The Trouble with Polly Brown (83 page)

“Uncle Boritz, is it true that Polly Fester is gonna sing that pathetic song that she always gets to sing?” Gailey Gobbstopper dared to ask.

Boritz started to laugh. “Yes, Gailey, you heard right, but listen up, everybody, before you make Polly's life more miserable than it already is: remember this, for the past two years due to her mental malady, she has been unavailable to participate in our annual concerts. It is also true to say that these past two years have seen far less money in the coffers than in previous years. So do your sums, boys and girls, for this leads me to assume that Polly and her sad song are what is needed if we are to end this day with a thoroughly healthy bank balance.”

“Oh, Uncle, give us a break, for we all know she can't sing a miserable note in tune,” Toby Trotter sneered.

“No ifs or buts. Leave her alone for now.”

“Oh, Uncle, don't be so mean, for we really don't need smelly Polly in this show.”

“Tut tut. How wrong you all are, for she sings her sad song with such unique conviction that the old dears desperately struggle to hold back the tears, and then without fail they quickly bring out their checkbooks to write extremely generous donations. So with this in mind, I ask that you give her a break, at least for the time being,” he gruffly ordered.

“Oh, Uncle, I still think you're barking up the wrong tree. We really 'ave no need of Polly Poo-face, and we wos only 'avin ourselves a bit of fun,” Toby Trotter moaned.

“Well, all right then, Toby. But try to keep the noise level down, because we wouldn't want any of the miserable old blighters to unintentionally hear you, would we now?”

Once more the children began to mock Polly as they outrageously continued to howl the words of the song, and Boritz did nothing to quash their mindless and most misguided cruelty, as he appeared to encourage them further with their merciless and inappropriately cruel teasing.

“Children, children, if you are going to sing along with her, at the very least try to hit the right key, for your horrendously hideous howling is about to give me, as well as Pitstop here, an almighty and insufferable headache,” he laughingly roared as, jangling the bunch of keys hanging from his belt, he moved toward the dressing-up box to directly confront Polly.

“Oh, Polly, ignore their unkind banter, for you will as usual melt the hearts of the old dears as you sing your so very sad song and with such timing and mesmerizing conviction. But allow me to illuminate you further by confirming that you are very alone in this world, for I know of no one who cares a jot or tittle about you,” he hatefully sneered. “Yes, may I use this apt moment to remind you that from headmaster to Dr. Ninkumpoop, all were on the verge of completely giving up on you, that is, until this beastly and brazen lady turned up to rescue you. But when she's long gone, then pray, tell me if you dare, who then will be left to protect you?” he challenged as he then motioned for the children to continue on.

“Good gracious, this wickedly heinous and most malicious man could certainly do with a serious dose of his own medicine,” Lady Butterkist whispered as she struggled to prevent tears from forming in the corner of her eyes. “And I'm going to do all in my power to make sure that he gets it,” she mumbled as she continued to hold back the tears on young Polly's behalf.

Egged on by their uncle, the children mercilessly began howling the tune even louder.

A horrified Lady Butterkist decided she could take no more. “Enough is enough, you bunch of indefensible whitewashed tombs,” she quietly and distressingly cried. It was indeed more than time to make her presence known.

“Oh, Polly, trust me when I say that one day they will pay dearly for every idle and cruel word arising from their pretentiously cold and miserable hearts,” she muttered, as with the pretense of being lost she suddenly stumbled into the room.

“I say, everybody, I am looking for the throne room, but I seem to have entirely lost my bearings,” she very theatrically announced as she then continued on with the pretense of looking dazed and slightly confused.

Boritz drew in a very sharp breath.

“I'm so sorry, Lady Butterkist, but you've come through the wrong door. The bathroom that you require is through the other door and then halfway down the corridor on the right,” a very flustered Boritz stuttered.

“Well, I sincerely and most profusely apologize if I have disturbed you in the middle of a most private matter,” Lady Butterkist said, raising her eyebrow to suggest that she was most concerned by what was taking place behind closed doors.

“Yes, we were all just having ourselves a bit of fun as we try hard to encourage Polly to practice her song for today's performance,” he went on to add. “Yes, it was just a little bit of silly fun. Really it was,” he miserably muttered.

“Well, I'm sure you were, but let me say clearly that I frown on such behavior, for if all the fun is at someone else's expense, and thus their demise, then it is surely quite indefensible.”

“Oh, no, Lady Butterkist. We assure you right now that we were all just having a good, hearty laugh, weren't we, children?”

“Yes, Uncle.”

“All the same, I am very glad to have once more found Polly, as I very absentmindedly forgot to give this little gift I intended for her. So Polly dear, please do get up from the floor and try this on,” she insisted. “I bought this when George, our lovely coach driver, briefly allowed me the occasion to do a quick spot of shopping. So go and quickly find a bathroom and then come back to show me,” she gently ordered.

Moments later found Polly dressed in the most beautiful pink dress she had seen since her time at the Princesses' School of Training in Piadora.

“Oh, Polly. You look perfectly gorgeous, yes, most becoming in that exquisite dress! You are indeed quite the debutante,” an overexhilarated Lady B. gleefully cried.

All the children stood by watching, speechless. Polly was dumb-stuck herself.

“Polly dear, do delight us all by giving a little twirl,” she continued to enthuse. “Simply enchanting! Now, all that is missing are some matching shoes, most crucial if you are to look your best. And then, wait for it, no princess should wear this dress without the addition of a very special jewel-encrusted crown,” she cried, clasping her hands together tightly as she expressed her unbridled excitement. “So, Polly dear, please take ownership of this bag also, for in it are the shoes to match the outfit as well as a most stunning diamante tiara.”

“Lady Butterk…thank you so very much,” was all a seriously overwhelmed Polly could possibly even begin to stutter.

“Of course, in years to come, the diamonds will indeed be genuine, for I have no doubt whatsoever that a real prince will one day surely wish to get down on one knee and then propose to you, my girl,” she quickly added.

“Yeah, he'll have to be a really slimy frog or mangy toad to ever want to kiss 'er rotten old lips,” Gailey angrily mumbled. The lady's choice of powerfully affectionate words was obviously having a devastating effect on Gailey Gobbstopper's dark and devious emotions. “Oh, yuck! Must we be forced to stand here and listen to any more of this sickeningly namby-pamby load of garbage? I really can't take much more,” she muttered through clenched teeth in Toby Trotter's ear but loud enough for Polly to hear.

“Me neither. I can't stand here twiddling my thumbs as I'm forced to listen to this cringe-worthy load of old bunkum,” he furtively confessed as he joined ranks with Gailey. “Anyway, I don't know which of the two of them is more gaga, Polly or Lady Loopy Lou!”

“Shh, or the old boot will hear you,” Gailey whispered as she began to crease up with laughter at Toby's very rude name-calling.

Polly hung her head low. In addition to hearing Gailey's cruel commentary, Polly was feeling very uncomfortable and self-conscious. She failed to appreciate the lady's very generous gifts, as well as her kind but seemingly inappropriate appraisal.

“Thank you so kindly for this lovely dress, Lady B., but I'm not sure that I am the right one to be wearing it,” she muttered, her face hot with embarrassment.

“What on earth do you mean, child?”

“Well, I hardly think that I of all people deserve this kind of attention or this pretty dress,” Polly feebly mumbled.

“Absolute twaddle! Let me assure you now, Polly Brown, that you of all people definitely do deserve this, and much more!” she said with a distinct air of authority. “So if you really want to thank me, you can start by lifting your head up, as I can see nothing worthy of your attention on this disgracefully dusty old floor. There, that's better. Now we can all see your pretty face. Right. Now come and stand by this tall mirror and allow me to brush your hair, and then we can finally crown your head with this delightfully sparkling tiara.”

Polly, with her head lowered, meekly obeyed and came over to stand in front of the long gilded mirror.

“I think I'm gonna be sick if this carries on much longer,” Gailey quietly moaned.

“Polly, we'll brush your soft hair until it shines,” the kind lady declared. “Now look in the mirror and tell yourself out loud that you look simply lovely,” she sternly ordered.

“I can't,” Polly choked.

“What do you mean, you can't?”

“I feel so terribly ugly,” she anxiously whispered, as through a mist of tears she once more hung her head as though in deep shame.

You could have heard a pin drop in the room, as all eyes were now firmly fixed on both the lady and Polly.

“Ugly? What absolute poppycock! Who has told you such wicked things? Polly, please lift up your head, for you're yet again playing the avoidance game by looking at your feet instead of in the mirror. Now, please open your eyes, for I assure you, hand on heart, that you genuinely are a beautiful girl with a tremendously kind and effervescent spirit,” the lady stated, seeming suitably shocked by Polly's tragically sad admission.

“Why, your skin is as soft as peaches and cream, and as for your beautiful brown eyes, not only are they crystal clear, but their sparkle is like a million newly formed stars lighting up the sky at night. Need I go on?”

At this point most, if not all, the children present felt thoroughly sick to the pit of their unbearably empty stomachs, for it was becoming something of an excruciating ordeal for them to both watch and listen as Polly had such ridiculously touching words of appraisal heaped on her head.

At the end of the day, was the lady legally blind? Or was she, like Polly, slightly cuckoo in the head? In urgent need of assurance, they quickly reminded themselves that both parties had suspiciously made each other's acquaintance back at the local loony bin, so the only healthy conclusion must surely be that Polly Brown, as well as the lady in question, were both stark raving bonkers. Yes, that was it. It was very apparent to everybody else in the room, Uncle Boritz included, that Polly was nothing more than a sad and pathetic miscreant, although they weren't entirely sure what the true meaning of the word
miscreant
was, but at the end of the day, it didn't much matter, for the general consensus of opinion was that she was nothing but a miserable outcast who deserved absolutely nothing. No, not now or ever!

“Lady B., when I look in the mirror I can only see the most hideous monster looking back,” she quietly admitted as a few tears trickled aimlessly down the side of her cheeks. She then shook her head from side to side. “Yes, most people see me as nothing but an ugly monster with straggly hair, muddy brown eyes, crooked teeth, and eyes so terribly wonky that, just like the hunchback, I am jeered and spat upon by others. So, please don't force me to look at myself for even a moment longer,” she begged, a deeply haunting expression now enveloping her entire sorrow-filled face.

“I cannot imagine for one moment where this cruel and most distorted image of yourself has come from,” the kind lady sniffed, “for I tell you now, Polly, it's all absolute twaddle. Really, it is,” she said as she too now held back the tears.