A Fool In April

A Fool In April

The minute she entered the town limits; she heard them starting. She tried to ignore the jeering words.

“April Fool!”

She kept walking. Then a clod of some kind hit her, spattering down the front of her new dress. She steeled herself to keep moving.

“After all, the faster I move, the less likely they are to be able to hit me!” she told herself. She sped up and began to zigzag as her big brother had taught her.

The missiles kept flying but no others hit her.

Finally, she was in the thick woods on the other side of town. She broke through thickets and thorny brush. Finally, she stopped still to listen.

“Just because our last name is Cloughn, people think we should be funny, especially on this day of the year. I have no time for it! We’ll see how funny some of them find me when I get done!”

She opened the basket she’d been carrying and began to arm herself. She heard running footfalls and loud whispers.

“She’s this way. Let’s play a good joke on her!” she heard. The second she saw a whisp of hair on a head, she aimed and fired.

Shards of gooey, bluey and extra stainy blueberry pie flew through the air. Then she saw an irate boyish face pop up. She threw another pie and hit it square on.

He scooped out his eyes and nose but chewed and swallowed what had hit his open mouth. From his grimace, she knew the taste of the pie filling was as terrible as she had made it to be.

“Give up and leave me alone!” she shouted at the top of her lungs.

A hand holding a slingshot poked out of the underbrush.

“Pie Ball!” she gasped. {