The Trouble with Polly Brown (34 page)

“Yes, there's plenty of rope over there. We could tie her up in no time at all. That way we can all get to leave this stinky old cellar to go inside and watch
Bonanza
,” Toby Trotter helpfully chipped in as he picked up a long length of cord from the floor. After quickly making a sliding hangman's noose, he began to use it as a lasso while loudly humming the opening tune of
Bonanza
.

This little act made some of the younger children begin to cry, because they would much rather be watching
Bonanza
or
The Lone Ranger
, with dear, darling Silver, his wonderful horse. Instead, they were stuck down here in this horrible, dark cellar, and all because of stupid Polly Brown. Finally, Toby was ordered to stop his nonsense, so he reluctantly handed the noose over to Uncle Boritz.

“Yes, and as always, it's because of smelly old Polly Brown we are all going to miss not only
Bonanza
but
The Lone Ranger
too if we stay down here much longer,” Natalie Nitpick furiously complained. “
And
it's the final episode of the series. Oh, how I hate her.”

“Yep, we all hate her, so if we are going to hang her up, then let's do it quick, 'cos none of us want to miss the last episode of
The Lone Ranger
,” Michael Muzzlecombe, an older boy, loudly complained as he then set about coaxing all other children to join forces so as to get the dastardly deed over and done with.

“Come on, then. Who's willing to put the cord around her neck?” he cried out as he searched for a potential volunteer. “Hey, Gailey, you hate her the most, so you do it,” he cried.

“Na, she ain't worth it,” Gailey spluttered. Polly was instantly grateful that Gailey lacked the courage to put her money where her mouth was and, in doing so, put the rope around “Esther Fester's” neck.

“No! Stop it, all of you! That's my sister. You leave her alone. She's done nothing to harm any of you,” came the sudden brave and so unexpected forceful demand from James, Polly's younger brother.

“Aw, shut up, you little toe rag, or I'll give yer a bleeding lip,” Billy Osgood sniffed as he squared up to James.

“You're heading for a hard thump, you little ignoramus misfit,” Tommy Pulleyblank aggressively yelled out as the crowd automatically parted, allowing him the access to move forward and confront James, who was infinitely smaller and weaker. He then placed his hands around James's throat and began to squeeze tightly. “If yer know what's best for yer, you'll stay well out of this,” he snarled menacingly before releasing James from his grip.

James went a bright red and then began to cough and splutter as, gripped with fear by this fresh intimidation, he moved aside to gracefully bow out of any further confrontation.

“Enough, my chubby little cherubs. Enough! As you can see, it is very hard and distressing for any of us to determine what punishment should be administered, but alas, we cannot leave this room until some form of unanimous decision has been reached and then executed. It must be unanimous, for have I need of reminding you all that a house divided will most certainly fall? Therefore it is imperative that we stand together as one. Now, say after me, ‘United we stand; divided we fall.'”

“United we stand…united we stand; divided we fall,” they all chanted over and over in unison.

“There, there, my little ones. You now have the right idea. Now then, James Brown, you, my impudent little whippersnapper, will certainly face punishment for putting your interfering, snotty little nose where it was not welcome in your pitiful attempt to obstruct justice from being done. So as the Lord gives, He also takes away; I therefore intend to confiscate your miserable collection of model airplanes and military tanks until you learn that all defiant behavior in this castle constitutes gross rebellion and will therefore be met with the swiftest of disciplinary measures.”

Polly let out a loud gasp as she witnessed her younger brother crumple to the floor in a heap before pitifully begging his uncle's forgiveness in a manner more suited to someone who genuinely believes his very life hangs in the balance.

“Please, please, Uncle. Don't take away my model planes. I'm so– so–sorry,” he stuttered. “I promise I won't do anything like that ever again, I promise. I spent hours making those planes, and they are all I have,” James pathetically sobbed, as in a praying pose he continued foolishly to grovel. But he really was wasting his breath, for his heartrending pleas sadly fell on very stony ground.

“Oh, stop all your blubbering, for are you a man or a mouse?” he snorted.

All the children standing by began to titter.

“He's nothing but a wimpy little dormouse,” they roared.

“Please, please give me some other punishment. I beg you, Uncle.”

“Well, boy, sad to say, but your arrogance is truly indefensible! You really should have thought about all this before you so unrighteously sprung to your wicked sister's worthless cause. So I'm sorry to tell you, but the answer is a firm no. These items will remain in my sole possession until I see fit to return them, and that, my insolent young man, may be never!”

James's chest visibly collapsed as, scrunched up like a ball on the hard stone floor, he tried hard to wipe away the tears that were now uncontrollably spilling down his face.

“Please, Uncle. Not my models,” he hoarsely whispered.

“Oh, put a sock in it!” Uncle Boritz scornfully sneered, raising his eyes into his head to suggest that this drama was all too much to take.

“Please, please. I beg you,” James tearfully continued to plead.

“Oh, grow up and be a man. Stop those ludicrously pathetic tears immediately, for your unimpressive melodramatics are really beginning to irritate me,” a totally unsympathetic Boritz growled. “Right, children, please all ignore James, for we need to move on. As I previously stated, we cannot leave this room until we have come to some agreement with regard to Polly's punishment. So let's get on with it, shall we?”

“I don't have the slightest clue as to what punishment should be given Polly. All I know is that I'm missing The Lone Ranger,” Polly heard one of the children whisper to another.

“I'm so cold and hungry, I don't even care about the TV program. I just want to get out of here,'' replied the other.

“Well I don't know about you, but I've just about had it with Polly and her stupid, ongoing problems,” whispered Gailey as she sneered at Polly.”

“Chop her into little pieces, then feed her to the pigs, for we don't care. We don't care,” Percy Pillsbury suggested.

“Yes, chop her up, chop her up,” Cecil Bogswater shouted out at the top of his lungs. “She's a dangerous disease that needs eliminating. That's why we call her Fester.”

“Well, Cecil, it's strange that you should say such a thing, for if you were to familiarize yourself with any medical dictionary you will pretty soon discover that there are many serious diseases that start with Polly's name.”

“Really, Uncle?”

“Yes, offhand I can only think of one terrible sickness called poly-cystic fibrosis, but if we were to scour a medical dictionary we would find plenty more.”

“So she really is a disease?”

“Oh, absolutely!”

All too soon, with the exception of James, who was still curled up on the basement floor, they were all chanting, “Chop her up! Chop her up!” Then, “Feed her to the pigs and scavengers, for we don't care, we don't care! She's such a bloomin' misfit anyway, so Uncle, do with her whatever you want,” they chanted in unison.

Boritz stood sanctimoniously watching, his arms crossed, as he smiled with delight.

“Children, children, let's not get so carried away,” he stated as he pretended to shake his head in pure disbelief. “We must surely learn to be more charitable and merciful, mustn't we?”

The now dangerously confused and exhausted children all nodded.

“Yes, but this is Polly Brown, and we've clean run out of any mercy toward smelly, grotty Esther Fester,” Michael Muzzlecombe snarled.

“Hmm. So, children, on reflection I am indeed most reluctant to leave Polly in your hands. No, I think it is best that as I am the only cool-headed one left amongst you, then I think it should ultimately be left for me to decide her fate.”

Truth be known, he had no intention whatsoever of allowing the other children to do any such dastardly deed, but it was also true to say that their alarmingly overemotional response had truly pleased him, for it now allowed him the freedom to mete out any detestable form of punishment that he cared to. And better still, if any child dared to complain, well then, he could cheerfully play the outraged victim.

“Hold your horses, kiddiewinks! May I take this opportunity to remind all present that none of you were prepared to show Polly any mercy whatsoever, for if you rightly remember, it was you lot that advocated her punishment be death—
and
, may I remind, in such a gruesome manner!”

He would then take his thick glasses off his nose to slowly give them a wipe, all the while giving the children time to reevaluate their high moral stance regarding Polly's punishment.

“Yes, indeed. I for one was shocked to the core and grieved by your overwhelming and violent need for vengeance, and so it was I who prevented any of you from carrying out your proposed and, I might add, very inhumane punishment. My choice of discipline is nothing as severe, and so it should be perceived as considerably benevolent, all things considered.”

Yes, happily he had his speech all worked out if they showed anything other than utter compliance with regard to his sentencing of Polly.

Needless to say, young Polly seemed nearly to faint as Uncle Boritz proceeded to pronounce the punishment.

“Sadly, nothing but the stiffest of sentences will work when it comes to you, Polly Brown,” he sanctimoniously stated as he directed his right index finger firmly in Polly's direction. “Yes, girl, stand to attention when I talk to you.

Polly did as she was told.

“I am, therefore, obliged to propose that there be a further six months extension on ROPE and that your daily food allowance be halved. Also, any child seen talking to you will be presumed a traitor to the cause and therefore a collaborator. In such a case, they too will find themselves being punished in a most severe manner.

“Finally, Polly Brown, every evening you will run around the walled garden fifty times shouting, ‘I am the dumbest, sickest problem this town has ever seen.' This discipline will continue on for a minimum of three months in the hope of reforming your disgracefully belligerent, unregenerate, and equally unrepentant character,” he stated with an air of judiciary superiority before breaking into a warm, benevolent smile for the benefit of all the other children, who were now very reliable witnesses to his very moderate sentence.

“There, there. Members of the jury, I mean, children, does this sentence meet with your approval? If it does, well then, we can all finally go indoors.”

The children all ran forward to give Uncle Boritz an overwhelmingly demonstrative hug, for with Polly finally sentenced they believed their ordeal was happily over. Now they could leave this horribly dank, musty-smelling dungeon to quickly get back into the warmth and watch their dreadfully missed television shows.

They were also filled with the deepest admiration toward their uncle and benefactor, for how, when not one of them had any clue as to what punishment they should suggest for Polly, had Uncle Boritz so suddenly come up with such a brilliant sentence, and in no time at all? He really was a genius.

“Thank you, thank you, Uncle Boritz. Now can we go back indoors? Please, please say yes, 'cos not only are we starving, but we're also missing the last episode of
The Lone Ranger
,” the children pathetically begged.

“Of course you can leave, my precious little whippersnappers,” he stated as his fingers began to affectionately ruffle the blonde, disheveled hair of young, tearstained Thomasina Pitesky.