A childrens story for adults

The Case of the Fallen Leaf

Mrs. Nasty, who lived in Nice Town, went out one morning, hobbling on her cane, to get her newspaper at the end of the drive. As she was bending over to pick it up, she noticed a brown leaf on her drive. She looked around angrily.

            “Who put this brown leaf on my drive?” she roared, loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear.

            But no one answered. She looked angrily up and down the street. But there was no one in sight, except a little boy who came bicycling by.

            “Little boy!” she shouted. “Did you put this leaf on my drive?

            “No ma’am,” he said meekly. “I was just pedaling by.”

            “Well, somebody did!” she roared.

            Just then Mr. Carpenter came walking by on his way to work.

            “Mr. Carpenter!” she shouted. “Did you put this leaf on my drive?”

            “Of course not,” he said calmly. “I’m just on my way to work.”

            “Well, somebody put it on my drive!” she roared.

            She was getting pretty red in the face by now, and was about to go back into the house and blame Mr. Nasty, a mild little man name Hugh, who rarely did anything before noon, because that is when he usually got up after watching old movies on TV for most of the night, when along came Mrs. Baker, who worked in their bakery all night baking bread and pies and cake and cookies.

Everyone liked Mrs. Baker, because sometimes she brought home day-old bread and cake and shared the goodies with her neighbors. But this morning she was quite tired after being up all night and was very grumpy, though she tried to be polite, especially when talking with Mrs. Nasty.

“Mrs. Baker!” shouted Mrs. Nasty. “Did you put this leaf on my drive?”

“No, ma’am,” Mrs. Baker said. “I’ve been at the bakery all night baking bread and rolls and cake and pies, and just this minute got here.”

“Well, somebody put this leaf on my drive!” roared Mrs. Nasty. “And I’m going to find out who did it if it’s the last thing I do!”

Meek-mannered Mr. Hugh Nasty was a good person to blame, because he rarely got ruffled, and was quite used to his wife Nelly’s temper tantrums. But before she could turn back into the house, a little boy came along riding on his tricycle and stopped right in front of her, because he could see she was upset.

“Little boy,” she shouted. “Did you put this brown leaf on my drive?”

He looked up at her and blinked, but he was a brave little boy, and looked her right in the face; and for a minute she was taken aback, for almost everyone cowered when she shouted at them in her nasty tone of voice.

“No, ma’am,” the little boy said quietly. “That tree did it.”

And he pointed over her head.

Mrs. Nasty spun around and looked up. Sure enough, there was the old oak tree, and all its leaves had turned brown.

“How dare you,” she shouted at the tree, drop a leaf on my drive?”

But the tree said nothing. All it did, while she was looking up, was drop another leaf on her drive. It floated down and settled right at her feet.

“Didn’t I make myself clear?” she shouted. “I said no more leaves on my drive! I’m not going to take it, do you hear?”

Just then the tree dropped two leaves. They floated down, zigging and zagging, to land right at her feet. This was more than she could bear.

“Do that again,” she shouted, “and I’ll beat the living daylight out of you.”

She shook her cane angrily the tree. Which did nothing, at first, but look down at her. Then it very carefully dropped three more leaves, which floated down and landed on the drive at her feet.

Now she was really angry. She was not a person to be disobeyed – by anyone, not even a tree. Determined to give the tree what-for, she marched over to it and began beating it with her cane and shouting. But the louder she shouted, and the harder she hit the tree, the more the leaves kept floating down, landing in a heap around her feet, until she was almost covered in a big pile of leaves.

This only made her angrier, and she shouted and beat the tree, until she finally woke up Mr. Nasty, who came to the front door in his slippers and stood there yawning. He was used to having his wife lose her temper, and stood there for a minute or two, a smile on his face (which, of course, he didn’t let her see, because it would only have made her angrier).

Finally he said very meekly, “Dear, what are you doing?”

She spun around and looked angrily at him.

“I’m teaching this tree a lesson,” she said. “”And you stay out of it. It’s got to learn not to drop leaves on my drive.”

“But dear,” he said. “The tree…”

“You stay out of it!” she roared. “Or I’ll come and beat you.”

“But dear…”

“That does it!” she roared, and she started after him with the cane.

By this time, attracted by all the shouting, a huge crowd of neighbors had gathered on the street at the end of the drive to watch the ruckus. They saw Mr. Nasty shuffle back into the house and watched Mrs. Nasty go in the house after him, waving her cane and shouting nasty (very nasty) phrases.

The door slammed behind her. The crowd outside heard more shouting, then the sounds of a scuffle.

“Watch it, now,” said Mr. Nasty. “I’ve got a sword, and with it I’ll go snicker-snack if you come any nearer.”

“He’s got a sword,” said a little boy in front.

“Shush!” said a man in the crowd. “I’m trying to listen.”

“What does snicker-snack mean?” asked the little boy.

“It means he’s going to stick her with it.”

“Shush!” said the man in back.

There was a loud noise as something must have been knocked over.

“Oh, my,” they heard Mrs. Nasty say, “you DO have a big sword!”

And she laughed.

“Why is she laughing?” said the little boy.

“Shush!” said the man in back.

There was silence for a very long time.

“Maybe we should call the police,” said one of the men.

“Hugh Nasty can take care of himself,” said one of the women.

The crowd began to shuffle nervously as the silence went on and on.

After several minutes had gone by, they heard Mrs. Nasty suddenly cry, “Ah…aah…aaah!” in a long wail. And all was silent.

The little boy in the front of the crowd said, “Maybe he’s killed her.”

The stout woman standing behind him, who had six children of her own, said, “I don’t think so, Sonny.”

No one in the back could hear very well, and one of the men said, “Well, I think it’s all over. Why don’t we all come back tomorrow at the same time and see who comes out for the newspaper? That way we’ll know who got killed.”

“Good idea,” said someone else, and they all went back to their homes.

The next morning the whole crowd was back, including a few people in neighboring houses who at missed the ruckus the morning before, but had been told about it by excited neighbors, and who wanted to see for themselves what the terrible outcome of the fight had been. They were all sorry for Mr. Nasty.

But the next morning, after the newspaper had been thrown on the drive, the crowd that had gathered waiting anxiously to see who would come out of the house to pick up the paper. They were all sure it would be Mrs. Nasty.

After a few minutes of waiting, the door opened. And who should come out but Hugh Nasty, with a big smile on his face.

He waved to his neighbors and called out, “Nice day, isn’t it?”

“Very nice,” they all agreed.

Only Mrs. Brown had the courage to ask what they all wanted to know.

“How is Mrs. Nasty this morning?” she asked.

“Oh, fine,” said Hugh Nasty. “She’s having breakfast in bed this morning, and I thought I’d take her up the paper to read. She’s very tired this morning, you know.”

“Oh, it’s no wonder,” said Mrs. O’Reilly, “after that fight she had with the tree.”

“Yes,” Mr. Nasty agreed.

And, shuffling back into the house, he quietly closed the door after him.