I’ve began writing again an idea that sprouted in my noggin today.

It’s a mix of children’s/adult themed/Dr Suess. 

Thomas was a quiet rumple boy, who’s apple cheeks and shifty blonde lace like hair scuffed in clumps on his baby round head, he cried immediately as the chord was cut, a wheeze brought out of him and the wheeze hit his parents ears a cat in a dishwasher. 

They ignored the cries and hoped it would pass with nursing, but the baby didn’t stop, something had rattled the boy so much he would not shush.

Maybe it was his Uncle and Aunt looking over him, eyes like pins and round black eye flaps slowly blinking at the little boy of golden hair. Their thin bone like hands hugged the side of the basket and ever so looked at the boy, blinking and smiling.

Once the boy was older Thomas learnt they were not there to hurt him, in fact they came to say hello as ghosts often do and didn’t want to go so soon. Around the age of 4 Thomas would talk to his Aunt and Uncle more and more, his parents thought it weird he’d call out their names, Aunt Pearl and Uncle Gammy. he’d sip tea with them, to a ghost, it was divine nothing was better than sweet, sweet air wine.

Gammy was the funny one, if you ever asked Tom, he had big droppy cheeks and chins so wide and long, Aunt Pearl was more observant, her comments via Tom would repeat to his mother about his curtains or the thread count on his sheets. 

His parents asked him questions and Pearl and Gammy would answer, Thomas not big on words at 4 would try and try to pronounce them.

“When was Aunt Pearl born” his mother wold say with a snigger to test the boy was true, it hit Tom like vinegar.

“1964, she’s older than you” said the fat head boy Tom who saw his mother swallow the news.

“About Uncle Gammy, which war did he serve?” Thomas father said, pushing glasses back towards his head.
“None you idiot he died before he could serve” the little boy spat, Aunt Pearl always called Thomas’s dad an idiot for his choice of fine art degree instead of accounting like she said before the choice was heard.

His father looked at Thomas and asked not to lie, his fat headed son looked back wide-eyed.

“Do they scare you, these people you speak to”

“No” said the boy, “they protect me for the demons.” His little eyes blinked in motion so slow, this little boy wasn’t letting on all that he know.

Years went back and the boy was in school his parents wanted to have him committed a specter channeling Buffoon, he was 7 and walked to school alone, his Aunt Pearl walked with him and Gammy slowly walked behind in turn.

“Does it hurt to die” asked the now thin faced boy with his ever wide eyes?

“Depends on how to you go, my boy” Uncle Gammy shouted from behind.

“I never asked how you died Aunt Pearl?” her wide eyes looked at Gammy she was so proud if she could still feel, a small glittery tear rolled out  as she spoke to the boy as he walked to school.

“I died in an accident, one I’m not proud to say, it was the eighties and Electric blankets were about, I must have got a faulty one it burnt my house down”

Little Thomas didn’t know what to say, he wanted to hug her and reassure her she’s okay, she pulled out a hanky and blew her nose if ghosts had Boogers they’d have been clearly shown.

Gammy followed Thomas as he line up for school, Aunt Pearl was reading the register behind the teacher Mrs. Agnes Tool. She rolled off the names like water to ducks backs, she came to the name of one Thomas Arthur Pratt. he looked up all sheepish and new, his first day back in year number 2.

she looked down at the boy and said

“Are you a Pratt?” the boy Nodded and replied.

“My name is Thomas Arthur Pratt” she let out a laugh and told the other boys, here is a Pratt, a clown, a mindless fish, I’ve seen his work about his Aunt Pearl and some fat guy called Chris.

Chris “Gammy” Pratt, looked over his name being said aloud, Gammy didn’t like this, not one bit, no one takes the name Pratt and turns it back on him.

“Tell her thats not nice and that she’s being rude” Gammy said poking the boy, Pearl nodded in cahoots.

“That’s not nice miss, you should’t say such mean things” she turned on her heel as her thin lips would allow, the snake like eyes peered at the boy.

“My class, my rules, don’t ever think about talking back or you’ll be joining a Zoo, we’re not animals here, we live in a world of laws, and my rules state no talking back from small little boys”

Gammy wasn’t impressed he was from london you see, he pushed, metaphorically for the boy to speak. 

“Tell her you’ll see her boss, if she’s mean again, he’ll bust her chops” and so Little Tommy, swallowed his pride he stepped up to the giant blonde thin lipped vile little waisted Mrs Agnes Tool with gusto and gut, he said what Gammy said, and found him self in detention for break times for the months to come.

Little did she know, but Mrs Tool thought they were alone, Uncle Gammy and Pearl had equally spoken Thomas act of rebellious came at a price when Mrs Tool asked to speak to his parents that night.

His parents thought, finally someone with sense maybe they’ll believe their child sees specters and talks to the dead. 

Mrs Tool thought, it was a house for the insane, his parents were babbling about ghosts, the boy and that was insane, she sipped her tea, it wasn’t Chai, she looked at the curtains, what Ill looking color and netting the same shade as her teeth, a coffee stained table filled with “Hello” and last week’s “This Week” magazines.

She crossed her legs and eye’d the boy, clearly she was dealing with unfit parents who let this go on for quite some time.

Thomas hugged his mother as Gammy and Pearl looked over head, if only they could read what the old bag said in her head.

It was two days later when social services came, again the parents tried to explain, they took the boy before he could say Horse whippet, and Pearl and Gammy cried as the system seem to beat them.