Be Careful What You Wish

Snicker. The blog is named after him.

   by Valerie L. Egar

Scully threw a book across the room. “Too many words to read!” he said.  “And, too many letters in the alphabet. I’d change that if I could!”

          An elf appeared in a poof of confetti. “I can help. What letters do you want to eliminate?”

       Scully thought for a moment.  “Definitely x, z, and q. I don’t see much use for k, either, it’s awfully hard to write.”

            The elf snapped his fingers. “Gone! From now on, no words with those letters for you.”

            “Cool!” said Scully.

            “Any others?”

            “Y isn’t very useful.”

            “Sure you want to get rid of y?” asked the elf.

            “Yes.”

            The elf snapped his fingers again and Scully became Scull. “Are you OK with that?” asked the elf.

            Because y was gone, the only reply Scull could make was, “Es.”

           “We’ve eliminated letters from the alphabet, but you also said there were too many words.” The elf fished around in his pocket and pulled out a golden letter s. “From now on, when you speak, every word must begin with s, except little in-between words. That will cut down on words, for sure.”

            Scull tried to say, ‘OK,’ but since that didn’t start with s, nothing came out. After a moment, he said, “Swell.”

            Scull’s troubles began in school the next day. 

            The new music teacher asked his name.

            “Scull.”

            “Don’t be smart!” she said.

            Lisa spoke up and said, “Scully.”

            The teacher asked each student which instrument they would like to learn. Scull was eager to learn the guitar, but he could only say an instrument that began with s. Saxophone wouldn’t do, since he tossed x out of the alphabet. “Sitar,” he said.

            “Smart aleck. Go to the principal’s office,” said the teacher.

            The principal, Mrs. Quigley, was rather forgetful of students’ names, but expected to be addressed as Principal Quigley at all times. 

            “Who are you?” she asked.

“Scull, Sprincipal suigle.” Not having a q or y was quite a problem.

         “Principal so ugly?” Principal Quigley’s eyes flamed red. She didn’t write a note to Scull’s parents. No. Instead, she wrote a book, with pictures and graphs showing the likelihood of bad things happening in Scull’s future if  he didn’t straighten up.

            Lunch was no better.  Scull looked at the pizza and said “Spia,” but the lunch lady didn’t understand and dished out a bowl of spinach.  Scull had forgotten about pizza when he got rid of z. Now he wished he’d chosen a different letter.

            He took his spinach and sat with his friends. Usually, they talked about baseball, but Scull couldn’t talk about his favorite player, Bix  Kruckshank.  The most he could say was that last evening’s game was ‘sweet.’ That made a few of the boys giggle.  

Then, Ryan asked if Scull would help him clean a chicken coop after school.

“Sno!” said Scull.

“Snow?  It’s sunny outside.” Scull realized he didn’t have a word for ‘no’ that started with s.

            That afternoon, when the class learned about animals in Africa, Scull couldn’t say zebra, and called it a “striped steed.” The class laughed so hard, the teacher rapped on the desk to restore order.

            “Very creative,” she said.  “But ‘zebra’ would have been better.” She pointed to a picture of a lion. “And this is?”

            “Simba,” said Scull.

            The class roared.

            For the second time that day, Scull was sent to the principal’s office.

           “Hello, Skeleton,” Principal Quigley said. “What have you done now?”

            Scull thought it was best to be quiet.

            “Silent, eh?”  Principal Quigley took his mug shot and added a few pages to the book she’d written to his parents that morning.

            Scull felt dejected as he walked home. Never had he realized what the loss of a few letters and limiting words could do. He wished the elf would reappear and set things straight.

            When he went home, the elf was hiding in the bushes.  “Had enough yet?”

            Scull nodded.

        The elf snapped his fingers and Scull turned back into Scully.   Just in time, too, because pizza was for supper and Scully wanted extra cheese.

Copyright 2016 by Valerie L. Egar. May not be copied or reproduced without permission from the author.  Published in The Sunday Journal Tribune, March 13, 2016. Like the story? Please share with your friends on Facebook and like my author's page on Facebook, Valerie L. Egar.