Boring People

Boring People.

Beneath a huge, blue winter holiday sky, Isabella skipped down the
street, swinging her satchel at the end of her arm like a windmill.
Suddenly, the bag stopped in mid-swing. She looked up to see Mr
Perkins' frowning face through his car window. 'Oops,' she
thought.
'Be careful you silly little girl,' he shouted.
She stared into his small round eyes for a second, before running
across the road to her home. Her mother, Azalea, was painting a vase on
the kitchen table.
'Why did Mr Perkins shout at me?' she asked.
'Oh don't worry about him, he's just a boring man.' Azalea replied and
smiled.
'Boring,' Isabella said, unaware of even what the word meant.
A mischievous sparkle played in the corner of Azalea's eye. 'Yes
boring, he's what they make boring things out of; boring kettles and
boring lamp stands and all the other boring things.'
Isabella looked puzzled, 'What will they make Mr Perkins into?'
'Oh him, he'll probably make a very, very, boring teapot'.
'Oh,' replied Isabella, and felt very relieved about life because she
knew that she was far too exciting to ever be made into anything as
boring as a teapot.

From now on every time Isabella saw Mr Perkins parking or cleaning his
boring brown car, she would whisper, 'Teapot' under her breath. He
glared at her but didn't change. She wondered if he would change slowly
or in a ball of light. However it was, she didn't want to miss it and
decided to play as often as possible outside his house just in
case.
One day, she went all the way down to the big department store in town
to look at teapots. She didn't think any of them were boring enough to
be made of someone like Mr Perkins though. It was late by the time she
returned so she wrote 'teapot' in the frost on Mr Perkins' car and went
home. The next day she saw him cleaning it off, so she put one hand on
her hip and held up the other like a spout and waved at him from across
the street.

The day's slipped by like autumn leaves and one pale, yellowy day,
Isabella saw Mr Perkins packing his bags to go on holiday. She began to
cry. What if he changed while he was away? Azalea asked her what was
wrong and she told her.
Azalea replied, ' Don't worry that's where he's going, to the place
they make teapots.'
Isabella was still upset and stayed up all night pleading with Azalea
to take her to the factory.
'No', Azalea said, 'you'll just have to wait, now go to bed'.

The next day looked like the best day Isabella had ever seen. As her
curtains swung apart in a blaze of green and purple embroidered
flowers, there it was - a boring brown teapot.