A Bad Boy

A Bad Boy
For Bella

fiction
edward w pritchard

When I was three years old I was sitting in our back yard smoking a cigar and eating an apple. When I finished the apple I threw the core and hit the fence of the old lady next door. She saw me do it and yelled at me and called me a bad boy.

I wanted to get back at her so since she was lonely and old and alone I decided to play a trick on her.

The old lady had a cat that could talk. In fact it was the only talking cat in the world.

One night when the old lady was asleep I sneaked into her yard and taught the cat how to speak French. In the morning the cat had forgotten English, the old lady's language; and the old lady and the cat could no longer understand each other. Although the cat continued to live at the house the cat and the old lady didn't speak to each other at all anymore.

I guess I was always a mean and bad little boy like that old lady said.