Teddy Mars Book #3

by Molly B. Burnham

  GRUMPY PIGEON MAN VERSUS AUNT URSULA

  “Peanut!” Aunt Ursula calls from our back door. Peanut is doing an excellent job ignoring her.

  “She hasn’t changed a bit.” Grumpy Pigeon Man sighs and leaves the aviary. I figure he’s heading back into his house, but then I see him walk into our backyard. He scoops up Peanut, who stops barking right away, and brings him to Aunt Ursula.

  I close up the aviary and run over after him. I have no idea what I’ll find, but I’m pretty sure I do not want to miss it.

  Aunt Ursula is now hugging Peanut. “How could you say that about Peanut? He’s gentler than your pigeons!”

  “What?” Grumpy Pigeon Man huffs. “My pigeons wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  “My dog is simply protecting me from your birds.” She takes a deep breath and then says, “You shouldn’t be allowed to keep them!”

  Strange but true, there’s a record for most toilet plungers thrown and stuck to human targets in one minute (15). The look of shock on Grumpy Pigeon Man’s face is like all 15 have hit him.

  “Keep that dog inside where he can’t disturb my birds,” he says.

  “My dog has as much right to be outside as your birds. There is no rule against it!”

  They stare into each other’s eyes for a few seconds and then Grumpy Pigeon Man walks away.

  “There should be a rule about being so stubborn,” Aunt Ursula grumbles as we walk back to the house.

  I can’t help thinking there should be a rule about grown-ups fighting, but since grown-ups make the rules, the chances of that happening are small.

  RULES ABOUT JUICE

  1. It needs to be prune juice.

  2. It needs to be drunk in the morning.

  3. It needs to be put on the grocery list or life will be bad for all of us. (Not just for me, who happens to be the only one awake with Aunt Ursula in the mornings.)

  LITTLE BLOBS OF CLAY

  Between Mom going back to work, Aunt Ursula moving in, and the end of school, my brain is mush. This is probably why I’m just making little blobs with the clay. Meanwhile Viva seems fine and at this moment is drawing a picture of me covered in pigeons. I have to say, I like it a lot more than me covered in pigeon poo. Lonnie is adding a light saber to his clay Yoda, and except for the fact that every time he lets go, Yoda tips over, he’s fine, too.

  Ms. Raffeli walks past. “Teddy? What are those?”

  I think fast and say, “Pigeon bodies.” I pick up one and smoosh a beak on it.

  “Well, remember, there’s only a few days left, and that’s a lot of pigeons.”

  “Fifty-seven. I’ve only made—” I count them and get to twenty before Serena calls for help because a bottle of glitter glue spilled in her hair.

  I go back to making my blobs because it’s all my brain can handle.

  ZOMBIES ON DAGOBAH

  After school, Lonnie and Viva come over. We’ve already promised Mom we’ll stay outside whenever we try to break a record.

  Mom says, “Aunt Ursula will get her nap, and it will be quiet in our house. Do you understand?”

  We all nod.

  The only way The Destructor agrees on quiet time is when Aunt Ursula says he can help with Peanut’s diaper again. After that, he gives her a big hug and heads upstairs with Mom.

  Lonnie, Viva, and I sit in the aviary flipping through The Guinness Book of World Records.

  Lonnie stops at a record and points.

  The tallest toilet-paper tower that’s ever been built in 30 seconds is 28 rolls high. Some families might not have that much toilet paper, but my family does, so I am sure we have enough to beat this record. The only challenge is going down to the basement, where it’s kept, but for a world record, I’ll do it.

  “Don’t make a sound,” I whisper as I open the back door.

  “Wasn’t planning on it,” Viva whispers.

  “My mind is as quiet as if I were a Jedi.” Lonnie closes the door without a sound.

  We tiptoe into the house. We sneak past the guest room, where little snores are coming from. I can’t tell if it’s Aunt Ursula or Peanut who’s doing the snoring, but it’s cute either way.

  We get to the top of the basement stairs. I take a breath and then head down. Even with the lights on I’m sure I can see a zombie hiding behind a trunk.

  Lonnie whistles. “The resemblance to Dagobah is uncanny.”

  “Dagobah?” I ask, passing an old Halloween costume of a skeleton.

  “You know, the swamp where Yoda lived.”

  Viva shudders. “I’d rather live in Dagobah any day.”

  “Me too,” I say.

  We grab all the toilet-paper rolls and run upstairs as fast as we can. We pound into the kitchen, terrified. But I guess we don’t do a good job on the quiet part because Aunt Ursula calls out, “What’s going on?”

  “Sorry,” I say, and tiptoe out the back door before she asks us any more questions.

  We count the rolls and get to twenty-six.

  “We’ll need more,” Lonnie says.

  “We took everything from the basement,” I say.

  “Time to plunder the bathrooms,” Viva whispers, like she’s a very quiet pirate.

  “Arr, matey, but what if someone needs toilet paper?” Lonnie asks back in more quiet pirate speak.

  Viva drops the pirate speak and looks at us very seriously. “We survived the basement, and zombies, and even Aunt Ursula.” Viva shrugs. “Someone needing toilet paper is a risk we’ll have to take.”

  She’s got a point, and what are the chances anyone is going to need toilet paper right when we’re breaking a record?

  I mean, most of my family isn’t even home and the rest are asleep. We’ll definitely be done before anyone needs the toilet.

  THE FIRST FOUR TIMES

  Going back into the house and collecting all the toilet paper is the easy part. Breaking the toilet paper tower record is another story.

  1. The first time we forgot to turn on the timer.

  2. The second time we forgot chairs, so we couldn’t reach the top as we added rolls.

  3. The third time we needed something firmer than grass to put the rolls on because they tipped over.

  4. The fourth time we needed to put the rolls on something flat instead of the hill in my backyard where we had started.

  LARGEST LAND CRAB

  Now we’re on the fifth try and I actually think we’re going to break it.

  We’re working like a machine, taking turns placing the toilet-paper rolls on top of each other. We start on the ground, and then move to standing on chairs. Our timing is perfect. Our placement is perfect.

  “Eleven,” I say, placing it on the tower.

  “We’re doing great.” Viva puts number twelve on.

  “Lucky number thirteen,” Lonnie says.

  “We got this,” I add.

  “The Force is with us.” Lonnie sets the sixteenth roll on the tower, when a scream erupts from the house, startling me so much that I fall over backward. My feet kick up and topple over our tower.

  “Teddy!” Lonnie and Viva sigh.

  There’s another scream. We look at each other and run inside, but nothing is happening.

  “Who screamed?” Viva asks.

  Lonnie looks around. “Maybe Sharon and Jerome came back and are practicing?”

  I shake my head. “It sounds too good to be them.”

  “Help!”

  “It’s coming from the bathroom,” Viva says.

  “Do you think it’s—” Lonnie doesn’t finish his sentence.

  “Don’t say it.”

  “Aunt Ursula?” Viva finishes.

  “I told you not to say it.”

  Lonnie pushes me to the door. “Ask her if she’s all right.”

  I look at Lonnie. “I’m not knocking. Aunt Ursula is inside. That’s gross.”

  Viva whispers, “It could be your mom stuck in the bathroom.”

  And for a second I wonder if it is Mom, but then Aunt Ursul
a’s voice rings out from behind the closed door along with a bunch of barks. Of course she brought Peanut.

  “Whoever is there, please pass me some toilet paper!”

  Strange but true, the world’s largest and heaviest land crustacean is called the robber crab. It can grow up to 36 inches and weigh as much as 9 pounds.

  Instead of helping Aunt Ursula, we do the same thing we’d do if we saw a robber crab. We take a giant step away from the door.

  SCARIER THAN THE ZOMBIE BASEMENT

  Lonnie and Viva elbow me, jolting my brain back to the present. Aunt Ursula is in the bathroom with no toilet paper. It’s not complicated; it’s just weird. “One minute Aunt Ursula.”

  We run outside to grab the toilet paper and stop in our tracks.

  “It’s raining,” Viva says. “When did it start raining?”

  “It’s raining hard,” Lonnie says. “When did it start raining so hard?”

  “I don’t know,” I say. “But I think I just found out what’s scarier than the basement.”

  It’s clear from Lonnie’s and Viva’s faces that they agree and that zombie basement is a million times better than Aunt Ursula in the bathroom without any toilet paper.

  ICE-CREAM CAKE

  We walk back into the house, dripping all over the floor as we carry the soaking-wet toilet paper.

  “What is taking so long?” Aunt Ursula calls from the bathroom. Peanut barks again.

  I look at Viva. “You’re a girl. You hand it to her.”

  Viva shakes her head. “No way. This is a job for your mom.”

  Lonnie nods. “That is the sort of advice that Obi-Wan Kenobi might give.”

  “I think even Chewie would give it,” Viva says.

  Aunt Ursula hollers through the door, “What is taking so long?”

  I edge my way closer, but when I’m an arm’s length away, I stop. “We’ll be back. I need to find Mom.”

  We dump all the wet toilet-paper rolls by the door as Aunt Ursula screams, “Do no such thing!” and “Come back this instant!” and “Stop right now!” We don’t listen. We run upstairs.

  Mom is fast asleep in the room I share with The Destructor. He’s lying on the bed next to her looking at a book about a trash truck.

  “Mom.” I shake her. “We have a toilet emergency.”

  She rolls over and says, “I don’t want to wake up.”

  And right then another scream travels up from downstairs, all the way through the halls of the house, up the stairs, and into the room we’re in.

  “Oh no,” Mom says, and hurries away. The rest of us run after, trying to explain why all the toilet paper in the house is about as absorbent as the largest ice-cream cake in the world (14 feet 7 inches long, 13 feet 3 inches wide, and 3 feet 3 inches tall). In other words, not at all.

  At least you could eat the ice-cream cake. There’s nothing you can do with wet toilet paper, not even break a record.

  NORMAL

  Lonnie and Viva leave right after Mom deals with the wet toilet paper problem. If I were those two, I’d do the same.

  “Mom,” I say. “I’m really sorry about the toilet paper. We didn’t know it was going to rain.”

  “I know.” She hugs me. “I’ll get Dad to pick some more up.”

  “Tell him not to forget the prune juice. It might make up for the toilet paper.”

  “But Teddy.” Mom smiles. “Could we try a little harder to keep things normal around here?”

  Considering that things have never been normal, it seems a lot to ask, but I nod because I can tell that’s what Mom needs, which is when Aunt Ursula walks into the kitchen.

  She is carrying Peanut, who growls at me and then at Smarty Pants. Smarty Pants hisses and jumps on top of the refrigerator.

  “Well, I wasn’t sure I’d ever get out of there. Would someone explain why all the toilet paper is wet? Is there a leak?”

  Mom and I look at each other. But before we have to answer, The Destructor walks in. “Why didn’t anyone tell me quiet time was over?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “Hi, Peanut! Did you have a good nap?”

  He scratches Peanut’s belly. “Aunt Ursula, did you know I’m very good with animals? Mr. Marney can tell you. I helped take care of his pigeons, except I stopped. It’s very tiring.” He kisses Peanut’s nose, and Peanut licks his face.

  “Pigeons.” Aunt Ursula makes a face like she just beat the record for drinking a liter of lemon juice through a straw in 24.41 seconds. “Why someone hasn’t gotten rid of them is a mystery to me.”

  Now it’s my turn to make a face. Life without those pigeons would be like a life without world records.

  Peanut jumps out of Aunt Ursula’s arms and runs straight at me. I freeze.

  Aunt Ursula looks at Mom. “You shouldn’t let your children take care of them. It’s not normal.”

  “Oh!” The Destructor interrupts, pointing at Peanut, who is lifting his leg and once again pees on my sneaker.

  “Oops! Silly Peanut.”

  I have to say, I’m having a hard time figuring out what counts as normal around here.

  RULES FOR BEING NORMAL PART 2

  1. Don’t talk about world records.

  2. Don’t talk about pigeons.

  3. Don’t try to understand what is normal to grown-ups, because it doesn’t make any sense.

  DINNER AT VIVA’S HOUSE

  You can tell my family is willing to put up with a lot to eat Aunt Ursula’s dinner because tonight we follow her rules without being asked. I admit, I borrowed some of Mom’s perfume so I won’t smell like pigeons. Mom and Dad locked Smarty Pants in their room. And when Aunt Ursula tapped the chair next to hers and said to The Destructor, “Sit,” like he was a dog, he did.

  For the first time in my life I think I know what dinner is like at Viva’s house.

  SPINNING TOPS

  Dad and I are cleaning up after dinner. Mom is filling out forms for her new job. Aunt Ursula is sitting at the kitchen table doing a crossword puzzle. The Destructor sits on the floor filling up the compost bucket with food scraps. “This is so cool,” he says. It looks like a big mess to me.

  Grace is taking closeup shots of different parts of our bodies. I wave her away from my nose. “But it’s so gross,” she says.

  Maggie is doing burpees, and counting each one as she completes it.

  Caitlin and Casey wander into the kitchen carrying parts of their bikes and a toolbox. They lay a sheet on the floor and dump everything down with a loud clatter. No one is bothered by them. Dad walks over them to put away a pan. Mom hands them a tool, and ends up with oil all over her hands, but she doesn’t complain.

  Sharon’s singing drifts through the house from the upstairs bathroom.

  Aunt Ursula frowns. “It’s hard to do a crossword with all this commotion.”

  Dad says, “You’ll get used to it.”

  Am I the only one who doesn’t see Aunt Ursula getting used to us?

  Strange but true, the world record for most simultaneous spinning tops is 27. I feel like Aunt Ursula’s brain is spinning around and around like all those tops.

  I can’t help wondering what she’ll do when they stop.

  IT WON’T HELP

  “So do we have two or three days left of school?” Viva asks as we stand in line for school. “I can’t keep it straight.”

  Angus hops over. “One and a half.”

  Lonnie shakes his head. “Two and a half,” he says. “We’re just starting today and it’s Thursday.”

  Ny shakes her head. “I can’t believe we have to come back on Monday. Who ends school on a Monday?”

  Lewis nods. “That’s what I was going to say.”

  Either way I feel really sad. But I’m thinking maybe Ms. Raffeli needs the vacation because her allergies are so bad. She’s always wiping her eyes and blowing her nose.

  I hand her a tissue. “Why don’t you take medicine?”

  “It won’t help for the kind of allergies I have,” she says.

/>   I wonder what kind of allergies she has. “I really think you should breathe like Darth Vader.”

  I don’t know why, but she starts crying more.

  MORE SURPRISES

  This afternoon, Lonnie and Viva come over and we spend it in the backyard trying to break the record for fastest time to set up a chessboard (32.42 seconds). And even though it’s not a team record, it’s still a great record to attempt because Aunt Ursula thinks we’re playing chess. I see her checking on us.

  Viva is flat on the ground laughing her head off as Lonnie tries to get the chess pieces right. He has maybe five or six in the correct spot, the rest have all tipped over, and it’s already 25 seconds.

  “And time’s up!” I shout. Lonnie falls down on the ground, too.

  Just then the back door opens and Peanut dashes out. He runs straight at us, barking his little head off. Then he runs to the fence next to the pigeons and barks at them. Then back to us. Then to the pigeons.

  The Destructor wanders outside. “Peanut,” he calls. “Come here!” And Peanut does it.

  This is surprising, but not as surprising as the fact that The Destructor is not wearing his tin cans.

  I stand up. “Hey,” I say. “What happened to your tin can coat?”

  “I don’t wear it anymore,” he says. “Aunt Ursula thought Peanut would like me more if I took it off.” He scoops up Peanut. “I think she’s right.”

  “Weird,” Lonnie says.

  “Weird,” Viva says.

  “Definitely weird,” I agree, and then I get worried because if she can do that, what else can she do?

  LAST FRIDAY OF FOURTH GRADE

  Strange but true, school is like eating the most baked beans one by one with a cocktail stick. It feels like it’s going to last forever, that it will never end, and then all of a sudden you’ve eaten 2,780 baked beans and you’ve broken a record, or, in this case, school is over.

  The only difference is that when you break a world record you’re really, really happy.