The Berenstain Bears in the Wax Museum

by Stan Berenstain

  Mama replaced the receiver and looked up with a sly smile. “Well,” she said, “what did I tell you? Lady Grizzly has already organized an anti—Madame Bearsaud campaign. Her new group is called ABATE. It stands for All Bears Against Tacky Entertainment.”

  “Humph!” said Papa. “She oughta call it ABAF. All Bears Against Fun!”

  “Right on!” cried Brother and Sister in unison.

  “Not so fast, you three,” said Mama. “Lady Grizzly is just worried about the effect of the new center on cubs.”

  “Baloney!” said Papa. “She’s just worried about her own stuck-up ideas about what’s in good taste and what isn’t!”

  “Well,” said Mama, “that may be part of it, too. But it isn’t just Lady Grizzly now. Mrs. Ben and Mrs. Honeypot have already joined ABATE. And you know what that means …”

  “Oh, no!” groaned Papa. “That means they’re gonna try to get Ben and the mayor to change their votes … Hmm. I’m not worried about the mayor. He’ll do whatever he thinks will get him re-elected, no matter what Mrs. Honeypot thinks. But Farmer Ben—that’s a different story altogether. He’s liable to crack under the pressure …”

  “And you know what Mrs. Ben is like when she gets a bee in her bonnet,” said Brother. “Talk about pressure!”

  “Hey, you two!” scolded Mama. “That’s not very nice.”

  “You know what they say,” said Papa. “‘Nice guys finish last.’ We’re gonna get a counter-campaign going—in favor of Madame Bearsaud. And we’ll call it … what should we call it, cubs?”

  “I know!” said Brother. “BAD. Bears Against Dullsville.”

  “Yeah!” said Sister. “We can have T-shirts printed up that say WE BAD!”

  “I don’t know,” said Mama, shaking her head. “That might put off a lot of folks …”

  Chapter 6

  The Truckers Cometh

  Mama was right about BAD, of course. But it didn’t matter. As usual, Papa was mostly hot air: all talk, no action. And the cubs quickly forgot all about trying to fight Lady Grizzly’s campaign. They didn’t really believe she would be successful. They were so in love with the idea of Madame Bearsaud’s Wax Museum and Entertainment Center that they couldn’t really imagine it not coming true.

  Meanwhile, Brother and Fred continued their summer of adventure. And Madame Bearsaud’s entertainment center was now at the center of their adventures. In fact, it seemed on the verge of becoming the Great Adventure Fred had dreamed of. As the days of construction wore on, the cubs hatched a scheme to sneak into Madame Bearsaud’s for a look-see. It would be a huge thrill to see what was inside before anyone else did. And an even bigger thrill to report their exploits to the rest of Beartown’s admiring cubs. All that was left to do was choose the right moment.

  That moment came sooner than they expected. Work on the center had speeded up lately. Perhaps Madame Bearsaud had got wind of ABATE’s campaign and decided that an early completion of the center would put a stop to it. But whatever the reason for the speed-up, the massive building was finished in a matter of days, and now trucks labeled MADAME BEARSAUD’S WAX MUSEUM began coming and going through the gateway in the multi-colored fence.

  “Do you think they’re bringing in the wax statues?” Brother asked Fred as they stood watching from across the street.

  “If I were a betting bear,” said Fred, “I’d give you a hundred-to-one odds that they are.”

  “Well,” said Brother, “what are we waiting for? The time for our Great Adventure is upon us!”

  Fred smiled, and across the street they went.

  Chapter 7

  No Trespassing

  Brother and Fred crept along the alleyway behind the building project, staying close to the fence. They were looking for a break or hole in the fence in a spot where they wouldn’t be seen sneaking in. And sure enough, they found one: a crack in the fence just wide enough for a cub to slip through.

  Brother was ready to go for it, but Fred held back. “Are you sure we should be doing this?” he said. He pointed to a sign just above the crack in the fence. It read: NO TRESPASSING.

  “Hmm,” said Brother. “Trespassing. That’s an awful big word, and I’m just a cub.” He winked. “I don’t know what it means. Do you?”

  Now, Brother hadn’t forgotten that Fred liked to read the dictionary for fun. But he expected his wink to do the trick. And it did. Fred suddenly lost his memory for long words.

  “Trespassing,” he said, scratching his head. “I’m not sure … I think it’s a fancy word for fishing.”

  “Oh,” said Brother. “‘No fishing.’ Well, that’s no sweat. We didn’t even bring our fishing poles, did we? Come on, let’s go.”

  No one could possibly have seen the cubs dart from the crack in the fence to a back door that was propped open with a garbage can. Before you could sneeze, they were inside the building. It was very dark. From the little bit of daylight coming through the propped-open door, they could see that they were in an enormous room, like a huge cavern.

  “Wow,” said Fred, peering around. “Whatever it is, it’s a whole lot bigger than the school auditorium …”

  “It must be the Screaming Room,” said Brother. “You know—the horror movie palace.”

  “Of course!” said Fred. “Whoa, what’s that?”

  Brother felt Fred press against him, trembling. When he looked up to where Fred was pointing, he got a little trembly himself. But as his eyes got used to the darkness, he relaxed. “It’s just the balcony,” he said.

  “But it’s also Bearzilla, the monster!” cried Fred. “It’s like he’s holding up the balcony!”

  “Cool!” said Brother. “And that’s not all. Look at the walls. Murals all over ’em!”

  “Bearcula!” said Fred. “And the Frankenbear Monster!”

  “And the Wolf Bear!” said Brother.

  “I can’t take this,” said Fred. “Let’s get out of here!” He made a move for the propped-open door, but Brother grabbed his arm. “Lemme go!” protested Fred.

  “We can’t turn back now,” Brother scolded. He pointed at a rectangle outlined by yellow light under a red-glowing exit sign. “Look. There’s a side door. It must lead into another part of the building. I say we check it out.”

  “And I still say we get out of here—” Fred started to say.

  But just then, the cubs heard the high-pitched beeping of a truck backing up to the propped-open door. Its shadow deepened the darkness in the Screaming Room.

  “On second thought,” said Fred, “let’s check out that side door …”

  The cubs hurried to the exit and slipped through into a dimly lit hallway. On the wall before them were the words WAX MUSEUM, with an arrow pointing to an exit at the far end of the hallway.

  “All right!” said Brother. “Now we’re in business!”

  “Not exactly,” said Fred, still a little trembly. “Madame Bearsaud’s in business. We’re trespassing!”

  “No, we’re not,” said Brother with another wink. “We forgot our trespassing poles, remember? Come on.”

  When the cubs went through the far exit into the wax museum, they almost panicked. The brighter light blinded them for an instant, and they could hear the sounds of workbears moving heavy objects. Fortunately, Brother spied an old barrel lying on its side in the nearest corner. They hurried over to it and crept inside.

  “You think they saw us?” whispered Fred.

  “Nah,” said Brother. “We’re in great shape. This is the perfect hiding place.”

  “Sure, it’s a great hiding place,” whispered Fred. “But we can’t see anything!”

  “Oh, yeah?” said Brother. “Check out this little knothole …”

  Sure enough, there was a tiny knothole in the barrel wall right at eye level. And it faced out into the wax museum.

  “Cool,” said Brother, peering through the hole. “Here come some workbears carrying something. It’s a wax statue in a fancy gown … I bet that’s Queen Elizabear.”


  “Let me see,” said Fred, pressing one of the lenses of his glasses against the knothole. “They’ve put Queen Elizabear right in the middle of the room. Hey, wait a minute—if that’s Queen Elizabear, where are her crown jewels?”

  “Madame Bearsaud probably keeps them in a safe when the museum’s closed,” said Brother.

  “Oh, right,” said Fred. “Hey, there are other statues out there; the workbears must have brought them in before we got here. Blackbear the Pirate! He’s holding a cutlass … and Bearjamin Franklin’s holding a kite … and—uh-oh, they must have dropped one of the wax figures. It’s lying flat on its back!”

  “Let’s see,” said Brother. “Oh, that’s Gullibear.”

  “Gullibear?” said Fred.

  “You know, from Gullibear’s Travels,” said Brother. “He’s supposed to be flat on his back. See? The Lillibruins have tied him down with rope. Here come the workbears with another statue … Cool! It’s the Frankenbear Monster! Hmm …”

  “What is it?” said Fred.

  “Those three workbears,” said Brother. “They look familiar … I can’t really see their faces, though. But I just got a pretty good look at their supervisor—he’s the one barking all the orders—and he looks kind of familiar, too … Never mind, my eyes must be playing tricks on me. But this is awesome, Fred! Just think: we’re the first bears in town to see this!”

  Just then Fred said, “Uh-oh. Look what I found.”

  Fred pointed to some words that had been carved into the inside of the barrel. Brother let out a groan. The carving read: TOO-TALL WAS HERE.

  Chapter 8

  The Too-Tall Seal of Approval

  Once they had exited Madame Bearsaud’s the way they’d entered, Brother and Fred hurried to the schoolyard, hoping to find some cubs to tell about their exploits. The schoolyard was always a good place for sports during summer vacation, and, sure enough, a softball game was in progress on one of the diamonds. Too-Tall and his gang were playing a team that included Barry Bruin and Gil Grizzwold. Too-Tall was at bat.

  “Hey, big guy!” called Brother. “We just saw your name carved in a barrel!”

  Too-Tall dropped the bat and came over, the others following. “You two snuck into Madame Bearsaud’s?” he said. “Nice work.”

  “Wait a minute, boss,” said Skuzz. “They could be lyin’.”

  “Yeah,” said Smirk. “How do we know they really snuck in?”

  “Because I didn’t tell nobody about carvin’ my name in that barrel,” said Too-Tall. “Not even you guys.”

  “Right, boss!” said Vinnie. “That means these two are the real thing!”

  “Hey, boss,” said Skuzz. “How ’bout we invite ’em to Madame Bearsaud’s grand opening with us?”

  Brother and Fred beamed with pride. Too-Tall and the gang may have been jerks and bullies a lot of the time, but it still felt good to be accepted by cubs with tough-guy reputations.

  “Well, it’s okay with me if they tag along,” said Too-Tall. “Except for one thing. There may not be a grand opening.”

  “What?” said Barry Bruin. “Why not?”

  “Because Mayor Honeypot just called a special session of the zoning board for tomorrow afternoon,” said Too-Tall. “The word’s out that Mrs. Ben strong-armed Farmer Ben into changing his vote. And you know what that means.”

  “Yeah,” said Gil Grizzwold gloomily. “No Madame Bearsaud’s in Beartown.”

  “We gotta do somethin’, boss!” said Smirk.

  “Yeah!” said Vinnie. “We can’t let that ABATE gang push us around!”

  “For once I agree with you boneheads,” said Too-Tall. “Now, listen. The meetin’s in the town hall, and it’s open to the public. I hear Madame Bearsaud herself is gonna be there. And her hunchback assistant, Igor.”

  “Hunchback assistant?” said Fred. “Hey, this is getting to be like a horror movie.”

  “Yeah,” said Too-Tall. “He’s this weird, spooky, bent-over guy. Goes everywhere with Madame Bearsaud.”

  There were cries of “Cool!” and “Awesome!” from the cubs.

  Too-Tall instructed each of them to contact as many friends as possible. His plan was for all of them to show up at the zoning board session and cheer and applaud like crazy every time Madame Bearsaud’s name was mentioned. They might not be as well organized as ABATE, but if push came to shove, they could be twice as loud and obnoxious.

  Chapter 9

  A Strange Turn of Events

  The next afternoon, it didn’t take long for the town hall’s auditorium to fill up with concerned citizens. The members of ABATE, wearing large ABATE buttons, arrived before anyone else and took up the front row of seats. Well, not exactly the whole front row. In fact, they took up just the middle five seats. That’s because ABATE had only six members: Lady Grizzly (who was seated on the stage with the other zoning board members), Mrs. Ben, Mrs. Honeypot, Grizzly Gramps, Miss Glitch (Bear Country School’s English teacher), and Fred Furry (owner of the Bearjou Theater).

  Not only were there just six measly members of ABATE, they didn’t seem to have any supporters in the rest of the audience. When the mass of cubs started up a chant of “Fun for you and fun for me! Cast your vote for Madame B.!”, many of the grownups joined in, and those who didn’t join in showed their approval by nodding and smiling.

  “Well, well!” said Papa to Mama. “Looks like the Beartown public is solidly behind Madame Bearsaud. That means Mayor Honeypot won’t change his vote.”

  “That’s true, dear,” said Mama. “But it was Farmer Ben you were worried about, wasn’t it?”

  “Oh, right,” said Papa. “How does he look?”

  As the pro-Madame Bearsaud chant filled the auditorium, Farmer Ben sat in his chair on the stage, looking meekly down at his hands, which were folded in his lap.

  “Uh-oh,” said Papa. “He looks exactly like a bear who has let his wife talk him into going against the public will and his own conscience.”

  “That’s not fair,” said Mama. “Maybe Ben has really changed his mind. Maybe he has better taste than you think.”

  “Nonsense!” said Papa. “Ben’s taste is every bit as rotten as mine! We used to hang out together at those tacky traveling carnivals when we were young. Ben’s a bear who knows how important bad taste is to cubs growing up.”

  Brother and Fred, sitting with their friends, were more concerned with getting a look at Madame Bearsaud and Igor than with Farmer Ben. But when Mayor Honeypot stepped up to the microphone on the podium, the famous duo was still missing.

  “Ladles and Gentle Ben—er, I mean, ladies and gentlemen,” said the mayor, who tended to get his words mixed up. “We’ve gathered today for a revote by the boning zord—er, zoning board—on the matter of Madame Bearsaud’s Wax Museum and Entertainment Center. In the interests of open public debate, I’ve scheduled two speakers from the audience—one for and one against. Madame Bearsaud is for, and Miss Glitch is against. Madame Bearsaud doesn’t seem to have arrived yet, so at this time I invite Miss Splitch to geek—I mean, Miss Glitch to speak.”

  Miss Glitch stepped up to the microphone that had been placed at the foot of the stage and addressed the audience. “Ladies and gentlemen. I wish to talk about the issues of morals, values, and good taste …”

  “I wish she’d talk about ’em somewhere else,” muttered Papa in the audience.

  “Shush, dear,” whispered Mama.

  But by the end of Miss Glitch’s long-winded speech, even Mama was rolling her eyes. As the teacher returned to her seat, only the five other members of ABATE applauded.

  “Madame Bearsaud seems to be tumwhat sardy—er, somewhat tardy,” said Mayor Honeypot. “Perhaps we should wait a bit before we vote.” He glanced over at Lady Grizzly, who was glaring at him. “Er, on the other hand, it really isn’t fair to hold up an important vote just because a speaker is late. So, to start the voting, I cast my vote in favor of Madame Bearsaud!”

  The mayor beamed as cheering and a
pplause filled the auditorium. Then he turned to Farmer Ben. “Ben, how do you vote?”

  Farmer Ben cleared his throat but kept looking down at his hands. He appeared to mumble something.

  “For the record,” said Mayor Honeypot, “Farmer Ben has changed his vote. He has voted against Madame Bearsaud.” He held up his hands to discourage the cascade of boos and hisses that followed. “Now, now, folks. Quiet down. There’s one more vote to be heard. Of course, that vote belongs to Lady Grizzly, the leader of ABATE, and I guess we all know how she’s gonna vote.” He raised his hands again to quiet the boobirds. “But I have to ask her anyway. Just for the record, Lady Grizzly, how do you vote?”

  Lady Grizzly opened her mouth to speak. But at that moment, from the back of the auditorium, came a shout. “Wait!”

  All eyes turned to the entrance, where a figure stood wearing an elaborate gown, a fancy hat, and lots of jewelry.

  “I’ll bet that’s Madame Bearsaud!” said Brother.

  “And that weird guy lurking behind her must be Igor!” added Fred.

  All eyes remained fixed on the two figures as they made their way to the microphone at the front of the auditorium. The bejeweled woman walked slowly and gracefully, her head held high, while her hunched companion followed awkwardly, dragging one foot. When they reached the microphone, the elegant lady spoke loudly and clearly in a foreign accent.

  “I am zee great Madame Bearsaud,” she said. “And zis is my new assistant, Igor, from zee faraway land of Grizzylvania. He vould say hello to you, but he is mute: he cannot speak.”