The Antique Fair

by WarmerNights

The village is getting ready for an antique fair, but Norman just can't stay out of trouble. He goes around playing pranks on everyone. When will he learn that enough is enough?

Seagulls drifted gracefully through the blue skies over Pontypandy. Early September breezes laced the small seaside town with refreshing chills after a brutally hot summer. This particular afternoon started out very promising. A beautiful day, everyone cheerful, and lots of work to be done. Almost time for Pontypandy's first Antique and Collectors Fair. The grown-ups all hustled about, preparing for the event and bringing out all kinds of old and valuable items.

Norman Price and Mandy Flood sat on the grass. They watched the adults work. "I love a good fair, don't you, Mandy?" Norman asked his friend.

"There's nothing here but a lot of old junk," she pointed out, glumly.

"Now, Mandy," Officer Steele scolded playfully as he passed the two children. "For your information, 'old' and 'junk' are usually opposites." He winked at them. The two kids looked at each other with shared confusion.

"That makes no sense," Norman said, scratching his carrot mop-top.

Mandy's mother Helen brought out a huge jewel-toned Persian rug. She unrolled it with care and placed it on the display rack. The fancy rug caught Norman's eye, but he became dizzy just looking at the extravagant designs.

"Yowie, my eyes!" Norman overreacted.

"It's not so bad," Mandy pointed out. "It's just an old rug."

"The bright colors hurt my eyes so I'm going to get rid of this." He started yanking on the expensive rug until it slid off the rack, but it tumbled down right on top of him! Mandy facepalmed.

"Help! I'm stuck! Call Fireman Sam!" Norman yelled as he frantically struggled underneath the big rug.

"Call him yourself," Mandy said, walking away in frustration.

Sam just happened to be passing by at this moment. He saw the valuable rug on the ground with somebody fussing around under it. The fireman rolled his eyes and came over to help.

"Norman Price, is that you under there?" he inquired, grabbing the rug and whipping it off the boy.

"Oh, that's better!" Norman breathed, very happy to be reunited with the light of day. "Thank you, Sam!"

Sam stared crossly at the boy. "Norman, what are you up to?"

"Just...playing?" Norman replied.

"Well, there's nothing for you to play with here. You and the carpet don't seem to be getting along too nicely."

"Yes Sam," Norman sighed, kicking up some dirt as he trudged away.

"Try to stay out of trouble," Sam called.

"Okay!" Norman yelled in frustration. It always seemed that everybody always assumed he would cause a lot of problems.

Then Norman saw something else that piqued his interest.

Stocks – made of solid wood. Norman had never seen real stocks before. He had only seen pictures of them in his history book. The medieval stocks were used in days long ago to humiliate and inflict torture on the hapless individual trapped inside. Norman smiled…This exhibit was right up his alley.

Mike Flood secured the stocks to the ground with help from Penny.

"Wow, Mike, we've never seen anything like this at an antique fair before," Penny commented.

"Can't have a fair without a public humiliation center," Mike replied with a sly wink.

Norman strolled over to observe. The stocks had two sets of holes for a single person's ankles and wrists. After being bolted to the ground, the stocks just needed to be tidied up a bit. Penny wiped away the dust with a rag.

"Penny, I'm going to get some wood polish," Mike said, gathering up his tools. "Will you stay here and keep an eye on the stocks until I get back?"

"Sure thing, Mike," Penny said.

She would guard those stocks alright, especially since Norman stood there gazing at them with mischief in his eyes.

"What are these?" Norman asked, although he already knew what they were.

"These are called 'stocks'," Penny answered, smiling calmly as the kid seemed innocently curious.

Norman moved even closer to examine them. "How do they work?"

"Well, do you see those holes?" she asked, pointing to them.

"Yep."

"Those holes are for somebody's wrists and ankles. Once they're locked into the stocks, they won't be able to get away or even move their feet and hands!"

"Cool," Norman said in awe. "Who would be put in stocks?"

Penny shrugged. "Somebody who needed to be punished and learn a lesson, I suppose."

"Humph," Norman grumbled. He frowned and kicked at the old device. "This thing looks like a piece of junk and I bet it doesn't even work anymore."

"What? But of course it still works!" Penny insisted, putting her hands on her hips.

"Prove it then," Norman said, looking the blond woman right in the eye.

"What do you mean?"

"Prove to me these stocks still work…show me."

Penny understood what he meant, but she was reluctant to do it. The idea worried her, but she wanted to prove her point. She finally had to give in. "Oh alright," she sighed.

Norman smiled in anticipation as Penny opened the stocks by lifting the top boards. She sat down on a little stool. Her hands and feet slipped into the stocks and Norman slammed everything shut, locking her in!

Penny gulped, nervously wiggling her feet back and forth. "You see that, Norman? I'm really stuck good."

"You are…"

"Okay, now we know the stocks work," she said, chuckling softly. "Now...let me out of here?"

"Ummm, I can't," Norman said, smirking. "I think it's locked."

"There's a latch down there somewhere," Penny said, trying to point with her trapped hand. "Find the latch so I can get out of this thing."

Norman snickered. He couldn't pass up this opportunity. He yanked Penny's boots off and giggled maniacally as he ran away!

"Very funny," Penny grumbled as her bare toes wiggled in the cool air. "Norman Price! Get back here, you little scallywag!"

Norman kept on running, laughing to himself for being so sneaky. He ran down to the dock and found a long, gray seagull feather. An evil smile spread across his freckled face. Hiding the feather behind his back, he rushed immediately back to Penny.

"Oh, you came back," Penny said in relief. Her brown eyes widened in confusion, however, when she saw Norman's fiendish smirk.

"Ticklish?" Norman asked, revealing the stiff feather. He didn't give Penny a chance to say anything else or prepare herself. He immediately started gliding the feather along her bare feet. Her head flung back as she burst into laughter.

"Hahahahahahaha! N-Norman! You stohohohohop thahahahahat!" she laughed, squirming around in her seat.

Norman cackled in wicked delight. He dragged the long plume between her toes and stroked over every inch of her smooth, slightly sweaty soles.

Penny shrieked and giggled uncontrollably. She couldn't believe that Norman had tricked her and was now tickling her helpless feet. The stocks rattled and jiggled as she writhed around in a tickle-induced frenzy. "STOP DOING THAT!" she shouted in desperation. "It tihihihickles sooo muhuhuhuch! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Then Norman dug the pointed quill into the center of her tender sole. He started scribbling it like a pen on her arches and she howled in hysteria.

"OOOOOOHHH PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE! I'M VERY TICKLISH! STOHOHOHOHOHOP!"

"Coochie coo! Tickle, tickle!" Having a blast, naughty Norman had no intention of stopping. He scratched her soles with his fingers. Penny shrieked with laughter, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Great Fires of London, what's going on here?"

Norman spun around to see Sam looming over him. The red-haired fireman glared at Norman, his hands planted firmly on his hips.

"Heh heh," Norman chuckled nervously, hiding the feather behind his back. "Hi, Sam."

"Sam, thank goodness!" Penny cried, panting. "Help me out of this?"

Sam let Penny out of the stocks and turned his attention back to the troublemaker. "Let's have it," he said, holding out his open hand.

"Have what?" Norman asked, still hiding the seagull feather.

Sam grabbed the kid's arm and snatched the feather from his hand. "I told you to stay out of trouble, didn't I?"

"Yes, Sam."

Sam frowned. "I think you better run along home."

"Ahhh!" Norman groaned.

"Now!"

The young troublemaker had no choice but to scram. He could hear his mother's loud voice from across the field, screeching his name as she looked for him. With a sigh, Norman headed in her direction. "Coming, Mum."

"Norman! NORMAN!"

"I said I'm coming!"

"There you are, poppet." Dilys brought out a basket of fruit from her store. She dropped it into Norman's hands and told him to pass out fruit to everyone. Naturally, this was greeted with a groaning lack of enthusiasm.

"Oh, Mum! Do I have to?"

"Certainly, Norman! A body gets hungry doing all sorts of work like that. Now you go and pass out that fruit to everyone you see."

"But I'm not a fruit boy…"

Dilys folded her boney arms. "Do what Mummy tells you, Norman!"

Norman had a better idea. When his mom wasn't looking, he snuck into the store and replaced the fruit with carved artificial fruit meant for decorative purposes. He gobbled up all the real fruit himself.

"Now…to feed everyone this fruit." Norman walked outside, carrying the basket loaded with fake fruit. He snickered to himself.

Elvis sang a ditty, while painting the big sign for the antique fair. He had all colors of the rainbow splattered around his work station. Norman decided to offer him some fruit.

Elvis reached for the fat apple and took a chomp. "Ohh!"

"I better be going! Lots more people to feed!" Norman sped off with the basket, leaving Elvis stuck with the wooden apple between his teeth.

Officer Steele strolled over to see what the fuss was about. "Cridlington, what are you doing?" he demanded.

"This apple, sir," Elvis mumbled, prying the fruit off his teeth.

"Well, what's wrong with it?"

"It doesn't taste very fruity. It tastes rather…woody."

"Woody, eh?" Steele took the shiny red apple and examined it closely. "Seems to be a perfectly fine piece of fruit, Cridlington."

"Sir, I know what wood tastes like and I know wood when I taste it."

Steele wrapped his teeth around the apple, attempting to take a large bite. "Ooof!"

"Didn't I tell you it was a woody apple, sir?"

Steele dropped the offending lump of fake fruit and checked his front teeth for looseness. "Right you are, Cridlington. Very woody indeed."

"Let's have a banana instead," Elvis suggested.

"Good idea."

Norman happily skipped off, snickering at their obliviousness to his trick. His search resumed for a new way to amuse himself. Perhaps Mandy was still around and she would play with him. He nibbled on a real orange that he had taken from his mom, picking off bits of peeling as he walked. As the ginger boy looked for his friend, he spotted what looked like a big box. It was actually an old steamer trunk on display for the antique show. He opened the lid and it was like a dark closet, with plenty of room for a kid to fit inside.

When he noticed Mandy walking by, another idea popped into his naughty head. He quickly climbed up and stood on top of the high trunk. Mandy didn't see him towering over her. Norman grinned menacingly as he started flicking pieces of orange flesh at Mandy.

"Hey!" she yelled, looking around to see where it came from.

Norman laughed, hurling more pieces of orange at her head.

"Norman, quit it!" Mandy stepped inside the trunk to avoid the orangey onslaught. Just then, a gust of wind whooshed in from the sea, causing Norman to lose his balance as the trunk wobbled back and forth.

"AHH! Woooaaah!" Norman yelled as the trunk flew over backwards and slammed onto the grass. The heavy lid banged shut, sealing Mandy inside!

Moaning weakly, Norman found his glasses and pulled himself off the ground. It hurt getting the wind knocked out of him. He could hear Mandy's shrill, frantic voice calling to him.

"Mandy?" He soon realized where she was.

"Let me oooouuut!" Her voice echoed from inside the trunk.

Norman lifted the brass latch and tried to raise the lid, but it wouldn't budge. The trunk must have locked upon closing! "Oh no…Mandy, can you hear me?!"

"You are dead meat, Norman Price!"

Again, Norman attempted to open the trunk. "Mandy! It's locked! I don't have the key…I don't know if there is a key!"

"Call Fireman Saaaam!" came the girl's faint, panicked voice.

The ginger kid wasted no time. He sped off in search of Fireman Sam, the only one who could save Mandy. He darted all over the place, but stepped carefully around the antiques and collector's items. He couldn't risk damaging anything else.

The firefighters had gathered at the café. They were having quite a discussion with Norman's mother.

"I can't believe it," Dilys exclaimed. "How could my little precious do such things?"

"He did alright," Penny grumbled, folding her arms. "I'm just lucky Sam came along when he did."

"The little weasel gave us fruit made of wood!" Steele held up the red-painted wooden apple with chew marks on it.

"Wood hurts our teeth…," Elvis groaned, clutching his jaw. "I don't think my singing voice will ever be the same."

"Where is Norman, Dilys?" Sam asked.

"I'm not really sure, he – Oh! Here he comes now!"

Norman burst into the café and started jumping up and down, frantic and out-of-breath.

"It's…It's Mandy! She…she's stuck!"

"What? Norman, settle down." Sam put his hand firmly on the boy's shoulder. "Where is Mandy?"

"She's locked in that big trunk, Sam!"

Everyone gasped.

"That's one of the antiques!" Elvis cried out.

"Elvis, where's the key?" Penny shouted.

"I don't think there is one. That I know of…"

"Great Fires of London!" Sam rushed out the door, followed by everyone else. The firefighters piled into Jupiter. The fire engine sped down the road with sirens ablaze.

Meanwhile, Mandy pounded furiously from inside the steamer trunk. "Norman?! Normaaaan! Are you still out there, you little grub?!"

Her screeches and banging scared away all seagulls who considered the trunk as a potential resting spot.

"Hold on, Mandy! We'll have you out of there in no time," Sam called as they arrived on the scene. He produced a crowbar from his rescue supplies. "This jimmy should do the trick."

Mike and Helen waited, anxious and gripping each other's hand. "Can she breathe?" they inquired fearfully.

"Oooohhh," Elvis moaned, gripping his head dramatically. "She could suffocate in there!"

"Be quiet, Elvis." Penny knelt down and began speaking gently to the trapped child. "Mandy? Can you hear me, love?"

"Yes, I hear you…and this is all Norman's fault!"

"Please remain calm," Penny told the worried parents. "She seems to be fine and we'll have her out in just a moment."

Sam maneuvered the crowbar until it lodged into place, directly beneath the brass-rimmed lid. He pressed down on the bar, carefully prying the lid upwards until it cracked open. He released Mandy from the dark, dusty prison. The girl inhaled the fresh air, running joyfully into her parents' arms.

"Mandy! Thank Heavens you're safe!" Helen exclaimed, her eyes wet with gratitude.

"Thank you, Sam," Mike said.

Mandy went to give Sam a hug. "Yes, thank you!"

Norman felt a bit unappreciated. "Hey, what about me?"

They all looked at him, smiles suddenly fading.

"Isn't anyone going to thank me? It was me who ran to get help and it was me who brought back Fireman Sam!" Norman explained, pouting.

Sam exchanged looks with the other firefighters. He then smiled at Norman. "You know what? You're absolutely right, Norman."

"He is?" Mandy asked in surprise. "But it was his fault!"

"Nonetheless," Sam said, putting his arm around Norman's shoulder. "I think Norman deserves a reward."

"He certainly does," Steele said.

Penny nodded. "I agree."

Elvis stifled a laugh. "Of course!"

Sam started pushing Norman along. "Right this way, Norman. I know the perfect prize for you."

"Oh, cool!" Norman smiled excitedly.

"Let's just put this on…," Elvis slipped a blindfold over Norman's eyes.

"Huh? Who turned out the lights?"

"It's a surprise, Norman," Sam chuckled. "Come along, we'll lead you right to it."

Sam held onto Norman's shoulder and led him towards his waiting reward. The others followed closely behind with big smiles on their faces.

Moments later, they sat Norman down and put his wrists and ankles into something. He heard the slam of wood closing and something being locked. "I can't wait to see what my reward is," he said, slightly nervous.

Sam removed the blindfold. "WHAT?!" Norman screamed in shock. They had tricked him! Instead of a reward, they locked him in the stocks!

Penny smirked. "Let's see how you like it."

Frightened, Norman tried pulling his wrists and ankles free. It was hopeless. While his appendages were rather small, he was still too big to escape the dreaded wooden stocks. "I-I don't like this! Let me out of here!"

"I think a nice, long timeout will be sufficient," Sam quipped, smiling slyly.

"For an hour, I say!" Steele commanded.

"Have fun, Norman!" Mandy laughed.

"Wait a minute! WAIT! You can't leave me here!"

"An hour, Norman," Penny said, smiling.

"NO! Come back! Let me out!"

Despite the ginger boy's cries and protests, everyone walked away and left him to his fate – a timeout in the stocks. Even his mother Dilys, albeit reluctantly, abandoned him just like the others.

"MUM!"

"I'm sorry, my treasure…but you'll be out by dinnertime."

"Noooo! Let me out! Don't leave me here alone! You can't do this to me! Come back! Mum? Fireman Sam? Anybody?! Ohhhhhh…RATS!"

The End