Five A Day
by Cedric
Botfrob
The recession
had hit Nadger Brooks hard, which was annoying,
because that was usually his job. As Saint
Street’s official school bully, his main
source of income was stealing other kids’
lunch money, but many kids could no longer afford
a proper meal.
Take Huskinson,
for example. They’d hit it off on his first
day, or rather, Nadger had hit it off and
Huskinson had spent the rest of the day trying to
fix it back on. So Nadger felt real concern as he
looked down at the meagre contents of the
boy’s pockets. "What on earth did you
expect to buy with this?" he said.
"A
portion of fries," said Huskinson miserably.
"You need
better nourishment than that," said Nadger.
"You need protein, to help repair damaged
tissues." Huskinson always seemed to have
damaged tissues when Nadger had finished with him.
"You should be eating five portions of fresh
fruit and vegetables a day: no wonder you bruise
so easily. You need at least three times as much
lunch money."
"But
you’d steal it," pointed out Huskinson.
"I’d be left with nothing."
"So
you’d be no worse off than you are now. And
as I’d be better off, the wealth would
trickle down to the poorest members of society,
which means you. I’m trying to enrich you."
Sometimes he wished that the school taught
economics as a core subject. Many of the students
had a poor grasp of finance, particularly when
Nadger was trying to grasp it at the same time.
He had a sudden idea. "Let’s do a
poster campaign, to raise awareness of the
importance of bringing more lunch money! You can
be the poster boy - we’ll do "before"
and "after" pictures.
Huskinson
groaned. He’d been before and after with
Nadger before, and before was how he liked it.
~*~*~*~*~*~
"You too
could have a body like mine!" ran the slogan
beneath the pictures of Huskinson bruised and
bleeding torso. Nadger was delighted. Some
students were bringing in so much lunch money
that it took two sittings for him to take it all.
He’d never known they took such an interest
in their health and safety.
Huskinson
didn’t seem to share his happiness, though.
"I think you deserve a reward," he said.
"I know! I’ll treat you to a slap-up
meal!"
In despair
Huskinson handed over the cost of the meal, and
waited for the slap-up.
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