The Bound Adventures of Tom Sawyer
This story is a work of fiction, all characters and plot lines are fictional. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
The Bound Adventures of Tom Sawyer remains the property of the author. The story or characters may not be reproduced or republished elsewhere without the expressed written consent of the author.
With profound apologies to Mark Twain whose classic tale I have butchered.
Tom critically regarded the minuscule squirming and wriggling motions of the small body before him. The waif was securely bound to a post in Aunt Polly's woodshed by an astonishingly intricate web of ligatures that wound over and around his body. Every conceivable binding material had been pressed into use ranging from parcel twine to old bits of tarred rope scrounged from the boatmen down at the jetty.
"Aww Tom, could'n you see your way clear to letting me out now? My ma 'spects me to do my chores afore noon, an she gets awful fierce if they aint done!"
"Well now Luke Baker", said Tom, "It seems to me that I done give you my best crystal alley AND my dead frog, only passed this last week, if you'd let practice my tying up on you. How in tarnation am I going to be a pirate captain if I aint never learned to tie a captive to the mast? Now you wriggle good so I can see if'n you might escape"
So saying Tom reached down and tickled the small area of rib that was still visible under the voluminous coils of binding causing the unfortunate pirate captive to writhe around within the narrow limits that his bindings permitted.
"Hmmm…." Said Tom, with the air of a master craftsman surveying his work. "I see's that you can still shuffle your butt about a smidg'n or two. I best fix that less'n you send signals to the enemy by waving you butt aroun' " He reached for another coil of rope.
"Tom!! Tom Sawyer! Is you in there? I bin huntin' high and low for you this past hour, when I find you I'm gonna whup you good, you see if'n I don’t!" Aunt Polly appeared in the doorway of the woodshed. She was a tall, bony woman habitually dressed in black with a bonnet permanently perched on her head. Pushed up on her forehead she wore spectacles that she only looked through in church on Sundays because she "did'nt want to wear them out with lookin".
"Oh Tom! What have I told you about tying folks up!" She rapped Tom smartly on the head with the thimble on her finger. "Lord, boy, you are enough to try the patience of a saint! If'n I didn't keep you in check you would surely have the whole town trussed like hogs!" This immediately set Tom to contemplating this pleasing scenario, he particularly savoured the vision of the Rev Walters and schoolmaster Dobbins wriggling about like bound pigs, but his reverie was swiftly terminated by another sharp rap on the noggin from Aunt Polly.
"Now, you untie this poor child this instant, then I wants you to go down to the vegetable patch and hoe and weed the beans. I'll be sending Sidney down later to check if you done like I said."
Tom sighed miserably. It was bad enough having to do garden work on this fine summer day, but to have the detestable Sidney report on him was beyond toleration. Sidney was Tom's younger half brother. He was what the grown-ups called a 'model child'. Never in trouble, always up to date with his school work, never tore his clothes and was always punctilious in saying 'please' and 'thank you'. Sidney was the apple of his aunt's eye, or so Tom imagined. Actually, his Aunt was rather more fond of Tom in spite of his wild ways, but because she felt it her duty to bring him up as a god-fearing boy, she took pains to conceal her fondness from him.
Having reluctantly released his captive Tom collected the garden hoe and made his way down the vegetable patch. He set himself to work pulling out the weeds from among the rows of beans and turning the earth with the hoe. The bean patch was no more than about fifteen foot square, but to Tom it seemed as if it stretched on endlessly like the great Mongolian steppe that they encountered in geography, and he set to wondering if there were not some easier way of accomplishing his task. Presently an idea occurred to him. He returned to the tool shed and dug out an old board, whitewash and a brush and with tongue poking from the corner of his mouth painted up a sign which read . . . .
That done he planted his sign near the gate of the vegetable patch and settled back in the warm sunshine to await his first customer.
It was not long before Walter Chapman hove into view. Walter was a year younger than Tom and no stranger to tie-up experiences, but thus far he had always been on the receiving end of Tom's attentions, and not always willingly at that. Thus, Walter was greatly intrigued by the opportunity that Tom seemed to be offering.
"Hi Tom. Is that the truth that you'll let yo'self be tied ?"
"Why sure is Walter! All I ask in return is that you do a bit weeding in the beans whils't you wait for me to make my escape. Stands to reason I can't manage it while I'm all bound up. Soon as I gets free I'll ease your burden and take on the weeding."
This seemed a great bargain to Walter, after all what was a bit of weeding compared to the chance to get revenge on his erstwhile captor? Thus Tom submitted to being bound and dutifully placed his hands behind his back to be tied by an inexpert and fumbling Walter. In due course Tom was bound about with ropes at his ankles and knees, as well as around his body, and he played his part well writhing around moaning and begging for release. In truth he could have escaped in a jiffy, but chose not to because the weeding was proceeding apace as Walter sought to conceal his bodily excitement by foraging amongst the beans.
Soon other boys started to drift along, and seeing what was afoot formed an untidy queue by the garden gate. After he had been bound and escaped once or twice Tom realized that being possessed of only one body was limiting the rate of progress. He neatly solved this by altering the terms of the contract to include – as a generous concession – the opportunity to be bound as well as to bind.
Soon the garden was alive with around a dozen boys who under Tom's dictatorial orchestration were enthusiastically taking turns to bind, be bound and to pull weeds. Tom himself had retired from the fray and contented himself watching the pile of pulled weeds grow and admiring the ingenious techniques with which the combatants secured each other. So successful was his enterprise that it was necessary to move onto the onion patch.
Had Tom been less taken with the delight in his own low cunning, he might have observed the odious Sidney spying on the proceedings from the cover of the mulberry bushes. Young Sidney resolved to hold his tongue until the moment when Tom boasted to his aunt about the completion of his chores, and then he would reveal all.
© Copyright Cinched 2009
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