A field reporter appeared on-screen. “I’m here at Butcherville High, where the school board has been called into an emergency session to deal with the current crisis. The talk coming from school officials has been that they plan to suspend all classes at all schools until further notice.”
Marvin’s face lit up. “No school until further notice?” he said. “This is like my birthday, Christmas, and Halloween all rolled into one.”
Sam Fletcher held his hand to his ear, listening to something over an earpiece. “I’ve just received word that school board president Smithsonia Welch is about to speak. Let’s listen in.”
The camera cut to a plump woman in glasses, who cleared her throat and looked down at her prepared notes. “In times of trouble such as these, I think back on my grandmother and her generation—the generation that built Butcherville. They were strong folk, filled with determination, gumption, and hardy whatnots. That spirit lives on today, especially in our children, who—we have decided—will not be cowed by this menace. My grandmother walked to school with only one foot, and would not have been stopped by elephants or vampires. If we forsake our children’s education out of fear, then the Elephant Vampires of the world have already won. That is why, tomorrow morning, classes at all district schools will resume as scheduled. We call upon our children to commit these small acts of bravery, putting their own lives on the line to walk to school in defiance of the Elephant Vampire. Thank you.”
Marvin’s jaw dropped. He still wasn’t convinced he was in any danger, but he was sure he’d rather spend a week at home reading comics than keep going to a building full of people who didn’t like him very much.
“Well, guess that’s it for you,” Abraham said, drawing a claw across his throat in a cutting motion. “Walking to school defenseless. See you on the other side!”
“I did kind of prefer you guys on the other side,” Marvin said. “You know, of the wall.”
“Here,” Ahab said, pulling a can of PLI Nonstick Pork Spray from his apron and handing it to Marvin.
“What’s this?” Marvin asked.
“Your weapon,” Ahab said. “To protect yourself on your suicidally dangerous walk to school.”
“Stop saying that,” Marvin said. He examined the list of ingredients on the can. “Wow,” he said. “There actually is a lot of dangerous stuff in here.” In the fine print, it said, “FOR COOKING ONLY; NOT FOR HUMAN CONSUMPTION.”
“Yeah, you’re going to need that,” Abraham said. “You’ve got third watch tonight.”
“What do you mean?” Marvin asked.
“We have set up a security perimeter and a four-shift Elephant Vampire Night-Watch rotation,” Aristotle said. He gestured to a dry-erase board they had hung on the wall. It listed the sentry schedule. Abraham went over and erased a question mark that had been left as a placeholder in the “2 a.m. to 4 a.m.” slot. He scribbled in WEIRD KID.
“I can’t get up at two a.m.,” Marvin said. “I have to go to school tomorrow. I need to sleep.” He glanced around the room. He still hadn’t really had time to digest what the moths had done to it yet. “Speaking of which, where’s my bed?”
“It’s a primary component of our barricade,” Aristotle said. “Notice that the steel springs provide excellent repulsive capabilities. I’m thinking of filing a patent on this configuration.” To Marvin, it all just looked like so much junk, piled haphazardly against the hole in the wall.
“Look,” Marvin said. “I guess you guys can stay for now, but this is only temporary. I’m not going to have you occupying my room forever.”
“This is not an occupation,” Aristotle said. “We are here to liberate you!”
Abraham handed a mop and a bucket to Marvin. “And you can start by liberating those salad-dressing stains from the floor, recruit.”
Marvin, still unsure how he had wound up at the bottom rank in his own bedroom, cleaned up the mess from the booby trap. It was after dark by the time he finished, and the multiple televisions made it impossible to concentrate on homework, so he decided to turn in early.
Marvin changed out of his oil-and-vinegar-soaked clothes and into pajamas. Then he gathered up some shirts and socks from his dresser (which had been propped against the wall as part of the barricade) and piled them up on the floor as his bed.
“Don’t get too comfortable there,” Abraham said as Marvin settled down to sleep on the lumpy, makeshift mattress. “I’m waking you up for sentry duty at oh-two-hundred sharp!”
The next morning, Marvin’s alarm went off at 6:30 a.m. as usual. As he turned it off, he realized that no one had woken him for his watch shift. In one corner of the room, the three moths were slumped against one another, snoring loudly. Their improvised weapons had fallen from their hands. Marvin tucked a wire whisk back into Ahab’s apron pocket and got ready for school.
When Marvin returned to school, he realized, with delight, the true quality of the Elephant Vampire crisis. Everyone was too busy being scared of their own shadows to torment him. It was as if the whole town’s pants had split on that gym rope, and now they were worried that their underwear was hanging out in the breeze. Marvin figured he owed the Elephant Vampire a debt of gratitude, whoever or whatever it was.
The one group of people the kids at school did make time to mock was the rest of Marvin’s science class. Marvin and Fatima had been wearing protective gear that fateful day, but everyone else had been caught in the stink explosion, and now couldn’t seem to wash away the odor. The smelly kids had been quarantined from the rest of the school and were being sequestered in a modular classroom outside the main building. Classes were being taught via videoconference, and the kids were subject to special arrival and departure procedures. Marvin watched one day as his smelly classmates were dropped off by their parents. He couldn’t be sure, as the drop-off area was far from the main entrance, but it appeared that some of the parents—who were wearing largely ineffectual white paper surgical masks—actually shoved their kids out of the cars in their haste to be rid of them. Marvin heard one girl cry, “I love you, Mom! Don’t forget to pick me up again this afternoon!” as her mother’s car sped away with a sound of screeching tires.
One might blame the parents for that, except for the fact that the smelly kids were not able to stand their own smell. “You think you’d get used to it,” a boy said to his similarly stinky classmate as they walked to the new classroom, “but you just don’t!”
Even Little Stevie had been quarantined. He left his chauffeured car and walked proudly from the curb to the modular classroom, as the non-smelly students watched from behind a perimeter fence. Some of them started to taunt him, along with the other victims.
“Hey, moneybags! Couldn’t afford a bath?”
“I always knew you were STINKIN’ rich!”
“Hey! That walking pile of garbage looks just like Stevie!”
Stevie paused midstride, straightened his collar, and then turned around. His eyes were cold, cold with the threat of promised vengeance. He looked at all his detractors one by one, to let them know that he would remember the face of every person who had insulted him. Then he spoke.
“I may reek now,” he said, “but that’s just a temporary state. You will always be you. And I will ALWAYS be me. Never forget that.” The students in the front of the crowd wilted visibly, then began to disperse, grumbling under their breath. Stevie turned and went into his classroom, whose door was marked with a makeshift sign that read ODORIFEROUS NEEDS.
At lunchtime, Marvin felt strangely liberated now that Stevie and his cohort were absent. He took his time going through the line, not worried that he might be teased or tripped or doused in shower-kraut. First, the Elephant Vampire scare had everyone too busy to think about what he was up to. And now, his chief tormentor was sidelined with a humiliating condition. Everything was coming up roses. And, Marvin thought to himself, roses did need a lot of fertilizer.
He paused as he passed by Stevie’s table, which, while mostly empty,
had attracted a crowd of “mourners.” Stevie’s hangers-on had erected an impromptu memorial to the missing. Photographs of Stevie and Amber stood at the head of the table, and they were surrounded by flowers and notes. A tray of food had been placed in front of Stevie’s empty seat. The crowd of cronies held vigil with scented candles, comforting one another on their mutual loss.
“It’s such a shame.”
“Taken when they were so young and popular.”
“And wealthy!”
“Yes. Very rich.”
Marvin saw Fatima on the edge of the crowd, growing more and more perturbed. Finally, she blurted out, “But they’re not dead!”
One of the kids nodded, and said, “Not as long as we remember them, and keep them in our hearts.”
“No, I mean—”
Another groupie shushed her. “Have some respect!” she hissed at Fatima.
Fatima shook her head and turned away. She spotted Marvin and fell in step next to him as they walked through the cafetorium.
“I can see why no one has pieced this together,” she said.
“Pieced what together?” Marvin said.
“But you never can be too careful,” she continued, half to herself. She cast suspicious glances around the room. “Let’s find somewhere private we can talk. Away from eavesdroppers.”
“How about our lunch table?” Marvin said. “We’re utterly alone there, if you recall.”
They went to the table and sat down. They sat in silence for a minute, Fatima apparently lost in thought. “Pieced what together?” Marvin prompted.
“Hmm?” Fatima said, looking up. “Oh, yes. I mean our role in the incident. The authorities think it was a gas leak or some sort of stink bomb. Our classmates are too stupid to realize that our experiment on Lee was the cause. And the only adult present—”
“Miss Sweeney,” Marvin said.
“—smells so bad that she’s been asked to stay home on administrative leave.”
“So it looks like we’re off the hook!” Marvin said enthusiastically. “I have to say, this has been the best week.”
“What?” Fatima said, horrified.
“Well, for me. No one’s mentioned my underwear in days!”
“Big ’Un’s a pile of bones, and you don’t even care!” Fatima shouted. “You’re a heartless doofus!”
Marvin held up his hands in a placating gesture. “That’s not true! I care! I mean, I didn’t know him personally, but I always threw him a peanut when I was at the zoo.” Fatima just glared at him.
“Besides,” he said, “I’m not even sure that the quote-unquote Elephant Vampire even exists.”
“But, Big ’Un—” she started.
“We know he died,” Marvin went on, “but nobody really knows how. And who’s ever heard of an Elephant Vampire before? In fact, why are we even talking about vampires? News flash: I’m pretty sure vampires aren’t real.”
He took a forkful of food from his tray. “To be honest, it all sounds too much like something from one of your crazy tabloids,” Marvin said.
Fatima seethed quietly for a moment. Then she said, “To be honest, you are a little heartless.” She stuck a finger in his face. “Look what you did to Lee.”
“Me?” Marvin said. “You were there, too.”
“I was there for the science,” Fatima said. “And I feel sick about it. I can see why you don’t have any friends.”
“I did what I did in that science lab for you,” Marvin said. “To shut up everyone who was making fun of you.”
“Oh,” she said. “Oh.” She appeared to blush a little under all her headgear. “I thought it was just about Stevie. I … Thank you.”
Marvin nodded, and they ate in silence for a moment.
Then Fatima looked up. “But I can’t help feeling bad about Lee,” she said, glancing over at his empty seat. “He’s smellier than ever now, because of us, and he’s trapped out there in quarantine. It’s awful to be singled out like that.”
“I guess I didn’t think about what Lee’s going through,” Marvin said. “He must be miserable, stuck in that little room with Stevie and Amber and the rest of them.”
“Have you tried reaching out to him at all?” Fatima said. “Maybe a phone call?”
“I don’t know,” Marvin said. “He was pretty mad at me after we walked him home that day.”
“Well, maybe we’ll see him at the assembly tomorrow,” Fatima said. “You know, as much as I mistrust everything to do with Pork Loaf, I still can’t believe that it had that big of an effect on Lee. What else is it capable of?”
The bell rang, and they both got up to clear their trays.
Walking home from school, Marvin found himself thinking more about Fatima’s question. What else was Pork Loaf capable of? He had experimented with many of the raw ingredients over the years, and hadn’t noticed anything strange, aside from the impossible-to-remove pork flavor. His last experiment had shown even less promise than usual—though that hadn’t kept the moths from drinking it.
Marvin stopped in his tracks. The moths had drunk his experiment. The giant, superintelligent, mutant freeloaders inhabiting his room. A terrible realization began growing in his mind, and Marvin ran the rest of the way home.
When Marvin entered his attic room, the moths were eating a late lunch of upholstery—apparently an old sofa cushion they had brought from one of the other attics.
“You can’t have any,” Abraham said through a full mouth. “We only packed enough emergency rations for three.”
“So, you just eat whatever you find up here?” Marvin asked. “You eat or drink whatever’s lying around?”
“Well we are not cannibals, if that’s what you mean,” Aristotle said.
“No, that’s not what I meant,” Marvin said.
“Then get to it, boy,” Abraham said between slurps. “Time’s a-wasting.”
“Did you drink my experiment?” Marvin asked, looking from one giant insect to another.
“What are you talking about?” Abraham said. “What experiment?”
“The test tubes of Pork Punch,” Marvin said. “I left them here, and I seem to recall that they were on your coffee table when I first met you.”
“Oh,” Abraham said. “Yeah, probably. This old wool gets a little dry, you know.”
Marvin turned to Aristotle, who he knew to be the most scientifically minded of the three. “I think that’s what made you what you are.”
“An intriguing hypothesis,” said Aristotle. “And also one that’s conveniently impossible to verify.”
“Well, how do you think you three became different from all the other moths up here in the attic?” Marvin asked.
“Good jeans?” Ahab said uncertainly, a pair of designer denim jeans hanging out of his mandibles.
“That’s genes as in DNA, not Jordache, you hulking nincompoop,” Aristotle said. “And those are cotton, by the way.” Ahab spit the pants ungloriously onto the floor, where they landed with a soggy plop.
“Look,” Marvin said, frustrated, “that is a normal moth.” He pointed to a tiny insect, no bigger than his fingernail, that fluttered out of the air and settled onto the pile of wool in front of Abraham.
“Hey!” Abraham shouted, shooing the tiny moth away. “Off my lunch, cretin!” He crushed it against a nearby beam. “Never did like that guy,” he muttered.
“I thought you said you weren’t cannibals,” Marvin said, horrified.
“Well I’m not going to eat him,” Abraham replied. “What’s your point, anyway?”
“That my experiment—a strange mixture of ingredients from PLI’s labs—had an unexpected effect upon you three,” Marvin said, his eyes unfocused. “It mutated you, causing you to grow hundreds of times larger and achieve incredible levels of intelligence. In short, I am your creator.”
“And if I could consistently hit home runs out of Fenway, I’d be Ted Williams,” said Abraham. “But wishing it don’t make it so.”
Aristotle, mea
nwhile, was nodding to himself. “No, let us consider. It would explain our rapid transformation immediately following the ingestion of the colorful liquid,” he said. “Liquid that was unlabeled and unmarked, I might add. Not that we could read at that point. Nevertheless”—and he pointed a long appendage at Marvin in an accusatory manner—“sloppy science, my dear Watson.”
Ahab suddenly leaped to his feet. “Daddy!” he cried, then ran forward and engulfed Marvin in a crushing four-armed hug.
“So what are the implications of this, I wonder?” Aristotle said.
“For starters, he can’t complain about us staying here anymore,” Abraham said. “If he wants to be a responsible parent, that is. Right, Pops?”
“Great,” Marvin said from within Ahab’s furry embrace. “Welcome home, kids.”
Marvin stood in a line of kids at school, waiting to get into the cafetorium for a special assembly. He heard a clanking approaching him from behind, accompanied by disgruntled mutterings and exclamations.
“Hey, watch it!”
“That’s my spot in line! No cutting!”
“Out of the way! Public Safety! Public Safety!” The last voice was clearly Fatima’s, and Marvin hoped that if he stood completely still, the back of his head would blend in with all the other nondescript heads behind him, and she would be unable to find him to invoke whatever public-safety protocol she was shouting about.
“Marvin! There you are,” she said at last, and Marvin sighed. “I’ve got important news.”
“What’s the public-safety emergency?” he asked.
“What? Oh that’s just my thing,” she said.
“It is?”
“Yeah—if I want people to get out of my way, I yell, ‘Public Safety,’” she said. “It’s more effective than ‘Excuse me.’ I’ve tested it.”
“Great. I’m sorry I asked,” Marvin said.
“It’s about the moths,” she said, her voice suddenly dropping to a whisper.
“That reminds me,” Marvin said. “I have some big news about the moths, too.”
Marvin and the Moths Page 9