Wednesday, June 06, 2012
There was a little boy whose name was Billy. Billy lived in a small town, not to far from a large city. He was an ordinary little boy who did ordinary little boy things, like playing, eating, bathing, destroying things, pulling little girl's pigtails and going to school. One day, when Billy went down to the bus stop to meet the bus to go to school, he found all of his friends huddled around in a little group, talking about the Purple Wombat.
Being a little boy, Billy was curious. So he asked them, "What's the Purple Wombat?"
"You don't know what the Purple Wombat is?" the children exclaimed disgustedly. For the rest of the time at the bus-stop, the other children wouldn't go near Billy, just standing far away and staring at him. Then the bus came. Billy, confused, got on the bus along with the rest of the children.
"Hey, Mister Bus Driver!" one of the children shouted. "Billy doesn't know what the Purple Wombat is!"
The bus driver turned around abruptly. "You don't know what the Purple Wombat is?" he asked in disbelief. He ordered Billy to sit in the very back of the bus, all by himself.
Eventually, they got to school, and Billy got off the bus and went to class. Class proceeded normally; the students did the pledge of allegiance and worked on their multiplication tables for a while. Then the teacher led them into a unit on geography. Billy was not really paying attention, but he heard the teacher mention something about the Purple Wombat.
Billy's hand shot up, and, when the teacher called on him, Billy asked, "Teacher, what's the Purple Wombat?"
"You don't know what the Purple Wombat is?" the teacher cried in alarm, "Get yourself to the principal's office right now, young man. No! No buts -- march!"
So Billy headed down the long, dark, frightening hallway to the principal's office. He slowly opened the large, heavy door, and timidly entered the room behind it. There, at a large, imposing desk, sat the principal. The principal was a hulking man with his head shaved and a mustache that made him look like he was always angry and sneering. He spoke in a deep baritone voice. He was enough to frighten little boys, like Billy, who had been sent to his office, almost to tears.
"Well, Billy," he began slowly. "What seems to be the problem?"
"Mr. Principal, I just don't know what's going on today. Everyone's been acting weird, and they're all treating me really badly. Like teacher just sent me to you and stuff."
"Now, Billy, I'm here to help you. I'm the princi-Pal, after all. Heh heh. Can you tell me why everyone's acting so strangely?"
"It's because I don't know what some stupid Purple Wombat is."
"What? You don't know what the Purple Wombat is? That's intolerable! I am calling your mother, young man. Consider yourself suspended."
The principal threw Billy out of his office and told him to go home. Billy, crying, began the long walk home. When he got there, his mother was standing in the doorway waiting for him.
"Billy!" she called, sobbing, "I was so worried about you! What happened?"
"Mom," Billy cried, "Everyone was being mean to me and I had to sit in the back of the bus all by myself and the teacher sent me to the principal's office and the principal suspended me, all because I don't know what the Purple Wombat is!"
Billy's mother shrieked, "What? You don't know what the Purple Wombat is"? "Go to your room this minute. Go! Just wait until your father gets home!"
So Billy marched up the stairs and into his room. He collapsed on the bed, crying. After some amount of time, he heard a car pull in and some doors shutting. His father was home. He could hear his parents talking downstairs but didn't know what they were saying. Then he heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and his door opened.
"Billy," his father began in that lecturing-father tone, "Your mother says you've been acting badly lately and that you were suspended from school today. Would you like to tell me what you've done?"
"Dad, I haven't done anything! I just don't know what the Purple Wombat is!"
"You...don't know what the Purple Wombat is? Billy, that is totally outrageous and socially unacceptable. You stay in this room all night, mister. And forget about dinner!"
Billy's father slammed the door and stormed off. Billy collapsed on his bed, crying his eyes out. He spent the next several hours that way -- lying there, crying, one minute wishing he would wake up and the next thinking he wanted to just die of humiliation and embarrassment.
Then, in the middle of the night, he heard a voice. It said: "Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Billy?"
Billy sat up with a start. He looked around the room, trying to find the source of the voice, but he could not.
"Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Find me, Billy."
The voice was coming from outside the window, so Billy got up, put on his shoes, opened the window, and climbed out on to the roof.
"Billy. I am the Purple Wombat."
Billy jumped in to the large oak that extended over the house, climbed down and followed the voice down the road. The voice seemed to always be just out of sight, and thus Billy came to the edge of a wood.
"Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Follow me, Billy."
The voice was coming from inside the wood. It was very dark and very frightening, but Billy didn't care. He had to find out what the Purple Wombat was, so, bravely, he entered the wood.
"Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Keep going, Billy."
Billy kept going into the wood. He could hardly see anything, and he kept falling down and walking into things and hurting himself. But he kept going, driven by a need to find this enigma that kept calling his name.
"Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. This way, Billy."
Eventually, Billy emerged from the wood. He was on the shore of the town lake.
"Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. I'm out here, Billy."
The voice was coming from out in the lake. Billy started to jump in and swim, but noticed there was a small dock nearby with many rowboats. He got in one of the small rowboats from the dock, untied it, and rowed out. Since he was only a small boy, it was very difficult. But he had to find out what the Purple Wombat was.
"Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Row, Billy, row."
The voice still seemed to be coming from across the lake. Billy doubled his effort, and the boat began to move a little faster. When he was about half way across the lake, he heard: "Billy, I am the Purple Wombat. I'm up here, Billy."
The voice was coming from directly above him. Billy stopped rowing and stood up to look for it. The boat tipped over, dumping him in the lake. Billy didn't know how to swim and in less than two minutes, Billy sank and drowned. His body was recovered three days later by an old man fishing for blue gill and crappie.
And the moral of the story?
Don't stand up in a boat if you can't swim.
The Shaggy Dog is ba-a-a-ack!