How the Belgian Stole the 4th of July

How the Belgian Stole the 4th of July

(with all apologies to Theodor Geisel)

Every Who down in Whoville liked July 4th a lot...

But the Belgian, who lived just north of Whoville, Did NOT!

The Belgian hated the Fourth! The whole USA season!

Now, please don't ask why. No one quite knows the reason.

It could be his head wasn't screwed on just right.

It could be, perhaps, that his shoes were too tight.

But I think that the most likely reason of all,

May have been that his heart was two sizes too small.

Whatever the reason, his heart or his shoes,

He stood there July 4th Eve, hating the Whos,

Staring down from his cave with a sour, Belgian frown,

At the calm USA windows below in their town.

For he knew every Who down the Whoville main drag,

Was busy right now, hanging an American flag.

"And they're getting their hot dogs!" he snarled with a sneer,

"Tomorrow’s the Fourth! It's practically here!"

Then he growled, with his Belgian fingers nervously drumming,

"I MUST find some way to stop July 4th from coming!"

For Tomorrow, he knew, all the Who boys and girls,

Would wake bright and early. They'd rush for their grills!

And then! Oh, the noise! Oh, the Noise!

Noise! Noise! Noise!

That's one thing he hated! The NOISE!


Then the Whos, young and old, would go out and drink!.

And they'd drink! And they'd drink! And they'd DRINK!


They would drink beer and liquor, and grill a big feast.

Which was something the Belgian couldn't stand in the least!

And THEN they'd do something he liked least of all!

Every Who down in Whoville, the tall and the small,

Would stand close together, with liberty bells ringing.

They'd stand hand-in-hand. And the Whos would start singing!

They'd sing! And they'd sing! And they'd SING!


And the more the Belgian thought of this Fourth of July Sing,

The more the Belgian thought, "I must stop this whole thing!"

"Why, for two hundred thirty-eight years I've put up with it now!"

"I MUST stop this Fourth from coming! But HOW?"

Then he got an idea! An awful idea!


"I know just what to do!" The Belgian laughed in his rocker.

"I’ll steal all their stuff, and then beat them at soccer!"

And he chuckled, and clucked, "What a great Belgian trick!"

"They’ll think they’ve a chance, they’re gonna be sick!"

"All I need is a team..." The Belgian looked around.

But, since teams are scarce, there was none to be found.

Did that stop the old Belgian? No! The Belgian simply said,

"If I can't find a team, I'll make one instead!"

So he went to his lab, and he took out some thread,

And he created a team, and he dressed them in red.

Then he loaded his players and some old empty bags,

To head down to Whoville, ready to steal some flags.

Then the Belgian said, "Allons-y!" And his team started down,

Toward the homes where the Whos lay asnooze in their town.

All their windows were dark. The Belgian, ready to thieve.

All the Whos were dreaming of chanting, "I believe."

(The Belgian knew this, and thought, "How naive.")

"This is stop number one," the old Belgian hissed,

And he walked through the door, empty bags in his fist.

He tiptoed around, looking for things to steal,

All things July 4th related, that would be ideal.

There were so many things, he didn’t know where to start.

The room looked like it was an ad for Wal-Mart.

Red white and blue coolers were lined up in a row.

"These coolers," he grinned, "are the first things to go!"

Then he slithered and slunk, in the name of his King,

Around the whole room, and he took everything!

Bomb pops! Hot dogs! Fireworks! Flags!

Cheeseburgers! Swim trunks! Cornhole, a.k.a Bags!

And he stuffed them in sacks. Then the Belgian, hard at work,

Knew what would really drive the Whos all berserk!

He went to the kitchen, and looked all around,

‘Till he saw what he came for, sitting there on the ground.

He looked left and right, the coast, it was clear,

And that Belgian took off with all of their beer!

Then he stuffed all the things into his foot locker.

"And NOW!" belched the Belgian, "I will beat them at soccer!"

And the Belgian kicked off, and he started to shove,

When he heard a small sound like the coo of a dove.

He turned around fast, and he saw a small Who!

Little Tim-Howard Who, who was not more than two.

The Belgian had been caught by this tiny Who 'keeper,

Who was ready for the match, in fact he was eager.

He stared at the Belgian and said, "Belgian, why,"

"Why are you shooting so much? WHY? WHY? WHY?"

But, you know, that old Belgian was so smart and so slick,

He thought up a tale, and he thought it up quick!

"Why, my sweet little tot," the mean Belgian cried,

"The game here is close, after 90 minutes, we’re tied!"

"You've played the game of your life, and made 16 saves!

You’ll be such a hero, they’re all saying, ‘How brave!’"

And his distraction worked, so he patted his head,

And he got Tim a drink and he sent Tim to bed.

And while Tim-Howard Who set a new World Cup record,

The Belgian advanced, the next round he entered.

He had somehow acquired skills one cannot teach,

And he scored two nice goals, to put the game out of reach.

And the one speck of hope, named Julian Green,

Was too little, too late. The death of a dream.

The effects were felt at the other Whos’ game watches

Leaving all of the Whos to reach for their Scotches.

It was the end of extra time... All the Whos, who believed,

All the Whos, still aghast that he finished off their team,

Unsure what to do with no hot dogs! No wrappings!

No flags! No fireworks! No burgers! No trappings!

The Whos were left stunned, while the Belgian went up,

Off to continue his quest for the Cup!

"Pooh-pooh to the Whos!" he was Belgishly humming.

"They're finding out now that no July 4th is coming!"

"They're just realizing! I know just what they'll do!"

"Their mouths will hang open a minute or two,

Then the Whos down in Whoville will all cry boo-hoo!"

"That's a noise," belched the Belgian, "That I simply MUST hear!"

So he paused. And the Belgian put his hand to his ear.

And he did hear a sound rising up down below.

It started in low. Then it started to grow.

But the sound wasn't sad! Why, this sound sounded glad!

It couldn't be so! But it WAS glad! NOT BAD!

He stared down at Whoville! The Belgian popped his eyes!

Then he shook! What he saw was a shocking surprise!

Every Who down in Whoville, the tall and the small,

Was singing! Without any World Cup at all!

He HADN'T stopped July 4th from coming! IT CAME!

Somehow or other, it came just the same!

And the Belgian, with his team all ready to go,

Stood puzzling and puzzling: "How could it be so?"

"It came without soccer! It came without Bags!"

"It came without fireworks, burgers or flags!"

And he puzzled three hours, till his puzzler was sore.

Then the Belgian thought of something he hadn't before!

"Maybe the Fourth," he thought, "doesn't come from a store."

"Maybe the Fourth… perhaps… means a little bit more!"

And what happened then? Whoville they say,

That the Belgian's small heart grew three sizes that day!

And the minute his heart didn't feel quite so tight,

He whizzed with his load through the bright morning light,

And he brought back the flags! And the hot dogs! And beers!

And the Belgian then said, "See you in four years!"

This is a FanPost written by a member of our blog's community. The views expressed in this post do not necessarily reflect the feelings or beliefs of the blog itself or the staff.