So I'm in the town library this afternoon working on a science project with Wiley MacPherson and Fatty, when Wiley suddenly whispers, "I think Miss Direque is a witch." Fatty and I look at each other, then at him.
"What are you on about?" Fatty whispers back.
"Well, for starters, her name is Miss Direque...get it?"
We shake our heads and wait for him to explain. He rolls his eyes at us. "Miss Direque," he says again. We stare blankly at him. He sighs and rolls his eyes again "Miss Direque! M-i-s-d-i-r-e-c-t! Get it now?"
We shake our heads again. Wiley looks at us like with such pity, I start to develop a complex. "Guys, she's misdirecting us to the fact that she's a witch by pretending to be a boring old librarian," he hisses.
Fatty snorts. "Man, I think you're misdirecting us to the fact that you're not playing with a full deck. Just because she has a weird name doesn't mean she's a witch."
"What about her eyes," Wiley whispers.
"What about them?" I whisper back.
"They're two different colors," he says, "Blue and green. According to this book, that's a sure sign of a real witch."
I grab the book he's got propped up in front of him. "Hey, you're supposed to be reading up on rain forests, not witches and warlocks," I say.
"Yeah, I know...I will," Wiley says, "But get this. The book says that if a person has one bright blue right eye and one bright green left eye, she's a good witch. If they're reversed, then she uses her powers for evil." He leans closer in to us. "What color is Miss Direque's right eye?"
We didn't know. I didn't believe for one minute that Miss Direque was a witch, good or bad. Well, maybe a tiny part of me did. I mean, this was Pluto, Washington after all. But a big part of me refused to believe it. I mean, there just HAD to be SOME normal people in Pluto, right? They couldn't all be weirdos.
"Well, we'd better find out before she turns us into mushrooms or something," Wiley hisses. "Fatty! Go on up and ask her for a book on rain forest animals, but make sure you get a good look at her eyes."
"What if she gets suspicious?" Fatty says. "Why do I hafta? Why can't one of you go?"
"Cos you still look like you're 5," Wiley says. "Grownups never yell at you. Now go?"
Fatty bites his lower lip and slowly pushes away from the table. He shuffles over to the circulation desk looking like he'd just found out there was no Santa Claus.
"Yes, young man?"
Fatty looks up at Miss Direque and mumbles something we can't hear. She nods once and points toward the far wall. Fatty thanks her but continues to stand there, staring at her. I start to wonder if maybe his brain froze from too much fear or excitment...or both, when he jerks himself upright and hurries back toward us.
"Well?" Wiley and I say together. Fatty grabs my arm, breathing hard. His eyes are wide open and shining, and look like they're ready to pop out of his head.
"What?" I say.
"Is the right one blue?" Wiley says at the same time.
"No," Fatty whispers, digging his fingers into my arm. "They're reversed."
All three of us glance over at Miss Direque. She's standing there behind the desk, watching us with a smile that could freeze an eskimo in his tracks. Suddenly our harmless trip to the library to get a head start on our project doesn't seem like such a good idea. What just happened here? One minute we're pouring over books on rain forests, and the next a librarian/witch is giving us the Evil Eye.
"I thik I hear my mom calling," I whisper.
"Me too," Wiley whispers. Fatty's too petrified to say anything.
We grab our backpacks and start hurrying toward the door. As we pass the desk, Miss Direque leans over and whispers, "I love mushrooms..."
Friday, December 31, 2010
Thursday, December 30, 2010
# 5 : Now that's what I call a Salty Dog!
There's this kid in my homeroom who is addicted to salt. Seriously! In the cafeteria if the salt shaker is missing from the table, you know it's got to be Euclid Hill. Euclid! That's even worse than being called Marion. Well...maybe not, but it's still pretty bad.
Anyway, this Euclid kid douses everything with salt. Generally, I'm pretty used to all the weird things and even weirder people that populate Pluto, but Euclid is pretty strange, even by Plutonian standards.
The other day I'm in town with my mom and my sisters, the terrible twins, Dolly and Polly, when I spot Euc getting a hot dog from Mr. Union, the hot dog vendor who's been selling dogs on the same corner for like a billion years. Now, most people, even weird ones, usually put mustard or saurkraut or relish on their dogs. Some people, like me, even put ketchup.
But not Euclid. I'm watching from across the street, and Euc says something to Mr. Union, who gives him a weird look, then rummages around behind the counter and passes him something. Next thing I know, he's shaking salt onto his hot dog. And I don't mean a polite sprinkle. This guy's piling it on like his life depends on it. A few people passing by even stop and stare at him, and before you know it, there's a small crowd gathered around Euclid watching the salt pile up on his dog. Euc's completely oblivious to everyone, and once his hot dog's completely covered and looks like a small, snow-covered mountain on a bun, Euc licks his lips and shoves the whole thing in his mouth in one huge, disgusting gulp.
Some people, like Fatty, my best friend, think Euclid's an alien who needs the salt to survive on our planet. He says Euc comes from a planet that's mostly sodium in some form or other, so his people need it to survive the way humans need water. I'm pretty convinced. But then again, the guy may just like salt a whole lot.
Anyway, this Euclid kid douses everything with salt. Generally, I'm pretty used to all the weird things and even weirder people that populate Pluto, but Euclid is pretty strange, even by Plutonian standards.
The other day I'm in town with my mom and my sisters, the terrible twins, Dolly and Polly, when I spot Euc getting a hot dog from Mr. Union, the hot dog vendor who's been selling dogs on the same corner for like a billion years. Now, most people, even weird ones, usually put mustard or saurkraut or relish on their dogs. Some people, like me, even put ketchup.
But not Euclid. I'm watching from across the street, and Euc says something to Mr. Union, who gives him a weird look, then rummages around behind the counter and passes him something. Next thing I know, he's shaking salt onto his hot dog. And I don't mean a polite sprinkle. This guy's piling it on like his life depends on it. A few people passing by even stop and stare at him, and before you know it, there's a small crowd gathered around Euclid watching the salt pile up on his dog. Euc's completely oblivious to everyone, and once his hot dog's completely covered and looks like a small, snow-covered mountain on a bun, Euc licks his lips and shoves the whole thing in his mouth in one huge, disgusting gulp.
Some people, like Fatty, my best friend, think Euclid's an alien who needs the salt to survive on our planet. He says Euc comes from a planet that's mostly sodium in some form or other, so his people need it to survive the way humans need water. I'm pretty convinced. But then again, the guy may just like salt a whole lot.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
# 4 : Are we blood brothers yet?
I'm running like there's a pack of wolves after me. The lunch bell rang like 10 minutes ago, but since I had to help Coach Mayfield put the softball equipment away, I'm the last one to get to the cafeteria. And trust me, if you go to Planet Nine Elementary, you do not want to be the last one in line at the cafeteria. Ever!
So I run in, and I see that the table I usually sit at is already full. Rats! I glance quickly around. All the tables are full. No space anywhere...except at the one table the stragglers always get relegated to.
Deadeye Danny's table.
I look over at him and he's staring right at me with those coal black eyes of his. Eyes that look like they belong on a shark. Cold and dead. Empty eyes!
I sit down and try real hard not to stare at the bottle of thick red liquid in front of him. There's a straw propped up in it, and a tiny drop dribbles slowly down the back of it. Suddenly my peanut butter and banana sandwich doesn't seem that appetizing anymore. I glance down at the lumps of banana peeking out from in between the peanut butter.
"If it bothers you I can always drink it later," Danny says in that slow, Southern drawl of his.
"What?" I look up at him. He's smiling at me, and up close his eyes don't look that cold and dead.
He gestures at the bottle. "The pig's blood," he says.
Pig's blood! Oh geez! "Oh...no...that's all right," I stammer. "I mean you must be hungry, right?"
His eyes drop to my neck and my heartbeat goes into full overdrive. "I am," he agrees, "but I don't want to make you uncomfortable." He look up at me and smiles again. "I don't normally have company for lunch. It's kind of nice."
I'm puzzled. Deadeye Danny doesn't sound like the vampires I see on the Sci-Fi channel. I mean he sounds like them, what with the way they talk, like they're royalty or something. You know, "Good eveeeening. I am Count Chocula," or whatever. But he doesn't sound like them in that he doesn't sound evil. In fact, he sounds kind of okay.
"No problem here," I say, trying real hard not to stare at the bottle. "Drink away." Oh geez! Did I just say that? "I mean, don't stop on account of me."
In response, Danny raises his bottle to me. I'm not sure what he wants me to do, until I realize he's looking at my chocolate milk. I quickly grab the carton and tap it against his bottle.
Danny grins at me, his long incisors jutting over his bottom lip. "Bottom's up," he says, and slurps his blood like it's going out of style. Before I can raise my chocolate milk to my lips, he's drained his bottle and gets to his feet. "Got to get to math class," he says. "See you."
I nod.
He turns away then turns back to me. That smile flashes again. "Know something Beaker? You're okay...for a human." Then in the next second he's walking out the door.
Wow! For someone who doesn't have a heart, the guy's all heart. Who knew?
So I run in, and I see that the table I usually sit at is already full. Rats! I glance quickly around. All the tables are full. No space anywhere...except at the one table the stragglers always get relegated to.
Deadeye Danny's table.
I look over at him and he's staring right at me with those coal black eyes of his. Eyes that look like they belong on a shark. Cold and dead. Empty eyes!
I sit down and try real hard not to stare at the bottle of thick red liquid in front of him. There's a straw propped up in it, and a tiny drop dribbles slowly down the back of it. Suddenly my peanut butter and banana sandwich doesn't seem that appetizing anymore. I glance down at the lumps of banana peeking out from in between the peanut butter.
"If it bothers you I can always drink it later," Danny says in that slow, Southern drawl of his.
"What?" I look up at him. He's smiling at me, and up close his eyes don't look that cold and dead.
He gestures at the bottle. "The pig's blood," he says.
Pig's blood! Oh geez! "Oh...no...that's all right," I stammer. "I mean you must be hungry, right?"
His eyes drop to my neck and my heartbeat goes into full overdrive. "I am," he agrees, "but I don't want to make you uncomfortable." He look up at me and smiles again. "I don't normally have company for lunch. It's kind of nice."
I'm puzzled. Deadeye Danny doesn't sound like the vampires I see on the Sci-Fi channel. I mean he sounds like them, what with the way they talk, like they're royalty or something. You know, "Good eveeeening. I am Count Chocula," or whatever. But he doesn't sound like them in that he doesn't sound evil. In fact, he sounds kind of okay.
"No problem here," I say, trying real hard not to stare at the bottle. "Drink away." Oh geez! Did I just say that? "I mean, don't stop on account of me."
In response, Danny raises his bottle to me. I'm not sure what he wants me to do, until I realize he's looking at my chocolate milk. I quickly grab the carton and tap it against his bottle.
Danny grins at me, his long incisors jutting over his bottom lip. "Bottom's up," he says, and slurps his blood like it's going out of style. Before I can raise my chocolate milk to my lips, he's drained his bottle and gets to his feet. "Got to get to math class," he says. "See you."
I nod.
He turns away then turns back to me. That smile flashes again. "Know something Beaker? You're okay...for a human." Then in the next second he's walking out the door.
Wow! For someone who doesn't have a heart, the guy's all heart. Who knew?
Saturday, December 25, 2010
# 3 : Ho Ho Ho!
Merry Christmas to everyone in Pluto, Washington -- the magnetic center of all things weird, bizarre and unexplainable. I wouldn't live anywhere else.
Sincerely,
Rodney Q. Beaker
Sincerely,
Rodney Q. Beaker
Friday, December 24, 2010
# 2 : Talk about a swelled head!
Field trip today! Yay! Those are the best kind of days for any kid anywhere, but our field trip today qualifies as the most amazing, most awesome trip...ever!!
We're on our way to the science museum in the city, and just the ride there is fun. Wiggy Nastrom brings along the greatest gag I've ever seen -- a remote controlled fart thingy called the FartMaster 2000, and puts it under Mr. Kellogg, our science teacher's chair. Every time he stands up to yell at someone, Wiggy sets the thing off, and a massive fart explodes through the bus. By the time we get to the museum, Mr. Kellogg's face is the color of a stop sign, and we're all laughing hard enough to pee ourselves. It was excellent!
At the museum is where the real fun starts. At first we're all pretty quiet as the guide, a 100-old-woman who smells of Pledge, tells us a list of rules we have to follow, but when the tour starts, we all get pretty restless. We go through hall after hall of old things, but the best hall is the one with the mummies and stuff from Egypt, and the one with the humongous dinosaur skeletons. Cody Tyler is trailing after my best friend Fatty Tinkler and me. I don't know what Fatty's real name is. He's been Fatty since we were in preschool together. I think his big brother started calling him that and the name stuck. The thing is, the name really suits him and I don't think even Fatty thinks of it as an insult.
Anyway, Cody's trailing behind us, and I'm pretty sure he's listening in on our conversation, when all of a sudden the 100-year-old woman says, "Hey, You there? Young man?" We all turn around automatically and stare at Cody. Man, when I tell you that his head is growing like a hot-air balloon being filled with Helium, I'm not kidding. We're all staring at him, and one of the girls starts to scream, and pretty soon all the girls and even some of the boys are screaming, and pretty soon Mr. Kellogg's lost control of the entire group and the ancient woman is screeching something about 9-1-1, and Cody's head is expanding faster than an elastic band being pulled in five different directions, and we're all staring so hard I'm pretty sure our eyes are going to pop out, and Fatty whispers to me that he hopes Cody's head explodes all over the dinosaur bones cos that would be cool and we'd get to be on TV, when all of a sudden, Cody's head turns BLUE! Yeah....blue. His head is expanding and it's blue and it's the most amazing thing I've ever seen (and believe me, I've seen some pretty amazing things living in Pluto, Washington), when suddenly Mr. Kellogg and one of the chaperones find their voices and their feet and they grab Cody and haul him off, and he's screaming at the top of his lung, "Jasmine! Jasmine!" Turns out Cody was allergic to the old woman's perfume which had jasmine flowers in it. Wow! I mean, I'm allergic to pollen and stuff but my head doesn't expand and turn blue. Some kids have all the luck!
The rest of the tour is pretty boring, and we're all wondering what the heck happened to Cody, and whether we're going to get interviewed for TV, and then we're on the bus again headed for home, and Wiggy whips out his Fartmaster 2000 again, and the ride home is excellent. Poor Cody! He got to go to the hospital and get a shot and missed watching the chaperones squirm every time the FartMaster went off.
We're on our way to the science museum in the city, and just the ride there is fun. Wiggy Nastrom brings along the greatest gag I've ever seen -- a remote controlled fart thingy called the FartMaster 2000, and puts it under Mr. Kellogg, our science teacher's chair. Every time he stands up to yell at someone, Wiggy sets the thing off, and a massive fart explodes through the bus. By the time we get to the museum, Mr. Kellogg's face is the color of a stop sign, and we're all laughing hard enough to pee ourselves. It was excellent!
At the museum is where the real fun starts. At first we're all pretty quiet as the guide, a 100-old-woman who smells of Pledge, tells us a list of rules we have to follow, but when the tour starts, we all get pretty restless. We go through hall after hall of old things, but the best hall is the one with the mummies and stuff from Egypt, and the one with the humongous dinosaur skeletons. Cody Tyler is trailing after my best friend Fatty Tinkler and me. I don't know what Fatty's real name is. He's been Fatty since we were in preschool together. I think his big brother started calling him that and the name stuck. The thing is, the name really suits him and I don't think even Fatty thinks of it as an insult.
Anyway, Cody's trailing behind us, and I'm pretty sure he's listening in on our conversation, when all of a sudden the 100-year-old woman says, "Hey, You there? Young man?" We all turn around automatically and stare at Cody. Man, when I tell you that his head is growing like a hot-air balloon being filled with Helium, I'm not kidding. We're all staring at him, and one of the girls starts to scream, and pretty soon all the girls and even some of the boys are screaming, and pretty soon Mr. Kellogg's lost control of the entire group and the ancient woman is screeching something about 9-1-1, and Cody's head is expanding faster than an elastic band being pulled in five different directions, and we're all staring so hard I'm pretty sure our eyes are going to pop out, and Fatty whispers to me that he hopes Cody's head explodes all over the dinosaur bones cos that would be cool and we'd get to be on TV, when all of a sudden, Cody's head turns BLUE! Yeah....blue. His head is expanding and it's blue and it's the most amazing thing I've ever seen (and believe me, I've seen some pretty amazing things living in Pluto, Washington), when suddenly Mr. Kellogg and one of the chaperones find their voices and their feet and they grab Cody and haul him off, and he's screaming at the top of his lung, "Jasmine! Jasmine!" Turns out Cody was allergic to the old woman's perfume which had jasmine flowers in it. Wow! I mean, I'm allergic to pollen and stuff but my head doesn't expand and turn blue. Some kids have all the luck!
The rest of the tour is pretty boring, and we're all wondering what the heck happened to Cody, and whether we're going to get interviewed for TV, and then we're on the bus again headed for home, and Wiggy whips out his Fartmaster 2000 again, and the ride home is excellent. Poor Cody! He got to go to the hospital and get a shot and missed watching the chaperones squirm every time the FartMaster went off.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
# 1 : Dog-gone weird...
Hi folks! Rodney Q. Beaker here. Welcome to Pluto Washington. My town is probably like a lot of towns in the United States: good law-abiding citizens who all know each other's business, a lot of great fast-food places, a great park, and a movie theater. The only difference between us and every other place in the country, and possibly the world? Pluto is the hotbed for the strange, the bizarre and the unexplainable. Only no one seems the least bit surprised when something weird does happen, which is pretty much all the time. It's like the welcome sign to Pluto says: "Welcome to Pluto, Washington...Where The Extraordinary Is Considered Ordinary." Well, what happened today when my softball team , the Roaring Razorbacks, played a night game against Olio's Thundering Typhoons, is a perfect example of the weird goings on in Pluto. Don't say I didn't warm you...
We were winning by one run when the new kid in school, Marion Dorsey, was up at bat. Yeah, that was his real name all right -- Marion Dorsey. Poor kid! What kind of sadistic parents name their kid Marion? That was enough to make any kid twitchy, but this kid's name was just the beginning of a long list of problems. For starters he had flaming red hair that stuck out from his head in all angles, like he'd stuck his finger in a socket and shocked himself. He also had more freckles than I'd ever seen on anyone in my life. If they all joined together, he'd have the best tan in the world. He was long and gangly, all elbows and knees, and he didn't just walk, he loped, like he was going to take off in a cloud of dust any minute. But it was his eyes you remembered more than anything; they were two different colors. No kidding! His right eye was black, and I mean jet black...as coal. His left was green, and I swear there were times it glowed when he caught me looking at him. I couldn't help it. The guy was the weirdest kid to ever walk...I mean lope...into Planet Nine Elementary School. (Planet Nine because Pluto was the ninth planet in the solar system until some scientists decided it wasn't a planet anymore).
The Typhoons' pitcher, Matt Stone, hurled the ball toward Marion and we all held our breath as he swung the bat. It made contact with the ball with a loud crack that sounded like a thunderclap. For a second I thought the bat had broken, or maybe it was Marion hitting the ground. Then there he was running for first base with that weird lope of his.
All of a sudden things started to get really strange. Marion started loping...and I mean for real. One second he was running on two legs, the next he was loping on all fours, and while everyone watched in stunned silence, pounced on the ball right as the kid on first base reached for it. He grabbed it in his teeth. Yeah, I said teeth, then loped off into the woods with the ball in his mouth, for crying out loud.
While everyone gaped, a long, high-pitched howl sounded from the direction he'd run in. Boy, was I glad I hit the boys room before the game!
All of a sudden the entire population of the ball field sprang to life. The coaches, parents and kids all started running in the direction Marion had taken. Coach Mayfield, our coach and one of the greatest guys ever, was the first to find him. He stopped dead, so Mr. Curtiss, our team manager ran right into him. When the rest of us caught up to them, things got even stranger.
There was Marion, or a weird looking animal in Marion's team uniform, covered in fur, tongue hanging out, with the softball lying on the ground in front of his feet...I mean paws. Behind him, hanging low in the night sky, and glowing an egg-yolky yellow, was a full moon.
We were winning by one run when the new kid in school, Marion Dorsey, was up at bat. Yeah, that was his real name all right -- Marion Dorsey. Poor kid! What kind of sadistic parents name their kid Marion? That was enough to make any kid twitchy, but this kid's name was just the beginning of a long list of problems. For starters he had flaming red hair that stuck out from his head in all angles, like he'd stuck his finger in a socket and shocked himself. He also had more freckles than I'd ever seen on anyone in my life. If they all joined together, he'd have the best tan in the world. He was long and gangly, all elbows and knees, and he didn't just walk, he loped, like he was going to take off in a cloud of dust any minute. But it was his eyes you remembered more than anything; they were two different colors. No kidding! His right eye was black, and I mean jet black...as coal. His left was green, and I swear there were times it glowed when he caught me looking at him. I couldn't help it. The guy was the weirdest kid to ever walk...I mean lope...into Planet Nine Elementary School. (Planet Nine because Pluto was the ninth planet in the solar system until some scientists decided it wasn't a planet anymore).
The Typhoons' pitcher, Matt Stone, hurled the ball toward Marion and we all held our breath as he swung the bat. It made contact with the ball with a loud crack that sounded like a thunderclap. For a second I thought the bat had broken, or maybe it was Marion hitting the ground. Then there he was running for first base with that weird lope of his.
All of a sudden things started to get really strange. Marion started loping...and I mean for real. One second he was running on two legs, the next he was loping on all fours, and while everyone watched in stunned silence, pounced on the ball right as the kid on first base reached for it. He grabbed it in his teeth. Yeah, I said teeth, then loped off into the woods with the ball in his mouth, for crying out loud.
While everyone gaped, a long, high-pitched howl sounded from the direction he'd run in. Boy, was I glad I hit the boys room before the game!
All of a sudden the entire population of the ball field sprang to life. The coaches, parents and kids all started running in the direction Marion had taken. Coach Mayfield, our coach and one of the greatest guys ever, was the first to find him. He stopped dead, so Mr. Curtiss, our team manager ran right into him. When the rest of us caught up to them, things got even stranger.
There was Marion, or a weird looking animal in Marion's team uniform, covered in fur, tongue hanging out, with the softball lying on the ground in front of his feet...I mean paws. Behind him, hanging low in the night sky, and glowing an egg-yolky yellow, was a full moon.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)