CHILDREN'S BOOK

The Boy

Who Had

Nothing

and

Was Very,

Very Happy

by Ron Norman

Chapter 1

Robert was born

a l-o-n-g, l--o--n--g time ago...

Today, he has a birthday.

He’s 7 years and 1 day old!

Everyday, he has a birthday.

Tomorrow, he will be 7 years

and 2 day old!!

And in only 70 years, he will be

77 years and 1 day old!!!

Unfortunately,

today,

no one wants to celebrate

his birthday.

No one wants to give him

a big chocolate fudge cake

with purple marshmallow icing

and strawberry jam dripping down

and 7 plus 1 huge candles on top.

No on wants to give him

any birthday gifts,

like a croaking big green frog

wrapped up like a Christmas present.

Or a tiny little baby dinosaur wrapped up like a Hanukkah present.

Or bags of dirt and water

from the supermarket,

so he can mix them and make mud.

Or a big pot of gummy balls

sticking to each other

that he can throw up at the ceiling

so they stick

and fall down on Susie’s head when she walks under them.

Or a suitcase full of

talking parrots,

all talking together,

squawking:

“Robert, we love you!”

“Robert, you are so strong!”

“Robert, you are so smart!”

“Robert, you are so handsome!”

“Robert, you are the best boy

who ever, ever was!”

No one even sings:

“Happy Birthday to you!

Happy Birthday to you!

Happy Birthday, dear   Robertronaldrufusrobotbertrambetty

whateveryournameis,

Happy Birthday to you!”

No.

Robert

is

alone.

And

Robert

has

nothing.

No stupid birthday cards saying,

“Dear Robert, you’re such a sweet little boy.”

Echhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

No gooey cake.

No gigantic birthday gifts.

No big green frogs.

No mud.

No sticky gumballs

falling on Susie’s head.

No one shrieking “Happy Birthday,”

who doesn’t even remember his name.

Robert has nothing,

except

a roomful of computer games,

and dusty old stuffed animals

who are missing legs and heads,

and broken guns and bombs

to destroy the monsters

who are attacking Earth

from outer space.

And an ugly itchy suit

which he has to wear

every time they force him to go to

weddings and funerals and graduations and bar mitzvahs and christenings and confirmations and bas mitzvahs

in crowded hot rooms

full of thousands of adults

he doesn’t even know,

 and fat old relatives

he doesn’t like,

who grab him

and crush him

in their octopus arms

so he can’t breathe,

and give him big sloppy drooling

wet kisses.

Ugh!

So Robert closes his bedroom door,

leaving all his computer games

and dead animals

and uncomfortable clothes.

And Robert closes the front door

and walks out of his house,

where no one 

gives him stupid birthday cards,

gooey cakes,

mud pies,

big green frogs,

or sticky gumballs,

and where he’s very,

very happy

that no one sings

“Happy Birthday”

to him.

And Robert walks down his street,

past all the old cars,

and noisy garages with buzz saws,

and street lights which don’t work

because the bulbs have been shot out,

and telephone poles covered

with rusty staples,

and turned-over smelly garbage cans

with cats running out,

and strange names of the big kids

which they sprayed

on dirty gray walls

with beautiful colors,

like a circus.

He walks past

all those big ugly stupid boys

from next door

who purposely tease him

and try to make him angry,

so they can get into fights with him,

so they can go crying to their mothers,

so their mothers can tell his mother

about how bad Robert is,

so his mother will yell at him,

so those big ugly stupid boys

from next door

can laugh at him

and purposely tease him.

Robert walks away,

far, far away,

to the big park.

He stops at the entrance,

thinks for a few minutes,

takes a deep breath,

and plunges into the wild jungle...