was about making her own memories at a camp of her own.
Katie has been looking through art camp brochures for months. Finally after a lot of thinking, Katie had made her decision: The Paintbrush Ranch. Granted, it was in the middle of nowhere, but it had the best of the best instructors. The only scary thing about it was that the program she wanted to go into was three weeks long and started the day after school was out for the summer. It was a long time to be away from home and the camp started so soon... she had only six more days until she was no longer in the fifth grade. One more week ’til camp!
Katie started packing her bags the night before she left. “I don’t know why you left this packing until the very last minute, Katie,” commented her mother at about 8:00 that night. “You’ve known you were leaving for camp tomorrow for a long time! Why didn’t you pack anything last week? Or even yesterday?” Katie rolled her eyes, just a little. “Mom, if I had packed before I would have forgotten something. But I have been making a list all year! Here, see?” Katie held up a very neat checklist for her mom to look at. “Everything I need to pack and a little box I can check off when it’s in my bag. Don’t worry, Mom! I know what I’m doing!” Katie had gathered all the things on her list in an hour and a half and the bags were piled against the front door.
The next morning, Katie’s parents drove her to the Paintbrush Ranch. They signed her in, dropped off her bags, gave her a hug and drove away, headed for home. Katie hardly had time to feel homesick at all because two minutes later, Katie’s cabin was filled up with eight other girls and two cabin leaders, both with red hair. The girl that was living on the bottom bed of Katie’s bunk introduced herself as Theresa and explained the schedule for the day: lunch at 12:00, introductions and rules and a few games until dinner, then dinner, then their first art class. It was going to be a pretty long day, but Katie was so excited that it wasn’t until after dinner when they were getting ready for their first class when she finally had time to get a little nervous. Theresa came and sat down beside her. “Wow! The first lesson! I wonder what we’re going to be learning?” “I don’t know! But I can’t wait to find out!”
One of the leaders of the camp, a tall guy with blondish hair, stood at the front of the room. “Welcome everyone! And welcome to your first art session. My name is Max and I’m going to be your instructor in Sketch Class. Can everyone please take out your pencils and some paper and we will get started!”
Katie’s heart stopped for a second and her face went a little pale. So did Theresa’s. They looked at each other. Katie whispered first, “I don’t have a pencil! I don’t think I brought one! It wasn’t on the list!” Theresa wasn’t smiling anymore. “I don’t have one either! How did we get to ART camp without remembering to pack a pencil?!” Max was waiting for the other kids to get out their pencils too. Nobody moved, but everyone looked a little squirmy. Some of the other leaders came up to Max. “Max, they don’t have pencils! Our craft order hasn’t come in yet and even if we get it tomorrow, it’s not going to help tonight!” “Go and find some pencils for them, then,” Max answered. “Max, there aren’t any. We can’t just go to the vending machine and get fifty pencils you know! The store would be closed by now and even if it were open we can’t get there! What do you expect us to do?”
Max looked around the room at all of the people. “Well, how many pencils do we have?” The leaders looked a little awkward and then walked around the room asking every kid if they had any kind of pencil that they would share. Finally one of the leaders brought back a half-chewed eraser-less knob of a pencil. “Here, from the kid three rows from the back... blue shirt over there.”
Max was beaming. He thanked the leaders and thanked the kid, held up the pencil and snapped it in half. Then he took both of those pieces and snapped them in half. Then he took those pieces and snapped them in half and so on and so on. The leaders cupped their hands together and Max poured little one-inch pieces of pencil into them. The leaders walked around with a fist full of pencil bits and a sharpener, handing out pencil chunks to every kid. Somehow, every kid got a one-inch piece of pencil and there were still a few left over... not just a few... enough so that the extra pencil jar was overflowing with little chunks of sharpened pencil!
Max turned around and started drawing on the board without saying a word about what just happened. Katie was in shock... it didn’t make any sense! How could a chewed-up five inch pencil make so many one inch pencils?! It was by far the coolest thing she had ever seen.
Katie was definitely going to have the best camp memories when she got home after this... But she was going to have a tough time getting her family to believe the story about the multiplying pencils!
The Bathroom Bully
Spencer is a bully. He is in the seventh grade of Center Public School for the third time! All of the kids are afraid of him and so are some of the teachers. Spencer’s locker is in the hallway right between the gym and the bathrooms. Everyone used to pass by his locker every day, until last semester when Spencer started keeping count. In October, one of the fourth grade boys passed Spencer’s locker eight times in one lunch period, so he beat him up and stole his pizza money. Since that day, everyone took the long way around to the bathrooms. Well, almost everybody.
Adam was the new kid. It was his third day in Mrs. Menno’s gym class and they were playing a big game against their rival school, the Toronto Tyrants. Right in the middle of the game, Adam had to pee; so, he got up, got a hall pass from his teacher, pushed open the big double doors to the gym and turned left, walking down the hall to the bathroom. He only got about five steps before he noticed that he was not alone.
Spencer was skipping his math test and leaning against his locker, shuffling through a deck of playing cards. Adam walked down the hall cautiously... slower and slower and slower... until he was right across from the bully. Spencer stared at Adam. Adam stared back. Spencer took a step out into the hallway and blocked the bathroom door.
“The bathroom is closed, new kid.” Spencer smiled a mean smile. “But while you’re here, I’m going to need your pizza money. And maybe the hat you’re wearing. Nice shoes! You’d better gimme those too.” Adam really had to pee. He didn’t empty his pockets or hand over his cap. Instead he said, “Please move! I’m in a bit of a hurry here!”
Spencer was not impressed. He hated it when any kid didn’t do what he told them to, but he really hated it when that person was a new kid. Spencer took Adam by the shoulders and pushed him into the lockers, then he grabbed Adam’s hat and put it on his own head. When Adam tried to fight back, Spencer kicked his really hard, right in the stomach! Adam couldn’t breathe! Then he realized the worst thing of all. He didn’t have to pee anymore.
Spencer laughed a mean laugh that matched his mean smile. Suddenly someone came around the corner and into their long hallway. In a flash Spencer was gone and Adam was left alone, beaten up and with wet pants.
The kid walking up the hall was Emily Morton, one of the girls he had eaten lunch with earlier that day. Emily had shared her Dunkaroos so Adam was sure that this new friend would help him out. Emily had been singing but when she saw Adam lying on the floor her singing turned to humming and then her humming stopped too. Worry and fear took over her face. She paused about ten feet away from him and turned sharply down another hallway on her right, without saying a word.
Adam was hurt, not only from his bruising ribs and splitting headache, but also because Emily had completely avoided him... not very friendly after all.
A minute later, one of the kids from his gym class came out and headed towards the bathroom. As soon as he saw Adam crumpled against the wall he turned around and took the long way. Three minutes later the boy snuck around and dashed into the bathroom from the other direction.
Adam, holding his stomach and trying so hard not to cry struggled to stand up. He tried breathing deeply and taking a few steps but he collapsed onto the floor once again. It was hopeless.
The door to the gym opened. It was Tyrant Number 14, a member of the rival volleyball team he was supposed to be playing right now. “Oh man,” Adam thought. “Here it comes again.” But Number 14 did something completely unexpected. As soon as he saw Adam sprawled out on the floor he ran over, bent down and spoke gently.
“Hey, are you okay? Man! What happened to you? Here, let me give you a hand up. Actually, wait a minute... I have an idea, I’ll be right back.” The boy jogged down the hall and into a nearby classroom. He came out pushing a large rolling computer chair. Number 14 helped Adam into the seat and pushed him all the way to the principal’s office. There he gave the secretary two quarters so that Adam could call his mom. The secretary cleaned up his cuts and gave Adam a superman Band-Aid.
When Number 14 returned to the game and his team in the gym, he traded e-mails with his new friend and they have remained friends ever since.
(Spencer kept bullying kids until he finally graduated and went to a high school where the teachers didn’t let him get away with being cruel and mean to anyone. In fact, he had to do extra homework for four months!)
Adam was the new kid. It was his third day in Mrs. Menno’s gym class and they were playing a big game against their rival school, the Toronto Tyrants. Right in the middle of the game, Adam had to pee; so, he got up, got a hall pass from his teacher, pushed open the big double doors to the gym and turned left, walking down the hall to the bathroom. He only got about five steps before he noticed that he was not alone.
Spencer was skipping his math test and leaning against his locker, shuffling through a deck of playing cards. Adam walked down the hall cautiously... slower and slower and slower... until he was right across from the bully. Spencer stared at Adam. Adam stared back. Spencer took a step out into the hallway and blocked the bathroom door.
“The bathroom is closed, new kid.” Spencer smiled a mean smile. “But while you’re here, I’m going to need your pizza money. And maybe the hat you’re wearing. Nice shoes! You’d better gimme those too.” Adam really had to pee. He didn’t empty his pockets or hand over his cap. Instead he said, “Please move! I’m in a bit of a hurry here!”
Spencer was not impressed. He hated it when any kid didn’t do what he told them to, but he really hated it when that person was a new kid. Spencer took Adam by the shoulders and pushed him into the lockers, then he grabbed Adam’s hat and put it on his own head. When Adam tried to fight back, Spencer kicked his really hard, right in the stomach! Adam couldn’t breathe! Then he realized the worst thing of all. He didn’t have to pee anymore.
Spencer laughed a mean laugh that matched his mean smile. Suddenly someone came around the corner and into their long hallway. In a flash Spencer was gone and Adam was left alone, beaten up and with wet pants.
The kid walking up the hall was Emily Morton, one of the girls he had eaten lunch with earlier that day. Emily had shared her Dunkaroos so Adam was sure that this new friend would help him out. Emily had been singing but when she saw Adam lying on the floor her singing turned to humming and then her humming stopped too. Worry and fear took over her face. She paused about ten feet away from him and turned sharply down another hallway on her right, without saying a word.
Adam was hurt, not only from his bruising ribs and splitting headache, but also because Emily had completely avoided him... not very friendly after all.
A minute later, one of the kids from his gym class came out and headed towards the bathroom. As soon as he saw Adam crumpled against the wall he turned around and took the long way. Three minutes later the boy snuck around and dashed into the bathroom from the other direction.
Adam, holding his stomach and trying so hard not to cry struggled to stand up. He tried breathing deeply and taking a few steps but he collapsed onto the floor once again. It was hopeless.
The door to the gym opened. It was Tyrant Number 14, a member of the rival volleyball team he was supposed to be playing right now. “Oh man,” Adam thought. “Here it comes again.” But Number 14 did something completely unexpected. As soon as he saw Adam sprawled out on the floor he ran over, bent down and spoke gently.
“Hey, are you okay? Man! What happened to you? Here, let me give you a hand up. Actually, wait a minute... I have an idea, I’ll be right back.” The boy jogged down the hall and into a nearby classroom. He came out pushing a large rolling computer chair. Number 14 helped Adam into the seat and pushed him all the way to the principal’s office. There he gave the secretary two quarters so that Adam could call his mom. The secretary cleaned up his cuts and gave Adam a superman Band-Aid.
When Number 14 returned to the game and his team in the gym, he traded e-mails with his new friend and they have remained friends ever since.
(Spencer kept bullying kids until he finally graduated and went to a high school where the teachers didn’t let him get away with being cruel and mean to anyone. In fact, he had to do extra homework for four months!)
Rescued from Down Under
Every great playground has always had a king. The king is the one who decides which groups of kids gets to use the soccer field and which ones will play four-square. He organizes rules and territories of the playground and makes sure that war is under control at all times. The king holds all of the power in the playground and even some of the teachers obey his rules during recess times. Each playground king reigns for an entire school year, but every month or two, the king has to pick a new queen.
The last queen got fired because the king had asked her to the school dance and she said no. The last queen had also turned down the playground president... then she went with a tuba player from the band and had her crown taken away the same night.
The king, King Robert, was ready to find a new queen only three days later. He called a meeting with everyone in the playground government: the President, the Prime Minister, the PGP (playground police) and every grade representative from SK to grade eight. The king was going to hold a school-wide beauty contest. He would choose a queen out of all the girls at Huntsville Public, and he would choose her in only one week.
The pressure was on.
In no time at all the whole school knew about the king’s plan to find a new queen. The only rule was that she had to be beautiful. Every girl from the first grade up got ready all week, putting on smelling perfumes and testing out make up and picking out their favourite outfits. Clarissa was excited about the contest too. She wanted to look nice for the king but her mom didn’t want her to use any make up. “You are already so beautiful Rissa!” She told her. Clarissa’s mom told her she was beautiful every day, so she believed it was true and simply washed her face the morning of the contest and put on absolutely no makeup.
King Robert took the morning and lunchtime recess to judge the beauty contest. Each girl had to go through an obstacle course of swinging, monkey bars, hop-skip and jump, a spelling bee, and they had to drink a whole can of root beer in less than two minutes before they were even considered for queenship. Their final task was to write a poem for the king using only three markers, four pieces of paper, and five minutes. After all of that, the king would choose the best and most beautiful girl as his queen.
It was a tough competition at the beginning. All of the girls looked really beautiful... but after the obstacle course was over most of the girls were smelly and sweaty and their makeup was running down their faces. The king looked at the potential queens of the playground and saw that basically everyone looked like a mess. Everyone except Clarissa.
Finally, it was time for afternoon recess. All of the kids gathered together around the jungle-gym. King Robert stood at the very top and announced with a clear, loud voice, “Students and subjects of the playground! I have come to a decision!” The girls who had competed lined up in front of the crowned and faced the king.
“I hereby choose Clarissa as my Queen!” The crowd cheered loudly for Clarissa. She wasn’t the most popular girl in the school but pretty much everyone got along with her, so pretty much everyone was happy, except the other girls in line who wanted to be queen. Then King Robert gave Queen Clarissa a shiny tinfoil crown and the purple velveteen blanket that the queen got to wear as a cape whenever she was in her official queen role. It was official.
Queen Clarissa enjoyed a wonderful week as queen before the trouble started. You see, Clarissa was a music student. She had been taking piano lessons since she could walk and she had just recently joined up with the school choir. Eventually she had hoped she could bring King Robert to her recital to hear her sing, but for now she was keeping the plan a secret so that she could surprise him closer to the date of the performance. But ever since the last queen of the playground had turned down the president, Tyrel Hangman had been looking for a way to get back at the music students... and he had finally thought up a way to teach every music, choir and band geek that nobody messes with the President and gets away with it!
Clarissa’s cousin Dave was in the seventh grade. He had always taken care of Clarissa and he had always tried to set a good example for her. It was Dave who had helped start the choir at their school. Dave knew about almost everything going on at the school, so it wasn’t long before Dave heard about President Tyrel’s plan against the music kids.
“He’s going to lock us in the basement!” Dave explained to Clarissa over family dinner that night. “Every music student in the whole school is going to get thrown into the boiler room in the school basement... overnight!”
Clarissa was stunned. “Does the king know about this?”
“I don’t think so,” Dave said, “but he did make Tyrel the president and there is a lot of power with that job! Clarissa, you’ve got to do something! You might be the only chance we’ve got!”
“What should I do Dave? If I go to the king complaining I could get fired!"
“Clarissa, you have to. There is no other way.”
Clarissa swallowed hard. She knew what she had to do and she knew it would be the right decision. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t a little nervous. The next day at lunch recess, Queen Clarissa leaned over to King Robert. “Hey Robbie, I have a question...”
“Yes, Rissa? What is it? Anything you want is yours.”
“Will you and President Tyrel have snack with me today? Just the two of you? I brought Dunkaroos and Fruit Roll-Ups and popcorn. What do you think?”
The king looked a little confused for a minute then he summoned the President and agreed whole heartedly. The king would do almost anything for a good Fruit Roll-Up. That day during snack the Queen, King, and President sat down to a junk food feast. It was by far the best snack any of them had had in a very long time. “Is there something bugging you Rissa?” King Robert asked, “you look like you’ve something to say...”
“Yes... will you two eat snack with me again tomorrow?”
Tyrel thought he was about the best President the playground had ever seen. His plan against the music kinds was going perfectly and the King and Queen kept asking him to share their snack... he sure thought that things were going wonderfully.
The next day, the Queen, King and President Tyrel sat down for snack again. Their junk food feast was even better than the day before! But the king could tell that something was really bothering the queen. “Rissa my queen, what’s wrong? Even with so much to eat you can’t smile! Spill it!”
The queen swallowed her mouthful of cookie and then cleared her throat. “King Robert, I have to ask you a huge favour. It’s about the band and the choir. There is an attack being planned that includes every single music student being locked in the basement overnight! King, some of the choir members are only five years old! Please, stop this evil plan!”
The king was turning red and the President was turning green. “Who is planning this?!” Clarissa raised her arm and pointed at Tyrel’s face. “Your own president, this slithering snake!” The King jumped up and stormed out of the room. A few seconds later he stormed back in.
“Tyrel, I hereby take away your power and your title. You will never be a leader in this playground ever again! And YOU will be locked in the school basement overnight!!!” The king’s bodyguards, two huge seventh grade boys, carried Tyrel down the stairs right after school that day. The king couldn’t stop Tyrel’s goons from trying to capture the music students but he made a law so that they could use silly string and water guns to protect themselves. Clarissa’s cousin Dave who had warned her about the attack in the first place was promoted to President and given everything that Tyrel used to have and more!
Soon everything was pretty much back to normal on the playground. The wars were under control, the kids played fairly and safely during recess and the king and queen lived a happy semester with Dunkaroos and Fruit Roll-Ups for every other snack!
The last queen got fired because the king had asked her to the school dance and she said no. The last queen had also turned down the playground president... then she went with a tuba player from the band and had her crown taken away the same night.
The king, King Robert, was ready to find a new queen only three days later. He called a meeting with everyone in the playground government: the President, the Prime Minister, the PGP (playground police) and every grade representative from SK to grade eight. The king was going to hold a school-wide beauty contest. He would choose a queen out of all the girls at Huntsville Public, and he would choose her in only one week.
The pressure was on.
In no time at all the whole school knew about the king’s plan to find a new queen. The only rule was that she had to be beautiful. Every girl from the first grade up got ready all week, putting on smelling perfumes and testing out make up and picking out their favourite outfits. Clarissa was excited about the contest too. She wanted to look nice for the king but her mom didn’t want her to use any make up. “You are already so beautiful Rissa!” She told her. Clarissa’s mom told her she was beautiful every day, so she believed it was true and simply washed her face the morning of the contest and put on absolutely no makeup.
King Robert took the morning and lunchtime recess to judge the beauty contest. Each girl had to go through an obstacle course of swinging, monkey bars, hop-skip and jump, a spelling bee, and they had to drink a whole can of root beer in less than two minutes before they were even considered for queenship. Their final task was to write a poem for the king using only three markers, four pieces of paper, and five minutes. After all of that, the king would choose the best and most beautiful girl as his queen.
It was a tough competition at the beginning. All of the girls looked really beautiful... but after the obstacle course was over most of the girls were smelly and sweaty and their makeup was running down their faces. The king looked at the potential queens of the playground and saw that basically everyone looked like a mess. Everyone except Clarissa.
Finally, it was time for afternoon recess. All of the kids gathered together around the jungle-gym. King Robert stood at the very top and announced with a clear, loud voice, “Students and subjects of the playground! I have come to a decision!” The girls who had competed lined up in front of the crowned and faced the king.
“I hereby choose Clarissa as my Queen!” The crowd cheered loudly for Clarissa. She wasn’t the most popular girl in the school but pretty much everyone got along with her, so pretty much everyone was happy, except the other girls in line who wanted to be queen. Then King Robert gave Queen Clarissa a shiny tinfoil crown and the purple velveteen blanket that the queen got to wear as a cape whenever she was in her official queen role. It was official.
Queen Clarissa enjoyed a wonderful week as queen before the trouble started. You see, Clarissa was a music student. She had been taking piano lessons since she could walk and she had just recently joined up with the school choir. Eventually she had hoped she could bring King Robert to her recital to hear her sing, but for now she was keeping the plan a secret so that she could surprise him closer to the date of the performance. But ever since the last queen of the playground had turned down the president, Tyrel Hangman had been looking for a way to get back at the music students... and he had finally thought up a way to teach every music, choir and band geek that nobody messes with the President and gets away with it!
Clarissa’s cousin Dave was in the seventh grade. He had always taken care of Clarissa and he had always tried to set a good example for her. It was Dave who had helped start the choir at their school. Dave knew about almost everything going on at the school, so it wasn’t long before Dave heard about President Tyrel’s plan against the music kids.
“He’s going to lock us in the basement!” Dave explained to Clarissa over family dinner that night. “Every music student in the whole school is going to get thrown into the boiler room in the school basement... overnight!”
Clarissa was stunned. “Does the king know about this?”
“I don’t think so,” Dave said, “but he did make Tyrel the president and there is a lot of power with that job! Clarissa, you’ve got to do something! You might be the only chance we’ve got!”
“What should I do Dave? If I go to the king complaining I could get fired!"
“Clarissa, you have to. There is no other way.”
Clarissa swallowed hard. She knew what she had to do and she knew it would be the right decision. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t a little nervous. The next day at lunch recess, Queen Clarissa leaned over to King Robert. “Hey Robbie, I have a question...”
“Yes, Rissa? What is it? Anything you want is yours.”
“Will you and President Tyrel have snack with me today? Just the two of you? I brought Dunkaroos and Fruit Roll-Ups and popcorn. What do you think?”
The king looked a little confused for a minute then he summoned the President and agreed whole heartedly. The king would do almost anything for a good Fruit Roll-Up. That day during snack the Queen, King, and President sat down to a junk food feast. It was by far the best snack any of them had had in a very long time. “Is there something bugging you Rissa?” King Robert asked, “you look like you’ve something to say...”
“Yes... will you two eat snack with me again tomorrow?”
Tyrel thought he was about the best President the playground had ever seen. His plan against the music kinds was going perfectly and the King and Queen kept asking him to share their snack... he sure thought that things were going wonderfully.
The next day, the Queen, King and President Tyrel sat down for snack again. Their junk food feast was even better than the day before! But the king could tell that something was really bothering the queen. “Rissa my queen, what’s wrong? Even with so much to eat you can’t smile! Spill it!”
The queen swallowed her mouthful of cookie and then cleared her throat. “King Robert, I have to ask you a huge favour. It’s about the band and the choir. There is an attack being planned that includes every single music student being locked in the basement overnight! King, some of the choir members are only five years old! Please, stop this evil plan!”
The king was turning red and the President was turning green. “Who is planning this?!” Clarissa raised her arm and pointed at Tyrel’s face. “Your own president, this slithering snake!” The King jumped up and stormed out of the room. A few seconds later he stormed back in.
“Tyrel, I hereby take away your power and your title. You will never be a leader in this playground ever again! And YOU will be locked in the school basement overnight!!!” The king’s bodyguards, two huge seventh grade boys, carried Tyrel down the stairs right after school that day. The king couldn’t stop Tyrel’s goons from trying to capture the music students but he made a law so that they could use silly string and water guns to protect themselves. Clarissa’s cousin Dave who had warned her about the attack in the first place was promoted to President and given everything that Tyrel used to have and more!
Soon everything was pretty much back to normal on the playground. The wars were under control, the kids played fairly and safely during recess and the king and queen lived a happy semester with Dunkaroos and Fruit Roll-Ups for every other snack!
Sunday, January 3, 2010
One Naked Bug
It began with a simple, quiet little bug sitting in a still, quiet part of the African Savannah. Close by she could see many other animals grazing and drinking from a freshwater desert pool. Everything was calm and beautiful, like a great piece of art, but nothing in sight was as beautiful as Bug.
Her shell was as blue as the deep Indian ocean, as yellow as the tall grain, as green as the cactus and as red as the reddest of sunsets. Everyone admired her as one of the most beautiful creatures on the continent and it was her pride and joy to be thought so lovely. All day long she would sit on her rock in the shade so that the sun wouldn’t fade her shell and whenever a friendly animal would walk by she would fly through its fur and polish herself until she dazzled. Nothing was more important to her than the appearance of her shell... It was, as some say, her most defining feature.
One day, completely without any warning or time to prepare herself, Bug’s body did something VERY strange... it hiccoughed! Bug had never before in her entire life experienced a hiccough. She had never even heard of a hiccough! In fact, this was the very first case of African hiccoughs that had ever been experienced by anyone since the very beginning of the world. Bug was VERY afraid.
“Help!” she tried to call to one of her friends, but her shout sounded more like heh-culp than help, so no one paid her much attention at first. “Heh-culp! Heh-culp! Heh-culp!” cried Bug desperately as her hiccoughs began to bounce her body around on the ground. “Please! Won’t somebody heh-culp me!” Suddenly one of her hiccoughs jolted her so forcefully that Bug flew backward and crashed into her rock...
“AAHHHHHHH!!!” Bug screamed! For a moment her hiccoughs stopped out of shock.
She was
completely
NAKED!
She had crashed SO HARD into her rock that the colours from her shell had peeled right off of her! Her rock was now as blue as the deep Indian ocean, as yellow as the tall grain, as green as the cactus and as red as the reddest of sunsets. The rock was so beautiful... and she was SO naked!!
Suddenly the giraffe came galloping over to Bug and her rock. “Bug!” cried Giraffe, his long neck swooping down to the ground with a great swoosh, “Bug! I heard your scream! What’s wrong?! Talk to me Bug! Say something!”
(He was speaking to the rock.)
“Giraffe!” pleaded Bug, “you’ve got to heh-culp me!” Giraffe looked at Bug. “Who are you?”
Bug could hardly believe her ears. “I’M BUG!” she yelled into Giraffe’s long face. “I AM BUG!”
Giraffe gasped. “Bug! What happened to you?!”
Bug quickly explained as much as she could which, unfortunately, wasn’t very much. Giraffe tried his best to diagnose the problem but he wasn’t trained in the medical field and so was not much help. Just was he was about to give up on her, Giraffe’s body did something VERY strange...
It hiccoughed.
“HEH-culp!” yelled Giraffe as he began to run around in circles in panic. He was SO worried about his hiccoughs that for a moment his graceful limbs got tangled up and he lost control of where he was running. In one second of chaos Giraffe knocked into Bug, sending her flying for five feet! When she landed they both noticed something horrifying: Bug looked a lot like Giraffe and Giraffe was NAKED.
“AAHHHHHHH!!!”
They screamed for twenty seconds straight before either of them could even blink.
“Okay,” said Giraffe as soon as he caught his breath after the very long yell. “There must be some kind of scientif-HIC, logical explanation for all of this. Unfortunately, I am not a very log-HIC-al animal, and both of us failed Jungle Biology last year. We need to call in an expert!”
Giraffe and Bug did what all of the animals did when they needed to learn something; they signalled for the wisest and most medically astute of all African creatures. Both of them lay flat on their backs and stuck their tongues out because, as you know, the fastest way to find a vulture is to play dead.
Vulture showed up two minutes later. He was always on the lookout for an easy meal, but when he saw the big white blob on the ground he was sceptical to say the least. He hovered over their bodies for a moment and just as he was getting ready to settle down, Giraffe’s body hiccoughed.
“Woah!” exclaimed Vulture to the apparently dead carcases beneath him. “That was not normal!” Giraffe hiccoughed again, which sent the poor bird into fluttering hysterics. Worried that Vulture was going to fly away before he could help them, Giraffe swooshed his long neck into the air...
It was like Safari baseball. Vulture’s body let out the tiniest little bitty hiccough that had ever been hiccoughed and then PAASMAAASH! Giraffe’s neck crashed into Vulture’s body and instantly Giraffe looked like a tall, gangly and bald version of Vulture and Vulture was naked from beak to bottom. Naturally, Vulture was a little surprised.
“AAHHHHHHH!!!”
“Please don’t pan-HIC,” said Bug with a new calmness. “Who are you?!” Vulture half-yelled, half-gasped as he stared at the little spotted creature in front of him. “I’m Bug,” said Bug, “and this is Giraffe. We need your heh-culp.” Vulture closed and opened his eyes slowly, hoping that the scene unfolding before him was just a very unusual nightmare. That was not the case. Faced with a confusing reality, Vulture took control of the whole situation.
“Well, there must be some kind of scientif-HIC, log-HIC-al explanation for all of this. Fortunately, I am a very log-HIC-al animal, and even taught Jungle Biology last year. You were right to call in an expert.”
Vulture listened carefully while Bug and Giraffe told him their story. “I believe that the problem is a synchronous diaphragmat-HIC flutter. I have two ideas that just might work,” Vulture said in his smartest and wisest voice, “but if neither of these plans su-HIC-cceed I’m afraid we’re all going to die.”
Vulture’s first plan was that all three of them might hold their breaths. Neither Bug nor Giraffe could think of a reason as to why this would not work, and so they stood facing each other with noses and lips sealed tight. Perhaps if the animals had been able to hold their breath for long enough this remedy would have worked, however only a few seconds into the experiment a ferocious jungle cat leaped into view and sunk her claws into Vulture’s vulnerable backside! The shock of the whole situation was so great that all four of them hiccoughed simultaneously. Leopard, who had never experienced hiccoughs before in her life panicked and tried to stop herself mid-leap with no success. She tumbled into the other three knocking them over like bowling pins and landing in a tangle of claws and feathers and fur.
“AAHHHHHHH!!!” yelped Leopard as she discovered herself printless from tip to tail. “Vulture! Give me back my spots!” Vulture looked down at his body. “Well,” he said, “on to Plan B.”
Vulture explained his second plan to the group. “This is our last h-HIC-ope,” announces Vulture grimly. “We must ram into each other and jump up and down and try and get our patterns back.” Leopard and Vulture were first to test the theory and they took a running (and flying) charge at each other. Their SMASH was hard and both were stunned by the impact, but the pattern did not move. Even when the collisions happened mid hiccough their colours would not change.
“It’s hopeless!” moaned bug, rubbing her bruised shell after trying a trade with Giraffe and landing upside down in the dirt. “We’ll be stuck like this forever!”
“Should we change our names?” Giraffe asked the group, looking longingly back at his herd. “Can I still be a giraffe when I look like a vulture?”
The question took them off guard and no one could offer an answer. They stood in miserable hiccough-interrupted silence for several minutes, until...
“Hey everybody! What’s wrong with you? Why are you all so sad?” It was Zebra, the most unusual looking animal in the whole Savannah. They all stared back at him sadly and Bug answered for all of them: “We’re all jumbled up... this is the worst day ever! I don’t even know who I am anymore!” They nodded their agreement.
Zebra stood quietly looking at the depressing clan of animals in front of him.
“Identity crisis is nothing new to the zebras, you know. We’ve been struggling with appearance for generations! Are we white with black stripes or black with white stripes? Some of us are brown! Some are almost as patternless as you are Leopard, but that doesn’t change a thing.” The other animals seemed sceptical at best. Then Zebra had an idea. “I am going to teach you something that all Zebras learn when they are very young. I think it might help.” Zebra cleared his throat and stood up tall as he began:
“You are who you are
Not because of your skin,
Whether spotted or stripped
Whether fat or quite thin.
Your self’s on the inside,
It’s the stuff you can’t see
That says you are you
And that lets me be me.
So don’t fret about pattern!
Don’t worry ‘bout size
Cause the fuss about external
Worth is just lies!
Take pride in your spirit
Take care of your heart
Because that’s your most
Valuable, beautiful part.”
None of the animals spoke for a moment or two, but in their faces a change was easy to see. Their eyes had gone soft and their mouths had turned up into a very different kind of smile than they had ever experienced before.
“I feel weird,” confessed Vulture. “So do I,” added Bug. Each one nodded their heads. “So... what do we do?” asked Leopard, looking to Zebra. “Well, I do have one idea that doesn’t lead to death...”
And so, deep in the heart of the African Savannah on days that are not quite so quiet and still you can still find the effects of the Zebra’s great plan. Each animal stood in front of a stone and with all of their might each one hiccoughed their last....
and prowled and galloped and flew stripped clean, into the reddest of sunsets.
Her shell was as blue as the deep Indian ocean, as yellow as the tall grain, as green as the cactus and as red as the reddest of sunsets. Everyone admired her as one of the most beautiful creatures on the continent and it was her pride and joy to be thought so lovely. All day long she would sit on her rock in the shade so that the sun wouldn’t fade her shell and whenever a friendly animal would walk by she would fly through its fur and polish herself until she dazzled. Nothing was more important to her than the appearance of her shell... It was, as some say, her most defining feature.
One day, completely without any warning or time to prepare herself, Bug’s body did something VERY strange... it hiccoughed! Bug had never before in her entire life experienced a hiccough. She had never even heard of a hiccough! In fact, this was the very first case of African hiccoughs that had ever been experienced by anyone since the very beginning of the world. Bug was VERY afraid.
“Help!” she tried to call to one of her friends, but her shout sounded more like heh-culp than help, so no one paid her much attention at first. “Heh-culp! Heh-culp! Heh-culp!” cried Bug desperately as her hiccoughs began to bounce her body around on the ground. “Please! Won’t somebody heh-culp me!” Suddenly one of her hiccoughs jolted her so forcefully that Bug flew backward and crashed into her rock...
“AAHHHHHHH!!!” Bug screamed! For a moment her hiccoughs stopped out of shock.
She was
completely
NAKED!
She had crashed SO HARD into her rock that the colours from her shell had peeled right off of her! Her rock was now as blue as the deep Indian ocean, as yellow as the tall grain, as green as the cactus and as red as the reddest of sunsets. The rock was so beautiful... and she was SO naked!!
Suddenly the giraffe came galloping over to Bug and her rock. “Bug!” cried Giraffe, his long neck swooping down to the ground with a great swoosh, “Bug! I heard your scream! What’s wrong?! Talk to me Bug! Say something!”
(He was speaking to the rock.)
“Giraffe!” pleaded Bug, “you’ve got to heh-culp me!” Giraffe looked at Bug. “Who are you?”
Bug could hardly believe her ears. “I’M BUG!” she yelled into Giraffe’s long face. “I AM BUG!”
Giraffe gasped. “Bug! What happened to you?!”
Bug quickly explained as much as she could which, unfortunately, wasn’t very much. Giraffe tried his best to diagnose the problem but he wasn’t trained in the medical field and so was not much help. Just was he was about to give up on her, Giraffe’s body did something VERY strange...
It hiccoughed.
“HEH-culp!” yelled Giraffe as he began to run around in circles in panic. He was SO worried about his hiccoughs that for a moment his graceful limbs got tangled up and he lost control of where he was running. In one second of chaos Giraffe knocked into Bug, sending her flying for five feet! When she landed they both noticed something horrifying: Bug looked a lot like Giraffe and Giraffe was NAKED.
“AAHHHHHHH!!!”
They screamed for twenty seconds straight before either of them could even blink.
“Okay,” said Giraffe as soon as he caught his breath after the very long yell. “There must be some kind of scientif-HIC, logical explanation for all of this. Unfortunately, I am not a very log-HIC-al animal, and both of us failed Jungle Biology last year. We need to call in an expert!”
Giraffe and Bug did what all of the animals did when they needed to learn something; they signalled for the wisest and most medically astute of all African creatures. Both of them lay flat on their backs and stuck their tongues out because, as you know, the fastest way to find a vulture is to play dead.
Vulture showed up two minutes later. He was always on the lookout for an easy meal, but when he saw the big white blob on the ground he was sceptical to say the least. He hovered over their bodies for a moment and just as he was getting ready to settle down, Giraffe’s body hiccoughed.
“Woah!” exclaimed Vulture to the apparently dead carcases beneath him. “That was not normal!” Giraffe hiccoughed again, which sent the poor bird into fluttering hysterics. Worried that Vulture was going to fly away before he could help them, Giraffe swooshed his long neck into the air...
It was like Safari baseball. Vulture’s body let out the tiniest little bitty hiccough that had ever been hiccoughed and then PAASMAAASH! Giraffe’s neck crashed into Vulture’s body and instantly Giraffe looked like a tall, gangly and bald version of Vulture and Vulture was naked from beak to bottom. Naturally, Vulture was a little surprised.
“AAHHHHHHH!!!”
“Please don’t pan-HIC,” said Bug with a new calmness. “Who are you?!” Vulture half-yelled, half-gasped as he stared at the little spotted creature in front of him. “I’m Bug,” said Bug, “and this is Giraffe. We need your heh-culp.” Vulture closed and opened his eyes slowly, hoping that the scene unfolding before him was just a very unusual nightmare. That was not the case. Faced with a confusing reality, Vulture took control of the whole situation.
“Well, there must be some kind of scientif-HIC, log-HIC-al explanation for all of this. Fortunately, I am a very log-HIC-al animal, and even taught Jungle Biology last year. You were right to call in an expert.”
Vulture listened carefully while Bug and Giraffe told him their story. “I believe that the problem is a synchronous diaphragmat-HIC flutter. I have two ideas that just might work,” Vulture said in his smartest and wisest voice, “but if neither of these plans su-HIC-cceed I’m afraid we’re all going to die.”
Vulture’s first plan was that all three of them might hold their breaths. Neither Bug nor Giraffe could think of a reason as to why this would not work, and so they stood facing each other with noses and lips sealed tight. Perhaps if the animals had been able to hold their breath for long enough this remedy would have worked, however only a few seconds into the experiment a ferocious jungle cat leaped into view and sunk her claws into Vulture’s vulnerable backside! The shock of the whole situation was so great that all four of them hiccoughed simultaneously. Leopard, who had never experienced hiccoughs before in her life panicked and tried to stop herself mid-leap with no success. She tumbled into the other three knocking them over like bowling pins and landing in a tangle of claws and feathers and fur.
“AAHHHHHHH!!!” yelped Leopard as she discovered herself printless from tip to tail. “Vulture! Give me back my spots!” Vulture looked down at his body. “Well,” he said, “on to Plan B.”
Vulture explained his second plan to the group. “This is our last h-HIC-ope,” announces Vulture grimly. “We must ram into each other and jump up and down and try and get our patterns back.” Leopard and Vulture were first to test the theory and they took a running (and flying) charge at each other. Their SMASH was hard and both were stunned by the impact, but the pattern did not move. Even when the collisions happened mid hiccough their colours would not change.
“It’s hopeless!” moaned bug, rubbing her bruised shell after trying a trade with Giraffe and landing upside down in the dirt. “We’ll be stuck like this forever!”
“Should we change our names?” Giraffe asked the group, looking longingly back at his herd. “Can I still be a giraffe when I look like a vulture?”
The question took them off guard and no one could offer an answer. They stood in miserable hiccough-interrupted silence for several minutes, until...
“Hey everybody! What’s wrong with you? Why are you all so sad?” It was Zebra, the most unusual looking animal in the whole Savannah. They all stared back at him sadly and Bug answered for all of them: “We’re all jumbled up... this is the worst day ever! I don’t even know who I am anymore!” They nodded their agreement.
Zebra stood quietly looking at the depressing clan of animals in front of him.
“Identity crisis is nothing new to the zebras, you know. We’ve been struggling with appearance for generations! Are we white with black stripes or black with white stripes? Some of us are brown! Some are almost as patternless as you are Leopard, but that doesn’t change a thing.” The other animals seemed sceptical at best. Then Zebra had an idea. “I am going to teach you something that all Zebras learn when they are very young. I think it might help.” Zebra cleared his throat and stood up tall as he began:
“You are who you are
Not because of your skin,
Whether spotted or stripped
Whether fat or quite thin.
Your self’s on the inside,
It’s the stuff you can’t see
That says you are you
And that lets me be me.
So don’t fret about pattern!
Don’t worry ‘bout size
Cause the fuss about external
Worth is just lies!
Take pride in your spirit
Take care of your heart
Because that’s your most
Valuable, beautiful part.”
None of the animals spoke for a moment or two, but in their faces a change was easy to see. Their eyes had gone soft and their mouths had turned up into a very different kind of smile than they had ever experienced before.
“I feel weird,” confessed Vulture. “So do I,” added Bug. Each one nodded their heads. “So... what do we do?” asked Leopard, looking to Zebra. “Well, I do have one idea that doesn’t lead to death...”
And so, deep in the heart of the African Savannah on days that are not quite so quiet and still you can still find the effects of the Zebra’s great plan. Each animal stood in front of a stone and with all of their might each one hiccoughed their last....
and prowled and galloped and flew stripped clean, into the reddest of sunsets.
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