Lennie jumped on me and pinned me to the bed. ‘I can just see it too,’ he said. ‘Ritcho the Rat. The boy with the big black eye.’
He raised a fist in a joking way and shook it in my face.
‘Why not?’ I asked.
‘Mum and Dad say I’ll be turned into a freak show.’
Right at that moment Gran’s voice came through the door. ‘Richard, turn that light off. It’s late.’
Lennie shut his trap and jumped off me. The room was plunged into darkness. I could hear a sort of whimpering noise. Was he crying? Oh no, had I said the wrong thing? No. He was laughing. Everything was okay.
We sat there and talked for ages and ages. The room was illuminated by the weird flickering of Lennie’s marvellous mouth. In the end Lennie climbed out of the window and headed for home. ‘See you, Ritcho,’ he said.
‘See ya, Lighthouse,’ I called after him.
The paddock outside was dark and I could see nothing. All was silent. Suddenly a bright yellow smile appeared, floating eerily and alone in the night air.
And then it was gone.
5
Now the next bit is sad, so I am going to get it over and done with quickly.
Lennie’s parents died.
Alan and Shirley Dobson were killed in a car accident. I’m not going to tell you what he went through. It was terrible. It turned out that Alan and Shirley had no relatives in Australia. There was no one who could look after him. So after a lot of mucking around with social workers he was allowed to live with Gran and me.
Lennie was very sad for a long, long time. But he still managed to keep his teeth a secret. He wanted to obey the wishes of his dead parents. Gran found out but she never said a word.
Lennie had always known that he was adopted. It soon turned into the only thing he could think about.
‘I like living with you and Gran,’ he said sadly. ‘But I want to find my first mum.’ He was sitting on the top bunk in our room fiddling with his little wooden monkey. ‘She left me this,’ he said. ‘When I was born. The day after tomorrow I’ll be thirteen. I bet she would give me a present if she knew where I was.’
He stared down at the monkey. ‘This could be a clue,’ he said. ‘It might help me to find my mum.’
‘Show it to Gran,’ I said. ‘She might know.’
Lennie shook his head. No one was allowed to touch his precious monkey. Gran didn’t even know he had it.
‘She’s very smart,’ I said. ‘She’s been all over the world. She might be able to tell you where it comes from. You never know.’
Gran sat on the sofa and turned the grinning monkey over in her knobbly hands. ‘I have seen one before,’ she said. ‘It comes from China.’ She handed it back to Lennie. ‘It’s called a message monkey. But I don’t know why.’
The next day Lennie did something unusual. He took the monkey to school. He messed around with it all the way to school on the bus. Then when we got to school he fiddled around with the monkey under the desk. ‘Put that away, Lennie,’ said the teacher.
‘Yes, Mrs Richmond,’ he said. Lennie put the monkey away but five minutes later he was at it again.
‘Okay,’ said Mrs Richmond. ‘Once is enough. Give it to me, Lennie. You can have it back after school.’ She grabbed the monkey by the head.
‘No,’ yelled Lennie. ‘You’re not getting it.’ He hung on to the monkey’s legs and wouldn’t let go.
‘Really, Lennie,’ said Mrs Richmond, trying to twist it out of his hands. ‘Do as you’re …’
Pop.
The monkey’s head came off. Mrs Richmond went red in the face. ‘I’m sorry, Lennie,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean to break it.’
But Lennie wasn’t listening. He was too busy pulling a small roll of paper out of the monkey’s insides. He unrolled it and quickly read what was there. His lips trembled. His eyes stared wildly. Suddenly he jumped to his feet and ran out of the class. The body of his precious monkey dropped to the floor – discarded like an unwanted toy.
‘Come back,’ yelled Mrs Richmond.
She was too late. He was into the school yard, over the fence and out of sight before she could move.
Without stopping to think I jumped to my feet, raced out of the door and belted down the street after him.
We were both going to be in big trouble. But what else could I do? We were mates.
6
I ran around the streets looking for Lennie.
‘Lighthouse,’ I yelled. ‘Where are ya?’
There was no answer from the silent streets.
A little way off I heard the horn of the midday train. It was just about to leave for Melbourne. Something told me Lennie was on it. Don’t ask me how I knew. I just did.
I raced down to the station just as the train was about to move. I jumped on and started to walk through the carriages. There he was, crouched down in a seat near the toilets.
I slid into the seat next to him. ‘Lennie,’ I said. ‘What are you doing? Where are you going?’
He handed me the small piece of paper he had found in the monkey. I read it quickly.
My Dear Little Lennie,
I hope you will forgive me for leaving you in the babies’ home. But I can’t bring you up. I have big problems. I love you very much but I have to let you go. When you are older you will find this note in the monkey. If you want to meet me, go to a place called Donuts in the Basement in Swanston Street, Melbourne. I am going to wait for you on the 1st of May every year. That is your birthday. I will be there at ten in the morning. You will find me next to the donut machine. I will be wearing a black coat. I understand if you don’t want to meet me.
Love,
Mum
‘It’s your birthday tomorrow,’ I said.
Before he could say a thing Lennie jumped up. The ticket collector was coming.
‘Quick,’ he said. ‘Into the dunny.’
We both squeezed into the tiny toilet and shut the door. ‘Talk softly,’ said Lennie. ‘It’s only meant for one.’
We stayed in there for ages and ages. At least forty minutes. Lennie told me how he had to get to the donut place to meet his mum. If she was still alive. He kept looking at the note as if it was the photo of a long-dead loved one.
‘Hurry up in there,’ came a loud voice. ‘There’s five people out here waiting. What are you doing? Hatching an egg?’
We opened the toilet door with red faces and went back to our seat. It was a country train and the conductor kept walking up and down checking tickets.
‘How much money have you got?’ said Lennie.
‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘What about you?’
‘Fifty cents,’ he said.
‘Tickets, boys,’ said a loud voice.
The conductor was tall and tough-looking. I could tell that she was used to handling people trying to sneak a ride without paying. I was right.
‘I know you’ve been hiding in the toilet,’ she said. ‘The oldest trick in the book.’
We both smiled weakly, trying to think up a good story.
At that very moment the train rushed into a tunnel. The whole carriage fell into darkness. Or should I say the whole carriage did not fall into darkness. Lennie’s teeth shone brightly into the gloom. A mouth, all on its own, floating in the air. With a scary-looking grin.
‘We haven’t got tickets because …’ said the row of flashing teeth.
‘Aagh,’ screamed the conductor. She fled down the aisle and disappeared.
The train sped out of the tunnel and Lennie’s teeth returned to normal in the bright daylight. Other passengers turned and stared. They hadn’t seen what happened and wanted to know what all the fuss was about.
Thirty seconds later the conductor returned with two railway men in uniform. ‘No tickets,’ she said loudly. ‘And this one put on some sort of mask and scared the living daylights out of me.’
The men pulled us roughly out of our seats.
The train stopped at a tiny country station.<
br />
We were tossed out.
‘Don’t try that again,’ yelled the conductor. ‘I know your faces.’
7
We stared around as the train disappeared into the distance. The platform had one tiny shed with a verandah. There was no one around. Empty paddocks stretched off into the distance on every side. There was a small car park and an old stone bridge which climbed over the tracks to a dusty road on the other side.
Lennie looked at his watch. ‘How will we get to Melbourne in time?’ he groaned.
‘There might be another train,’ I said hopefully.
We were at the back of beyond. The whole world seemed filled with silence. The only sound was a far-off crow calling mournfully into the empty sky. I started to think about Gran. She would be worried.
The conductor had left a box beside the tracks. It was full of engine parts.
Minutes passed. Then hours. It began to grow dark.
‘We could try walking,’ I said.
‘No,’ said Lennie. ‘We don’t know how far it is to a town. Someone is going to come and pick up this box. They might give us a lift.’
He was right about someone coming.
It was well and truly dark when the sound of a motor joined the song of the chirping crickets. After a little while the lights of an old tractor came into view. It crossed the bridge and pulled up with the motor still running. A farmer with a grey beard and a battered hat jumped off and picked up the box.
‘Excuse me, mister,’ said Lennie’s mouth out of the darkness. ‘But could you give us a lift?’
‘Oh my gawd, oh my gawd,’ yelled the farmer. ‘Terrible, terrible teeth. Mercy, mercy.’ He dropped the box of parts noisily on to the platform.
All you could see of Lennie was his bright teeth. They seemed to be flying alone in the night air like a tiny flying saucer.
The farmer fled back to his tractor and roared up to the bridge. Crash. The front wheel hit the bridge wall sending a huge block of sandstone crashing on to the tracks below.
‘Stop,’ I yelled. ‘Come back. Lennie won’t hurt you.’
The tractor did a few wobbles and roared into the distance.
Another sound rumbled through the night. Distant – but coming closer. It was a train.
We peered down through the hole in the bridge wall. ‘There’s a huge block of stone down there,’ I said. ‘We have to move it. Otherwise the train will …’
‘… crash!’ screamed Lennie. He was already scrambling down the track.
‘Wait for me,’ I yelled.
We jumped on to the tracks and pushed and heaved until our eyes felt as if they were going to pop out of our heads. We just couldn’t budge the block of stone. It was too heavy. The train was coming closer and closer. There was only a minute left.
Suddenly Lennie went belting down the track towards the train. He was waving his arms crazily.
And opening and shutting his mouth. Two long flashes, one short and two more longs. SOS. He was spelling out the emergency message with his marvellous mouth.
Lennie tripped. His face smashed down on to one of the iron rails. Quick as a flash he sprang to his feet and looked around with a wild expression. Something was wrong. Something was different. He had blood on his face.
‘Oh, Lighthouse,’ I shouted.
One of his teeth was missing. There was a big gap in the front.
But he still had plenty of light left. He flashed his message down the track running furiously towards the speeding train. A horn blared its warning.
The wheels of the train locked, sending out a shower of sparks. There was a terrible screech as the train skidded wildly along the tracks. And ground to a halt right in front of Lennie.
He had saved the train.
8
‘Amazing,’ said the train driver. ‘I can hardly believe it. I don’t believe it. Luminous teeth. Whatever next?’
We sat there in the cabin of the huge locomotive, staring along the tracks. Lennie kept his mouth firmly shut. He hadn’t opened it once since the train stopped. The step of opening his mouth at night in public was just too much for him.
‘You are heroes,’ said the driver as he peered into the darkness ahead. ‘There are over a hundred people on this train. Tell me how you did it.’
I told him how we saved the train. And about the tremendous teeth of the boy sitting next to us. But not about Lennie’s mother.
‘It’s a great story,’ said the driver. ‘But luminous teeth. Come off it. You sure have a good imagination.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘It’s true.’
‘No it’s not,’ said the driver.
‘Yes it is,’ said Lennie, lighting up the cabin like a wild flashing disco.
Well, the driver just about went through the roof.
‘Oh my godmother,’ he said.
He didn’t stop shaking for about ten minutes. After he’d settled down I told him the story of Lennie’s mum and us going to meet her in the morning. Lennie was red in the face. It must have taken a lot of courage to say those first few words.
‘I’d love to help you two boys,’ said the driver. ‘But I’ve got some bad news, I’m afraid.’
We both looked at him. ‘Donuts in the Basement closed down years ago. They pulled it down.’
‘What’s there now?’ said Lennie anxiously.
‘A railway station,’ he answered. ‘An underground railway station.’
9
The train driver’s name was Albert. He was a real nice guy. When we reached Melbourne we rang up Gran from the station. At first she was relieved, then annoyed. But she said we could spend the night with Albert. He took us back to his place and agreed to wake us up well before ten o’clock in the morning.
It was a long night but finally the morning of Lennie’s birthday dawned. There were no presents. But it didn’t matter because there was only one thing he wanted.
Albert gave us a smile as we headed for Museum Station. ‘I’m sorry I can’t come with you to look for Lennie’s mother, boys,’ he said, ‘but I have to work today.’
Lennie and I walked slowly along Swanston Street. We had never been to Melbourne before. There were trams and cars and trucks and noise everywhere. Huge buildings.
‘I’ve never seen so many people in my life,’ said Lennie slowly. He stared at the crowds rushing by. ‘We’re never going to find my mother. Not a chance.’
I had to agree with him. But I didn’t say it out loud. ‘There it is,’ I said. ‘Museum Station.’
After a bit of nervous mucking around we got up the courage to step onto the escalator. Neither of us had ever been on one. At first I wasn’t sure how to do it. But Lennie just walked on as if he had been doing it all his life. He only had one thing on his mind. His mother. I took a teetering step and followed. Down we went, into the brightly lit station. Everything was white and glaring. Except the people’s clothes.
‘They are all wearing black,’ groaned Lennie. ‘We’d never recognise my mum even if she was here.’
There were hundreds of people milling around. Maybe thousands. We stood beside the escalator, staring down a flight of steps to the main platform below.
I looked at my watch. Two minutes to ten.
‘There’s not a donut machine anywhere,’ I said.
Lennie blinked back the tears. ‘She probably gave up years ago,’ he said. ‘When they pulled the donut shop down.’
A train stopped and another huge crowd spilled out of it. It was hopeless. Even if we had yelled out at the top of our voices or held up a sign, no one would have noticed us up there.
It was ten o’clock. Exactly.
I looked around desperately for help. Nearby was a bloke in overalls. An electrician working on some wires inside a box on the wall. There was a sign saying:
MAINS
STAFF ONLY
‘Hey, mister,’ I said.
He stood up and grinned. ‘Yeah?’ he said.
That’s when I noticed it. A huge leve
r with the word POWER next to it. I quickly moved over to the box and shoved the lever up.
‘Hey,’ shrieked the electrician.
A great roar went up from the huge crowd as the whole station was plunged into darkness.
‘Smile, Lennie,’ I shouted. ‘Smile like you never have in your life.’
Suddenly a brightly lit mouth appeared beside me. A row of shining teeth with one little gap in the front. His smile was floating all on its own in the air. A silence fell over the crowd.
‘Look,’ I shouted. ‘Look down there, Lennie.’
There, far below, was another shining mouth, returning the smile and saying words which could not be heard. But you didn’t have to be a lip-reader to see that they were saying, ‘Lennie, Lennie. Oh, Lennie.’
Lennie’s lips began to make their way down the stairs in little jumps. There was nothing to be seen but two brightly lit mouths rushing towards each other.
For a brief minute Lennie’s mouth disappeared as his mother pulled his wet face into her chest.
The station lights came on and there was a wonderful sight. Mother and son together after all these years. A huge cheer went up from the crowd. They thought it was some sort of stunt.
I have to say I wiped away a few tears from my own eyes.
10
Well, everything turned out great. Lennie moved to the city to live with his mum. I miss him, but they both come up and stay with me and Gran in the holidays. We are all the best of friends.
Now you might say that this story is not true. But it is.
And I can prove it.
Every night I go to bed and turn off the light. Then I get out a book and read. I don’t need the light on because of a little present that Lennie gave to me. I put it on the pillow and it shines up onto my book.
It is the tooth.
The whole tooth.
And nothing but the tooth.
Paul Jenning's Weirdest Stories Page 2