Little Jimmy, Little Jimmy, naughty Jimmy Sprag. A boy of ten, with mischievous eyes, an evil smirk, a ready bag of tricks and stunts to play upon his sister Pat. He spies upon the kitchen table a parcel wrapped in string, a present from his auntie Lou to his mother (a knitted hat.) But Jimmy didn’t care for that, it was the string that caught his eye, now narrow in evil thought and wickedness. With clutching, grubby hands he stole the string and sat beside the garden pond, scratching at his shaven head and pondering on what foul, foul use can be made of a piece of string.
Little Pat, sitting at the kitchen table sees her brother walking in.
‘Hey Pat! Hold the end, I want to stretch it out and see how long it is.’
Pat takes the string, obeying her brother who puts the other end upon the table. Poor Pat lets out a scream! There’s a frog upon the table, the end of the string wrapped round one of its hind legs. Jimmy picks up the loose end and lets it jump around the table as Pat jumps about, goes up and down (much like the frog in fact.) She runs out of the room and Jimmy lets out an evil cackle. ‘What other uses can I put this to?’ What a cruel and naughty boy!
Little Pat sitting in the living room, laughing at the tele (some cartoon on the box.) The door is shut (to shut out her mother’s singing as she has a bath upstairs.) The doorbell goes and Jimmy’s voice, ‘Pat! It’s your friend Alice at the door!’ Pat leaps to her feet, runs to the door and turns the handle and pulls it – but the door won’t open! Naughty Jimmy has tied the other handle to a stair post. He carries on calling,’ Pat! It’s your friend! Come on!’
‘I can’t get out!’ She cries. ‘The door!’ He releases the string and she rushes the door, too late says Jimmy, she’s gone. He roars with laughter as she runs out the door (Alice was never really there.) He’d tied the door and rang the bell himself. So typical of such a wicked child!
‘Heh heh heh!!! Fun fun fun! So… what now?’ My word I could box his ears in! His eyebrows jump about in thought, he scratches at his chin. And then… oh dear! Another plan has crossed his mind. He smiles a gapped-tooth smile and claps his hands with glee. He rushes up the stairs. On hands and knees he ties one end of the string to a hinge on his sister’s bedroom door and the other end to a pipe on the opposite wall. The cheeky devil has a tripwire outside his sister’s room.
From inside the room he cups his hand and cries downstairs, ‘Pat! Your barbie’s broken!’ No answer. He doesn’t know but Pat is out in the garden, helping her mother with a trowel, planting some seeds. The father is cleaning the car with bucket and shammy leather.
He shouts out again, ‘Pat! Pat! Your barbie’s broken! The head’s fallen off! She doesn’t look well!’ Still nothing. Frustrated he stares at the wall in thought. An evil smirk runs across his face.
‘Pat! Pat! Your Barbie house is on fire! It’s on fire! Fire!’ There’s the sound of a door being pushed open, bangs against the wall and thumping hooves charging up the stairs. He giggles to himself and stands back from the door so he can watch his sister charge in and fall flat on her face. But no! It isn’t his sister! It’s his father racing up with a bucket of foamy water slopping about.
‘Daddy!’ Too late! The father leaps forward, trips over the string and hurls the water all over Jimmy, before falling flat on his face.
There is a moment’s silence, then, some growling, a rumbling sound like a starving belly or the distant rolling rumbling of thunder. Jimmy stands, gapped- tooth mouth now agape, mischievous eyes now wide in horror at his father who pulls himself to his feet, red in the face, teeth grit, hands clenched. What fury in his eyes!
Jimmy lets out a scream and belts beneath his father’s legs and races down the stairs crying out for his mother. He runs out the front door and down the street, leaving a trail of froth and dripping behind him from the contents of the bucket.
‘Come here! Come here you little devil!’
‘Ahhh! Mummy!!!’
And so they go, off into the distance, with much yelling and screaming and shaking of fists. Poor Jimmy disappears over the horizon.
And the moral of this tale? It’s simple I guess – Be careful when your fun comes with strings attached.