We called him ‘The Fat Owl’, because he was short, round, and overweight. He dressed in trousers so tight that a resounding crack echoed through the schoolroom when Mr. Quelch’s cane thwacked across his rump. The ‘owl’ part came from the round spectacles that perched on his fleshy face.
His real name was William George Bunter, but we called him Billy at Greyfriars School.
Bunter gave all the Seven Deadly Sins a run for their money, but gluttony was way out in front. He stuffed his face with pies, he stole tuck from classmates and once scoffed an entire birthday cake belonging to a master.
He was the perfect example of envy, greed, sloth, and wrath. I can’t say anything about Lust because we kept all that hush-hush. To give you the full monty about Bunter’s behaviour would take a week. His reputation travelled far beyond Greyfriars so you probably know it already.
After school I couldn’t get a place at university and the Army wouldn’t have me so I was sent into the Church. I found myself in Tanganyika preaching to the Heathens. After thirty years, the Heathens thought they wanted their country back and kicked me out.
I was bunking with a vicar in London when perusing the Morning Post I saw the most remarkable headline: BILLY BUNTER BAKERY BANKRUPT. ‘Yaroooh!!’ I whooped. Here was another of Bunter’s Deadly Sins: Pride. Only The Fat Owl would believe he might run a bakery and not scoff all the stock.
Words: Richard Rooney
Illustration: A.I.
Flash Fiction 250
Flash Fiction 250 