MR. VAUNTY VUTZ, THE GOOD LITTLE PIRATE, AND THE BIG BAD MOOD

I

One morning a Good Little Pirate
woke up in a Big Bad Mood.

There were three Very Good Reasons
WHY
the Good Little Pirate woke up in a Big Bad Mood.

1. The evening before
he had gone to sleep late.

Because of all the time he spent not wanting to go to sleep.

2. During the night
he took a long break from sleeping.

Because a bunch of dinosaurs banged their fat blue tails against his crib.

And 3. In the morning
he quit sleeping before it was time to quit sleeping.

Because, well, because he was awake.

Mama knew at once that her Good Little Pirate was in a Big Bad Mood.
And she knew very well those three Very Good Reasons WHY.
Because being his Mama meant she, too, had gone to sleep late;
she, too, had taken a long break from sleeping during the night;
and she, too, had quit sleeping before it was time to quit sleeping.

Big Sister knew the Good Little Pirate was in a Big Bad Mood
when he belted her with his beloved blanket, Baba.

Papa knew the Good Little Pirate was in a Big Bad Mood
when he threw his favorite train
and tore his favorite page from his favorite book.

And everyone everywhere knew the Good Little Pirate was in a Big Bad Mood
when he sat down to breakfast
and shouted,
“I DON’T WANT MY MAPLE SYRUP STIRRED INTO MY OATMEAL!”
and screamed,
“I DON’T WANT MY MAPLE SYRUP STIRRED INTO MY OATMEAL!”
and shrieked,
“I DON’T WANT MY MAPLE SYRUP STIRRED INTO MY OATMEAL!”

Some of the people who heard him wondered if he yelled
because he wanted
to stir his own maple syrup into his own oatmeal.

Some of the people who heard him wondered if he hollered
because he wanted to eat all his maple syrup first
and then ask for more maple syrup,
because by then he wouldn’t have any maple syrup left for his oatmeal.

And all of the people who heard him wondered if he would ever stop roaring,
“I DON’T WANT MY MAPLE SYRUP STIRRED INTO MY OATMEAL!”

II

Three doors down the lane
Mr. Vaunty Vutz had finished his own oatmeal and maple syrup
and was washing the breakfast dishes
when he, too, could not help but hear
the Good Little Pirate’s Big Bad Mood.

Now, it just so happened that Mr. Vaunty Vutz was a robber and a thief—
a respectable robber! and a worthy thief!—
whose specialty it was to steal Big Bad Moods.

Quickly slipping into his magical red boots with the brightly colored magical wings
and slinging his Big-Bad-Mood bag over his shoulder,
Mr. Vaunty Vutz flew up the lane to the house with the Big Bad Mood.

When he knocked at the door, Big Sister asked, “Who is it?”
for she knew very well to never, EVER open a door for a stranger.

“It’s Mr. Vaunty Vutz, come to steal your Little Brother’s Big Bad Mood.”

“Oh, thank heavens!” exclaimed Mama.
“It’s our good neighbor come to liberate us all!
Do let him in!”

And in stepped Mr. Vaunty Vutz
with his magical red boots with their brightly colored magical wings
and his Big-Bad-Mood bag slung over his shoulder.

Straightaway he rushed to the dining room table,
placed his hand above the Good Little Pirate’s head,
and began pulling on the Big Bad Mood,
which, although invisible, was yelling and twisting so hard
that Mr. Vaunty Vutz’s hand shook mightily,
and he had to hold tighter than he had ever had to hold onto any Big Bad Mood
he had ever stolen
in all his many years as the stealer of Big Bad Moods.

“Let me go!” screeched the Big Bad Mood. “Let me go!”

“No, I will not let you go,” declared Mr. Vaunty Vutz.
“I’m putting you in my Big-Bad-Mood bag
and taking you to the big black cloud,
where you will stay with all the other Big Bad Moods.”

“Let me go! Let me go!”