Alfie’s Most Famous Finger

At preschool, after the afternoon snack, there was always a little time to play before the parents came to pick up the children. Some built train tracks, some drew, and some wandered around the classroom wondering what else could be done.

Alfie was sitting on the carpet with Toby and Owen. In front of them stood a half-built garage, but the little cars were starting to get boring.

“Hey,” whispered Toby, glancing around to check that the teacher wasn’t looking.

Then he raised his hand and showed his middle finger.

Owen burst out laughing.

“Whoa! That’s rude!”

Alfie laughed too. He didn’t really know what the finger meant, or why there was anything rude about it. It looked perfectly ordinary. That morning he had used it to hold his bread roll, and nobody had minded.

But he noticed one thing right away: all you had to do was raise it, and everyone looked.

That was worth a try.

So he raised his middle finger too.

“Another rude one!” shouted Owen, and rolled onto the carpet laughing.

Alfie smiled, pleased. It was that easy!

When Millie walked past, he called out to her:

“Hey, look what I can do!”

And he showed her the finger.

Millie stopped.

“Why are you showing me that? It’s nasty.”

“It’s just a joke,” said Alfie.

“I don’t think it’s funny.”

She went off to the little table, and for a moment Alfie didn’t know what to say. Luckily Felix turned up, so he tried his new trick again.

Toby still laughed, but Felix just shrugged.

“I’ve seen that already.”

And he went to get some blocks.

Alfie turned to Bella, who was building a zoo next to them.

“Bella, look!”

Bella looked up from the giraffe enclosure.

“That finger again?”

Then she went back to building.

Alfie was left standing in the middle of the classroom with his hand in the air.

Nobody laughed. Nobody was even really looking.

Slowly he put the finger away.

A moment ago it had been the best idea in the world. And now it seemed to have broken somehow.

A little later the teacher called the children to the carpet.

“Before we go home, we’ll have a little show,” she announced. “Anyone who wants to can perform something for us. Everyone gets ten seconds.”

The children liked the sound of that.

“Can I do a somersault?” asked Felix.

“You can. We’ll just make plenty of room for you.”

“And can I sing?” asked Millie.

“Of course.”

Owen put up his hand.

“And can I make farting noises?”

The teacher looked at him.

“I had a feeling you’d ask exactly that.”

The children laughed, and the show could begin.

Felix did a somersault and finished it with three frog jumps. On the last one he nearly sat down in the box of blocks.

Millie sang in such a high voice that Owen started looking at the ceiling to check whether a light bulb had cracked.

Then it was Owen’s turn. He tucked his hands into his armpits and took a deep, focused breath.

“PRRRT! PRRRT!”

Toby laughed so hard he had to prop himself up on the carpet with both hands.

And then the teacher nodded to Alfie.

Alfie stood up in the middle of the circle.

Suddenly absolutely everyone was looking at him.

But he didn’t have a song ready. Or a somersault. And the farting noises were already taken.

Only one thing came to mind.

He raised his middle finger.

Toby gave a little smile. Millie frowned. The others waited to see what would happen next.

“Alfie, try showing us a different idea,” said the teacher kindly. “You still have time.”

Alfie quickly hid his hand.

A different idea?

He looked around the classroom, as if one might be lying under a table.

And just then he remembered how Dad had once waddled around the kitchen like a penguin.

Alfie pressed his arms to his sides, stuck out his bottom and took a few tiny, waddling steps.

“Cluck-cluck! Cluck-cluck!” he announced. “I’m a polar hen!”

Felix burst out laughing.

“That’s a penguin!”

“Not at all,” Alfie replied importantly. “A very rare polar hen.”

He waddled over to Owen and began pecking invisible crumbs out of his hair.

Owen squealed with laughter and covered his head.

“There’s nothing there!”

Alfie tilted his head to one side.

“Then why do I keep eating it?”

Now the whole class was laughing. Millie, Bella, Felix and the teacher too.

Alfie added one more ceremonial “cluck-cluck,” took a bow and sat back down on the carpet.

Toby leaned over to him.

“That hen was a hundred times better than the finger.”

Alfie smiled. He thought so too.

And besides, being a polar hen was much more fun than standing in the middle of the room with his hand in the air.

The next day the boys met at the garage again.

Owen looked around and whispered:

“Hey.”

He raised his middle finger.

Toby laughed briefly. Alfie was about to raise his hand too, but then he stopped.

“Wait. I can hear something.”

The boys went quiet.

“What?”

Alfie slowly stood up and pressed his arms to his sides.

“Something very rare is coming this way.”

He stuck out his bottom and waddled.

“Watch out! The polar hen is looking for breakfast!”

Owen immediately covered his hair.

“There’s nothing left here!”

A moment later, half the class was waddling around the room. They went around the little tables, peeked under the chairs and searched for invisible crumbs.

“Cluck-cluck! Cluck-cluck!”

The teacher looked up from her desk.

“I don’t want to spoil your scientific research,” she remarked, “but hens probably don’t live at the pole.”

Alfie stopped.

He thought for a moment and then nodded seriously.

“So that’s why there are so few of them there!”

The teacher burst out laughing.

And the polar hens happily set off on another round.

From then on, Alfie showed his middle finger less and less. Sometimes the idea still came to him, especially when someone else started it.

And he had also discovered something much more fun: making up his own jokes that his friends could join in with.

So his middle finger went back to its ordinary work. It helped hold crayons, build garages and hold bread rolls.

And when Alfie wanted to make the whole class laugh?

For that, he had the polar hen.

The End.