Dopey Dennis

Once upon a time there was a little boy called Dennis. Everyone called him Dopey, though.

Dennis lived with his mother. One day his mother said to him, “I'll be away for an hour or two, Son. The hen is sitting on her eggs. Make sure nobody goes near her. Keep the house tidy. Don't touch the jar in the cupboard — it's full of poison.”

“Okay, Mom,” the little boy said, and when his mother had gone, he went into the yard to watch the hen. Tired of sitting, the hen got up to stretch her legs before going back to the eggs. Dennis picked up a stick and yelled: “You nasty creature, get right back on those eggs!” But the hen, annoyed, only said, “Cluck!” and so Dennis hit her with his stick. He didn't really mean to do her any harm, but the blow killed the poor hen.

“Oh!” gasped the lad. “Who's going to sit on the eggs now? Well, I had better do something about that!” So he sat on the eggs and broke them all!

He knew his mother would be angry. To help make amends, the boy decided to make lunch. He picked up the hen, plucked its feathers, and put it on the spit to roast.

“A roast calls for wine!” he said to himself. He took a jug and went down to the cellar where he started to draw sparkling red wine. At that moment, there was a dreadful noise in the kitchen. Dennis ran upstairs forgetting to turn off the tap on the barrel. Up he ran and saw the cat with the roast hen in its jaws and the spit overturned.

“Hey thief!” shouted the lad. “Put my hen down!” He picked up a rolling pin and started to chase the cat from room to room. The pair of them knocked against the cupboards; overturned tables, chairs, and stools; and smashed vases, pots, plates, and glasses. Finally, the cat dropped the hen and ran away.

Dennis got the roast, put it on the table, and said, “Now, I'll get the wine.” He went back to the cellar, which was flooded. He didn't dare go in, for he was wearing new shoes: There were nearly six inches of wine all over the floor.

Then, Dennis had an idea. He picked up one of the bags lying on a table, opened it and started to scatter all the flour it contained. “Great! The flour will absorb the wine and I can walk about the cellar without wetting my feet,” he said. In the end, the floor was covered with a wine-colored, sticky paste, and as he walked on it, it stuck to his shoes. Dennis went to get the jug he had filled and carried it in great delight back to the table, leaving red footprints everywhere. Then, he thought of all the mess he had made, and he began to fear his mother would be angry.

“Never mind,” he said, “I'll drink the poison and die.” So he went to the cupboard and picked up the jar. He thought the poison would be a black liquid, but the jar contained a beige cream. Just as he was about to take his first spoonful, he realized how silly he was. Nobody should ever eat poison, not even Dopey Dennis. Instead, he decided to hide from his mother.

Soon, his mother returned. When she saw the overturned furniture, the broken plates, and the red footprints, she was afraid Dennis had been injured. She suddenly noticed a pair of legs sticking out of the oven. “I'm not surprised you are hiding from me, Dennis, after causing all this mess,” she said, for she realized by now the mess was of Dennis's making.

“While I am cleaning up, take this roll of cloth to the market and try and sell it for a good price.”

When he got to market, Dennis began to shout, “Cloth! Who'll buy this lovely cloth?” Several women came over and asked him, “What kind of cloth is it? Is it soft? Is it durable? Is it expensive? How long is it? How much does it cost?”

Dennis exclaimed, “You talk too much, and I don't sell things to magpies,” and off he went. He passed by a statue and mistook it for a fine gentleman, so he asked it, “Sir, would you like to buy this fine cloth? Yes or no? If you don't say anything, that means you do. Look here! Do you like it? Yes? Good! Then take it,” and he left the cloth beside the statue and went home. “Mother!” he cried. “I've sold the cloth to a very dapper gentleman!”

The woman asked: “How much did he give you for it?”

“Oh! I forgot to ask him for the money! Don't worry, I'll go and ask him for it.” He ran back to the statue but the cloth was gone. Dennis said to the statue, “I see you've taken the cloth home already. Fine, now give me the money!”

Of course, the statue was unable to reply. Dennis repeated his request, and then losing his temper, he picked up a stick and began to beat the statue. He hit it so hard its head broke off. Out poured a handful of gold coins, which had been hidden there. Dennis picked up the coins, put the head back in position, and went home.

“Look!” he called. And his mother stared in astonishment.

“Who gave you such so much money for the cloth?” his mother asked him.

“A very dignified-looking gentleman. He didn't speak. And do you know where he kept his money? In his head!”

At this, Dennis's mother exclaimed, “Dennis, listen! You killed the hen, broke the eggs, flooded the cellar with wine, wasted five bags of flour, and smashed plates, bottles, vases, and glasses. If you think you're going to tell me lies as well, you're badly mistaken! Get out of here!”

And grabbing the broom, she chased him out of the house.

But the boy sat on the doorstep and did not budge. His exasperated mother picked up the first thing that she could grab and hurled it at Dennis. It was a big basket of dried fruit. Dennis shouted, “Mother! Quick! It's raining dried fruit!”

His mother slumped into a chair and said sadly, “What can I do with a boy like him?”

Then, Dennis went about telling people he had a lot of gold coins, so the magistrates sent for him.

“Where did you find those coins?” they asked him.

“A gentleman gave them to me in payment for a roll of cloth,” Dennis replied.

“What gentleman?” said the magistrates sternly.

“The gentleman who is always standing at the corner of Ridge Road and Fifth Street,” replied the boy.

“But that's a statue!” gasped the magistrates.

“He didn't say what his name was, but maybe it is Mr. Statue. He kept his money in his head.”

The magistrates looked at each other in astonishment. Then the chief magistrate asked, “Tell us, Dennis, when did you do this piece of business?”

“It was the day it rained dried fruit!” the boy replied.

Again the magistrates exchanged looks. Now certain that Dennis really was dopey, they said, “You can go home, lad. You're free!

” And so Dennis went home and lived there happily with his mother. A bit dopey, yes, but he never did anybody any real harm. And even though he could be dopey, his mother loved him dearly.