A Short Story By LJ Kundananji
Bill Happy was a happy kid—a very happy kid indeed. He had everything a kid his age would want—a wonderful, loving family; good friends; and he went to a happy little school called Happy Days Primary School. He lived in a happy town full of happy people. The neighbourhood he lived in was happy and peaceful. But above all, his home was happy and cosy.
But Bill Happy was not so good a little boy. He liked poking fun at people and pulling mean pranks that made them very unhappy. He did not care how they felt—all he wanted was to feel happy.
One day, while at school, he pulled a prank that made his teacher, Mrs. Joy, very unhappy. It was during story time. Mrs. Joy always read them a story, and that made them feel very happy. She would sit in her favourite arm chair, and all the children would gather around her, seated on the carpet with their legs crossed, listening attentively with big round happy eyes. Mrs. Joy always made a cup of cocoa—hot, steaming chocolate cocoa; from which she would sip occasionally as she read.
That day—that happy day, Mrs. Joy as usual made her hot steamy cup of cocoa.
“Okay Children!” she said with a clap of her hands, “It is read time!”
All the children rushed to take their seats on the carpet around Mrs. Joy’s favourite armchair—all the children that is except Bill Happy. He was seated at his desk staring at Mrs. Joy’s hot and steamy cup of cocoa that sat on her table. There was a naughty smile on his face.
“Bill Happy!” Mrs. Joy said with a stern look on her face, “I need not remind you that it is story time, do I?”
“No madam,” he said as he slowly got to his feet. He walked past Mrs. Joy’s table, and while no one was looking, he dropped something into her cup of cocoa. He sat down on the carpet with the rest of his classmates. Mrs. Joy, without suspecting a thing, got her cup of cocoa and put it on the little stool and sat down in her favourite chair.
As she opened the story book and began to read, all the children watched and listened with smiles, but Bill Happy’s smile was the biggest. And as she picked up the cup, put it to her lips and took a sip, Bill’s smile turned into a naughty grin. He rubbed his little hands and jumped up and down where he sat and no one suspected a thing. Naughty Bill Happy!
As she read the story and sipped more and more of the cocoa, Mrs. Joy felt sleepy—very sleepy indeed. At last, she closed her eyes, bowed her head and fell fast asleep and was soon snoring.
All the children were horrified—how could their teacher fall asleep during story time? All the children that is, except Bill Happy. His little heart beat harder from joy. All the children cried out in disappointment—all the children that is, except Bill Happy. He jumped up and down on his little feet and sang happily.
“Friends,” he shouted, “Stop your whining! Since teacher is asleep, let us go and play on the swings, on the sea-saws, on the slides and on the merry-go-rounds. Let us go and be happy and teacher will not even know about it!”
And that is what they did. The sadness in their eyes vanished, and they one and all rushed outside to play—to play on the swings, and on the seesaws, and on the slides and on the merry-go-rounds.
Mrs. Joy slept even harder and snored even louder. She dropped her story book to the floor and curled her legs up onto the chair. And she did not know that her children had gone out to play.
When Mr. Glad, the head teacher, looked out of the window, he was surprised to see that all the children in Mrs. Joy’s class were playing merrily outside.
“What is the meaning of this?” he asked himself in an angry voice. “Why are Mrs. Joy’s children playing outside on the swings, on the sea-saws and on the merry-go-rounds? Why are they playing when they are supposed to be in class?”
But there was no one to answer the question, because no one knew the answer.
So he marched to Mrs. Joy’s classroom in a fury and opened the door wide and walked in. He was shocked to find Mrs. Joy all curled on the chair, snoring loudly. He walked up to her and stared at her very angrily.
“Mrs. Joy!” she shouted. “Wake up Mrs. Joy!”
But Mrs. Joy did not wake up. She hugged her legs and slept even harder. With his eyes burning red from rage, he held her shoulders and shook her hard. He shook her so hard that she woke up. She opened her eyes wearily and yawned.
“Why, Mrs. Joy?” he asked in a big voice, his anger showing in his eye. “Why are your children playing outside on the swings, on the sea-saws, on the slides and on the merry-go-round? Why are they playing when it is not recess?”
“I don’t know,” Mrs. Joy said with red sleepy eyes. “I was just reading them a story when I felt very sleepy and fell asleep.”
Mr. Glad picked up her cup of cocoa, which was not hot and steamy anymore, but cold and miserable. He sniffed at it with his large nose. He sniffed at it once, twice and three times and looked at her suspiciously.
“Someone put sleeping pills in your cocoa, Mrs. Joy!” he said with a lot of surprise.
“Oh no!” Mrs. Joy cried, “It’s little Bill Happy! I saw him staring at my cup with a naughty smile. Oh! I feel so unhappy!”
“That boy deserves to be punished!” Mr. Glad shouted.
So the two of them rushed outside and called the children. They made them sit at their desks, but Bill was called to the front. He did not look happy anymore.
“Bill Happy,” Mr. Glad asked, “What did you do to Mrs. Joy’s cocoa?”
“I am sorry, sir,” Bill began, all trembling; “I did not want to sit in class all day listening to a story. So I put my mom’s little pills that send her sleep in Mrs. Joy’s cocoa, so that she could sleep and so that we could go outside to play—on the swings, on the sea-saws, on the slides and on the merry-go-rounds. All I wanted was to be happy.”
“You have done a very bad deed indeed,” Mr. Glad said in thunderous voice. “And now your prank will make you very unhappy! You will have no recess for the rest of the term!”
Every one in class gasped. It was the worst punishment in the whole world. Little Bill happy was shocked. He fell to his knees and shade many tears and promised never to do it again. He cried so much that they felt sorry for him and reduced his punishment to a week.
“Bill Happy is a naughty little boy,” Mrs. Joy said to herself. “If he does not change, his pranks will make him very unhappy one day.”
And she never stopped hoping that he would change. She talked to his parents and told them about Bill’s naughty pranks. And Bill’s parents talked to him and told him to stop. But Bill never stopped. In fact, he became worse.
One day, Bill played a prank on old Mr. Glee who did not see so well. Mr. Glee was their next door neighbour. He had lived a long time and so his legs did not work well. He was sick with arthritis and walked with a cane.
That day—that happy day Bill and his friends were playing in front of Mr. Glee’s house. Mr. Glee was cutting his hedge with his pruning sheers. Since his legs did not work so well, he sat on a chair as he cut the hedge, and put his cane on the ground—on the grass next to his chair.
“If I unscrew those little screws on old Mr. Glee’s cane, he will tip over and fall down flat and we will have a good laugh,” he told his friends. His friends did not believe he could do it, but Bill knew that he could and he was going to do it. So while Mr. Glee was not looking, Bill crept to where he was seated with his father’s screw driver which he had stolen from his tool box and unscrewed the little screws on Mr. Glee’s cane. And because he could not see so well, he did not see him and did not suspect a thing. Bill crept back to his friends, and they hid behind the hedge to see what would happen.
When Mr. Glee got up and picked up his cane and tried to move, he tipped over and fell down flat—just as Bill had said. Bill and his friends had a good laugh and run away before he could see them and they did not hear him when he moaned and groaned and cried for help.
That evening at supper, Bill’s parents talked solemnly about how mysteriously Mr. Glee’s cane had broken, and how he had tipped and fallen over, and how he had broken a leg, and how the little screws had had come out from his cane. Bill did not feel happy anymore. His eyes flooded with tears and he confessed and cried that all had wanted was to have a good time and feel happy. He also told them how he had stolen his father’s screw driver and how he had unscrewed those little screws.
“I never knew he could break his leg,” he sobbed.
When they heard this, his parents were terribly appalled, and flogged him and grounded him for a month so that he could not play with his friends anymore. But Bill went on his knees and pleaded so much and promised never to do it again and his parents fell sorry for him and grounded him only for a week.
“He is a naughty boy,” his mother said to herself. “If he does not stop his pranks, he will be very unhappy one day.”
And his parents hopped and prayed that he would stop. But he did not. In fact he got even worse.
One day, Bill pulled a nasty prank on Merry the beggar who begged for a living at the stores. Merry was blind and so he could not see.
That day—that happy day, Merry heard some footsteps as someone passed by.
“Please help me!” he pleaded and stretched out his hands.
Bill stopped and looked at him and grinned naughtily. He stopped and picked up a heavy stone and placed it on Merry’s outstretched hands.
“Here is some bread!” he said as he gave him the stone.
Merry, not expecting bread to be so heavy, cried as the stone fell on his hands and his hands crashed to the ground with the stone on top of them. Little Bill Happy laughed and skipped and ran all the way home.
“That was Bill Happy,” Merry said as he rubbed his bruised hands. “If he does not stop his pranks, he will be very unhappy one day.”
When his parents heard about it, they flogged him and grounded him for a month. But then he went on his knees and cried and promised not to do it again. He cried so much that they felt sorry for him and grounded him only for a fortnight.
And they never stopped hopping that he would change. But he did not. In fact, he got even worse.
One day, Bill pulled a prank on his own parents. He went to see Giddy, the snake-man, who kept snakes and got a large harmless grass snake. In exchange for the snake, Bill gave Giddy his old boots which could not fit him anymore and told him he could fetch a good price for them at the market.
“What is a boy your age wanting with a snake?” Giddy asked suspiciously. “I hope it’s not one of your pranks that you are at.
“No indeed!” Bill said with a naughty grin. “It’s for school—we’re studying snakes.”
And so Giddy believed and gave Bill the snake.
When he rushed home, he put the snake on the seat in his father’s car and said to himself, “When dad opens the car to go to work, he will jump in fright and scream aloud and I will have a good laugh.”
So that morning—that happy morning, he watched with a naughty smile and rubbed his hands as his parents got into the car to go for work. But they did not scream and jump in fright. They closed the doors and drove away. Bill remained at home puzzled, wondering what had happened.
Being a Saturday, he remained at home watching TV. But he could not enjoy it like always and paced up and down the house wondering what had become of his snake.
Suddenly, the door opened and there in the door way stood his mean Aunt Sadly with a policeman by her side. There were grim expressions on their faces and Aunt Sadly was sobbing and crying with tears rolling down her cheeks. Upon seeing him, she ran to him and hugged him tight.
“I am sorry Bill,” she cried, “Your parents are dead. They lost control and slid off the road and hit into a tree and died on the spot. We don’t know what happened. But they found a snake in the car.”
Bill was too shocked to cry. He stared at Aunt Sadly with round eyes of shock, petrified like a stone.
And so Aunt Sadly took him to live with her in her cold, sad house in Sadly Town, in a sad neighbourhood, full of sad people.
Bill Happy was now very sad—the saddest kid in Sadly Town. He never pulled a prank again and for the rest of his miserable days, he lived with the thought that he had killed his parents.
© Kundananji creations 2008
Bill Happy
All Rights Reserved.
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