(Print) Use this randomly generated list as your call list when playing the game. There is no need to say the BINGO column name. Place some kind of mark (like an X, a checkmark, a dot, tally mark, etc) on each cell as you announce it, to keep track. You can also cut out each item, place them in a bag and pull words from the bag.
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He'd let them down horribly. It was almost as if he'd cheated to win the race. And since all three had dropped out one after another, expecting that he would as well, he had in a way won it unfairly. If everyone had run properly, Kristy would almo
Bill Simpson blushed so pink that all his freckles disappeared.
The clock hands seemed to crawl. Each time he looked up, they had scarcely moved. The afternoon seemed endless - endless.
Bill ignored everyone. He just sat there , waiting for time to go by. Even a bad dream couldn't last forever. His torment had to end some time, surely.
Bill stopped and doubled over, grimacing and clutching his stomach as though he was in the grip of a fierce spasm of pain.
Through his heart was thumping so fiercely his eyes couldn't settle on the pictures, let alone read the print, Bill Simpson pretended he had calmly gone back to his Dandy.
He shut his eyes, the better to appreciate the sound of hands clapping and the cheers.
"Whistling at me?" Mean Malcom looked astonished to find this pink apparition glaring at him with such menace. He shifted uneasily on the lid of his dustbin.
"I am not pink," Bill insisted. But he was getting pinker by the minute.
He muttered savagely under his breath.
Each step seemed to take forever. "My!" Mrs Bandaraina said, watching his snail-slow progress. "Aren't you the careful one, taking such care not to spill coloured ink on your sweet little frock!"
Everyone knew the signs: the eyebrows knitting together over her nose; the lines across her foreheard deepening to furrows; her lips thinning into tightened purse strings.
There was no fight left in Bill Simpson. Meekly, he allowed himself to be led to the middle of the room. Bill could have tried to say something then, but he didn't bother. He reckoned there was no point. He knew that, whatever he said and whatever
He spread his hands in desperation. "Please give the ball back," he pleaded.
It was with a slight shudder of disgust that Mrs Collins dipped her hands in the box to lift them out, and started around the room.
He pranced along in his curious, loping fashion, and threw himself merrily over the finishing line.
It was a dispirited Bill Simpson who trailed down the school drive, dragging his feet.
She just thrust the stack of yellow medical forms into his arms, and hurried off.
"It's just -" Now, tipping her head to one side, she looked him very closely in the eye. "It's just - " Kristy shook her head, sighing.
A smile of triumph spread across his face.
Bill put his head in his hands, and groaned.
Bill held his breath as Mrs Collins looked at him and said, "The lovely Rapunzel."
Bill felt so cross he had to sit in his hands to stop himself from thumping Philip.
A shudder pf pure fury rose through his body and made his hands shake.
