Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: Write for the HUMOR Genre (10/09/14)
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TITLE: If You Give a Boy a Spoon | Previous Challenge Entry
By Yvonne Blake
10/14/14 -
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He licks the last tasty dab from the long handle and his hands – not minding the smears on his chin and ears – then he looks at the spoon and turns it this way and that.
It looks like a shovel that is perfect for digging.
He wanders down behind the shed, where the dirt is loose and soft. With help from Dexter his dog, he scoops the soil from one spot to another – until he thinks they might dig right through to the other side of the earth.
He pauses a moment, then digs with intensity, for he spies something shiny and gold!
It’s only a button that somebody lost, but to him, it’s a treasure – a treasure, perhaps, that was buried by a fierce, one-eyed pirate with a sword on his belt.
With his button in hand, he looks for a box to hold all the gold he will find. He searches through the barns and sheds, but everything’s too big. Then with a smile and shining eyes, he remembers the perfect one!
He climbs upstairs to his big sister’s room and straight to her bedroom drawers. With a steady hand, he lifts the lid of her box full of bangles and chains. It’s the best treasure chest that pirate could want – and he’ll put it back later when he’s done.
A glimpse in the mirror brings reality back. He doesn’t look very fierce. A line of red lipstick makes a gory scar, and a few brushes of mascara grow a fine mustache and beard. He finds a red scarf to tie ‘round his head and some boots that clunk when he walks.
A page from her notebook becomes a map (if you don’t look at the numbers on the back.) He sticks out his tongue as he concentrates – drawing footsteps and lines ‘round and ‘round – until they end at a giant X.
Then off he goes, with the spoon on his belt, the treasure chest under his arm, and Dexter at his side. They march back and forth – through the cow pasture and under the fence – and stop where the pumpkins grow.
No one will find the treasure here, for no-one but he ever comes near where papa cleans out the barn. It’s the best spot ever to hide his booty. With Dexter’s help, he digs again, and buries it far under the clods.
With a smile and a sigh, he wipes his hands on shirt and pants, but they’re still covered with the brown, sticky muck. He turns on the hose that is attached to the shed and gives the handle a squeeze. The water hits Dexter full in the face, and the offended dog jumps back in surprise. The boy giggles. The dog wiggles. The water sprays both of them well. They romp and wallow in the sloppy mud.
The barks and laughter draw your attention to see what your boy is doing now.
A few moments later, he shuffles home with his muddy boots and unburied stolen treasure – which was confessed under threat of the usual punishment. After a thorough scrubbing and backside rubbing, he is placed in a corner to think.
He’s sorry for everything – for ruining his sister’s stuff and making such a mess. He never planned to cause such trouble. It just kind of . . . happened. With tears and hugs, he promises to respect other people properly (He thinks that’s what you said.) and to never, ever do it again.
You understand and kiss his head. You give him a bowl of cold chocolate pudding and another spoon – a smaller one instead.
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Wonderful job of keeping my attention throughout the entire piece, and superb writing.
Thanks!
God bless~