Spiteful Spike

There’s a boy ten feet tall from his head to his toes

And he sleeps in the bath because each night he grows

But he shrinks in the day and gets lost in his clothes

Til all you can see is his bulbous red nose

His best mate is Paul but his mum calls him Mark

And he’s brilliant in lessons, a really bright spark

He’s a hit in the evening on walks in the park

Because Paul is a person who glows in the dark

Then there’s Jen, who likes playing and watching all sport

She’s a wizard of basketball when she’s on court

But  her feet look like fish – just imagine the thought -

When she swims she wears shoes just in case she gets caught

And her sister, Jemima, knows every song sung

And every word written, and every rap done

She’s a genius also when she does her sums -

She’s got seventeen fingers and twenty-four thumbs

But the other kids laughed at the friends in their school:

They thought Jen was a misfit, and Paul was uncool,

Said Jemima was freaky, the tall boy a fool

In the playground they teased them with shouting so cruel

That it made the friends sad; I mean, what had they done?

They’d never think of hurting anyone;

But bullies are stupid, they think it is fun

To make people feel bad, feel horrid or dumb.

And one little boy, let’s call him Spike,

Was naughty, vindictive, a real nasty tyke.

One day he told teacher that Paul took a hike

And instead of his lessons was riding a bike

Well the teacher liked Spike and believed what he said

And told Paul he had to report to the head

The headmaster, a bumbling man called Fat Fred

Told Paul that he was to be suspended

But Spike was not happy; his work was not done,

So he turned his attention to the sporty one

He told all the teachers that Jen, just for fun

Had covered the blackboards in used chewing gum

Again, though it was lies, Jen was hauled to the head

(Who you might remember is named Fatty Fred)

Though Jen pleaded innocence, the head shook his head

And said, with some dread: Jen, go home instead

Next, Spike told the teachers of very tall lad

Who’d shrunk in the sun to just taller than dad

Spikes words were a secret, but be sure they were bad,

Because as we mentioned – Spike was rather a cad

And so, the tall boy found that his cheeks were red

As he stood at the desk of the headmaster, Fat Fred,

Who looked up at the ceiling and doomily said

‘You’re a naughty boy – go home and go straight to bed’

And Jemima, who’d always been friendly and happy

Soon crossed paths with Spike, who’d become rather snappy

So he made up a story about his grandpappy

And said that Jemima was hitting the chappy

So Jemima too was called to the head

At lunchtime, so rather than her jam and bread

She received quite a lecture from Fatty Fat Fred

Who told her to go home and sit in her shed

And so when lunchtime came

Spiteful Spike's little game

Meant he ate on his own

And he felt quite alone.

Spiteful Spike walked home bored

He did not say a word

All alone and astray

In the classes today.

But the doors were all locked when he got to his house

No lights were left on: everybody’d gone out

And he sighed. It was hardly the first ever time.

So he threw down his school bag, unlocked his bike

And sped off down the lane, red-faced, burning inside

They’d said they’d be home today. Well, they had lied

As they always did. It seemed that last on the list

Was the thought of their Spikey, their one little kid.

But this time was different: he’d had enough.

Alone, he rode on, through the back streets, the rough

Scraping of loneliness scratching his eyes

The wind in his face harsh, its horrible cries

And whistles a mockery: “You are alone

Little Boy. And nobody cares that you were born.”

And he rode on the road down toward the canal

Wondering what he would do if he fell

Into the green-tinged, puke-stinking water.

Maybe he’d float. Maybe swim. Maybe neither.

And Spike, well he was only a little young lad -

Understanding these dark thoughts was tricky and sad.

He rode down to the path which was tangled with weeds

He sped up alongside the water, to see

If he could just wobble and, out of control,

It would not be his fault if he went away. So

Spike’s legs pumped, his heart jumped, he raced on his bike

It was quicker than he’d ever been yet in his life

Yet he spied a bench, maybe a hundred yards up ahead

With a bundle of rags on it. Wait – there’s a head –

It’s a person. Spike could tell the closer he came

So he slowed down and stopped as the man turned his way

And stared, really stared, right into Spike’s mind

So it seemed. The boy shuddered and got off his bike

And the man sitting there bowed his head to the ground

And started to cough - such a terrible sound

That it seemed like the whole world might crack right in two.

What could Spike help with? What could a boy do?

And then just as the coughing seemed to be too much

Spike saw the man miming a method, through rough

Rags on his back, the method of attack,

And Spike understood, so he slapped the man’s back

So the coughing stopped, and so Spike he rode on

And looked back to the bench – but the old man had gone.

The boy shuddered and shook and felt strange and upset

Though he didn’t know why. Then he saw, to his left,

A crying lad, a little younger than he,

Whose frisbee was stuck in the top of a tree.

He had no friends either. Only a game

Of throw and then catch – until that went away.

Spike watched as the infant wept. It was not right!

A boy should have friends to play with. But the height

Of the tree meant that even his one toy was lost.

His loneliness struck Spike. He felt for the tot.

But what could he do? He could not climb that high,

There weren’t any handholds; no footholds to try.

A silence fell. Spike rode away down the path

But something he heard made him turn and look back.

The kid was not crying: he was laughing now

And throwing his frisbee to someone else. How

Had he endeavoured to get that thing back?

Then he saw: the boy’s playmate was ten foot tall. Spike

Rode on and rode on and rode on and rode

Away from the evening, the dark that approached,

Til he just couldn’t see as the night fell, and fast,

It started to become hard to see the path

And so. Oh! It happened! Spike’s bike hit some stones

And the boy fell horribly, bashing his bones,

And Splash! In he went to that awful canal

The smelly, horrendous, dark place. As he fell

He thought of the kid with the frisbee and friend

He thought of the old man, whose cough he helped end.

Spike sank through the spit and the grisly scum

Of the water. Then all went dark. He felt it was done.

Did a thousand days pass? Why was it now so light?

And who was this person now holding him tight?

Then he saw: Paul was glowing and Jen had jumped in

Between them they had gone and rescued him!

And Jemima was there, too: “Oh Spikey,” she said.

“We all saw you riding your bike up ahead

And I calculated that you would soon hit the dirt -

We rushed up to help you. My friend, are you hurt?”

Spike didn’t know, for once, anything to say.

He shook his head sadly. They’d soon go away

As everyone did. He just wasn’t the sort

Of person that anyone ever had thought

Was important, or special. Not even his folks.

But the others stayed. What did they want? Paul now spoke:

“We’re meeting our friends for a game now. We need

Another to make up the teams. Are you free?”

So Spike nodded. He suddenly felt something moving

Deep inside him. Maybe life was now improving?

And the gang walked and rode to the pitch by the fens

By the light of Paul’s glowing. And they laughed. They were friends.

Well then. What is the moral of this little tale?

Spike was a naughty boy, spiteful, and railed

Against the world. Against the school. Against himself.

But the others did not give up, because they felt

That Spike, he was like them. He wanted to play

But he didn’t know how. He had not learned the way.

So he lashed out with anger, vindictive and foul.

He thought he’d be better alone in the world

But he was not right. Because kindness is pure

And everyone needs love to help them, before

They are lost. So next time you see one alone,

Give a smile, which is free. You just might save their soul.