Marvin and the Moths

by Jonathan Follett

  “How should I know? What am I, your accountant?” said Abraham. “Keep track of your own stuff.”

  “Whatcha reading?” Ahab asked Marvin, slurping up the last string of Marvin’s sweater like a strand of spaghetti.

  Marvin looked down at the textbook in his hands. “Algebra,” he said.

  “Algebra is child’s play,” said Aristotle, waving a leg dismissively. “You should try calculus.”

  “Well, I don’t even understand this first page,” Marvin said.

  “Bring it here,” said Aristotle. “Let me look at that.”

  “How do you know algebra?” Marvin asked.

  “We’ve been reading encyclopedias for days,” said Aristotle. “There’s not much else to do up here between ball games.”

  An hour later, Marvin understood the first chapter quite well, although he had never had a tutor with so many arms. He thanked the moths and crawled, sweaterless, back to his own attic. He was wiser, but colder, for the experience.

  Of all the pigs in the yard, James was the most beautiful. He knew it, the farmer knew it, and soon, the entire town of Butcherville would know it, too. At 240 pounds of pink pigness, James was a shoo-in to win the blue ribbon at the upcoming Seventy-Fifth Annual Pork Loaf Harvest Festival. He had even developed a little strut as he walked by the other hogs in the yard. They didn’t like it, but they knew, on this farm, James was king.

  As dusk settled upon Butcherville, James made one final circuit of his kingdom before bedding down in fine golden straw, satisfied that everything was right with the world.

  From a dark corner of the sty came a cold voice. “O monstrous beast! How like a swine he lies! Grim death, how foul and loathsome is thine image!”

  James, who hadn’t heard the voice, snorted comfortably, oblivious as the dark shape descended. It sank its dripping fangs into James’s rump, causing the pig to let out a snort and a squeal—but it was too late. His hindquarters were paralyzed. James’s 240 prize-winning-pounds weighed him down as he clawed at the earth with his front hooves, trying vainly to drag himself away.

  The other pigs, awakened by the commotion, shrugged and went back to bed. They were all going to be someone’s dinner eventually—but at least now, one of them had a shot at that blue ribbon.

  The next morning, Marvin had a pop quiz in algebra class. To his utter surprise, he made it through with a B. Apparently his insect tutors—creepy as they were—had done a pretty good job.

  That evening at dinner, Marvin’s father asked, “How was school?”

  Marvin replied, “Not too bad. I got a B on my algebra quiz.”

  “Good,” his father said. “I thought you said you were having trouble in that class. Did you get some help?”

  “Yeah. I found some giant moths living in the attic. They know algebra, and they said they’ll teach me calculus, too, in a couple of years.”

  “Hardy-har-har,” his father said. “Wise guy.”

  “Eat your Pork Loaf, honey,” his mother said.

  Marvin realized that there were some things about his life that his parents just couldn’t understand.

  At school, Fatima had spent their science class sitting in stony silence, pretending that Marvin didn’t exist. He hadn’t known how to reach out to her to smooth things over, and he hadn’t been entirely sure he had a reason to bother. But the experience with the moths was so strange that he felt he had to share it with someone, and the weirdness of it seemed right up her alley. When Marvin passed her in the halls the following Monday, he gave her a tentative wave. Fatima shot him a dirty look and clanked off to her next class.

  In science class that Wednesday, Miss Sweeney told them once again to get into their groups. Marvin, Lee, and Fatima sat at their lab table, not talking as usual. After several minutes had passed, Fatima finally turned to Marvin and said, “Am I a walnut or a peanut or a cashew?”

  “A what?” Marvin replied, confused.

  “You wrote that I was a nut. What kind of nut am I?”

  “Actually, I wrote that you were a nutjob,” Marvin said, pulling out his notebook. “See?”

  “Wow. You take excellent notes,” Lee said. “Can I copy those?” He took Marvin’s notebook and began scribbling furiously.

  “Oh. Well I wouldn’t expect you to understand the truth about the weird things that happen in this town,” said Fatima. “Your whole family is in league with Pork Loaf.”

  “Actually, I know a little about some weird things,” Marvin said. He paused. “What if I told you a secret about something really strange?”

  Fatima’s jaw dropped—as much as it could drop, being held in place by her orthodontic headgear.

  “A secret? What is it?” she asked breathlessly. “Is it about the fifteen cases of mummified ankle bones? Or the disappearing cats? Or the subliminal brainwashing signal transmitted with Pork Loaf commercials?”

  “No,” Marvin said. “It’s this: There are moths in my attic.”

  “That’s your secret?” Fatima said. “How is that a secret? Here’s a news flash—there are rocks in your head.”

  “Will you let me finish?” Marvin replied. “They’re giant, superintelligent moths.”

  “Uh-huh,” said Fatima. “Sure they are. Compared with you, maybe.”

  “No, I’m serious,” Marvin insisted. “They can speak, and they helped me with my algebra.” He showed her his pop quiz, with a B emblazoned in red marker at the top.

  “You’re right,” Fatima said. “I don’t believe you’re smart enough to do that on your own. But how do I know you’re not just pulling my leg?”

  Marvin sat openmouthed for several seconds, trying to come up with an answer that didn’t involve a knee-brace joke.

  “Attention, class,” Miss Sweeney said. “Your group project will be to use the scientific method to conduct an experiment. The subject of the experiment is your choice. Just be sure to document your procedures and results, and be prepared to present your findings in front of the class in two weeks.”

  Marvin turned to Fatima. “Look. We have to get together to figure out this homework assignment, anyway. Why don’t we meet at my house on Saturday, and I’ll introduce you to the moths.”

  Fatima warily agreed.

  “Nutjob!” Lee exclaimed, scribbling down the last of Marvin’s notes. “Got it!” He put down his pencil. “Thanks, Marvin,” he said, and returned the notebook.

  Early Saturday afternoon, Harry Watson Sr. was taking paper plates and cups from the pantry for Baby Harry’s barbecue when the doorbell rang. As he opened the door he caught a whiff of a foul odor.

  “Are you here to see Marvin?” he asked the boy and girl standing on the stoop. They nodded. “You’d better get inside,” he said. “I think the sewers are backing up again.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, I think that’s me,” said Lee as they stepped inside. He handed Marvin’s dad a preprinted calling card. “My grandmother makes me carry these.”

  The card read: My name is Lee Skluzacek. I apologize for the smell. I do bathe regularly. My doctors do not know the cause of my condition. Thank you for your consideration.

  In the next room, startled by the stench, Baby Harry began to wail.

  “Um. Marvin’s up in his room, in the attic. Why don’t you do your schoolwork there,” Marvin’s dad tactfully suggested.

  They began climbing the stairs.

  “And close the door,” Marvin’s dad called up after them.

  Marvin was sitting on his bed reading his favorite comic book, Fearless Phil: The Man Who Laughs in the Face of Fear. Phil was an unapologetically reckless idiot who saved people by diving headfirst into danger and never thinking about the consequences. Marvin wasn’t sure why, but the character appealed to him on a deep level. He looked up as his guests entered the room.

  “That was uncomfortable,” Fatima announced. “I was sure your dad would ask me what I knew about Pork Loaf’s involvement in the Iran-Contra Affair.”

  “He’s not like that,” said M
arvin.

  “Have you told him about the giant, superintelligent M-O-T-H-S?” she asked.

  “Giant math?” Lee exclaimed in horror. “I thought we were working on our science project.”

  “Not math, moths,” Fatima declared, then clapped her hand over her mouth in alarm and glanced toward the door. “Do you think he heard that?” she whispered.

  “I wouldn’t worry about him,” Marvin said. “I tried to tell my parents about it the other night, but they just didn’t get it.”

  “So, where are the you-know-whats?” Fatima asked. Just then, an inhuman, bloodcurdling wail pierced the air, followed by a shrieking voice from the space beyond the attic wall.

  “Are you blind, ump?” came the scream. “He was safe. Safe!”

  Fatima and Lee jumped at the sound, and hugged each other in fear. “What was that?” Fatima whispered.

  Meanwhile, Marvin was already clambering into the hole in the wall. “Come on,” he said. “They’re just watching baseball.”

  Fatima suddenly realized she was clutching Lee and released him. Then she composed her face into a tough frown and followed Marvin into the hole.

  As they made their way through the cluttered passageway of the adjacent attic, Fatima asked Marvin, “What are the moths like?”

  “They’re stranger than you can imagine,” Marvin said.

  “Are they dangerous?” she asked.

  “I don’t think so,” said Marvin. “Just very sarcastic.”

  As before, an eerie, bluish phantom light flickered through the final hole in the wall, accompanied by the sounds of baseball, a sports announcer’s nasal voice, and burps and mutterings. The kids stood in front of the glowing opening, which looked to be some portal to another world.

  “Well, we’re here,” Marvin said, crouching down in front of the hole. “You ready for this?”

  Fatima, for once, appeared too nervous to come up with a witty reply. “Lead the way,” she said.

  As Marvin emerged from the far side of the hole, he saw the three moths were out of their seats in front of the television. They hopped up and down, waving their arms in an angry frenzy of motion. Abraham lifted a large bowl of snacks above his head, as though to smash it over the TV.

  “Curse you and the third-base coach who waved you in!” screamed Abraham. “Why they pay grown men huge sums of money to throw a ball around—BADLY—I’ll never understand.”

  “Turn it off,” said Aristotle, waving at the TV dejectedly. “There’s nothing but anguish and heartbreak in there.”

  Ahab bent down and turned off the TV, plunging the attic into darkness.

  Lee let out a horrified wail. “Oh, oh help me. We’re all going to die.”

  “Shut up, no we’re not,” Fatima said. She paused. “Are we?”

  At that, Aristotle switched on a floor lamp, which cast long, menacing shadows throughout the room. “What have we here?” he said.

  “These are my friends,” Marvin said, “Fatima Curie and Lee Skluzacek.”

  “Friends?” Lee said, hopeful. “Really?”

  Marvin turned to Lee and Fatima. “Let me introduce the moths,” he said, and pointed to each one in turn. “This is the short, surly one, that’s the tall know-it-all, and that’s the big lug.”

  “As elegant an introduction as that was,” Aristotle said, stepping forward, “allow me to give the lady our proper names. I am Aristotle, named for the great philosopher and scientist.”

  “How’d you get that name?” Fatima asked.

  Aristotle turned and picked up a large book from a table behind him. “I was perusing the encyclopedia—”

  “What’s an encyclopedia?” Lee asked.

  “It’s like Wikipedia, only trapped in a bunch of dead trees,” Fatima said. “From back in the pre-digital dark ages when we used to cut down whole forests just to make books that would be out-of-date by the time they were printed.”

  “As I was SAYING,” Aristotle continued, glaring at Fatima with his multifaceted eyes, “I was perusing the encyclopedia and, due to my considerable intellectual gifts, the moniker seemed most appropriate.”

  “And them?” she asked, indicating the other two moths.

  “These are Abraham and Ahab,” he said, pointing first to the shorter moth and then to the massive one.

  “What about you?” she asked Abraham. “Were you named after the biblical patriarch? Or Abraham Lincoln?”

  “I don’t know,” the moth said, shrugging. “It was just the first name I came across.”

  Ahab waved an appendage. “And I’m called Ahab because I’m as big as a whale,” he said.

  “Shouldn’t you be called Moby-Dick, then?” Fatima asked.

  “Well, it was our first day of learning how to read, and we only had the A volume,” Ahab said.

  “That doesn’t seem like a good reason,” Fatima said, frowning.

  “Yes, yes, it’s all very interesting,” Abraham said loudly. “But why are you three interrupting our doubleheader?”

  “I brought them to the house to work on our science experiment for class,” Marvin said.

  Fatima stepped in front of Abraham and started poking and prodding at his furry body, tugging at his long, feathery antennae, and running her fingers along his shiny wings.

  “Hey, watch it, lady!” Abraham said. “Don’t damage the merchandise.”

  “Just look at those hideous eyes,” Fatima said. “And the bloated abdomen. And all those creepy arms. You’re perfect! You’ll make a great science project!”

  “Them?” Marvin asked.

  “Of course!” said Fatima. “We can run an exhaustive battery of tests on their blood and tissue samples to see what makes them different from ordinary moths. We’ll get an A for sure!”

  “I’ll give you an A,” said Abraham, snatching the A volume of the encyclopedia from Aristotle’s hands and flinging it at Fatima, narrowly missing her head.

  “Hey, watch it!” yelled Fatima.

  “Abraham,” said the hulking Ahab, “this is why people never come to visit us. ’Cause you’re so rude.” He offered a plate to the kids. “Here—have a snack.” The plate was stacked with hors d’oeuvres—small wool squares on toothpicks.

  “Maybe later,” said Marvin.

  “Wait a minute,” Fatima said. “Moth larvae eat clothing, but as mature moths, shouldn’t you have a plant- or nectar-based diet?”

  Abraham glared at her. “So we like comfort food! Do I tell you what to eat?”

  “She’s right,” Marvin said to the moths. “What you eat, why you’re so big, why you’re so rude—all these things would be great material for a project. That is, if you guys are willing to be our science experiment.”

  “You mean, do we wish to be poked and prodded by you three now, and later be kidnapped by devious scientists who will poke and prod us even more before they ultimately dissect us and put our bodies on display in some museum?” asked Aristotle. He chuckled. “Pardon us if we fail to jump at the opportunity.”

  “I guess I see what you mean,” said Marvin. He thought for a moment. “Listen, since you guys don’t want to be our science experiment, do you have any ideas of what we could do instead?”

  “Why don’t you try to figure out why this kid smells so bad?” Abraham said as he opened the painted-over attic window to let in some fresh air. Aristotle picked up Lee and moved him to the far side of the room.

  “My goodness,” said Aristotle, backing away from Lee. “Do you secrete that odor as a defense mechanism? Or is it a pheromone? Are you trying to attract a female?”

  “A female what?” Abraham said. “A female garbage can?”

  Fatima shifted her weight, and her metal apparatus clanked. Everyone turned to look at her. “I am NOT a female garbage can!” she said.

  Abraham turned back to Lee. “Have you stepped in poop?”

  “Every day?” Marvin said.

  “Well, I’m just ruling out the obvious.”

  “Did you stick something u
p your nose, and now it’s rotting?” asked Ahab.

  “Am I really going to be our science experiment?” Lee asked. “I mean, I want to help out the team, but—”

  “Well, you want to get an A, don’t you?” asked Fatima.

  “I guess,” said Lee.

  “You guess? Listen, just go with it.”

  “Do you bathe?” Aristotle asked Lee.

  Lee handed the moth one of his cards.

  “Maybe it’s an allergy,” Ahab said in his slow, deep voice. “I’ve read that those can result in uncomfortable symptoms.”

  “Yeah, I’m pretty uncomfortable right now,” said Abraham.

  “An allergy, huh?” said Fatima. “Pollen? Grass? Ragweed?”

  Lee shrugged. “I don’t know why that would make me smell.”

  “Yeah, and then you’d only smell part of the year,” said Marvin. “And we know that’s not the case. It’s got to be something you’re exposed to every day. Maybe something that you eat?”

  “A food allergy!” said Fatima. “Good! We can test that.”

  “How?” asked Lee.

  “You should avoid eating for the next twenty-four hours, and then, once your system is cleaned out, we’ll slowly reintroduce the foods you normally eat and see which one makes you smell.”

  “Maybe we should make it forty-eight hours, just to be sure,” suggested Marvin.

  “Okay,” Fatima said. “Good idea.”

  “Hey!” Lee said. “That sounds like an awful long time.”

  “You know what an awful long time is?” Abraham asked. “Spending an afternoon here with you, stinky.”

  “I don’t know if I can go two days without eating,” said Lee.

  “Lee—you listen to me,” said Fatima, sticking her finger in his face. “If you eat anything—ANYTHING AT ALL—we will all FAIL. And I will never forgive you. And I will never forget. I will schedule not forgiving you into my online calendar every single day for the rest of my life. Comprende?”

  “I guess … if it means that much to you and Marvin …” Lee said.

  “Fascinating,” Abraham said, bored. He turned to Marvin. “Could you take the pushy one and the smelly one away, now? The second game of the doubleheader is coming up, and if these two stick around, it’s going to ruin my afternoon.”