This story explores Paul’s urge to pull Leslie’s pigtails in the tenth chapter of Louis Sachar’s Sideways Stories from Wayside School. Before we dive into the fan‑fiction, let’s take a look at Chapter 10, “Paul.”
CHAPTER 10. PAUL — SUMMARY
Sitting at the back of the classroom, Paul can’t focus on Mrs. Jewls’s lesson because Leslie’s pigtails keep dangling right in front of him. He tries to resist the temptation to pull one, but he fails. First he pulls Leslie’s right pigtail, and Mrs. Jewls writes his name on the blackboard. Then he pulls the left one, and she adds a checkmark. At this point, Paul thinks he can get away with pulling Leslie’s pigtails twice every day. However, Leslie suddenly screams again, even though he hasn’t touched her a third time. Mrs. Jewls circles his name and sends him home early on the kindergarten bus.
On Sunday, Peter woke Paul up at dawn. Paul squinted at the clock on his bedroom wall.
“But it’s Sunday,” he groaned. “Why are we waking up at seven?”
“Do you want to go to Cousin Jim’s birthday party or not?” his older brother asked.
Paul was in no mood for a two hour ride to the middle of the countryside, but he had no choice.
“Man, I forgot all about it,” he mumbled. “It feels like his last birthday was only two months ago.”
He tried to sleep in the car, but Peter played a very loud game of I Spy with their parents. They burst into laughter every time they spotted a cattle crossing sign, a scarecrow, or even a red barn.
“Could you please play the Quiet Game?” Paul begged. “I’m trying to catch up on my sleep.”
Peter pulled off Paul’s cap and ruffled his hair. “The Quiet Game is only for little brothers,” he chuckled.
When they arrived at Uncle Red’s farm, Paul was both sleepy and starving. Peter and his parents had eaten breakfast in the car, but he had been too tired to chew.
“Happy birthday to your son, Redford,” Paul’s mom said. “Where’s Jim?”
“Jim and his sister are feeding the animals out back,” Uncle Red replied. “Do you kids want to see the horses?”
“Sure!” Peter exclaimed, sprinting toward the stables.
Paul sighed and followed, but not all the way. Instead, he slipped into a quiet shed and collapsed onto a hay bale behind the door.
He had just closed his eyes when someone shoved him off the bale.
“Wake up, City Boy!” a voice boomed. “You can sleep when you go back to that boring school of yours.”
It was Bouncing Betty, Cousin Jim’s sister. Everyone called her that because she hopped everywhere she went and had enough energy to power an entire farm.
Paul stood up and pushed her back. Then he brushed straw off his T shirt. “Nobody sleeps at my school,” he muttered.
Betty snorted. “That’s not what I heard.”
Cousin Jim and Betty were homeschooled, and she never missed a chance to tease Paul about it.
“Oh, here you are!” Cousin Jim shouted as he burst into the shed with Peter behind him. “We’ve been looking everywhere.”
“I’ve been here for less than thirty seconds,” Paul protested.
“No excuses,” Jim snapped. “Last year you pretended to be sick. This year you’re playing Barnyard Blitz with us or else.”
“Or else what?” Paul blurted. “Can’t we have cake first and play games after?”
Jim wagged his finger. “You’re not fooling me again, Buster. It’s Team Brother vs. Team Farm. Winners get double cake. Losers get regular cake. And if you don’t play, you get zero cake.”
Paul’s stomach growled louder than an angry pig. He followed Jim outside and nearly bumped into Uncle Red, who was holding a book so thick it could stop a tractor.
“Not so fast, partner,” Uncle Red chuckled. “Before a single boot hits the dirt, we follow the rules in The Official Barnyard Blitz Rule Book.”
Paul’s eyes widened. “How many rules are there?”
“Don’t you worry about that,” Uncle Red said. “Right now, we focus on Rule One: The Farmer’s Handshake.”
The children shook hands. Betty squeezed Paul’s so hard his eyes watered.
The first challenge was the Chicken Coop Scramble. They were supposed to reach into a giant nest, which was a kiddie pool filled with straw. There, they had to find three wooden eggs and carry them in a tiny plastic bucket without dropping any.
“Don’t forget the pig tails,” Peter said, pushing Paul toward the pool. “I’ll handle the next challenge because I don’t want you ruining our chances.”
Paul dove into the straw and found the eggs faster than Jim. But as he sprinted toward the finish line, his shaking hand betrayed him and one egg hit the dirt.
Uncle Red blew his whistle. “Egg Rule! Return to the nest and find another egg. But first, give me five chicken flaps.”
“I’m not doing that,” Paul snapped. “I want to make an official complaint. My egg dropped because Betty crushed my fingers before the race. That’s cheating.”
Uncle Red pointed to a jar filled with corn kernels perched on the fence post. “That’s the Complaint Jar. You must count one hundred kernels before I listen to anything.”
“One hundred kernels?” Paul gasped. “That’ll take all day!”
“And that’s exactly the point,” Uncle Red said. “By the time you reach ninety nine, you’ll forget why you were grumpy.”
Paul groaned, returned to the nest, and finished the task.
“The tails!” Peter shouted.
“What tails?” Paul panted.
Peter pointed to the Pig Pen, where three curly pink rubber bands dangled from a post.
“You must pull the tails to signal the end of the challenge.”
“Why?”
“Because pig tails are meant to be pulled!” Jim roared, laughing so hard he nearly fell over.
The rest of the race was a blur. Peter tackled the Muddy Marsh like a pro athlete. Paul hauled sandbag “potatoes” in the Vegetable Patch. They hurdled hay bales, milked a wooden cow, and pulled more pig tails than they could count.
By the final challenge, Paul collapsed on the ground.
“I don’t care if it’s double or regular,” he groaned. “Just bring the cake.”
In the end, Uncle Red gave everyone as much cake as they wanted.
“If you’d paid attention to the rules, you would’ve won,” he told Paul. “Next time, remember: don’t forget to pull the pig tails.”
“But why?” Jim and Betty mimicked Paul.
“Because pig tails are meant to be pulled!” Uncle Red laughed.
On Monday morning, the first thing Paul noticed at school was Leslie’s long pigtails dangling right in front of him.
“Pigtails are meant to be pulled,” Paul whispered to himself.
