Emily and the Runaway Wall

 

A little girl was walking down the street when she noticed a wall approaching. This was no ordinary wall, like the kind made of brick or stone which stands firmly in place to keep people from going straight ahead. This was an inside-the-house kind of wall that seemed to have gotten outside the house and was now heading straight towards her.

Image: pamsclipart.com

How odd, thought the little girl. I’ve never seen a wall walking down the street before. I think I shall find out what is going on. 

She waited until the wall got close enough to have a conversation. She had once heard that walls have ears, so it seemed reasonable to assume they had mouths, too.

“Excuse me, Mr. Wall,” she said. “But may I ask what you are doing walking down the street?”

The wall stopped, then looked over his shoulder to be sure it was he who was being addressed.

“Yes, you!” said the little girl.

The wall studied her carefully before he spoke.

“I suppose that if you really must know,” he said, “I needed to buy some paint.”

Sure enough, the wall was carrying a can of paint and some paint brushes, the little girl noticed.

“I see,” she said, although she didn’t.  She furrowed her brows, doing her best to look quizzical. “For what?”

“Well, I seem to have developed some worn out patches that need a touch up, and there are some spots on me where there is crayon, if you can imagine that.”

“You don’t say!” said the little girl.

“I do say. In fact, I just did say.”

“May I see?”

“Of course.”

The wall turned around, bent where his knees might be if he had them, and stuck his bottom out. Sure enough, he had a big circle of pink crayon on him, and inside the circle was a big pink splotch.

“Hey, that’s my sister Keilan, “ said the little girl .

“How interesting,” said the wall. “I thought that was just a big pink splotch. Keilan, you say? I think I’ve heard that name before. I wonder, is your name Emily?”

“Yes, how did you – ?” Emily, who was very smart, put her hands on her hips, and tilted her head. “Are you the wall from my bedroom?”

“Hmm,” said the wall, looking very thoughtful for a wall. “You do look familiar. You are about the same size and shape as the little girl who draws on me with pink crayon and puts her feet on me when she lays the wrong way in bed.” The wall bent down and looked at her face very closely. “But how can we be sure?”

“Hmm,” said the little girl, looking very thoughtful for a little girl. “Well, if you are the wall from my bedroom, you have marks on you that show how tall I am getting!”

“I am not sure I see how that would help us solve this puzzle,” said the wall.

“If the top of my head lines up with the highest mark on you, then you are my bedroom wall.”

“Ah, that’s very clever,” said the wall. “I do have some marks on me that I was intending to paint over. Stand up against them and we shall see where they fall in relation to the top of your head.”

Emily stood up against the wall. Sure enough, the top mark matched up exactly with the top of her head.

“I am the wall from your bedroom!” said the wall.

“Hooray!” said Emily, and she and the wall clasped hands and did a little dance together to celebrate. And for a moment she was very happy. But then she stopped dancing and became very sad all of a sudden.

“If you are out here getting paint, Mr. Wall, who is holding up the ceiling in my bedroom?”

“Goodness! I wouldn’t know. I suppose no one.”

“And who is separating my room from my sister’s room?”

“Gracious! I wouldn’t know that either. No one again, I suppose.”

“Mr. Wall, this is a very big problem.”

“Then it’s a good thing problems can be solved, Emily,” said the wall, getting down on one knee, or at least doing a good impression of it for someone with no knees, or even legs. “How can we solve this one?”

“Well, next time, if you need to be painted, you should tell me. I will get the paint myself and paint you.”

“That sounds fair.  Though I would say that to save yourself the trouble of having to paint me, you could use your crayons on one of your coloring books, as opposed to me, and also lay with your feet in the bed, not on me.”

“That sounds fair,” said Emily. “Now let’s get back to our house before the ceiling falls.”

The wall agreed, and off they went. As they headed for home, hand in hand, Emily had one last question.

“Mr. Wall, if we paint your other spots that need painting, can we keep the marks that show how tall I’m getting?”

“Why of course!” said the wall.

He was a pretty good wall for a little girl to have in her bedroom, and Emily told him so. This made them both very happy.