Another Whole Nother Story

by Dr. Cuthbert Soup

  “Don’t eat too many of those.” He spoke without looking at Teddy, instead keeping his eyes focused on Yannick, who was standing across the way and looking back at him. It was obvious that the duke’s personal valet was very anxious to see the castle visitors visit someplace else. He had already asked Ethan no fewer than a dozen times when they planned to be on their way.

  “But Yannick said I could have as many Danishes as I want,” said Teddy. He waved to Yannick enthusiastically and Yannick returned a wave with considerably less passion.

  “Yes,” said Mr. Cheeseman. “But we can’t have you gaining any weight. Right now you’re the only one small enough to sneak in through the duke’s window and take back the White Gold Chalice.”

  That’s what Mr. Cheeseman said, but what Teddy heard was, “You’re the only one who can save us, Captain Fabulous. Without you and your gravy-stained sidekick, we don’t stand a chance.” This was the first time in his life that being small didn’t seem like such a bad idea after all. He squared up his jaw and threw back his shoulders. “You can count on me,” he said.

  “I know,” said Mr. Cheeseman, scruffing up Teddy’s already scruffed-up hair.

  The next order of business was to get ahold of the key to Ulrik’s cell. This would be no simple task as Yannick wore it around his neck and, as far as anyone knew, never took it off. Jibby thought he had the perfect way to abscond with the key until Mr. Cheeseman reminded him that hitting a person in the head with a wooden mallet until he loses consciousness would be considered a form of violence.

  “It’s a bit of a gray area,” said Jibby. “But let’s not be picky.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Ethan, eyeing Jibby’s Swiss Army hand. “Didn’t you say you could pick any lock with that hole punch of yours?”

  “Oh yeah,” said Jibby. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

  That night, as the castle slept, Big and Penny removed the floor-to-ceiling curtains from their window and Big used her knife to slice them into long strips. These strips would make the harness by which Captain Fabulous would be lowered over the wall to Wenzel’s chamber window.

  When they finished, they sneaked down the hall to the room shared by Dizzy and Aristotle and let themselves in. As seafaring men, they were well accomplished in the way of knot tying. So proficient were they that the construction of the harness took no more than twenty minutes. Digs followed closely behind as Big took the harness to the rooftop, where Sammy, Chip, Teddy, and Mr. Cheeseman were waiting. Penny, meanwhile, set out to retrieve Jibby and his lock-picking right hand.

  “Are you sure this thing is safe?” asked Mr. Cheeseman, giving the harness a good tug to test its viability.

  “If Dizzy and Ari made it, I’d bet my life on it,” said Sammy.

  “Okay,” said Mr. Cheeseman. He was more than a little nervous about the idea of dangling his youngest child over the edge of a fifty-foot wall. “Ready?” Teddy nodded and climbed into the harness.

  “Just don’t look down,” said Chip.

  “Just don’t drop me,” said Teddy.

  “Or me,” said Gravy-Face Roy.

  Sammy wrapped the ends of the curtain strands around his wrist and gave Mr. Cheeseman a nod.

  “Remember,” said Mr. Cheeseman to Teddy, “when you’re even with the window, give us a thumbs-up.” Teddy smiled and displayed a practice thumb. “Good. And if you get in any trouble just give two sharp tugs on the harness and we’ll get you out of there.”

  Over the wall he went and Sammy lowered him slowly until Teddy displayed the agreed-upon signal. He was at window level, looking in at the sleeping impostor and the White Gold Chalice resting on a stand next to the bed. Gently and slowly, Teddy pushed the window inward.

  Sammy continued to let out slack on the harness as Teddy squeezed through the tiny window and dropped quietly to the floor. He slinked across the room toward his polished prize while Wenzel mumbled and chuckled in his sleep. Perhaps, thought Teddy, he was dreaming about someone else being buried beneath millions of noodles.

  Teddy gently lifted the White Gold Chalice from its perch and started back the way he came. As he began to squeeze through the window, the mumbling and chuckling abruptly stopped. Slowly, Teddy turned to see two eyes, one with a giant bushy eyebrow above it, staring straight at him.

  In the dark, Wenzel could only make out the silhouette of a small, elflike figure. He sat up quickly. “Who are ja and vut dar ja vantun?” he demanded.

  “Uh … Sandman,” said Teddy. “Gotta go now. Pleasant dreams.” Teddy gave two quick tugs on the harness and Wenzel watched as the Sandman flew away into the night. He prepared to go back to sleep when suddenly it occurred to him that there was no such thing as the Sandman. He scrambled from his bed and hobbled across the room on his broken foot. He stuck his big round head through the small square window and, looking up, saw Teddy being hoisted back toward the castle roof.

  The moonlight struck the polished cup in Teddy’s hand and made its way back to Wenzel’s disbelieving eyes. He pulled his head back into the room and turned to find the White Gold Chalice gone. The guards outside the chamber door were snapped out of their bored stupor by Wenzel’s scream and rushed into the room just as Teddy was pulled onto the roof. He displayed the cup proudly.

  “I got it,” he said as Sammy relieved him of the harness. “I got the White Gold Chalice.”

  “Nice,” said Chip, offering Teddy a high five.

  “Good work,” said Mr. Cheeseman.

  “Yes,” said Teddy. “But Wenzel saw me. I told him I was the Sandman but I’m not sure if he believed me.”

  “The Sandman?” said Mr. Cheeseman. “We’d better get out of here.”

  While Dizzy and Aristotle stood watch at the trapdoor, Penny led the way down the dim corridor with Jibby, Jake, and Juanita right behind.

  When they approached the cell, Ulrik had his puffy cheeks pressed to the bars as if he’d been standing there for hours, awaiting their arrival. “You came back,” he said with surprise and relief.

  “Of course I did,” said Penny. “I told you I would. These are my friends Jibby, Juanita, and Jake.”

  “Yes, yes,” said Ulrik impatiently. “That’s all very nice. Now get me out of here. You did get the key, didn’t you?”

  “No need,” said Jibby. He snapped out the hole punch on his Swiss Army hand. “I can pick any lock with this right here.”

  “So you didn’t get the key then,” said Ulrik. He threw up his hands and sighed. “Unbelievable.”

  Jibby looked at Penny and shook his head. “Is this guy for real?”

  “Sorry,” said Ulrik. “Just anxious to get out of here, that’s all. I’m sure you understand.”

  Jibby knelt in front of the lock and went to work. Tension mounted as he probed, poked, and prodded its inner workings. A bead of sweat formed on his forehead and trickled down, making room for a fresh bead.

  “I thought you said you could pick any lock with that thing,” scoffed Ulrik.

  Jibby stopped what he was doing and looked at Penny again. “You know, I think maybe I prefer the fake duke to this one.”

  “Wenzel is quite the host,” said Penny.

  “He sure knows how to throw a wingding,” Jake agreed.

  “All right, all right,” said Ulrik. “I apologize. Now please continue.”

  Wenzel ordered the guards to search the castle, find the chalice, and place his once-honored guests under arrest. “Ja, Hertugen,” they said.

  They burst from the room and hurried down the hallway with Wenzel and his damaged foot struggling to keep up. They turned the corner and ran into Yannick, hurrying toward them in his nightgown. “What’s going on?” he demanded in Danish.

  When he heard the news he immediately uttered the Danish phrase for “I told you so.” As it turns out, every language has one. He called for more guards and soon another dozen heavily armed men joined them. Yannick led them to the great hall, where they were shocked to see, standing at the far end, Penny, J
ibby, Juanita, Three-Eyed Jake, Dizzy, Aristotle, and an exact replica of the Duke of Jutland. The guards looked at Ulrik, then back to Wenzel. “Hertugen?”

  “How did you get out?” Yannick demanded. “I have the only key and it’s right here.” He displayed the key and Jibby countered by displaying his right hand, the hole punch still snapped in position.

  “I can pick any lock with this thing,” said Jibby. He turned and spoke directly and deliberately to Ulrik. “Any lock.”

  “Devious,” said Yannick, his lips squeezed so tightly together they turned white.

  “Isn’t it, though,” said Penny. “Using a phony version of the real thing. Something with which you should be very familiar.”

  Yannick turned to the guards and ordered them to arrest the impostor. The guards appeared confused, so he clarified his statement by pointing to Ulrik.

  “This isn’t the impostor,” said Penny. She leveled a finger at Wenzel. “There. There’s your impostor.”

  Now the guards were really at a loss. Except for the eyebrow, the two men looked identical and, no matter how much Yannick insisted that they arrest Ulrik, they could only stand there, dumbfounded.

  “It should be quite an easy matter to resolve,” said Ulrik. “For instance, everyone knows the real Duke of Jutland speaks perfect English.”

  “Ja,” Wenzel agreed. “Der Hertugen shpekken prefect Engelsk.”

  And because the guards spoke limited English themselves, both renditions sounded acceptable to them. Again Yannick demanded they take Ulrik into custody. They moved his way but Ulrik raised his palm as if it were a powerful force field.

  “Wait!” he said. “It is also a well-known fact that the real Duke of Jutland has a birthmark on his chest shaped like Portugal.” Ulrik tore open his shirt, sending buttons bouncing off the stone floor and revealing a small birthmark on the left side of his blubbery chest that was indeed shaped like Portugal.

  “I told you he was the real duke,” said Penny.

  “Arrest that man,” shouted Ulrik with a sharp jab of his finger in Wenzel’s direction.

  The guards moved toward Wenzel and were about to seize him when he reached up and tore open his shirt. The guards stopped and gawked at the Portugal-shaped birthmark on Wenzel’s chest, identical in shape, size, and location to Ulrik’s. Even Yannick was surprised to see this.

  “What?” said Ulrik, his frustration level reaching its limit. “All right, this is ridiculous.”

  “Ja,” said Wenzel. “Das en ridunkulassen.”

  “Okay,” said Ulrik. “It is also a well-known fact that the real Duke of Jutland is an excellent yodeler.” He placed his hands on his hips and launched into a demonstration of some of the finest yodeling human ears had ever heard. When he was finished, he pointed sharply at Wenzel once again. “Seize this impostor!”

  The guards moved in but Wenzel interrupted their advance with his own display of yodeling, some of the worst that two vocal cords had ever produced. This should have resulted in his immediate arrest except for one problem. Everyone knows that it is virtually impossible to tell good yodeling from bad yodeling and so the guards just stood there, drowning in a sea of confusion.

  “Enough!” shouted Yannick in Danish. “Listen, you idiots. If anyone would know the real duke it would be me, his personal valet, right? And that is the not the duke!”

  The befuddled guards moved toward Ulrik when a powerful voice froze them in their tracks.

  “Hold on here!” said Ethan Cheeseman, bursting into the room. Following him in and taking position at his side were Chip, Teddy, Sammy, and Big. Because Teddy had risked his life to retrieve the White Gold Chalice, he was allowed to hold it and was promised the chance to deliver it to the real Duke of Jutland. “We have traveled a great distance to return this cup to its rightful owner.”

  Teddy held up the shiny goblet for all to see.

  “We all know it belongs to the Duke of Jutland,” Mr. Cheeseman continued, pacing back and forth like a courtroom lawyer. “But there seems to be some confusion as to which of these two gentlemen fits that description. However, I believe there’s a very simple way to settle this once and for all. Everyone knows that the real Duke of Jutland is named Ulrik. Isn’t that right, Wenzel?”

  “Ja,” said Wenzel, with a big stupid grin, completely unaware that he had just given himself away. “Det er rite.”

  With a mere nod from Ulrik, the guards descended upon Wenzel and Yannick. “You’re making a big mistake,” shouted Yannick.

  “Ja,” said Wenzel. “You aven milk un baag mushtaken.”

  “I believe there’s enough room in the cell for both of them,” said Ulrik in Danish. “You’ll find the key around his neck.”

  “No,” said Yannick as the guards dragged him and his cousin away. “You can’t put me in the dungeon.”

  “It’s not a dungeon,” Ulrik called out. “It’s a basement.” He turned his attention to Mr. Cheeseman. “Now, I believe you have something that belongs to me.”

  “I do,” said Mr. Cheeseman. “Teddy? Would you like to present the duke with the chalice?”

  “Okay,” said Teddy. He raised the cup high above his head and threw it toward the duke. It spiraled through the air like a football. The group held its collective breath as the chalice seemed to hang in the air forever. This was it. The second the chalice reached the duke’s outstretched hands, the curse would be over. For real this time. That is, if Ulrik truly was the cup’s rightful owner as Jibby insisted. The duke smiled in anticipation and reached for the flying goblet, which passed right between his hands and clobbered him mercilessly on the forehead. He staggered back and the White Gold Chalice bounced across the marble floor with a heart-sickening clang.

  “Don’t worry,” said Ulrik, nervously gathering himself. He scurried over to the chalice and picked it up. “I’m not cursed, I promise. Just clumsy, that’s all.”

  “Are you sure about that?” said Jibby. “Because if it turns out you’re not the real duke, I’ll break your arm.” Jibby caught Mr. Cheeseman’s eye. “In a very nonviolent way, of course.”

  “I am the real duke, I swear it,” said Ulrik.

  “There’s one way to find out,” said Dizzy. Slowly and hesitantly, he slid the earmuffs off his head. He waited for the vertigo from which he had suffered for years to overtake him but it never came. He took a few steps and still felt nothing but perfect balance. He spun around twice, then performed a very impressive backflip, landing with the authority and equilibrium of a ballet dancer.

  Cheers of triumph, joy, and relief rose up and filled the room. The pain in Sammy’s back faded instantly and Aristotle found he could immediately answer the question “Why did I come in here?” Of course, some of their maladies were irreversible. Jibby was still missing his right hand and Three-Eyed Jake still had only one eye, but the important thing was that after years of pain and suffering the curse of the White Gold Chalice had finally been lifted.

  Jibby called for his fiddle and an impromptu celebration broke out and lasted for several minutes—until the revelry abruptly stopped when Teddy said, “Hey, where’s Pinky?”

  It was true that Pinky was nowhere to be found. In fact, no one could remember having seen her for quite some time, and in all the excitement they had failed to take notice of her absence.

  Mr. Cheeseman and the children ran to the courtyard but did not find her. From there they searched every room in the massive castle, including the basement, but failed to find any sign of their psychic hairless dog. Chip wondered if she had run away, her feelings hurt by being shushed so many times when all she was trying to do was warn her family of the many dangers that surrounded them.

  Some might argue that Lassie was the biggest canine hero of all time but, while Lassie would run and get help after little Timmy had fallen down a well, Pinky would have warned little Timmy of the danger beforehand, thus averting the need for all those firefighters, paramedics, and network news helicopters.

  Yes, Pinky was t
he world’s most heroic dog, and they would not stop searching until they found her.

  While Gateman snored peacefully just a few feet away, Professor Boxley could not persuade his brain to shut down. He’d been lying awake for hours in his bed at the inn, wondering. He wondered whether he’d be stuck here forever, a castaway in time. If so, he imagined what he might do to survive. Perhaps he would discover electricity, he thought. That should pay pretty well. After that, he would invent the lightbulb, the electric fan, radio, television, and the waffle iron. His thoughts then turned to waffles, slathered in melted butter and rich maple syrup. His stomach began to growl but was soon interrupted by a commotion out in the street. He rushed to the window and saw, beneath the full moon’s glow, a large group of people walking about, all shouting the same thing. It was a name they were shouting and the name was Pinky. “Pinky! Pinky, where are you?” the people hollered into the night. A closer look confirmed it. One of the shouting people was Ethan Cheeseman.

  “It’s him,” the professor said to his sleeping roommate. “Come on, let’s go!” The professor jumped into his pants, stepped into his shoes, and ran out the door by the time Gateman could lift his groggy head from the cornhusk-filled pillow.

  “Wait up,” said Gateman.

  While the people in the street continued their calls for Pinky, another name rang out in the cool night air.

  “Ethan! Ethan Cheeseman!”

  At first, Mr. Cheeseman wasn’t sure if he should believe his own ears. His name was being shouted by an unfamiliar voice in Jutland, Denmark, in the year 1668. He spun toward the strange voice to find a pudgy man in a white wig rushing his way with something that appeared to be the barrel of a gun pointed toward him.