by David Elvar
‘I know,’ said his mum. ‘But it means I’m going to have to buy you new clothes.’
Thomas just shrugged. He didn’t care. He didn’t have to pay for them so why should he? He might have cared a little more, of course, if he knew the real reason he was growing so much.
SEVEN
So his mum went out and bought him new clothes. But it didn’t stop there. His mum bought him one set of new clothes after another but still he kept on growing. And he kept on growing because he kept on telling tall stories.
He told his friend Kirsty that he’d been selected to fly the first shuttle mission to the moon. All the world’s top scientists, he said, wanted him to bring back samples of the hardest, hardest rock he could find so they could do some important experiments. Did Kirsty believe him? Of course she didn’t! Everyone knows that the moon is made of green cheese.
He told his friend Adam that he’d discovered a new way of cooking sausages. You put them in an old sock that hasn’t been washed in weeks, he said, and boil them until the sausages absorb all the cheesiness, because cheese goes well with sausages. Did Adam believe him? Of course he didn’t! Everyone knows that the best thing to put with sausages is strunnions.
He told his friend Amy that he’d discovered a shortcut to the cinema by digging a tunnel under the turnip shop during a full moon. Did Amy believe him? Of course she didn’t! Everyone knows that the only way to get to the cinema is to catch a train to the next town, jump into the canal there, swim back as far as the pickle factory and hop round it three times on one leg shouting ‘Good shot, your majesty!’ And if you’ve done all this properly and in the right order, you’ll vanish in a puff of smoke and reappear right in the cinema foyer.
And all the while he was telling his friends these tall stories, he kept growing and growing and growing! Soon, he was too tall for his classroom and had to do his lessons in the main hall. Even then, he had to sit in a special tall chair with his desk perched on his legs.
Soon, he was too tall for his dad’s car, so his dad had to buy a special trailer with a hole cut in the roof. Even then, they had to steer clear of low bridges and overhanging trees.
Soon, he was too tall for his bed, so his parents had to put four together end to end so he could sleep. Even then, his feet jutted out into the landing. The final straw came one dark night when his feet jutted out so far that his dad tripped over them on his way to the loo.
‘That does it, Thomas!’ he shouted from somewhere on the floor. ‘Either you find a way to stop growing or we’ll have to ask Mrs. Grumblebix next door if we can extend your bedroom into her house!’
At the very mention of that name, Thomas suddenly remembered something. And what he remembered was a tall story she’d once told him, one that somehow didn’t seem quite so tall any more.
EIGHT
The very next morning, before he went to school, Thomas paid Mrs. Grumblebix a visit. He was now so tall that he could see right over the roof of her house, and he had to bend down a long way to ring the doorbell. Almost at once, an upstairs window flew open and there stood Mrs. Grumblebix, gazing up at him and not looking at all surprised to see him.
‘Oh, it’s you, Thomas,’ she said. ‘I wondered when you’d be back.’
‘You really did put a spell on me, didn’t you?’ he said, bending down again to talk to her.
‘But of course,’ said Mrs. Grumblebix. ‘Unlike you, I don’t tell tall stories.’
‘Well, I think you’ve made your point,’ said Thomas. ‘Can you take the spell off me now, please?’
‘I’m afraid it’s not quite as simple as that,’ said Mrs. Grumblebix. ‘The only way you’re going to stop growing is to stop telling tall stories.’
‘But I like telling tall stories! That’s why I’m called Tall Thomas.’
‘You may like telling them but I wouldn’t be too certain that people like hearing them. Sorry and all that but there it is.’
‘But they don’t harm anyone,’ said Thomas.
‘Really?’ said Mrs. Grumblebix. ‘What about that man and the canal?’
‘He shouldn’t have taken me seriously,’ said Thomas.
‘And what about your teacher and all those jam doughnuts?’
‘She likes jam doughnuts.’
‘And I also happen to know,’ said Mrs. Grumblebix, ‘that one poor lady found her lost dog and spent half a Saturday afternoon searching for a set of false teeth that someone had told her it had stolen. Still think your tall stories don’t harm anyone?’
‘Ah…yes…I see what you mean,’ said Thomas thoughtfully. ‘All right, I’ll stop telling tall stories. But if I do, will I return to normal size?’
‘I’m afraid it’s not quite as simple as that,’ said Mrs. Grumblebix. ‘If you want to get back to normal size, you’re going to have to do more than just stop telling tall stories.’
‘I am?’ said Thomas weakly.
‘You are,’ said Mrs. Grumblebix. ‘If you want to get back to normal size, you’re going to have to start being truthful for a change.’
‘Truthful! But I’ve never been truthful in my life!’
‘Then perhaps it’s time you started,’ said Mrs. Grumblebix. ‘Sorry and all that but there it is.’
Thomas nodded glumly and stood upright. It was fun looking over the roofs of people’s houses but he knew he couldn’t go on like this. All his clothes were having to be specially made and that was expensive. Sleeping on four beds placed end to end wasn’t exactly comfortable. And he really did not want to be tripping his dad up on one of his trips to the loo again.
He let go a heartfelt sigh. Like it or not, he was going to have to start being truthful for a change.
NINE
It was only when he got to school that he got his first chance to do it. His friend Rob asked him what he was doing after school. And Thomas wanted to say that he’d booked the whole cinema for the evening and he’d be eating all the hotdogs and popcorn and ice cream all by himself while watching the latest Harry Potter. That’s what he wanted to say.
But he didn’t.
‘Not much,’ he said instead. ‘I expect I’ll just do my homework, read a book then go to bed.’
And as he said it, a strange thing happened. The bottoms of his very long, specially made and horribly expensive trousers suddenly seemed to be covering his shoes. He’d shrunk a few inches. It was a start but only a start. He still had a long way to go.
Next, his friend Ansu asked him if he knew what he was getting for his birthday, which was next week. And Thomas wanted to say that he was getting his own personal army tank, with a huge gun on top that fired custard pies at teachers. That’s what he wanted to say.
But he didn’t.
‘A computer game and some books,’ he said instead, and he shrank a few more inches.
Next, Samantha asked him if he had any money to lend her as she’d forgotten to bring any with her and she was really, really hungry. And Thomas wanted to say that he had loads of money because he’d robbed a bank on his way into school and the police were still after him but he’d managed to bury his loot where no one could find it so if she could wait until break time then she could have all the money she could possibly ever want! That’s what he wanted to say.
But he didn’t.
‘Yes, I’ve got some,’ he said instead. ‘How much do you need?’
And again, as he finished speaking, he shrank a few more inches.
And so it went on over those next few days, Thomas being truthful for a change and shrinking a little every time he was truthful. Soon, he was back to his normal size. Only his mum wondered what had happened to make him grow so tall in the first place, and Thomas told her.
‘It was all Mrs. Grumblebix’s fault,’ he said. ‘She’s a witch.’
‘Don’t be silly!’ said his mum. ‘There’s no such thing as witches.’
‘Yes there is!’ said Thomas. ‘She put a spell on me.’
‘Don’t be silly!’ said his mum.
‘There’s no such thing as spells.’
‘Yes there is!’ said Thomas. ‘And it was the one she put on me that made me grow so tall.’
His mum looked down at him and sighed. ‘You know,’ she said, ‘one of these days, you’ll tell one tall story too many.’
Tall Thomas said nothing. He’d told his mum tall stories and she hadn’t believed him. Then he’d been truthful and his mum still hadn’t believed him.
You can’t win, he thought. Sometimes, whatever you say, you just can’t win…
~oOo~
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