As told to the author by his son, aged 11; and, as such, may contain traces of lie
Hello. I am Scaryduck Junior and I am excellent. I like penguins, Yu-Gi-Oh! and watching people getting hit in the groin with a cricket ball. Luckily for you, this story contains neither flightless aquatic birds nor collectable card games, but it does feature a small, red item of hand-stitched sporting equipment and the trouser parts of my best friend.I am a member of my school's Friday afternoon cricket club. Mr West takes us all out onto the school field and we have a proper game of cricket. I like going because my best friend James Sherfield plays, even though he is a Tottenham supporter who is utterly wet and a weed who skip along saying hello birds hello trees hello sky becos he is a gurl chiz chiz.
Everybody else in our school plays rounders, or cricket with tennis balls, but Mr West gets out all the best equipment, so we have real, hard cricket balls with stitching up the side, heavy bats and pads. Mr West makes sure we all get a go at batting and bowling so nobody misses out.
My Dad (who is also excellent) takes me to play golf, so I know how to hit a ball a long way. When Mr West puts me in to bat, I know how to keep my eye on the ball, time my swing and hit the ball for six.
So, when it was my turn to bat, Jake came in to bowl, and I hammered the ball away over the covers for a big six. The only fielder in the way was James, who was standing there going "hello birds hello trees hello sky" while everybody is shouting at him to catch it.
"Catch! JIM! CATCH!" they all shouted, but when he woke up and realised what was going on, it was too late.
James put his hands up to catch the ball, but it was flying too fast and it hit him dead hard. Right in the plums.
"Ooyagh! Me plums!" he said, before falling over like a great big tree in a Tottenham shirt.
We all LOLed. Even Mr West done a LOL before realising that James might be hurt, and we all ran over to where he was curled up on the grass. He lay there, making strange high-pitched noises, which made us LOL some more.
Mr West tried to pick him up, saying things like "Run it off, lad", but he stayed in the same curled-up shape and fell over again.
We all LOLed even more, and some of us done a ROFFLE too.
Pretty soon, James felt well enough to play again, and Mr West said it was his turn to bat. He gave me the ball, and I did my extra-long run-up and bowled it as hard as I could.
It must have hit a stone or a lump in the ground, because the ball bounced up really quickly. James took a big swing at the ball, but he was far too slow to hit it.
Guess where it hit him!
"Ooyagh!" he said again, "Me plums!" and he fell over backwards and knocked over his stumps, which meant I got him out. Out for a duck. A scary duck.
We all LOLed, and ran over to find him making strange, high-pitched noises again.
"Stop your laughing," said Mr West, but he was laughing too, with big tears running down his face.
You are supposed to wear something called a box down your shorts when you play cricket, to stop the ball hitting you in the plums. James didn't want to wear one because "Urgh! It's been next to someone's willy! I might catch gaylord germs off it."
That taught him. He didn't get Gaylord germs at all. He got a case of the crushed nuts.
"That'll teach you," said Mr West lifting James to his feet.
"Yaaaaaaaaaarch!" said James, all over Mr West's best cricket whites.
He also went "Yaaaaaaaaaaaarch!" all over the bat, the ball, the stumps and the school's brand new cricket pads we'd just got with Tesco vouchers. I can't remember what James had for lunch, but it came out all pink and yellow, and there was loads of it. Skips, probably.
That was the end of Cricket Club. Forever, I think.
I am this: excellent at cricket.
Oh Lordy - Done a Poo's back.
No comments:
Post a Comment