Don J. Lechman
2561 Date Circle
310-539-8907
310-623-2928
THE BASHFUL BOA
Once upon a time in a land far away – actually San Diego , Calif.
Now Stewart was not antisocial. In fact, he was very proud of his ability to get along with just about everybody. His mother was always telling him, “Mix, Stewart, mix. Don’t be afraid to meet new people.”
Stewart was always the first in his neighborhood to welcome a new kid, but he had never met a boa before. Steward scratched his head and looked at Alexander. “I wonder how he shakes hands?”
But Stewart never let a little thing like proper introductions stand in his way. He sidled up to Alexander and said, “Hi. My name is Stewart. I live across the street. Did you just slink…I mean move here?”
Alexander was not prepared for Stewart’s friendliness. He was so startled that he coiled up into a ball and tucked his head into his center.
“Oh,” Stewart said, backing away. “I don’t want to bother you if you’re busy playing hide and seek. I’ll talk to you later.” As Stewart walked away, Alexander peaked out at him.
“Wait,” Alexander wailed, then tucked his head into his center again.
Stewart stopped and looked back.
“Did you say something?”
A muffled response came from the coiled snake.
A muffled response came from the coiled snake.
“Murflewurfle.”
“You’re not busy?”
“Snufflewuffle,” Alexander wriggled.
“Snufflewuffle,” Alexander wriggled.
“Well, c’mon out and talk then.”
“Fuzzleknockle,” was the only sound that came from the coiled Alexander.
“You’re bashful?” Stewart asked kindly.
Alexander lifted his head enough to see.
“That’s-sss right,” he hissed.
“I don’t care,” Stewart smiled. “I’m bashful, too.”
“Y-you are?” Alexander raised his head again. “You don’t look bashful.”
“Well, I am, but I just don’t think about it. My mother always makes me get out and play. Maybe you could just start playing, and you’d forget about it, too. What’s your name?”
“Alexander,” he said, starting to uncoil completely.
“Alexander,” he said, starting to uncoil completely.
“Why don’t we play football?”
“That would be great except I don’t have any hands-sss or legs-sss.”
“That would be great except I don’t have any hands-sss or legs-sss.”
“Hmmmm. So you don’t. I guess that means basketball and soccer are out, too?”
Suddenly, two other boys come dancing down the street, calling to Stewart.
“Hey, you guys wanna play football in the park?”
“Sure,” Stewart exclaimed, running after them. “See you later, Alexander,” he called back over his shoulder.
“H-Hey, wait,” Alexander called. “My name is Al-Alexander,” his voice trailed off. “I’d like to play, too,” he said, almost to himself. “Rats-sss; they’re gone,” Alexander started to go home.
“SSS-snakes alive! Nobody wants to play with me. People just don’t like boa constrictors-sss.”
He slithered into his house and slammed the door. A sweet voice hissed from the kitchen.
“That you, Alexander? Make sure you wipe on the rug before you slither in,” she said. “You done playing already? C’mon in. I just baked some chocolate chip cookies-sss.”
Now if there was anything Alexander loved – besides his mother – was chocolate chip cookies. So when he went into the kitchen and told his mother he didn’t want any, she knew something was up.
“What’s-sss wrong, Alexander? You sss-sick or sss-something?”
Alexander shook his head. “Naw. I jest wanna know why people don’t like boas-sss.”
Alexander’s mother looked at him.
“Lord almighty, boy, you gonna sss-start that again,” she hissed lovingly.
“But it’s true. None of the kids-sss will play with me because I’m a boa constrictor.”
“Big deal! I’m a boa constrictor, too, and they won’t play with me either.”
“I’m sss-serious, Ma. All the kids-sss hate me. They don’t want anything to do with me.”
Alexander’s mother stopped her cooking to look at her son.
“Alexander, how many times-sss have I told you that it doesn’t matter what you look like. It’s-sss what you have inside that counts-sss.”
Alexander sighed. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” To himself he asked, What DO I have inside? He went out the kitchen door. “Ssss-sure. It doesn’t matter what you look like. Ha!”
Alexander went up the stairs to his room where he took a human mask out of his closet, slipped it on and looked into the mirror.
“For heaven’s-sss sss-snakes,” he exclaimed. “All I look like is a boa constrictor with a funny mask.” He took it off, threw himself on his bed, coiled up into a ball and began to cry like a snake.
“Hiss-ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss.”
Chapter 2
The next day Alexander was curled up on his lawn when Stewart came by, carrying a soccer ball.
“Hiya doing, Alexander?” Stewart asked cheerfully.
“Oh, all right,” Alexander sniffed, curling up tighter.
Stewart looked puzzled.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing.”
“Well, something must be wrong.”
Alexander sighed. “Its-sss the sss-same old sss-story. Nobody likes-sss me because I’m---well…a little different.”
“Yeah? I noticed.”
Alexander acted surprised. “You noticed?”
“Sure,” Stewart said. “Just like you said – you don’t have any hands or legs.”
Alexander sighed again. “That’s not exactly what I meant.”
Stewart looked at him closely. “Well, your color is a little funny…”
“That’s-sss not what I mean either,” Alexander cried impatiently, jumping up and down. “Its-sss not because I don’t have arms-sss or that I do have a funny color; I’m a boa constrictor…a boa constrictor…a boa constrictor. Doesn’t anyone understand English?”
“A boa constrictor?” Stewart asked. “What’s a boa constrictor?...Wait…do that again.”
Now Alexander looked puzzled.
“Do what again?” he sighed.
“Jump up and down.”
“I’m not in the mood for games-sss. Why sss-should I jump up and down.”
“Just do it, Alexander,” Stewart pleaded.
“Okay, okay,” Alexander said, jumping into the air. Just as he did, Stewart threw him the soccer ball, which Alexander unconsciously whacked way down the street with his tail.
“Hey,” Stewart exclaimed. “That was terrific. You really belted that thing.”
Alexander seemed more surprised than Stewart.
“I did, didn’t I” he beamed. “How did I do that?”
“Let me get the ball, and you can try it again.” So Stewart got the ball, and Alexander whacked it again.
“Wow!” Stewart shouted.
“Hiss-sss,” Alexander exclaimed.
“Gee, Alexander,” Stewart said. “I didn’t know you knew how to play soccer.”
“What’s-sss sss-soccer? asked Alexander innocently.
“You mean you never played before?”
“I –I don’t think sss-so.”
“You’re a natural. My team has a game at 4 this afternoon at the park. We’re short a player. Why don’t you come over. I’m sure we can use another guy. You’re not 10 yet are you?”
“You’re a natural. My team has a game at 4 this afternoon at the park. We’re short a player. Why don’t you come over. I’m sure we can use another guy. You’re not 10 yet are you?”
“No,” Alexander said slowly. “I’m not 10. But they won’t let me play, will they?
“Why not? The way you can kick?”
“Are you sure they would want ME?”
“Well, I don’t think anyone will care how many arms or legs you have if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Not exactly,” Alexander said. “You gotta remember that I’M a boa…a boa…a boa…ah, forget it. I’ll sss-see you later.”
“Four o’clock at the park,” reminded Stewart, grabbing his ball and heading for home. “Sss-see you this afternoon,” he kidded.
“Oh, boy,” Alexander said, as he slithered away. “What have I gotten myself into now?”
CHAPTER 3
Alexander arrived at the park at five minutes to 4 just in time to see boys of all sizes running after soccer balls. He and Stewart saw each other at the same time.
“Hey, Alexander,” Stewart yelled. “I told the coach you would be coming. He’s anxious to meet you.”
“M-meet m-me,” Alexander stuttered. “You didn’t say that I would have to meet sss-somebody.”
“Well, geez, Alexander, it’s on Coach.” He pushed him over toward a stocky man in a sweatshirt with a whistle around his neck.
“Coach,” Stewart said, “this is the kid I was telling you about. Alexander, this is Coach Max.”
But Alexander had coiled up into a ball with his head tucked into his center.
“This is Alexander?” the coach asked in surprise.
“Yeah,” Stewart signed. “I forgot to tell you that he’s a little bashful.”
“Well,” Coach Max chuckled. “I’m glad to meet you, Alexander, but I’m afraid you’ll have to uncoil if you want to play soccer.”
“Oh, he’ll uncoil all right, Coach,” Stewart said assuredly.
“And he’s under 10?”
“Well,” explained Stewart,” he’s over 10 feet long, but he’s under 10 years old if that’s what you mean.”
“Hmmm,” said Coach Max, touching Alexander’s dry skin. “We could use some length on this team – but can he play soccer?”
“If you just give him a chance, Coach,” Stewart pleased.
“What’s-sss sss-soccer,” Alexander lifted his head and hissed before tucking it into his center again.
The coach looked at him. “What did he say?”
“Oh, nothing,” Stewart said quickly. “He’s just psyching himself up.”
“Now let me get this straight,” the coach said. “You want Alexander here to be on our team?”
“Sure,” Stewart said, holding Alexander’s big head in his arms. “See this flat head?”
“Yeah?” said the coach.
“It’s perfect for doing headers.”
“Can’t argue with you there,” smiled Coach Max.
“And just look at this tail,” said Stewart. “Why there’s all sorts of things he could do with this tail.”
The coach folded his arms, “Like what for instance?”
“Well,” said Stewart, trying to think fast. “He can hang from the goal and swat balls away.”
“I don’t know,” Coach Max frowned, shaking his head. “I don’t think he can play.”
“He can’t?” Stewart asked, surprised. “Why not?”
“There’s just one problem,” he said, walking around the coiled Alexander.
Suddenly, Alexander’s head popped up.
“Sss-see Sss-Stewart,” he cried out. “I told you they would never let me play.”
“It’s a league rule,” Coach Max said. “I’m sorry. You ought to know that, Stewart.”
Alexander almost exploded. “There’s even a rule against boas playing sss-soccer. I new it.”
Coach Max interrupted. “There’s a rule against playing without soccer shoes.”
“Soccer shoes?” Stewart asked.
“Sss-soccer sss-shoes?” Alexander repeated.
“Soccer shoes,” said Coach Max.
“Oh,” said Stewart.
“Oh,” said Alexander.
Alexander turned dejectedly and start5ed to slither off the field.
“Wait, Alexander. There must be something we can do.” He looked at Alexander’s tail. “I have an idea,” he said excitedly. He ran back to Coach Max and whispered something to him.
“Oh, all right, Stewart. You can go home but come right back.”
“Wait for me, Alexander,” Stewart shouted as he galloped off. “I’ll be right back.”:
Alexander dragged himself over to the sidelines. “I don’t have anything better to do today.” he said sadly.
Stewart ran back in a few minutes, carrying a brown paper bag. He opened it up and showed Alexander.
“Here,” he said triumphantly. “It’s one of my father’s old soccer shoes. He wore size 13.”
“You mean you want me to wear THAT?” Alexander looked uneasy.
“Sure. Let me tie it on.”
Stewart put the shoe on Alexander’s tail and tied it on. It just fit. Then he pulled an old red jersey and a red sweat band out of the bag and put them on Alexander.
“You look great!” exclaimed Stewart. You look like a real soccer player.”
“Really?” Alexander asked. “I feel a little ridiculous-sss.”
The whistle blew, and Coach Max looked at Alexander.
“That’s great, Alexander,” he laughed. “Now you can play. Just take a spot on the bench.”
Stewart’s team, the Red Raiders were playing the Star Trekkies, one of the best teams in the league. They were loaded with big kids.
Stewart was captain today, and he got to flip the coin. Unfortunately, the Raiders lost and the Trekkies elected to kickoff. Both teams lined up – the forwards, the halfbacks, the fullbacks and the goalie. Stewart was playing halfback because he was good on both offense and defense.
The Trekkies kicked off, and the Red Raiders took the ball and started up the field. However, they were quickly intercepted by No. 12 who passed to No. 10, and he started downfield. But Stewart was there to intercept him and kick away the ball. But the Trekkies took it back and continued toward the goal line.
No. 8 passed back to No. 12 who moved the ball to No. 7 who passed it to No. 12 who pushed it across to No. 5 who took a shot on goal. The hard kick went right through Brian MacTavish’s fingers for the first goal of the game.
“Wow,” a boy sitting next to Alexander said. “Those guys are really good. This is gonna be a long game.”
He was almost right. In the second half, the game was 4 to 1, and all the Red Raiders had played except Alexander.
“I’m glad I didn’t tell my mother about the game,” Alexander muttered to himself. “I knew I would never get to play.”
Suddenly, Alexander heard the coach calling his name.
“Alexander, I’ve called you three times now. Don’t you wanna play?
“Sss-sure,” Alexander said. “I guess-sss sss-so.”
“Well, get in the game at center fullback for Bobby.”
“Yes-sss sss-sir,” Alexander jumped up and bellied onto the field. He didn’t know where the center fullback position was, but he did know where Bobby was playing. So he went to the position and sent the other boy off the field.
That’s when the kids started laughing. Not just the Trekkies but his own teammates.
“Look at that,” a big kid on the other team cried out. “Didja ever see anything sot funny?”
“No,” laughed No. 12. “Isn’t he a riot?”
Alexander stopped in his tracks.
“Whatsamatter?” he asked. “Ain’t you ever sss-seen a boa constrictor before?”
“A boa what? Little No. 5 asked.
“I don’t know,” screamed No. 12, “but those are the biggest feet I have ever seen.”
“Especially on a kid,” chimed in the curly-haired No. 7.
“Sss-shoe,” Alexander corrected them indignantly, wrapping himself into a coil. “That’sss a sss-shoe,” he hissed before tucking his head into his center. This was his most embarrassing moment ever.
All the other kids stopped laughing and looked at Alexander.
“Hey, we can’t play soccer with him lying in the middle of the field like that.”
Coach Max ran over. “You’re right. Alexander, you’re gonna hafta get off the field if you wanna play.”
Stewart ran over to Alexander and whispered to him.
“C.mon, Alexander. You can’t do this. You’ll wreck everything.:”
“But they ‘re all laughing at me,” Alexander whispered back. “Besides this was a dumb idea. You know I don’t know anything about sss-soccer.”
“So what’s to know?” Stewart grinned. “Just keep swatting the ball with your tail, er, shoe like you did the other day.”
“Oh, I don’t know….”
“Oh, I don’t know….”
“C’mon, Stewart,” Coach Max said patiently., “You better get Alexander off the field so we can get on with the game.”
But now Stewart took Coach Max aside and whispered in his ear. Meanwhile, Alexander did not move.
“Coach Max looked at Stewart. “Well, if you think so. Maybe we could try it. Okay, boys, everything’s okay. Let’s play ball.”
“With him right in the middle of the field?” asked No. 13
Max nodded. “He’ll be all right.”
Stewart sidled over to Alexander who was still coiled up and whispered to him. “Get ready, Alexander. You wanted a chance to play. You better take it.”
But Alexander never moved a muscle.
The Trekkies kicked off again, and the Raiders stopped the ball and started advancing toward the Trekkies’ goal. But the other team intercepted the ball again and went after the Raiders.
A player was coming right toward Alexander when he peeked out to see what all the excitement was about and saw a ball headed right towards him – a sure goal.
Out of self defense, Alexander leaped out of the way, lashing out with his tail and blasting the ball half way down the field.
Several kids topped in their tacks.
“Wow! Did you see that?”
“Way to go, Alexander,” Stewart shouted.
Now Alexander was awake. The Trekkies came toward them again, but Alexander intercepted the ball with his tail and whipped it up the field again.
Suddenly, the whistle blew, and Coach Max called the Red Raiders over to a huddle.
“That’s the way to play defense, Alexander,” Coach Max exclaimed. “Joe, you and Alexander exchange positions. I want Alexander to play forward.”
Alexander gulped. He didn’t know what a forward was, but it sounded important.
“F-forward?” he asked.
“Sure Alexander,” Steward exclaimed. “You can do it.”
So Alexander went out onto the field where the coach pointed and waited.
“Just keep going after the ball, Alexander,” he yelled. “Just keep following the ball.”
So Alexander slithered this way, and he slithered that way. Wherever the ball went, he slithered -- or tried. When the ball came his way, a mighty seep of his tail sent it rocketing toward the Trekkies’ goal line.
Alexander was sensational. He made three goals, tied the score, and the Raiders were delirious with joy.
“Aw-right, Alexander.”
“Way to go, Alexander.”
“Gimme five, Alexander; Whoops, you can’t gimme five. Gimme what you got.”
Alexander was excited, and he still wanted to win the game. He knew there was only about a minute left, so when the ball came to him he was ready.
But so was the other team. Everyone surrounded his tail so he couldn’t swing it.
But Alexander the Great had them fooled. Stewart passed him the ball, and Alexander coiled up like a spring – he was good at coiling – made a mighty leap into the air and headed the ball into net for the winning goal.
The Red Raiders won 5-4, and they were beside themselves.
“Three cheers for Alexander,” the team screamed. “Two, four six, eight, who do we appreciate: Alexander, Alexander, Alexander!”
Alexander was so embarrassed he was blushing red and lavender, but he didn’t coil up into a ball, and he didn’t tuck his head into his center.
His teammates were on him in a flash, and it took all 13 of them to lift him into the air, and carry him off the field. He looked like a proud snake with 26 short legs.
“Yea, Alexander,” everyone screamed. He’s our boa. If he can’t do it, no one can.”
Alexander would have busted his buttons if he had any. When he saw Stewart, he was so excited that he wrapped himself around the boy and licked his cheek with his long, long, wet, wet tongue
“Yech,” Stewart laughed. “I’ve never been kissed by a Boa before.”
“And I never played in a sss-soccer game before,” Alexander said happily.
Stewart was all set to reply when he saw Alexander’s mother across the field, slithering up and down the sidelines, waving to her son, tears in her eyes. Other mothers were trying to congratulate her, but she was only interested in getting to Alexander.
Alexander was not really surprised to see his mother. She always seemed to know what he was up to.
“Sss-see, Ma,” Alexander yelled. “I always told you that it doesn’t matter what you are. It’s-sss what you have inside that counts-sss.”
Alexander’s mother just smiled back and lovingly hissed.
The End
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