The Adventures of Sammy Watkins

[Sandra B]

18.
Denise hadn’t stayed to watch the second round.  Instead she had enlisted the help of the school caretaker to get the doll box out of the car.  He had also provided a hand trolley so that she could wheel Sammy onto the stage.  Cecily had partially resprayed the box.  It was still pink, but now the words “Sammy Doll” appeared across the top of the lid, and “Pageant Punk” across the bottom, both painted in bouncy red letters with black edges.  Denise’s plan was, first to present him to Catherine, then wheel him over to the judges, and finally park him on the trolley at the back of the stage at the end of the row of contestants until it was time to exit.  She and Cecily had discussed the whole thing, and decided that in this way they could extract the maximum effect whilst preserving Sammy’s modesty.  Both the box and Sammy were relatively light, so Denise was not envisaging any problems moving him around.  The only question was, whether he should be allowed simply to stand in the box, or whether he should be secured like a real brand-new doll.  Finally they decided the second course would be the more authentic, and Cecily gave Denise a complete set of pink straps, and showed her how to thread them through the base.  Denise explained this to Sammy, and since he wasn’t planning to come out of his box at any stage, he was quite happy with the arrangement.
In the changing room, Oscar slipped into his white tennis outfit, complete with frothy panties, and Denise helped him adjust his skirt for maximum cuteness.  She helped him on with his socks and shoes while he pulled on his wristbands.  She had found him a little open-head cap to wear, which she thought would look prettier than the towelling headband.  All he had to do was take his racket – he had a mauve one to match his panties - and his tennis balls, which Cecily had also dyed mauve for him.  Denise thought she had never seen anything quite so sweet.  But then it was time to prepare Sammy.  He had already stripped off and put on his bikini bottoms, tying them as best he could at each hip with a single bow. 
“Shall I help with those?” asked Denise.
“I’m fine.  I’ve done it.”
Denise made him sit while she applied transfer tattoos to his arms and one hip.  They were Sammy’s choices, of course.  On his left arm, a red heart pierced by a black arrow.  On his right, a little Betty Boop.  And on his right hip, a leopard face.  Then she helped him on with his black fishnets and black Doc Marten’s, his red spandex sequined crop top, and his spiked collar, which was now of black leather, being more appropriate to the theme.  Denise gave him his fingerless latex gloves to put on while she tied his hair in two tight bunches, secured with scarlet ribbons.  Finally she tied a red bandana around his head.  She stood back to admire him. 
“Well, you certainly look shocking, Sammy!  I think we’ll dispense with your sash.  It’s a bit superfluous now, don’t you think?  Anyway, just as well you’ll be locked up in your box.  Even so I think you’re going to cause a bit of a commotion.  Are you sure you still want to do this?  Even now you’re not obliged to go out there if you don’t want to.”
“No, I’m looking forward to it now.  With the adjustments, this is such a great outfit.”  He admired himself in the mirror.
“Yeah, Sammy, you look really bad!” said Oscar, enthusiastically.
“I do, don’t I?  Wait till you see Arabella’s face.”
They laughed.
“Well, come on, time to get you strapped in.”
“Okay, Denise.”
The doll box was standing upright on the trolley, and Sammy climbed carefully in.  Denise had already threaded the straps through the base, and she buckled them firmly around his ankles and wrists.  When he was secure, she carefully pushed on the lid and closed the latches.  Then she put a strap round the box and the back of the trolley so that it couldn’t fall off.  Finally, she draped one of the gowns over the front of the box, so no-one would see what was in store. 
“Don’t say a word,” she whispered, “at least until you make your appearance.”
Then, sending Oscar on ahead, she pushed him out of the door and towards the stage. 

[Sandra B]

19.
The other contestants were naturally very curious to know what was under the covering.
“Is Sammy in there?” one of them asked, wide-eyed.
“Maybe,” returned Denise.  “You’ll see in a minute.”
“He must be in his coffin,” laughed Arabella, nastily.  “Best place for him.”
“If he is, it’s a pink coffin.  I can see the bottom,” remarked one of the others.
The girls themselves were dressed in a variety of costumes.  There was a clown, a Charlie Chaplin, a very beautiful eighteenth century lady, and a Diana Ross, complete with beehive wig and of course, a sash with her name on it lest anyone should be in any doubt about her identity.  Arabella appeared to have come as a slice of cake with a row of four candles on top; but it turned out she was a character from the film The Titanic.  Next to such a sartorial cornucopia, Oscar's costume was remarkable for its charming simplicity.  One by one they were called, and one by one presented to the judges, who smiled kindly at each.  As far as Denise could tell, Oscar went down very well.  There was an expression of relief in the judges’ eyes when he walked onto the stage.  After all, he appeared, not as some well-known celebrity or stock character, but what was much more striking, as himself.
Eventually Sammy was alone with Denise.  His name was called.  For maximum effect, Denise left the cover on as she pushed him over to where Catherine was waiting, looking anxious.  She had no idea what to expect, but feared the worst.  And she was right.  As Denise unveiled the doll box, the expression of alarm morphed into one of horror.  Denise carefully upended the trolley, and the box rocked a little, then settled into place.  Sammy peered out at his interviewer, and gave her a sly wink.  The girls lined up on the stage were craning forward, trying to see into the box.  Catherine opened her mouth and closed it again.  She was staring at Sammy’s shiny bikini bottoms.  She obviously needed help.
“He’s a doll,” said Denise in a low voice – a quite superfluous piece of information, but one she hoped might spur Catherine into speech.
“I can see….”  She read the legends on the lid.  Her mouth soundlessly shaped the words, “Pageant Punk”, but still she seemed at a loss how to proceed.
“You can speak to him,” urged Denise.  “There are holes at each side.  He can hear you.”
“Oh…yes.   Yes.  I see.  Er…Sammy, once again you seem to have…surprised us all.  A doll.  That’s so…interesting.  I don’t think I have ever seen a doll quite like…quite so…interesting…”
She trailed off.
“I’m a punk doll,” said Sammy.  “D’you like my costume?”
“I…er…”
“See?  My tummy looks all right, doesn’t it?”
At this point Catherine, the supposed unflappable unprejudiced compere, seemed to lose her self-control.  Years of dealing with sweet little girls in elaborate frilly dresses hadn’t prepared her for a situation like this.
“Well.  If you really want my opinion, I’m not sure this is an appropriate outfit to parade on our stage…”
She was standing between the audience and the object of her distaste, and this last remark, broadcast all over the hall, had the effect of increasing curiosity to fever pitch.  One woman in the front row stood up and shouted, “Well, let’s see it then!”
The line of girls had now broken completely, and they were trespassing on the stage, blocking the view of the judges.  Denise, seeing things getting out of hand, took matters into her own hands and trundled Sammy to the middle of the stage and turned him to face the audience.  There was a momentary silence, then the place erupted in a mixture of cheers, protests, and whistles.  Meanwhile Catherine had regained some of her senses and busied herself with the contestants.
“Girls!  Back into line, please!  There’s nothing to see.”
“There is!” cried the clown.  “I saw him!”
Arabella had also seen him, and was rendered speechless.
Denise turned him and brought him to face the judges.  For a moment their faces registered disbelief, until the lady judge smiled.
“Sammy.  Now this I call pushing the boundaries,” she said in a raised voice, so that he could hear her through the walls of his box.   â€śExcuse us if we’re a little perplexed.  You don’t fit into the usual categories of these events, so we may have trouble…assessing your performance.”
Sammy smiled back and nodded.
Her stare moved from his black makeup, to his tiny crop top, his tattoos, his bare tummy, his little latex gloves, his black fishnets and boots – and his tiny, shiny bikini bottoms.  “Tell us – is this also your own creation?”
“Well mainly…” came his muffled voice from inside, “but my friend Denise did make some alterations…”
“You are Denise?”  Denise nodded.
“Well, we should probably thank you for the… “alterations”.  I would be interested to know what it was like before…”
“Oh, no, it was the same.  Roughly.  And Sammy’s aunt has done a lot of work.  She made the box.”
“I see.  Well if Sammy would like to wait in line, I think we would like to confer for a few minutes.  You don’t have to wait, Denise.  We’ll call you when the children are ready to go off.”
Denise pushed Sammy to the end of the line, and turned him once again to face the front.  People were standing up taking photos, and approaching the stage.
“Is it possible to remove that strap?” asked one of the male judges?  “Let us get a clearer look at him?”
“Of course.”
Denise unbuckled the strap.  “Stand still and don’t move about, okay?”  She stole a glance sideways.  “You’re popular with the audience, anyway,” she whispered through one of the side holes.  “I’ll go backstage, then, till they’re ready.”  And she walked off, leaving him in the line.
The judges had their heads together, talking in whispers, trying to agree scores for the third round.  At last the lady judge spoke.
“This is a difficult call.  We need to have another look at Sammy.  He’s the only one we can’t see properly.”  She paused.  “Catherine?  Do you think you could wheel him back here?  Be careful.  He’s not strapped to the trolley any longer.” 
“Certainly, madam,” said Catherine, pursing her lips.
She approached Sammy, and, gently tilting the box back onto the trolley, wheeled him back in front of the judges.  The lady judge had that enigmatic smile on her lips again.
“Do you think we might remove the lid for a moment?  Perhaps one of the girls could help?”
Arabella immediately stepped forward.  Sammy was shaking his head.  His muffled voice emerged from the box.
“Miss, I’d rather you didn’t…   The box is part of my costume…”
“I know, Sammy.  But we need to see every part.  Arabella, if you’d unlatch that side, Catherine will do the other.”
They stood one on each side and carefully sprung the latches.  They began to detach the lid, which was far lighter than they’d expected.  Arabella had volunteered to help so readily in the hope of perpetrating some mischief on her competitor.  For a moment it seemed there was nothing she could do.  They had just started to detach the lid when she noticed Sammy’s bikini bottoms.  The right hand ties were loose, and one end hung down farther than the others.  Here was her chance.  Standing so her body hid her side of the lid from the judges, she deftly snagged the end on the lower latch.  As they slowly lifted off the lid, the bow unravelled.  Worse, the lace was caught fast, the left hand bow was also loose – thanks to Sammy’s rather inept knot – and as the lid was removed, it took his bikini bottoms with it!
Sammy gave a loud cry, and struggled ineffectively with the straps that held his wrists.  The judges gasped, and the girls at the far end of the row screamed.  Arabella was unable to hide her delight.  For several seconds no-one seemed to know what to do.  The lady judge put her hand to her mouth.  At last she acted.
“Catherine!  Catherine!  Get him off stage, quick!”
Catherine, averting her eyes, tilted the box back onto the trolley, and went to turn it so she could wheel it offstage.  Not thinking, she first turned it towards the audience, which reacted with gasps, screams and shouts – and a volley of camera flashes!
“Not that way, girl!  The other way!”
Quickly she wheeled it round.  Now the row of contestants got their eyeful.  They screamed with a mixture of horror and delight.  Catherine, blushing with embarrassment, finally headed stage left as fast as her heels would allow, where Denise was waiting to cover him with a gown.
“Why did they have to take the lid off?” she cried.  “That wasn’t part of the deal!”
“I’ll get his…clothes,” said Catherine, chastened, in reference to the tiny piece of shiny red material now lying in the middle of the stage.  Denise grabbed it from her, and frowning, trundled the complaining Sammy back to the changing room.

[Sandra B]

20.
Nothing like it had ever happened before in the annals of Westford Pageants.  Cecily and Vivien would gladly have sunk through the floor, if such an exit could have been arranged.  Their neighbours in the audience were vindicated in their condemnation, and let them know it. 
“I’ve never seen anything like it!” muttered one, outraged. 
“He won’t be coming here again!” said the other.  “Disgusting!”
But at the front of the hall, the supporters were delighted – not at Sammy’s brief humiliation, but at the chaos he had generated in otherwise dull proceedings. 
“Oh my god,” said Paige to Scarlett, “that was the best thing…  That’s just what it needed.”
Scarlett had pulled their new friend David into their group.  He was in shock.
“I can’t believe…”
“Believe it.  That’s our Sammy.  He’s an anarchist.”
“Yeah, but….  I mean, how will he live it down…?”
“Live it down?  He won’t, silly.  He’ll be boasting about it tomorrow.  How he blew apart a stupid pageant all by himself.  Wait and see.”  (And she was right, as it turned out.)
David stared at her in awe.  “Yeah?”
“Yeah.  Everything’s cool.”

It was time for the results.  The contestants were asked to put on their first round dresses and gather off-stage.  When Sammy appeared, the girls were convulsed with giggles.  Sammy blushed, but wasn’t going to be humiliated.  After all, he thought he knew who was responsible, and when he saw the smug expression on her face, he was sure.  He glared at her but said nothing.  Then one of the girls piped up.
“Thank you for that.  It was so boring until you…you know.”  And she dissolved in laughter again.
Sammy grinned.  “I guess I’ve blown any chance I had.  But it was fun.”
Gradually the buzz of conversation in the audience subsided, and Lesley Hyde appeared on stage.  The contestants could be seen waiting in the wings.
“Thank you.  Thank you all for attending.  As you know, we’re grateful for your support in our little events.  I’m afraid we are a misunderstood community.  I hope today has…helped advertise our aims…”  She looked doubtful.  “Anyway, to the placings.  I’ll leave it to Lady Sparsholt to announce the results.”
The lady judge shuffled a sheaf of papers, and walked over to the microphone.  Stage right a little glittery podium had been set up. 
“We have collated all our scores from the three rounds.  These are the results of the Little Miss Westford competition, in reverse order.   In third place, Oscar Warren.”
Oscar hesitated, wide-eyed.  He stared at Sammy.
“Did she say…?”
“Yes, idiot.  Get out there.” 
Oscar accepted his sash in a daze, and had to be directed to the lower level of the podium, where he stood in a minor state of shock.
Arabella came second.  She made the most of it, but it was obvious from the bad grace with which she allowed her sash to be draped across her shoulder that she thought she should have won.  First place went to a quiet girl in a green embroidered tutu dress.  She blushed scarlet as she was crowned Little Miss Westford, adorned with her sash, tiara and sceptre, and presented with her winner’s cheque.  She took her place at the top of the podium amidst cheers.  Her skirt stuck out so far it touched Oscar’s ear.
Lady Sparsholt raised her hand, and the applause died down. 
“We have also decided to award one special commendation, for the most original costumes.  This is a highly unusual step, but this was a highly unusual event.  Sammy Watkins, would you please come forward?”
Arabella’s face was a picture as Sammy stepped onto the stage.  How did he deserve an award?  After what he’d done!  But the audience clearly didn’t wholeheartedly agree with her.  As he was decorated with a sash – plain, because it was strictly unofficial – there were cheers and cat-calls.  For the first time that day he was lost for words.  He had attempted to sabotage the whole process, and there he was receiving an award!  All he could do was to bow awkwardly, and stand there self-consciously until the applause died down.  But he had made a decision. He glanced over at Oscar.  He was obviously ecstatic, and gave his friend a big grin and a thumbs-up.

When Sammy had received his award, Cecily and Vivien looked at each other in disbelief.  Their unpleasant neighbours pushed their chairs back and departed noisily in protest.
“I didn’t think….” Began Vivien.
“Neither did I!  I thought we were going to be kicked out.  But the judges liked him!  Oh, here comes Lesley Hyde.  She doesn’t look too pleased, though.”
She sat down next to Cecily.  Her severe face broke into a smile.
“That boy of yours!  What a rascal!  He should do slapstick!  Of course we’ve had a few complaints.  I could have predicted that, and I could have predicted who.  But he really livened up the event.  People have been asking me if he’s coming back in a couple months for the big one.  What do you think?”
Cecily was flabbergasted.  She looked at Vivien.  “Well, I don’t know.  He didn’t exactly come to this one voluntarily.  So to be honest, I doubt it.”
“What a pity .”
“Bust Oscar might.  He’s loves dressing up.”
“Oh good.  He’s so sweet.  Please persuade him to come back.  And keep in touch.  Do let me know…if there’s any chance…”

On the way home, the boys went in the minibus with Paige and Scarlett and some of the other girls.  Scarlett was telling them about David.
“We’re gonna help him somehow.  I don’t know how just yet.  But we’ll come up with a cunning scheme of some sort.”
“I’ll help you,” said Sammy.  His mind was already working on the problem.
Oscar seemed a bit sad.
“You’re very quiet, Oscar,” said Sammy.  “What’s up?”
“I really had fun.  I’m sorry it’s all over.  I don’t suppose I’ll ever get to enter a pageant ever again.”
“What do you mean?  You can come with me.  I’ve already decided.  I shall return.  And this time, I’ll beat that Arabella fair and square!”

But that’s another story.

The End – at least, for the time being.

[Sandra B]

Footnote for babycakes:

Kinscem (from Great Racehorses of the World, Mortimer & Willett, 1969)

Foaled in1874 at the Hungarian National Stud at Kisber……
“Kinscem liked nothing more than a lengthy journey by train.  The moment she saw her train she began to whinny with pleasure, and once she was sure that her lad and the cat who went everywhere with her were in too, she invariably settled down in obvious contentment.  The only occasion that she gave trouble in transit was at Deauville on the way back from Goodwood.  Her cat could not be found when she left the ship and she refused to enter the train.  For two hours she stood on the dockside calling for her cat.  Eventually the cat heard her voice, came running to her and jumped on her back.  Kinscem at once entered the train and lay down.  Her lad Frankie apparently had no surname and invariably signed himself “Frankie Kinscem”.  Under that name he did his military service and under it he was buried.
Like many great horses Kinscem was a “character”.  One cold night she noticed that Frankie had no rug.  She somehow pulled her own rug off and put it on Frankie.  From that day onwards she would never wear a rug at night.  If one was put on her, she always managed to get it off and drop it on Frankie, even if Frankie was already submerged under a stack of blankets.
……….
Unfortunately Kinscem’s stud career was a brief one as she died on her thirteenth birthday.  However, although she produced only two sons and three daughters she was an immensely influential brood mare…..  All over Europe Kinscem’s descendants founded great families, but two terrible European wars, to say nothing of risings and revolutions, have taken a fearful toll, and sad to say there are very few members of them left.”

[babycakes]

Sandra B, you never cease to delight your readers.  Excellent chapters!  Can't wait to see Sammy's further adventures. 

Also, many, many thanks for the footnote leaving this reader embarrassed by the attention.  Never heard of Kinscem before your story.  An amazing animal and, based on some research, wholly underestimated and underappreciated prior to her initial victories.  Not unlike many people in real life and somewhat symbolic of the lead characters in your stories.  Thank you again.

[Sissy Little Girl]

Sandra B, what a way to end the story.  Sammy turned the pageant into chaos.  He was surprised when he got the special award and Oscar is hoping he gets to participate in another pageant.  Sammy will try again and he plans on winning this time.

WTG, you wrote another hit. 

[sarahpenguin]

Hmm poor kids being forced to attend.  I want to see what happens with trying to help them, cause I'm enjoying this tale. :)