George and the Amazing Boomerang - 2

George spent the next two weeks running home from school every day to see if his amazing boomerang had come in the mail yet. When the other kids stuffed him in the lockers, he simply smiled knowingly to himself as he imagined their terror at the powers of his secret weapon. When they beat him up and poured his soy milk down his nose, he only renewed his energies in imagining their impending doom.

Finally, after what seemed years of waiting, the long-expected day arrived. George’s mother told him when he came home, that a package had arrived for him. George rushed into the kitchen, where a medium-sized cardboard box sat upon the table. Sure enough, the type-written address label spelled out “George Winston Howard”. Across the top, a message had been written by hand in black magic marker: “HANDLE WITH CARE!!”. It was underlined 3 times with bold, urgent slashes.

“Oh. Boy.” Thought George, and he snatched up the box and raced to his room. He laid it on his floor, and unwrapped it with the all the reverence of Christmas morning. The Amazing Boomerang lay there, as bright, beautiful and lethal as it had appeared in the mail-order catalogue. Nestled into the packing peanuts, a small, folded piece of paper laid. It said: “To you, the owner of the Amazing Boomerang”.

George pushed his wire-rimmed glasses further up his nose and unfolded the message.

“Dear Owner of the Amazing Boomerang,

Greetings to you and congratulations on this unique purchase. With your new Amazing Boomerang, you hold the power of retribution in the palm of your hand. But beware; not all things are as they seem. Use this weapon wisely, and do not underestimate its powers. Good day and good luck to you, from

The Marvelous Tricks & Gadgets Mail-Order Co.”

That night, George slept with the Amazing Boomerang under his pillow. He dreamed pleasant dreams of his Amazing Boomerang. In the morning, he packed his back-pack with his books, his paper, his pencils, and his Amazing Boomerang.

“Hey look, fellas!” said Porky Pete. Porky Pete was the leader of the school bullies, a piggy fellow with eyes like a gingerbread man; tiny, black and soulless.
“Here comes the freakazoid!”
“Yeah, the freakazoid!” said Porky Pete’s gang.
“Let’s see if the freakazoid wants a swirly!” Said Porky Pete. He pounded his hammy fists together and showed his jagged teeth.

“Not so fast, boys.” Said George suavely, just like the action heroes on television. In one smooth motion (he had practiced this before bed the night before), he un-slung his back-pack, undid the zipper, and pulled out the Amazing Boomerang.

Like magic, the boomerang sailed from the tips of his fingers and flew, spinning so fast that it was a blaze of yellow and blue, across the crowded hallway. Over the heads of the astounded school-children, who all turned with their mouths agape as it passed. Past Mr. Jorkins, the disgruntled math teacher, who didn’t even look up. Its flight was true and sure, and George hopped with glee as it connected with Porky’s skull with a *crack*. The Amazing Boomerang did not stop there – after it had knocked Porky Pete down, it circled around and whacked the rest of the gang, leaving them howling in rage and pain on the hallway floor.

“Ow –WEE it gots me in the eye, boss!”
“What a wallop – call an amb’lance!”
“Oh mommy! Oh mommy! Oh make it stop!”

These plaintive cries landed on the George’s ears like a triumphal chorus, and he soaked in the moment with all due contentment. Then came a fantastically horrible thing for George. The boomerang, having wreaked its promised havoc, turned smartly, and flew, with the same deadly accuracy and speed, straight at George, and before you could say “Mail-Order Marvelous Tricks & Gadgets”, it was square between his eyes, with all the force of an express train. George did a double-backwards-flip and landed in a belly-flop, his glasses skittering across the grubby tile floor.

“Ughhhh… what gives?!” he groaned, as he picked himself off and stumbled to find his glasses. George hesitantly reached down to pick the Amazing Boomerang up off the floor.
“Cheap thing’s defective.” He thought with disgust. He put it back in his backpack and trudged off to the nurse’s office.