The Purple Feather

There was once a young boy who sat in a pre-algebra class behind Stacy Kildlan and her friends. One day, after they all completed their work, he decided to read his book. While reading he overheard the conversation Stacy was having with her friends. He heard mention of a “purple feather,” and being curious he asked what that was. He leaned in and whispered into their circle.

“What’s the ‘purple feather’?” The three of them whipped their heads back in surprise, and his teacher jumped out of her seat and put on the face of a mad man.

“What did you just say?” The teacher was trembling. Our young boy didn’t think anything of it, and repeated himself.

“I asked what them what the ‘purple feather’ that they’re talking about is.”

His teacher rushed across the room and picked him up by his collar, and told him to go to the principal’s office, and that she never wanted to see his face again. As you could imagine, our little boy was confused, even a little mad, but mostly confused. He made his way down into the main office and sat down in the couch in front of the big man’s office.

“What are you here for?” asked Mrs. Emery (the guidance counselor).

“Well, I was sitting in math class and I was reading my book when this girl Stacy and her friends were talking about a ‘purple feather’ so I asked what that was. My teacher got really mad and me and told me to come here and that she never wanted to see me again.”

Mrs. Emery threw up on her desk and ran out of the office.

Our young boy was left more confused and more angry, but still mostly confused. The principal poked his head out of his door and waved for our boy to enter. The principal was a burly man with a large goatee but with a soft smile. He asked what our boy was there for.

“Well, I was sitting in math class and I was reading my book when this girl Stacy and her friends were talking about a ‘purple feather’ so I asked what that was. My teacher got really mad and me and told me to come here and that she never wanted to see me again. So I came down here and Mrs. Emery asked why I was here so I told her and she threw up on her desk and ran out of the office, and now I’m here.” The principal was brought back, and he took a moment to think. In this moment his face grew red and he slammed his fists down onto his desk. He was furious.

“I don’t know where you went wrong, boy, but I want you out of my office and out of my school, and I never want to see you here again.” And so our boy walked outside and sat down on the steps in front of the school. 15 minutes later his mom came to pick him up in their red Suburban. He opened the front door and sat down with an ashamed look on his face. His mom asked him what happened today.

“Well, I was sitting in math class and I was reading my book when this girl Stacy and her friends were talking about a ‘purple feather’ so I asked what that was. My teacher got really mad and me and told me to come here and that she never wanted to see me again. So I went to the office and Mrs. Emery the guidance counselor asked why I was there so I told her and she threw up on her desk and ran out of the office. Then I went into the principal’s office and he asked why I was there so I told him. He got really mad at me and told me to never come back to the school, and here I am.”

His mother gave him a quick glance and then slapped him across the face. She then broke down into tears. The 12 minute car ride home felt like years.

Once they got home our boy went up to his room where he stayed until his father came home. His father came home to a mostly quiet house, with the exception of a crying mother in her room.

Our boy was lying on his bed when he heard the soft taps of his father’s work boots making their way up the stairs. He knocked on the door and then walked in. “What happened today, bud? Did you get into a fight or something? Mom wouldn’t tell me.” Our young boy was afraid to speak.

“Well, I was sitting in math class and I was reading my book when this girl Stacy and her friends were talking about a ‘purple feather’ so I asked what that was. My teacher got really mad and me and told me to come here and that she never wanted to see me again. So I went to the office and Mrs. Emery the guidance counselor asked why I was there so I told her and she threw up on her desk and ran out of the office. Then I went into the principal’s office and he asked why I was there so I told him. He got really mad at me and told me to never come back to the school. Then mom picked me up and she asked what happened and so I told her and she slapped me across my face and then cried the entire way home. So I went to my room and here I am.”

His father put his hands to his face and started a soft cry. He could only manage a small whisper before he left. “I failed as a father.”

A few hours later, at around 12:45, our young boy packed his backpack with clothes and a few books and jumped out the window. He decided that he was to run away; he didn’t know what else to do.

The night was cold and the streets were empty, give or take a car here and there. He followed the main road into town where he planned to buy a bus ticket to the furthest city. This planned was foiled when he noticed a cop car with a head poked out of it.

“What are you doing out here so late? And where are you headed?”
“I’m running away from home. I can’t be there anymore.”
“And why is that?” the cop had a soft smirk on his face.

“Well, I was sitting in math class and I was reading my book when this girl Stacy and her friends were talking about a ‘purple feather’ so I asked what that was. My teacher got really mad and me and told me to come here and that she never wanted to see me again. So I went to the office and Mrs. Emery the guidance counselor asked why I was there so I told her and she threw up on her desk and ran out of the office. Then I went into the principal’s office and he asked why I was there so I told him. He got really mad at me and told me to never come back to the school. Then my mom picked me up and she asked what happened and so I told her and she slapped me across my face and then cried the entire way home. So I went to my room and waited for my dad to come home. When he came into my room he asked what happened and why mom was crying. I told him and he started crying too and he said he was a failure as a father; so I left. And here I am.”

The cop grew a face of shock, panic, and excitement. He grabbed the radio and called for a “code purple purple.”

“Now that’s quite a story, and quite a reason for you to come downtown with me.” He pulled out his handcuffs and arrested our young boy.

Seven months later our young boy (now seven months older) stood in front of Judge Gareth. He was widely respected for having an open mind and open heart when it came to punishments. But this was not one of those cases.

“Son, you have been a good and normal boy up until that fateful day. I need you to guide me through the events that transpired that day. And do so as detailed and honestly as possible.” Our young boy didn’t have to think for a second.

“Well, I was sitting in math class and I was reading my book when this girl Stacy and her friends were talking about a ‘purple feather’ so I asked what that was. My teacher got really mad and me and told me to come here and that she never wanted to see me again. So I went to the office and Mrs. Emery the guidance counselor asked why I was there so I told her and she threw up on her desk and ran out of the office. Then I went into the principal’s office and he asked why I was there so I told him. He got really mad at me and told me to never come back to the school. Then my mom picked me up and she asked what happened and so I told her and she slapped me across my face and then cried the entire way home. So I went to my room and waited for my dad to come home. When he came into my room he asked what happened and why mom was crying. I told him and he started crying too and he said he was a failure as a father; so I left. I made my way to the bus station to buy a bus ticket to the furthest city they offered. That’s when a cop car stopped by me and asked what I was doing out so late. I told him and he arrested me; so here I am.”

Judge Gareth looked at the jury, and then looked at our young boy. He took a moment to think; and then he took another.
“I hereby sentence you to 55 years in prison.” And that was that.

54 years and 8 months later (our young boy now 54 years older) he sat in a small cell with his roommate, Eduardo. They had been cellmates for 37 years now, and they were best friends. They knew everything about each other, except for the fact that Eduardo never knew why our young boy (now old man) was sent to prison, and boy was he curious. See, this was the old man’s last day; he was soon to be a free man. But Eduardo wanted closure.

“We’ve been cell mates and best friends for close to 40 years, right? Why haven’t you ever told me why you were sent here in the first place?”

“I’m honestly ashamed of it, mostly because I still don’t understand it. But if you really want to know: I was sitting in math class and I was reading my book when this girl Stacy and her friends were talking about a ‘purple feather’ so I asked what that was. My teacher got really mad and me and told me to come here and that she never wanted to see me again. So I went to the office and Mrs. Emery the guidance counselor asked why I was there so I told her and she threw up on her desk and ran out of the office. Then I went into the principal’s office and he asked why I was there so I told him. He got really mad at me and told me to never come back to the school. Then my mom picked me up and she asked what happened and so I told her and she slapped me across my face and then cried the entire way home. So I went to my room and waited for my dad to come home. When he came into my room he asked what happened and why mom was crying. I told him and he started crying too and he said he was a failure as a father; so I left. I made my way to the bus station to buy a bus ticket to the furthest city they offered. That’s when a cop car stopped by me and asked what I was doing out so late. I told him and he arrested me. Seven months later I went to trial and the judge sentenced me to 55 years. I still don’t know what the ‘purple feather’ is.”

“Well,” Eduardo began, “do you want to know what it is?” His eyes lit up with excitement.

“Yes, yes, yes of course, please tell me.”

“Okay, you’re going to go to town, and then you’re going to go down to the corner of Red Street and Blue Street. On that corner there will be a purple house. The purple house will have a purple door, purple roof, purple lawn, purple mailbox, purple windows, and a purple sidewalk in front of it. Inside the purple house will be a purple coat rack, and on the purple coat rack in the purple house will be a purple hat; and on the purple hat that’s on the purple coat rack in the purple house will be a purple feather. There and only there will you find your answers.” The old man began to laugh and cry as he hugged Eduardo.

Less than an hour later our old man left the prison and made his way down to town. He was amazed at all of the new technology around him, but that’s not important. 15 minutes later he found Red Street and he followed it all the way down. He passed Orange Street, Black Street, and Yellow Street until he finally made it to Blue Street. There, across the street, was the purple house. He started to cry once he saw the purple coat rack through the window.

He started walking across the street when BAM! He was hit by a bus.

The moral of the story is to always look both ways before crossing the street.