Hamsters Rule, Gerbils Drool

by Kris Langman

  Sally nodded knowingly. “Jiffy Pop is really smelly. Especially if you burn it.” She tucked Melvin back inside her backpack.

  Katie looked at her worriedly. “Do you think he can breathe in there?”

  “Sure”, said Sally. “See? Don’t tell my Dad, but I cut a hole right here. So Mel can poke his nose out and get some air.”

  Mr. Zukas whacked his furled umbrella against the side of the school bus. “Listen up, you little miscreants. We’re going into a very old, history-laden part of San Francisco: Chinatown. This means ancient culture, exotic food, sophisticated people. You will be representing the school. This means that you will behave. No fighting, no spitting, no swearing, no pushing, no hair-pulling, no shoplifting, and no back-talk. When we get off the bus you will find a partner and stick with this partner for the entire trip. Now, I have two very nice young kids from San Francisco City College helping me today. Everybody wave to them.”

  Mr. Zukas pointed his umbrella at two twenty-year-old girls standing at the back of the line. Forty little kids waved at them enthusiastically. The two college kids waved back doubtfully.

  “And just let me point out,” continued Mr. Zukas, “that those innocent looking umbrellas my two assistants are carrying are not in fact umbrellas at all. They are super high-voltage, excruciatingly painful cattle prods. Which they will not hesitate to use on you if you do not follow my orders at all times.”

  The kids looked unconcerned, having heard Mr. Zukas’ threats many times, but the two college girls glanced at each other uncertainly.

  “Okay,” said Mr. Zukas. “We’re about ready to ship out. Straighten out this line and pipe down, or nobody is getting on this bus. We’ll forget about the field trip and march right back into the classroom and read excerpts from the History of the Roman Empire. The exploits of Caligula may pale in comparison to what you got up to last recess, but I’ll wager that three chapters of Seneca’s speeches will tame you little warthogs. And if you’re really bad we’ll read the footnotes too.”

  The kids scrambled back into line. Yelling downscaled to whispering, and shoving to the occasional poke in the back when Mr. Zukas wasn’t looking. The doors of the bus swung open and the kids surged forward, the unruly line slowly disappearing into the bus like a snake slithering into its hole.

  * * * *

  “I think they went that way.” Katie pointed down a narrow, crooked alleyway lined with small shops. Even though it was a sunny spring day, the alleyway seemed dark and creepy, like the basement of an old house on Halloween. Each doorway was decorated with red Chinese lanterns. A shop on the corner had rows of ducks hanging in the window, like laundry hung up to dry.

  “We were following the class,” said Katie, “and Mr. Zukas was pointing his umbrella at that store with all the ducks. Isn’t it awful the way the ducks are hanging there? Why are they on hooks?”

  “That’s what they do to criminals in Chinatown,” said Sally, heading confidently in the wrong direction. “They hang ’em. These ducks were probably part of some gang. The Quackers, maybe, or the Webbed Marauders. They were outlaws. The sheriff caught ’em and executed ’em. Then he hung them up on hooks so all the other ducks can see what happens to bad guys. That’s why all the ducks in Chinatown are so law-abiding. Cause of the hooks. He’ll hang us on a hook too, if he catches us.”

  Katie gasped and turned a pale shade of green. “He will not. Will he?”

  “Sure,” nodded Sally. “We’re outlaws now. If you see the sheriff coming, hide. And don’t talk to any ducks. They might try to recruit you into their gang. Then you’ll have to carry a switchblade and learn gangsta rap. Ducks love gangsta rap. The beat drives them wild. So if you see any ducks wearing iPods, run.”

  Katie nodded and peered around fearfully. “I don’t understand how we got lost so fast. I was listening to Mr. Zukas explain how in China this is the Year of the Chicken, and then Charlie Sanderson made those stupid chicken noises, and then everyone disappeared.”

  Sally rummaged in her backpack and pulled out a rather smushed Melvin. She set him on her shoulder. “The Chinese Dragon got them,” she said nonchalantly.

  Katie gasped and turned even greener. She sat down shakily on the curb. Sally sat next to her and pulled a granola bar out of her backpack. She gave half to Katie and fed the rest to Melvin.

  “What’s the Chinese Dragon?” whispered Katie.

  Sally scratched Melvin’s nose. “It’s this giganormous monster that runs around Chinatown gobbling up little kids. I bet it swallowed the whole class in one gulp. Then it washed them down with a whole case of Mountain Dew, cause everyone knows that Mountain Dew aids the digestion. Especially if you’ve just digested Charlie Sanderson. Never eat a Sanderson. You’ll get horrible heartburn. I bet that poor dragon was thinking that a busload of kids would make a nice morning snack. Little did he realize that there was a Sanderson in the bunch. It’s lucky for him that Molly Sanderson’s not in our class. Eating Charlie just gave him heartburn. Eating Molly would have killed him.”

  Katie sniffled and blew her nose in her handkerchief. Sally handed her Melvin to pet, and gave her a pat on the back.

  “The poor class,” said Katie. “And Mr. Zukas too. All eaten. My Mom told me to be careful today. She has a ‘Be Careful’ list stuck on our fridge with a magnet. Look both ways before crossing the street. Don’t talk to strangers. Always wear your seat belt. But she never said anything about dragons. ‘Don’t get eaten by dragons’ should definitely be on the list. How come the dragon didn’t eat us?”

  Sally put Melvin back on her shoulder. “Cause the dragon knows we have Melvin with us. Dragons are super scared of hamsters. Plus, Mr. Zukas was wrong. It’s not the Year of the Chicken. It’s really the Year of the Hamster. That means Melvin’s Super Secret Hamster powers are turbo-charged this year. If any dragons come sniffing along Melvin will just zap them with his laser gun. When you zap dragons with a laser gun you get Kentucky Fried Dragon. With Hot Sauce. It tastes like chicken. C’mon, let’s go exploring.”

  Sally hopped up and tucked Melvin back in her backpack. She headed off down the alley, Katie following reluctantly and looking over her shoulder for dragons.

  “Shouldn’t we try to get home?” asked Katie. “We have to tell somebody about the class being eaten. I mean, nobody will miss Charlie Sanderson, but the rest of the class, well, it’s sad.”

  “It’s okay,” said Sally. “They won’t stay eaten. The dragon will probably barf them back up after lunch. Dragons are stupid. They always eat a giganormous lunch of Swedish meatballs and Doritos. Then they go Square Dancing. Everyone knows you should never go Square Dancing after eating Swedish meatballs and Doritos. It makes you barf. Especially if you snacked on a Sanderson after breakfast.”

  Katie nodded, looking reassured. They stopped to look in the window of a small grocery shop. Cardboard boxes overflowing with strange vegetables lined the sidewalk. Green and pink balloons were tied to an awning over the door.

  An elderly woman came out of the shop and smiled at them. She handed them pieces of dried, candied fruit. “Welcome to our shop. Today is our Grand Opening. Please stay to watch our lion dance ceremony. It is very special. It is to rid our shop of evil spirits.”

  Sally tried a piece of dried pineapple. “I could tell there were lots of evil spirits around here. I can tell cause of the smell. Evil spirits always smell like boiled socks.”

  The shopkeeper laughed. “Yes, I think you are right. Please, sit here for best view. Lion Dance will begin very soon, then no more boiled socks.”

  She pointed to a box full of large green melons. Sally and Katie sat on the box. A small crowd started to gather. Down the street a gong sounded, then a rhythmic drumbeat came closer and closer.

  Suddenly Katie screamed. “It’s the dragon! He’s going to eat us!”

  “No, no,” said the shopkeeper soothingly. “Not a dragon. He’s a lion. See his mane? He’s a good lion. To chase away the evil spirits. Watch.”

&
nbsp; Katie looked doubtfully from her to the lion. The lion did look like a Chinese dragon. It was twenty feet long, with a large fanged head and a brightly decorated body swaying in an energetic dance. Two sets of legs could be seen under the body, both wearing sneakers and doing a sort of quick foxtrot. Two dancers accompanied the lion, one banging a small, hand-held drum, the other a brass gong. The lion danced in time to their rhythm and then awkwardly cavorted into the store.

  Sally turned and peered through the window to watch as the lion danced through the narrow aisles of the grocery store. A few cans of soup got knocked off the shelves, but the clerk behind the counter just laughed and clapped along with the drum. The lion danced out the back door and disappeared.

  “See?” said the shopkeeper. “Nice lion. Now our shop is ready to bring good fortune. What do you think?”

  Sally sniffed the air. “I think you’re right. The air smells much cleaner. All the evil spirits have been run out of town. They’re probably on a bus to Los Angeles by now.”

  The shopkeeper laughed. “Yes, Los Angeles is good place for evil spirits. They feel right at home there. Maybe they get a job in the movies. Here, take these, for good luck.”

  She handed them two pink paper parasols printed with Chinese characters.

  “Thanks very much,” said Sally. “These are super. And just what we need. All great explorers have pink parasols. It keeps them from getting sunburned when they’re hacking through the jungle with their machetes. C’mon Katie.”

  Sally and Katie climbed down from the box of melons and waved good-bye to the shopkeeper.

  Sally unfurled her parasol and jauntily twirled it. As she walked along she sang a song:

  “Our class was all eaten,

  But we are not beaten.

  Our teacher was swallowed,

  Charlie Sanderson followed.

  The dragon did munch

  On our class for lunch.

  But we were not snacks,

  And with our backpacks,

  We bravely explore,

  Though it thunder and pour.

  Around us is jungle,

  But we will not bungle.

  We wander and roam,

  But always find home.”

  “I think we should find home now,” said Katie. “If we go exploring we’re just going to get lost. More lost, I mean.”

  “We’re not lost,” said Sally. “I know exactly where we are.”

  Katie looked doubtful. “Really?”

  “Sure. All great explorers have a super terrific sense of direction. We can find our way out of the deepest, darkest jungle with just a map and a compass.”

  “We don’t have a map and a compass,” said Katie.

  “Nope. But we have Melvin.”

  Sally scooped Melvin out of her backpack and held him up in the air. She waved him around like a furry Geiger counter. Melvin sneezed.

  Sally addressed Melvin. “You’re sure? Turn left and then straight down? Okay, you’re the boss.” She tucked Melvin back in the backpack. “Home’s this way.”

  Sally headed down a broad, tree-lined street which sloped down toward the harbor. Katie followed, looking relieved to be leaving Chinatown (and its dragons) far behind.

  Chapter Eight

  “This isn’t home,” said Katie, leaning over the edge of the pier to gaze at the choppy green waves below. She waved at a group of noisy California sea lions who were lolling below her on a floating wooden raft. “This is Fisherman’s Wharf. My Mom took me here once. We had crab legs. I didn’t like them. They looked like giant spider legs.”

  Sally cupped her hands around her mouth and barked at the sea lions. “They were giant spider legs. They just tell people that they’re crab legs. If they told everyone they were giant spider legs nobody would buy them.”

  “Okay,” said Katie doubtfully. “But this still isn’t home.”

  “I know,” said Sally. “Melvin just wanted to stop and say hello to the sea lions. He’s fluent in sea lion, you know. It’s a really hard language to learn, but not for hamsters. Or sea lions, of course.”

  Sally leaned forward and looked over the edge of the pier. “You know what I’ve always wanted to do?”

  Katie glanced at her nervously. “No. What?”

  “Pet a sea lion.”

  Katie nodded resignedly, as if expecting that “pet a sea lion” was going to be the answer. “Do you want me to hold your parasol?” she asked.

  “Nope. Thanks.” Sally furled her Chinese parasol and tucked it into the back of her jeans. She swung herself over the pier railing and climbed down a rickety wooden ladder nailed to the side of the pier. The sea lions began to bark loudly as Sally jumped from the last rung of the ladder onto their floating raft. A few of them slid off the pier into the water, but a large bull reared up and honked at her challengingly. Sally took a deep breath and honked back. The bull looked startled for a moment, then lumbered toward Sally, bellowing. Sally stood her ground, fists on her hips. People on the pier above her started to shout.

  When the bull was only a foot away Sally pulled her parasol out of her jeans and whacked him on the nose with it. The ponderous animal froze in surprise. Sally calmly walked past him, over to one of the smaller sea lions lying nearby, and gave it a pat on its tummy.

  As she climbed back up the ladder and over the railing the bystanders on the pier gave her a round of applause. Sally took a bow, opening her parasol and giving it a twirl. She waved to her admirers and headed off down the pier. Katie hurried to catch up.

  “C’mon, Katie. I still have my lunch money. Let’s go buy some fried clams.”

  “Do I like fried clams?” Katie asked.

  “Course you do. They’re lots better than giant spider legs. I wonder what a giant spider looks like without its legs. Probably like a hairy bowling ball.”

  Katie looked seasick. “Can I just have a Dr. Pepper?” she asked in a small voice.

  “Course, if that’s all you want. My treat. You know, Dr. Pepper is Xena’s favorite.”

  “It is?” asked Katie doubtfully.

  “Sure. She drank a whole case of it before she chopped off the head of the Gorgon. It gives you lots of energy for fighting.”

  “What’s a Gorgon?” asked Katie.

  “It’s like the Chinese Dragon, only with bigger teeth. Also it doesn’t eat little kids.”

  Katie sighed with relief. “That’s good.”

  “Yeah. It’s favorite food is Chicken-Fried Chihuahuas.”

  “No!” Katie gasped. “The poor Chihuahuas!”

  “Yep. That’s why Xena killed it. Cause eating little kids is one thing, but eating Chihuahuas is just in bad taste.”

  Katie frowned in confusion. “Do Chihuahuas taste bad?”

  “Not when they’re fried.”

  “I think maybe I’ll have a Pepsi instead,” whispered Katie.

  “An excellent choice. Want to know who else likes Pepsi?”

  “No, not really,” said Katie.

  “Okay,” replied Sally good-naturedly. She opened her backpack, pulled Melvin out, and put him on her shoulder. A seagull perched on a nearby piling eyed him hungrily. As they walked past the gull lifted off and hovered over them, watching. They passed food stands selling seafood. Sally stopped in front of a large glass tank full of live octopus. She made faces at them, while Katie did her best to look anywhere but at the tank.

  “This guy looks just like Charlie Sanderson,” remarked Sally. “Course, the octopus is lots prettier, and has fewer tentacles.”

  Sally stood on tiptoe to get a better view. Melvin, on her shoulder, was level with the top of the tank. Suddenly, the seagull that had been following them gave a loud squawk and dive-bombed at Melvin. Melvin squealed and jumped off Sally’s shoulder, right into the octopus tank. Katie screamed.

  “Melvin!” yelled Sally, beating the seagull off with her parasol.

  Melvin dog-paddled furiously through the slimy water. He tried to climb out of the tank, but the glass
walls were too slippery. A long tentacle stretched toward him. Sally reached an arm into the tank and tried to grab him, but he was just out of reach. Katie whimpered, but pulled herself together and spotted a small net on a handle, used for scooping fish out of the tank. She grabbed it and scooped Melvin out just as the tentacle wrapped around him. Looking sick, Katie bravely unwrapped the tentacle and threw it back into the tank. She handed the sodden Melvin back to Sally.

  Sally kissed Melvin right on his wet nose and threw her arms around Katie. “Oh, thank you Katie! You’re a hero. Just like Xena. You were so brave. You showed that monster who’s boss.”

  Katie blushed and wiped her hands on her skirt. “It was so slimy. Ugh! But I couldn’t let Melvin get eaten.”

  “Nope,” said Sally with a sigh of relief. “Of course not. Eaten by octopuses is not on Melvin’s list of things to do today. Hey, did you see how Melvin was swimming like an expert? And no water wings! He must have zipped over to Washington BC for his secret agent swimming lessons. I’ve been reminding him for months, but he just had no motivation. I guess almost being eaten by octopuses is very motivating. Mel should have his own TV reality show. He could call it Melvin’s Motivational Mysteries. Unleash the Power Within by not getting eaten by octopuses. He could have diet books and everything. It could have recipes for octopus stew and octopus sandwich spread. People would lose a ton of weight, cause who wants to eat an octopus? Course, it’s better than getting eaten by one. I wonder what they taste like fried? Probably better than Chihuahuas.”

  Sally sat down on a nearby bench and tried to dry Melvin with the sleeve of her parka. Melvin shivered and sneezed, looking pitiful. Sally examined him worriedly. “We need to get him dried off before he catches a cold. Last time he was sick he got the backwards sneezes. Every time he sneezed he shot backwards, like a little furry rocket in reverse. I put him on top of the clothes dryer to keep warm, but he sneezed so hard he shot backwards and fell into the washing machine. My Dad fished him out, but he smelled like Tide for weeks afterward.”