Penny hugged Teddy and scruffed up his hair. Jibby hugged his wife and planted a furry kiss on her lips. Chip looked at Big and thought of doing the same but the very idea of such a thing was frightening. Kissing someone for the first time is always fraught with danger. Will they kiss you back or turn away, leaving you standing in a pool of awkward embarrassment? Though he had risked his life to save Big on more than one occasion, this was a risk that Chip found himself unwilling to take. He gave her a hug and that was all. He had successfully maintained his dignity, though inside he cursed himself for his failure to seize what seemed like a perfect opportunity.
“Well,” said Dizzy with the biggest grin his face had ever known. “Now that the curse is over, I guess I won’t be needing these.” He removed the completely unnecessary earmuffs and prepared to toss them aside when he promptly lost his balance and fell to the ground.
Jibby threw him a dirty look and apologized for the disruption as Sammy helped Dizzy to his feet, throwing his back out in the process.
Sammy wailed in pain but the duke paid little attention to the commotion. He was busy admiring the chalice as well as his reflection in its polished surface. When he finally tore his eyes away from the cup, he made an announcement in prefekt Engelsk. He declared that this was too great an occasion to be celebrated with a mere vingdingle. This magnificent event could only be properly observed with a bona fide shindiggle.
He waddled back up the stairs and took the mallet once more. With the chalice in one hand, he struck the gong with the mallet. Instantly the giant bronze disc fell from its fancy frame and landed directly on the duke’s right foot. The pain was so intense that the duke found himself unable to scream. His eyes bugged out of his head in opposite directions as the gong rolled off his foot and bounced down the stairs with a sound that was torture to the eardrums. Gong! Gong! Gong! Each step louder than the last. Juanita grabbed Teddy and pulled him out of the way as the massive gong rolled across the room until it met with a very large mirror, smashing the glass into thousands of pieces and sending everyone running for cover. The empty frame dropped from the wall and began to fall like a giant redwood, its enormous height covering the entire length of the room. It crashed to the ground, narrowly missing the duke but successfully demolishing his bed and chair, turning them to splintered wood and scattered jewels.
The gong spun and spun, faster and faster, with an unbearable racket until finally it lay flat on the floor amid the broken glass.
The door opened and the two servants reappeared. “Ja, Hertugen?”
Some Predictable Advice On
Psychic Powers
Admittedly I am a fierce skeptic when it comes to the topic of psychic abilities, most likely because I am a Libra and we tend to be that way.
You can’t help but be doubtful about things like astrology when you see the constellations on which the signs of the zodiac are based. These figures in the sky were named by the ancient Greeks, who were able to gaze upon a grouping of eight stars and determine that it looked like a crab, which is a ten-legged animal. To me the constellation of Cancer looks more like a sombrero. The ancient Greeks, however, did not wear sombreros and so they opted instead for the crab, which, I imagine, is a lot tougher to match with a pair of slacks.
But who could have predicted that thousands of years later, astrology (unlike the sombrero) would be more popular than ever? Today, there are psychics everywhere, and they are not cheap. A psychic reading can cost as much as a couple hundred dollars. For twenty dollars you can go to a Chinese restaurant, get some moo goo gai pan, an order of pork fried rice, and your fortune wrapped in a crispy cookie. How many psychics do you know who will give you, in addition to predictions about your future, a crispy cookie? Exactly.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “If there’s no such thing as psychic ability, then how do you know what we’re thinking? And, furthermore, how do you explain Nostradamus?”
Actually, I have no explanation for why someone would name his child Nostradamus. For those of you unfamiliar with the man, Nostradamus was a sixteenth-century astrologer who accurately predicted the occurrence of various wars, earthquakes, floods, and the seventeenth century, which nobody saw coming.
His predictions, though amazingly accurate, did nothing to change the events he forecast. The point is, despite our desire to know the future, there is very little we can do about it and the only time a star will ever play a part in our destiny is when our own sun explodes millions of years from now and bakes us all like a crispy Chinese cookie.
I would thereby advise you that even if your psychic hairless dog warns you of impending danger, sometimes there’s nothing you can do but ride it out and hope for the best.
Chapter 18
When Gateman and the professor arrived in the tiny village, the professor removed the magazine from his pocket and the two men began the arduous task of going door to door, showing Ethan’s photo to everyone they met, asking if they had seen the brilliant scientist. They asked at the inn, the bakery, the fish shop, the vegetable market, and every little house within walking distance, but no one could remember having seen Mr. Cheeseman. This may have been due to the fact that he was the most normal-looking member of his traveling group.
“I knew it,” said the professor, angrily stuffing the magazine back into his pocket. “As long as it took us to get here they’re probably long gone by now.”
“I told you I can’t walk fast in these shoes,” Gateman retorted. “Besides, there’s still one place we haven’t checked.”
There had been a changing of the guard by the time Gateman and the professor approached the castle. Two fresh sentries with fresh lances (or the exact same lances, hard to tell) watched the two bickering men waddle up to the gatehouse. The guards shouted a warning in Danish and the professor responded with one of the few Danish words he had learned over the last three weeks of waiting around in Denmark. “Hej,” he said.
“Hej,” said the guards.
“We’re looking for a friend of ours.”
The guards seemed confused and muttered something in Danish. The professor repeated his words, this time louder and more slowly. If the guards didn’t understand English, he reasoned, perhaps they would if it was presented to them at a slower pace and a greater volume.
The guards responded by repeating what they had said, louder and more slowly. The professor looked confused and said, even more loudly and slowly than the previous two times, “WE’RE … LOOKING … FOR … A … FRIEND … OF … OURS!” Gateman rolled his eyes and shook his head. At this rate, he thought, they would all grow very old and very deaf before anything was accomplished. “Show them the picture,” he urged with an elbow to the ribs.
“Oh, yes,” said the professor, removing the magazine from his pocket. “This man. We’re looking for this man.”
The guards leaned in for a closer look. “Ja,” said one guard, nodding and pointing over his shoulder with his thumb. “Der vide guld jallus.”
“What the heck is a vide guld jallus?” said Gateman.
“I don’t know,” said the professor. “But it seems as though Ethan Cheeseman is somewhere inside this castle. Did you hear that? We’ve found him! We’ve found him at last!” The professor was so happy he almost hugged Gateman before quickly remembering that he had a rather strong dislike for the man. Instead, he turned to the guards and explained, very loudly and very slowly, that he and his assistant needed to see the man in the picture immediately.
The guards shook their heads and ran off a long explanation in Danish, pointing to the castle and miming the acts of eating and drinking.
“What did they say?” asked Gateman.
“I’m not sure,” said the professor. “But I think I heard something about a shindig. I guess we’ll just have to come back later.” The professor walked away and Gateman hurried after him.
“Later?” The professor’s lack of assertiveness was making Gateman crazy. “Don’t you know anything ab
out getting past security? Give me some coins.”
“What?”
“Some money. Give me some money.” Gateman thrust his open palm a little too close to the professor’s face.
After nearly a month of waiting around in Denmark, staying at inns and eating at restaurants, the professor’s cash reserves were running dangerously low. He pulled a couple of the few remaining coins from his pocket and handed them to Gateman. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Watch and learn,” said Gateman. He approached the guards with a casual swagger and a smarmy grin. “Hey fellas, looking good today. I simply must get the name of your tailor. And who does your hair? You have to tell me his name and what size bowl he uses. Now listen. I realize we don’t have an invitation to this little shindig of yours, but perhaps my good friend, misterrrrr”—Gateman paused to check whose likeness appeared on the coins—“fat guy with a beard might convince you to let us in.”
With a wink he handed the coins to the guards, who thanked Gateman with wide smiles and eagerly pocketed the money. Gateman waited, but the guards did not give the signal to lower the drawbridge.
“Okay,” he said, “this is the part where you turn the other way while we sneak inside.” The guards smiled and nodded but did nothing else. “All right listen, you simpletons. Haven’t you ever taken a bribe before? This is ridiculous. I’m dealing with a bunch of amateurs here.”
Professor Boxley grabbed Gateman by the elbow and pulled him away from the scene. “Nice job,” he said. “I learned a lot. Now let’s go back to the inn. They’ve got to come out of the castle sooner or later. And when they do, we’ll be waiting.”
“More waiting?” huffed Gateman. “I mean, more waiting. Hooray!”
The long, narrow banquet table of the great hall was set with fine china and polished silver of the quality that one might expect to find at a shindig in honor of the White Gold Chalice being returned to its rightful owner.
Various smells wafted in from the kitchen, all of which received no lower than an eight-point-four rating from Teddy, who had already planted his bubble gum firmly on his forehead in anticipation of the coming feast. “I’m starving,” he said. “When do we eat?”
“We can’t eat until our host arrives,” said Mr. Cheeseman. “It takes a long time to tend to a broken foot.”
“I like it here,” said Teddy, taking in the splendor of the room. “Do we have to go back on the boat right away?”
“I think we could all use some time ashore,” said Mr. Cheeseman. “But we shouldn’t leave the LVR sitting where it is for too long. It’ll be winter by the time we get back. Besides, the way Pinky’s been growling, I don’t think we should stay here any longer than we have to.”
Trumpets sounded, temporarily drowning out Pinky’s growling. All rose as the duke hobbled into the room on his heavily bandaged foot with the help of two servants, who escorted him to the head of the table, where the precious chalice awaited him.
Big leaned across the table and whispered to Chip and Penny, “Pinky’s not the only one who thinks little of this duke character. I can say without reservation that I am not so fond of him myself.”
“I know what you mean,” said Chip. “There’s something a little off about him.”
“I’m hungry,” said Teddy.
“Sí,” said No-Face Roy.
The duke’s servants pulled out his chair and he lowered his wide posterior to the seat. Instantly, and without warning, the chair collapsed as if it were made of Popsicle sticks, sending the duke’s plump backside and his broken foot crashing to the hard stone floor. The duke said something in Danish that sounded to Teddy like swear words. In fact, to Teddy, most words in Danish sounded like swear words. The duke’s servants hurried to help him up and called for a replacement chair.
“The duke seems to be having a run of bad luck,” said Jibby.
“Yes,” said Penny. “It’s almost as if he’s … cursed.”
“Are you sure the Duke of Jutland is the rightful owner of the chalice?” Mr. Cheeseman asked.
“Sure as can be,” said Jibby. “I’ve done my research well, I can promise you that.”
When the duke’s backup chair arrived, he ordered three of his servants to sit in it at once, one on top of the other, in order to check its sturdiness. It passed the test and he took a seat, then cleared his throat.
“Velkomstord til alla jer. Jai vil leeken du maak en toashte!”
“What did he say?” whispered Jake.
“I think he said, ‘I would like to make a toast,’ ” said Jibby.
“Well,” said Sammy. “It’s a good thing he speaks perfect English.”
The duke raised the White Gold Chalice and the dinner guests hoisted their glasses as well. “Til mein jonored gesten!” He drank to his honored guests, then clapped his hands twice sharply, and out came the food. Platters of fine delicacies arrived one after the other. Among the happiest to see the food were Pinky and Digs, whose ribs were beginning to show after nearly a month at sea, and they quickly devoured their platefuls of Danish sausage and waited for more.
Teddy gave all of the food a very high grade but rated none higher than the gravy, which he found to be absolutely perfect. Not for eating but for something else. When he was certain no one was looking, he dipped his finger into the bowl and then dabbed at his sock puppet. He dipped and dabbed twice more and that’s how, in a matter of seconds, No-Face Roy, formerly Rat-Face Roy, became Gravy-Face Roy.
“This is the best meal ever,” said Teddy. “No offense, Juanita.”
Juanita smiled her warm Spanish smile and scruffed up Teddy’s spiky hair. “Sin ánimo de offender adoptadas.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” said Gravy-Face Roy.
And that was about the extent of the conversation at the table. Everyone was so hungry they could not stop eating long enough to engage in idle chitchat. Finally, Yannick spoke loudly over the sounds of enthusiastic chewing. “Well,” he said, breaking the awkward silence. “Perhaps his lordship would be kind enough to regale us with one of his many humorous anecdotes.”
“Ja,” said the duke, his mouth full of partially chewed sausage. If the duke’s English was less than perfect, it was even less than less than perfect with a mouthful of sausage. He started into a story that included the phrases, “look out!” “millions of noodles,” and “buried alive,” which turned out to be the punch line. Yannick laughed heartily but not too heartily and the duke’s honored guests followed suit. The duke laughed too. Then he suddenly stopped laughing. He also suddenly stopped breathing. He reached for his throat. His face turned purple.
“Something’s happened to the duke!” yelled Yannick.
“He’s choking,” said Penny.
Mr. Cheeseman sprang to his feet, knocking his chair over in the process. He sprinted the length of the table and positioned himself behind the purple duke. He wrapped his arms around their choking host, placing his fist just below his sternum.
“What are you doing to his lordship?” shouted Yannick. “Assassin! Assassin!”
Guards rushed toward Ethan. He drove his fist into the duke’s chest but nothing happened. He tried again, and just as the guards were about to descend upon him, a large piece of sausage shot forth from the duke’s throat like a rocket to the moon.
With quickness never before seen from a man his size, the duke reached out and caught the meaty projectile in midair, like a shortstop stretching out for a sharp line drive. He inspected the sausage briefly, then popped it back into his mouth and swallowed it with a satisfied grunt.
“You saved the duke’s life!” exclaimed Yannick.
“Ja,” said the duke, helping himself to another plateful of sausage. “Du har zaven mit live.” As he continued eating, he spoke to Yannick at great length. Yannick did not seem at all pleased with what the duke was telling him. The two argued back and forth until Yannick finally gave in. He pressed his lips firmly together and addressed Mr. Cheeseman.
&nb
sp; “The duke is most grateful. He wishes me to tell you that you and your friends are welcome to stay for as long as you like.”
This was excellent news for the weary travelers. After dinner they were given the opportunity to bathe and each was presented with a change of clothes and a fine silk sleeping gown.
Despite all the growling from their hairless psychic dog, the duke was turning out to be a fabulous host. Perhaps Pinky was losing her touch, thought Penny. After being fed two platefuls of delicious sausage, Pinky also thought she might be losing her touch. Maybe she’d been wrong about the duke after all.
The castle was large enough that they could each have their own room but creepy enough that none of them chose to do so. Jibby’s crew all paired off while Penny and Big agreed to share a room and Mr. Cheeseman opted to bunk with Chip, Teddy, and Gravy-Face Roy.
After sleeping in hammocks on a moving ship for the past three and half weeks, the down-filled beds were like heaven and soon everyone fell into coma-like sleep. Everyone, that is, but Teddy, who could not stop thinking about all the delicious food he had eaten earlier. His stomach was calling for more and would not take no for an answer.
Quietly, he slipped from beneath the covers and stepped over Pinky and Digs, curled up together and snoring softly at the foot of his bed. He successfully tiptoed from the room without waking his bunkmates and set out to find the kitchen.
Candles along the walls provided poor lighting for the long hallway and Teddy quickly became confused. He took a turn down another hallway and followed it until it ended, forcing him to go either right or left. He took a right and soon found himself at the end of this hallway as well. But this time there was no left or right, just a closed door that Teddy had no reason to believe did not lead to the kitchen.
Another Whole Nother Story Page 17