My brother King Henry
The story ‘bout my little brother, King Henry
By JellybeanChiChi
Number three of the Christmas stories. This one is about a big brother talking about his little brother, Henry. The prompt? You'll find out if you read :-)
Hope you enjoy. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays.
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Ain't no doubt about it. My little brother is crazier than a barefoot Nar'leans Saints fan on the hot tin roof of the Superdome.
But I love him, I tell you what. Which is why I got him a dang ole gift that might make him seem even more crazier. But it shore made him happier than a starving fly on a ripe and full garbage can.
Now, just hold on and back up. I'll tell you about my little brother Henry. And here we go.
Henry loves this tree in our front yard. Faces all the houses on the block and the street there. And more than anything else in the world, he loves to climb that dang ole tree and stand on this one sturdy branch and holler, "I'M KING HENRY! Y'ALL COME AND HAIL ME. YA HEAR?!"
Most days people ignore him, and wouldn't you know that little guy -- he ain't but 9 years old -- he decided to make sure people could see him. So what does he do? Well, I tell you what, he got dressed up so people had nothin' to do BUT notice him.
So nowadays, Henry is up on that dang ole tree wearing a Superman t-shirt that fit him real good when he was 7; a pair of purple sweat pants that used to belong to our older sister, Nancy; the Star Wars sheet from his bed as a cape; his red rain boots; his Saints ballcap, backwards; and them pair of Harry Potter glow-in-the-dark plastic glasses he got at the Barnesennoble down there in town.
"I'M KING HENRY! Y'ALL COME AND HAIL ME. YA HEAR?!"
He looks like a dang ole crazy man. Shore thing he's pint-sized. But dang ole' crazy. And dangit all if it don't make me laugh every time, I tell you what. Well, you get dressed like that and you start hollerin’, and someone's gonna say somethin'.
Usually I go out there and putter aroun' the yard so there ain't no one to pester him, but during our Christmas break when we didn't have no school, there was a couple of neighborhood jerks who started a' teasin' him.
"Baby in the tree! Baby in the tree!"
Dang ole jerks.
"I ain't no baby!" he'd a holler back. "I'M KING HENRY! YA HEAR?!"
"Oh yeah," one punk hollered. "Then where’s your trumpet music and stuff?"
"Yeah," another punk said. "Like in them movies. Where all those people play music and stuff for the king or president or stuff?"
Dangit if that didn't get to Henry. He just stared at them boys and sat down on the branch. And when he did, he looked sadder than a whimperin' dog that ain’t able to fin’ its fav'rit bone, I tell you what.
Henry didn't go back up that tree, and it just made me sad. He might be crazy, but he shore was happy in that tree. That was his place. That was where he felt cool. Felt confident. Felt like a big man. I couldn't let him down. I had to do somthin'.
Christmas mornin' came and Henry still was kinda sad. So I gave him a small wrapped box. "Here ya go, King Henry."
"That ain't my name," he said, all dang ole sad.
I just laughed. "Shore it is. Open it."
Then I left the room. Well, I went ousside, but I could see him through the winder. He didn't notice me 'cause he was just a lookin' at the box. I saw him shrug his shoulders, an' he a opened that box. Wann't nothin' in there but a piece of paper with my writin' on it, but it worked 'cause he went up the stairs and then came down wearing that outfit of his -- complete with cap, sweat pants and bedsheet cape.
He looked at my ma and pa and said, "The gift said to go on ousside."
So Henry opened the door to the ousside.
And I a started playin' the harmonica. I didn't have no trumpet, but I knew how to play the harmonica. So I did. For King Henry.
And I tell you what, you should've seen King Henry strut up to that dang ole tree and climb up that branch and stand there with hands on his dang ole hips. The wind whipped his bedsheet and he looked prouder than a papa holding his newborn son.
I just a kept on a playin' till I saw King Henry put up his hand like he was a sayin’, "Stop there, ya hear?!"
He took a deep ole breath and hollered, "I'M KING HENRY! Y'ALL COME AND HAIL ME. YA HEAR?!"
Then we all cheered and clapped.
And I tell you what. Ain’t nothin’ better than giving King Henry a Merry Christmas.
THE END
By JellybeanChiChi
Number three of the Christmas stories. This one is about a big brother talking about his little brother, Henry. The prompt? You'll find out if you read :-)
Hope you enjoy. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays.
---------
Ain't no doubt about it. My little brother is crazier than a barefoot Nar'leans Saints fan on the hot tin roof of the Superdome.
But I love him, I tell you what. Which is why I got him a dang ole gift that might make him seem even more crazier. But it shore made him happier than a starving fly on a ripe and full garbage can.
Now, just hold on and back up. I'll tell you about my little brother Henry. And here we go.
Henry loves this tree in our front yard. Faces all the houses on the block and the street there. And more than anything else in the world, he loves to climb that dang ole tree and stand on this one sturdy branch and holler, "I'M KING HENRY! Y'ALL COME AND HAIL ME. YA HEAR?!"
Most days people ignore him, and wouldn't you know that little guy -- he ain't but 9 years old -- he decided to make sure people could see him. So what does he do? Well, I tell you what, he got dressed up so people had nothin' to do BUT notice him.
So nowadays, Henry is up on that dang ole tree wearing a Superman t-shirt that fit him real good when he was 7; a pair of purple sweat pants that used to belong to our older sister, Nancy; the Star Wars sheet from his bed as a cape; his red rain boots; his Saints ballcap, backwards; and them pair of Harry Potter glow-in-the-dark plastic glasses he got at the Barnesennoble down there in town.
"I'M KING HENRY! Y'ALL COME AND HAIL ME. YA HEAR?!"
He looks like a dang ole crazy man. Shore thing he's pint-sized. But dang ole' crazy. And dangit all if it don't make me laugh every time, I tell you what. Well, you get dressed like that and you start hollerin’, and someone's gonna say somethin'.
Usually I go out there and putter aroun' the yard so there ain't no one to pester him, but during our Christmas break when we didn't have no school, there was a couple of neighborhood jerks who started a' teasin' him.
"Baby in the tree! Baby in the tree!"
Dang ole jerks.
"I ain't no baby!" he'd a holler back. "I'M KING HENRY! YA HEAR?!"
"Oh yeah," one punk hollered. "Then where’s your trumpet music and stuff?"
"Yeah," another punk said. "Like in them movies. Where all those people play music and stuff for the king or president or stuff?"
Dangit if that didn't get to Henry. He just stared at them boys and sat down on the branch. And when he did, he looked sadder than a whimperin' dog that ain’t able to fin’ its fav'rit bone, I tell you what.
Henry didn't go back up that tree, and it just made me sad. He might be crazy, but he shore was happy in that tree. That was his place. That was where he felt cool. Felt confident. Felt like a big man. I couldn't let him down. I had to do somthin'.
Christmas mornin' came and Henry still was kinda sad. So I gave him a small wrapped box. "Here ya go, King Henry."
"That ain't my name," he said, all dang ole sad.
I just laughed. "Shore it is. Open it."
Then I left the room. Well, I went ousside, but I could see him through the winder. He didn't notice me 'cause he was just a lookin' at the box. I saw him shrug his shoulders, an' he a opened that box. Wann't nothin' in there but a piece of paper with my writin' on it, but it worked 'cause he went up the stairs and then came down wearing that outfit of his -- complete with cap, sweat pants and bedsheet cape.
He looked at my ma and pa and said, "The gift said to go on ousside."
So Henry opened the door to the ousside.
And I a started playin' the harmonica. I didn't have no trumpet, but I knew how to play the harmonica. So I did. For King Henry.
And I tell you what, you should've seen King Henry strut up to that dang ole tree and climb up that branch and stand there with hands on his dang ole hips. The wind whipped his bedsheet and he looked prouder than a papa holding his newborn son.
I just a kept on a playin' till I saw King Henry put up his hand like he was a sayin’, "Stop there, ya hear?!"
He took a deep ole breath and hollered, "I'M KING HENRY! Y'ALL COME AND HAIL ME. YA HEAR?!"
Then we all cheered and clapped.
And I tell you what. Ain’t nothin’ better than giving King Henry a Merry Christmas.
THE END