THE REDHEADED BOY AND HIS POCKETS. (or; things you might need)

For this homework we had a list of items to write a story about one or two.
I choose to include all items, as a little challenge. Then things got a bit weird,
I kept flipping between narrative, and poem!
Items:
Box of matches
Crown Derby cup
Decorative box
DVD of "Persuasion"
Empty Glasses case
Stick of glue
Jewelled elephant
Paint brush
Baby Bio plant fertilizer
Scissors
String of pearls
Verbena perfumed sachet
Water/hydro thermometer
Alabaster cat
Read and see if I included everything! Did I miss anything out?

I was bored at school, and poking my fingers about in my pockets, while waiting for the bell to ring, seeing what I could find, when my hand closed over a weird glass bobble thing that had been ‘liberated’ from a glass thermometer mother had been given. I never meant for it to fall on the floor it smashed into glass shards, liquid flying everywhere… but the stuff inside was pretty cool.

Then I found the unusual jeweled elephant feeling it’s smooth sides and the curve of its trunk.  I can’t remember when I picked it up to join the other goodies I keep in my pockets.

 You never knew when stuff would be useful. The drawing pin was a good one; I sucked my thumb thoughtfully after rediscovering it’s whereabouts.

This morning I’d spied some scissors on the teacher’s desk, and shoved them deep in my pocket; they’d come in handy, I felt sure.

I had slipped into the classroom early, and placed the pin on Susan’s chair. Susan was a sweet girl and proud of her long hair worn in a plat.

Poor Susan sat down, and soon became aware,

there was something quite sharp, right there, on the chair.

She shrieked as she leapt from her seat like a rocket,

The boy with red hair felt deep in his pocket.

A small pair of scissors his fingers wrapped round

Once she had settled he made not a sound.

With one swift movement, he snipped off her plat,

and it was so very simple he did it like that.

That small little movement so easy to make

He’d now been so naughty he started to quake.

He was left holding a chunk of her hair.

First it was attached, then no longer there.

Just like that, really, it sat in his hand,

it was almost unbidden, unwanted, unplanned.

At once he felt guilty, and quick looked about,

no one had noticed, his luck might hold out.

From deep in his pocket, out came the glue,

a splodge on the end, just a little would do.

He felt quite sure he would not get the blamb

Because really, it looked almost the same.

For the rest of the day, he swore to be good

He tried really hard, he knew that he should.

But mischief just found him wherever he looked

In the bottom of his pocket, he found a fishhook.

A big box of matches, a string of old pearls,

a decorative box that belonged to some girls

A crown derby cup, and a pair of red socks

What strange things they kept inside of that box!

The next opportunity for mischief soon presented itself, as I entered the playground and came across a dog that was causing a rumpus.

It was a Jack Russell. The children were running in all directions as the little dog chased them around it’s tale wagging so hard it’s whole body shook with joy. I thrust his hand down in my pocket, and pulled out a paintbrush.

The dog kept on dancing, his face a delight

Chasing the children with all his might

The boy with red hair began chasing him

The playground erupted, oh what a din!

What was in his hand all covered in blue?

It was a paintbrush! “I’m coming for you!”

yelled the boy with red hair flopping over his face

the dog kept on running but the boy won the race.

Poor doggie was now a bright shade of blue

He went limping home and the neighborhood knew

He was a very bad dog, he’d broken the rule;

“No Pets Allowed At School”

It was horticulture for the next lesson the teacher was a stern man, with a face like a walrus. McCarthy was not given to humoring his students and took everything very seriously.  Honestly, ‘horticulture’?! For him this was just an excuse to get the kids doing the weeding in the school borders each week.

McCarthy was droning on about the life cycle of plants until eyelids were drooping and pupils yawned.

This was a dull lesson, but there was I thought I could liven things up…

The boy with the red hair

Said he did it for a dare

teacher had a nice warm mug of tea

and was sipping it rather gingerly,

It was very hot,

But he had got,

More than he knew

while sipping his brew

With added bio, a plant fertilizer

Made his mustache grow- he was none the wiser.

But by days end, it was down to his tie,

If you looked very close you could see the blackfly.

Next lesson; History. The teacher Miss Pippa had put on the DVD of ‘Persuasion’ by Jane Austin. We kids felt sure this was so she could slip off and drink coffee, whisky, or whatever teachers did in their ‘break’ while the kid’s flicked paper spit balls at each other.

Miss Pippa had gone, she slipped out the room,

Leaving behind a class of kids who laughed at the costume

Worn by Mrs Elliott, and at the complicated plot

The girls chattered and laughed and the boys flicked snot.

On teacher’s desk was left open a spectacle case

The glasses were gone, worn on Miss Pippa’s face.

The red headed boy thought it was child’s play,

To reach in his pocket and pull out a sachet

Of smelly verbena and pour it all in

He filled the case, right up to the brim.

He grinned to himself as he closed it up tight,

Miss Pippa was going to get a good fright!

Well, this had been a good day. You never knew when you might need the items in my pockets. They all had their uses, to delight and entertain. Otherwise, what a boring world school would be, without a little imagination and a pocket full of stuff.

There was one last thing I bet you’ll all want to know,

And that would be something as white as snow

Well on the way home the boy found more fun

And mischief to get into, when he picked up the gun

Let’s just say it involved an Alabaster cat…

…and we’ll leave it at that!

Two Coffees, Please.

This weeks homework was to write about a parent and

child who were separated at birth. What happens when

they meet again for the first time?

Two Coffees, please.

This is a story about a man.

About a man, and a little girl.

This is a story about a little girl, who grows up.

This is a story about a man, and a woman.

And the woman was his child.

He never intended to leave her it never was his plan

He wanted to be a good Father, not like his old man.

Sometimes life just does that, it fills you up with doubt

You never want it to happen, but that’s how it works out.

Many years later he awoke in his bed

A needle sharp thought like an arrow to the head.

It lodged in his brain and would not let go

It stuck in a place that we all know

as the temporal lobe, just behind your left ear.

Where memory lingers, and thoughts become clear.

He thought of her face, remembered her smile

The sound of her laughter, it had been a long while.

The wisp of a memory that might not be real

it might be an echo, of the way he should feel.

Desire took hold, like a hook in his brain

Once it took hold he was never the same.

The parasite grew and became so big

The past consumed him and he started to dig.

It took him three years, five months and two days.

They met in a coffee shop the crossing of ways

A tentative ‘hello’ and an outstretched hand

Music in the background, some old ‘80’s band.

“Hello, Anna. I’m your Father, Salvatore’

Anna searched his face, looking for his story.

Scrutinizing every feature and to her surprise

saw something of herself mirrored in his eyes.

Shyly at first she reaches out- a formal shake.

He wraps two hands around hers afraid that she’ll break

a rush of unexpected feeling he cannot name

Starts in his fingers but then to his shame

he’s full of emotion and holds back the tears

how much has he missed, how many years?

This woman- no baby -left so long ago,

When he was much younger and days were slow.

When the world was a once a much kinder place.

Now here sits a stranger with his lover’s face.

An overwhelming rush of sadness, speeding up like a truck

running him over; devastation, feelings scattered amok.

Anna’s eyes on his face, she was sure he was able

To hear her heart pounding from across the table.

A waitress approached, and put down the water

“Anything else, Sir?”

“Two coffees, please. One for me, and one for my daughter”