“You don’t have plans, hopes, a dream?”
“Well . . . maybe one, but I hate to mention it. I’ve always thought it might be fun to be a handsome prince.”
He beamed a smile and clapped his wings together. “Oh, that’s perfect! This won’t take long at all. See, there’s a Handsome Prince School on the corner of Fifth and Congress, and I can take you right to it.”
“Gosh, no fooling?”
He fluttered his wings and landed on the back of my neck. “Forward ever, backward never! Off we go to Handsome Prince School!”
So, with Boris O’Bat riding on my neck, I wiggled through the hole under the fence and we set off on our journey. Mom wouldn’t have been proud to know that her son was hanging out with a bat, but at least she got her yard back.
Chapter Ten: Handsome Prince School
Once we were outside the yard and in the alley, I asked Boris O’Bat for directions to the school.
He gave it some thought. “Let me do some calculations: left, right, up, down, sideways, backward. Let’s go . . . west.”
“West puts us back in the yard.”
“Oh, right. Sorry.”
“Go right?”
“No, I said ‘Oh, right.’ Go north.”
“North is left.”
“That’s right. Go north. Forward!”
This was a little confusing but I figured he knew what he was doing, so off we went, hiking up the alley to the north and toward the center of town. I started off in a trot, I mean, this was exciting. But after a while the heat started bothering me and I slowed to a walk. Then I stopped to rest.
“Boris?” No answer. “Are we almost there? Boris O’Bat?”
I heard a snorting sound. “Who called? Where am I?”
“Were you asleep?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Asleep? Well, maybe. Okay, I was asleep. Bats sleep during the day.” He yawned. “What are we doing?”
“You’re taking me to Handsome Prince School.”
“Sure, got it, Handsome Prince School. Take the next right, go two blocks, then hang a left. That’ll take us right to it. Wake me up when we get there.”
Bats snore in their sleep. I didn’t know that, but they do . . . or Boris did anyway. He made a lot of funny sounds, kind of like a miniature pig. I followed his directions and he slept the whole time. When I found myself standing in front of the Dixie Dog Drive-In Café, I began to wonder.
“Boris, wake up. We’re here.” He didn’t answer, so I gave myself a shake that sent him tumbling to the ground.
He sat up and gave me an angry glare. “What kind of camel are you, throwing off your passenger!”
“I’m not a camel, and this isn’t the Handsome Prince School.”
“Says who?”
“Says me. Read the sign.”
He squinted his eyes. “Who makes these signs? It looks like a tree.”
“It is a tree. You’re looking in the wrong direction.”
He turned to the left and squinted at a street lamp. “I can’t make out the lettering. What does it say?”
“What are you, blind?”
“I told you, my eyes aren’t so good. I’ve got glasses but I never wear them. They make me look like a freak.”
“Well, since you’re giving the directions, maybe you’d better put them on.”
He scowled. “Promise you won’t laugh?”
“Who could laugh? I think we’re lost.”
“Oh fiddle, we’re not lost.” Boris reached under his left wing and pulled out a little pair of spectacles with black rims. When he slid them on his nose, I laughed. They made his eyes look as big as baseballs. He said, “Dear Gussy, this isn’t Handsome Prince School.”
“I told you.”
“Is this Congress Avenue?”
“It’s Main Street.”
He rolled his baseball-eyes around. “This is Austin, right?”
I couldn’t believe it. “You’re not only half-blind, you’re a big faker, too. I’m going back home and I hope I never see you again.”
I started walking away. He took off his glasses and followed me, hopping along on his wings. “Wait, let’s talk. It was a little mistake. Are you going to hang a friend for making one little mistake? I hate wearing glasses.”
“I’m not interested.”
“Wait. Show me the Congress Avenue Bridge. I can find the school from there, honest.”
“We don’t have any bridges, because we don’t have any rivers.”
“No rivers? That can’t be right. Austin has a river that goes right through the middle of town. It must be around here somewhere.”
I stopped. “It’s not around here somewhere because this is Twitchell, not Austin.”
His jaw dropped. “Twitchell! I’ve never even heard of Twitchell.”
“You’re blind. Put on your glasses and take a look.”
He jerked away. “The last time I wore them, you laughed and said I looked like a freak.”
“I didn’t say that, you said it.”
“Well, you laughed.”
“I won’t laugh now, ’cause this isn’t funny.”
He reached under his wing and brought out his glasses. When he slid them on his nose, I had to bite my tongue to keep from going into stitches of laughter. I mean, the guy looked ridiculous.
He gazed out at the wide empty Main Street in front of us. He shook his head and heaved a sigh. “Oh brother! This isn’t Austin. This isn’t even close to Austin. This is Nothingsville! How did I get here?”
“Well, I can guess. You were too proud to wear your glasses, took a wrong turn, and missed Austin by five hundred miles.”
“Five hundred miles! Are you serious?”
“You’re in the Texas Panhandle.”
His head slumped down on his chest. “The Panhandle! Oh brother. It snows up here, right? This is no place for a bat. I live under the bridge in Austin, and I’ve got to get home . . .” He cut his eyes at me. “. . . but I can’t until I settle this business with you. And we have a problem.”
“Yeah, you don’t know the difference between the Dixie Dog and Handsome Prince School.”
“Hey, cut me some slack, will you? I got the wrong town, that’s all.”
“Yeah, and that’s enough.” I stuck my nose in his face. “You’re an ugly little bat. You look ridiculous in your glasses. I don’t want any favors from you, and I’m going back home. Good-bye.”
I walked away, leaving him alone on the curb. He yelled, “Hey, wait, come back here! I’m honor-bound, I can’t go home until I return the good deed!”
I ignored him and walked on. I couldn’t wait to tell Mom about the silly bat.
Chapter Eleven: Looking for a Job
A big surprise was waiting for me back at the yard. Mom didn’t want to hear about Boris O’Bat or anything else. She wouldn’t let me back in the yard and told me to go get a job. Her heart had turned to solid ice, and mine was broken.
Well, that settled it.
I spent the whole day looking for a job and you talk about tired, worn out, and discouraged! Every place I went, they laughed at me and said they didn’t need a stub-tailed little mutt.
Okay, I went to one place, the Twitchell Livestock Auction, and had a job interview with the dog in charge of cow work. He was a blue heeler named Teaspoon, only he shortened his name to Spoon. I couldn’t imagine how he got that name and he didn’t say. Here’s how it went.
SPOON: “I’m glad you stopped by, Drover. I’m looking for a few good dogs.”
DROVER: “You probably wouldn’t want me. I’ve got a stub tail.”
SPOON: “No, that’s fine. Most of your cowdogs have a docked tail.”
DROVER: “Yeah, but mine looks ridiculous.”
SPOON: “Son, we’re hiring dogs, not ta
ils. So you want a job, huh?”
DROVER: “My mother does.”
SPOON: “Your mother wants a job?”
DROVER: “Yeah. For me.”
SPOON: “Oh, one of those deals. Ha. Well, you’re too old to be hanging around the house.”
DROVER: “Actually, I’m still a kid, just big for my age.”
SPOON: “You don’t look so big.”
DROVER: “That’s what I mean. I’m kind of a runt.”
SPOON: “My daddy used to say that if all four legs touch the ground, you’re big enough to work.”
DROVER: “Work? Ouch.”
SPOON: “Something wrong?”
DROVER: “Oh, nothing. I’ve got a bad leg.”
SPOON: “Which one?”
DROVER: “It varies.”
SPOON: “I didn’t notice you limping.”
DROVER: “Sometimes it’s okay, but then it quits me at the very worst times.”
SPOON: “That’s all right. Three legs’ll do for this job. It ain’t the Olympics. You ever worked around livestock?”
DROVER: “What’s livestock?”
SPOON: “Cattle.”
DROVER: “Oh, heck no. I’m scared of cows.”
SPOON: “We can train you on the job.”
DROVER: “I’m not very smart.”
SPOON: “Good. In the long run, that helps.”
DROVER: “And I’ve got no ambition. Zero.”
SPOON: “Perfect. You’re just the dog we’ve been looking for.”
DROVER: “Uh oh, this old leg’s getting worse.”
SPOON: “You’re hired, and you can start right now.”
DROVER: “I can’t walk!”
SPOON: “I’ll get you a cane.”
DROVER: “I’m allergic to wood.”
SPOON: “It’s fiberglass.”
DROVER: “Help, murder! They’re trying to give me a job!”
Anyway, it was very discouraging, all those job interviews and all the rejections. Nobody wanted a mutt like me. I could have told ’em. I wouldn’t have hired me either.
Chapter Twelve: Mom Loses Her Yard
It was one of the most discouraging days of my life. I had a feeling that Mom would want to hear all about it, so I headed back to the old homestead. I put on my best manners and tapped on the gate.
“Mom? You’ll never guess who’s here. Mom?” I tapped and tapped, then banged. Nobody came. Then I noticed a sign hanging on the gate.
WARNING!
This Yard Is Being Used As A
TOXIC WASTE DUMP!!
No Dogs Or Kinfolks Allowed!
Run Before It’s Too Late!!!!!!!
Oh my gosh, what a disaster! They’d turned Mom’s yard into a dump, and I just hoped she got out alive. Surely she did, but I didn’t dare stick around to find out. I ran as fast as my legs would go, before the deadly fumes could get me.
Poor old Mom. She’d always loved her yard. Now she’d have to start all over again somewhere else. Gee, maybe I could find the new place and help her get settled in. Wouldn’t she be thrilled?
Come to think of it, she might not be so thrilled. The last time I’d seen her, she’d been putting out pretty strong hints that she wanted me out. But wait, she’d want to hear about my first day of looking for a job, wouldn’t she? Sure she would. I was still her son.
In a town of two thousand people and dogs, the odds of me finding her weren’t so great, but I had nothing better to do. I walked up and down the alleys, calling, “Mom? Mother? Yoo-hoo, it’s your child, your poor lost lonely child!”
I’d never thought about this before, but when you walk around town yelling “mother,” every mother in town comes at a run, so that turned out to be not such a great idea and I gave it up. Mom would have to go to sleep that night, never knowing that her son had flunked his first job interview.
And maybe his last one, too. It’s very discouraging when you put your very best into an interview and they still turn you down, just because you’re a runt and have a stub tail and sneeze a lot and sometimes walk with a limp. This world can be a pretty cruel place.
By the time darkness fell, I had wandered to the south edge of town. If I kept walking, I would be out in the country and that was no place I wanted to be. I’d never been there, but I could imagine what I might find: lions, tigers, rippopotamuses, effanants, purple gorillas, giant lizards, and fifteen kinds of Night Monsters.
Who needed that? Not me.
I started back toward town, and that’s when I noticed a bunch of trucks and tents sitting in a vacant field. And bright lights and music, nice music. It looked like a happy place, and after a day of heartbreak and failure, I found myself drifting toward it.
I’ll be derned, it was a carnival. Right away, I remembered what Mom had told us kids about carnivals: stay away from ’em, ’cause there’s nothing in a carnival for a nice little doggie.
Mom was right about most things, but you know what? Mom wasn’t around to say no. Hee hee. And if they don’t say no, it means yes.
I have to confess something. Every once in a while I get an urge to be a naughty dog. I mean, I’d spent most of my life being a “nice little doggie,” and what had it gotten me? Kicked out of my yard and out on the street without a job is what it had gotten me. And all of a sudden, I felt an urge to walk on the Wild Side.
I walked into the carnival. Boy, what an exciting place. Loud music, bright lights, kids eating pink stuffy stuck on a stiff . . . pink fluffy stuff on a stick, and people throwing baseballs at a target. Everybody was laughing and having fun, and all at once I forgot all my troubles and cares.
So there I was, walking and gawking my way through this amazing place, when I came to a tent with a big banner above the entrance. It showed this enormous snake, and I mean ENORMOUS, twenty-five-feet long and as big around as a tree. It had something in its mouth but you couldn’t tell what it was, ’cause the snake had swallowed everything but two back legs.
I moved closer for a better look. It was pretty spooky. Oh, and there was a sign in big red letters that said, “DOG-EATING ANACONDA!!”
Just then, I heard a voice. “Pssssst! You there, come ’ere!”
I glanced around and saw a dog, peeking his head out of the tent. “Were you talking to me?”
“Yeah. Come ’ere.”
He stepped out of the tent and I could see that he was one of those Doberman pinscher dogs—tall, thin, slick-haired, and pretty handsome but with a toothy smile. Big white teeth. I didn’t care for his eyes. They were greenish and had a kind of cunning flash.
As I walked over to him, he seemed to be sizing me up. He nodded and said, “Yeah!”
“Hi there. I’m Drover. What’s your name?”
“Everybody calls me Slick. How’s it going, kid? You like the carnival? Having fun? What a place, huh?” He cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. “Hey, what’s this? You look sad. Don’t tell me, let me guess. You’re out on your own, first day in the world?”
“Well . . .”
“And things aren’t going so great? The world’s a big place and not so friendly? How’m I doing so far?”
“Well . . .”
“I knew it.” He gazed up at the sky. “Let’s see . . . bad day, discouraged, down in the dumps. Nobody’s looking for another mutt, am I right?”
“Well . . .”
He moved closer and whispered, “They just don’t understand who you really are, Rover. They just don’t get it.”
“It’s Drover, with a D.”
“They don’t understand that you’re a little dog with big dreams that some day you’ll become . . . help me here. What’s your big dream?”
“Oh, I dream about bones sometimes.”
His smile faded. “Don’t tell me about bones. I’m talking about the B
ig Dream, the what’s-deep-inside-you kind of dream, what you’d be if you could make a wish.”
“Oh, that one.”
“See? I knew it. Now, uh, help me here. What was that wish?” He cocked his ear and waited.
“Well . . . you’d probably think it was silly.”
“Oh no, no, no! Look at all this, kid.” He swept a paw toward the carnival. “It’s one big dream in lights and music. That’s our business, dreams.”
“Oh. You work in the carnival?”
“Right. Now, you were saying?”
“Well . . . I’ve always thought it might be fun to be a handsome prince.”
He flashed an ivory smile. “A handsome prince! Oh, perfect, great dream!”
Just then, another dog came out of the tent. This one was a little guy, one of those mutts with short legs and hair all over his face. He spoke to Slick. “You got one yet?”
Slick placed a paw on my shoulder. “Shorty, meet Rover, my new buddy.”
“It’s Drover, with a D.”
“He wants to become a handsome prince!”
Shorty broke out in a cackling laugh. “Ha ha ha! That’s a new one. Handsome prince! Ha ha ha ha!”
Slick glared at Shorty and used a hind leg to push him back into the tent. “Don’t pay any attention to Shorty. He ain’t too smart. Now, where were we? Oh yes, handsome prince.” He glanced over both shoulders and whispered, “You won’t believe this, kid, but this carnival has a training program for handsome princes.”
“No fooling? But I thought Shorty said, ‘That’s a new one.’”
“What? Oh no, no, no, no. What he said was, ‘I knew one.’ See, he knew a dog who went through our Handsome Prince Program. Me, why, I’ve known dozens of them.”
“Gosh, no fooling?”
“No fooling.” He whispered behind his paw. “Dogs from all over Texas come here to learn Handsome Princing. This is the place, kid, believe me.”
“I’ll be derned.”
He studied the claws on his right front foot. “So, uh, what do you say? Can we sign you up?”
Drover's Secret Life Page 4