The Thabberwucky

by Manny Xavier

The Thabberwucky

  By Manny Xavier

  Copyright 2014 Manny Xavier

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  It was a cold day. The kind of day you want to curl up into a little ball and hide from the world. Max was already in a little ball. All he wanted was to hide from the world all day.

  But Max had other plans today. This would not be a day for sleeping in. Today would not be a day of rest. There was a Thabberwucky to be dealt with.

  Max could not count on any help from his family in dealing with the Thabberwucky. His mom and dad did not believe in the Thabberwucky. Nor did his older brother, Derrick. In fact, Max was convinced that if his brother did believe in the Thabberwucky he would become one of it’s minions. Derrick would help it to defeat Max.

  Max tossed the covers from over his head. A smell caught his attention. It was the smell of maple syrup and warm bread. Max was groggy, but knew that smell from somewhere. His brain spun to connect a visual clue. Suddenly a picture appeared that matched the smell. It was PANCAKES!

  Max jumped out of bed with no thought for the cold. He knew if his father or brother beat him to the table he would have to make due with hashbrowns- or even worse, eggs. Max hated eggs in all forms. Scrambled, fried, over easy or poached, whatever that meant, Max hated them all.

  Once his feet hit the floor, Max pulled his shirt and pants on in a flash. He raced to find his socks. As his feet hit the cold floor the chill made his entire body tighten. Socks!Socks!Socks! he thought. He found a pair that passed the smell test and hurriedly put them on. Now, he thought with a smile, PANCAKES!

  Max bounded down the stairs. Derrick exited his room right on Max's heels. Max knew what he was thinking. After years of practice neither of them had to say a word. This was an all out battle royal for the prize of the week–Pancakes.

  Max made it to the bottom of the stairs first. As usual Derrick leaped over the banister midway down the stairs, landing on the couch, placing him dead even with Max as they made their run to the kitchen. Max’s mom always served pancakes at the island in the center of the kitchen. She said it reminded her of working in a diner in her college days. Max did not care. She could have served them on the floor. Max would still race to be first in line.

  Max felt a familiar tug on his shirt collar as he neared the doorway. Max knew it was Derrick’s big monkey paw trying to slow his progress. Derrick was slower over shorter distances but he used his size to out muscle Max when he could. And this was definitely one of those moments. Max felt Derrick's grip tighten, but resolved not to let him win. “I can always get another shirt,” Max thought to himself. Max leaned forward and gave it all he had. All he had proved little use. Max realized the hand did not belong to Derrick after all.

  With his feet dangling in the air, Max turned and looked into his father’s eyes. “Alright, you two – I love your Mom’s pancakes, too. But let’s not wreck the place getting a seat. Derrick straighten that couch up. And you mister,” Max’s father declared, “walk into the kitchen and take a seat like a gentleman. Understood?”

  “Yes, Sir.” Max stated with a grimace.

  Max’s father, Marvin Davis, was a kind man. He was fair and never took sides when Max and Derrick were at odds. He was loving and there when Max needed him. That is with most things. But not with the Thabberwucky. Max's father never listened to Max about the Thabberwucky.

  Max walked into the kitchen and chose a stool next to the island. He was just about to lift himself up when Derrick jumped onto the stool he had chosen. “MOM!” Max yelled instinctively, pleading for some help in the matter.

  “Slow pokes wait their turn!” blurted out Derrick, grinning gleefully at Max.

  “Derrick Joseph Michael Davis!” issued Max’s mom, “that is not the way we treat your little brother. Now you move over, and Derrick, be polite.”

  Derrick released the seat to Max, but as he moved he poked a foot at Max’s side just out of the line of sight of their mother. “Here you go – squirt!” Derrick mocked. “Need a ladder to get to the top?”

  “Derrick! That’s enough,” his mother added. “Max take your seat dear. Your breakfast is getting cold.”

  “Well, we can’t have that now can we?” asked Max’s father as he took the last stool. “Your mother works too hard on this wonderful breakfast for us to allow that to happen.”

  “Thank you dear,” Max’s mom replied. “Now someone lead us in grace so we can begin please.”

  Derrick offered a simple thank you and added some “feeling” with some prodding from his father. Once grace was done Max’s Mom served them each 3 pancakes. Max got his first with an unforgettable “You’ll pay for that” look from Derrick. Max could care less. Derrick was always getting him for something, even if the something was made up entirely. It came with the territory of being a little brother.

  There was silence for the first ten minutes as each person took their turn adding syrup, cutting the pancakes into slices and devouring huge mouthfuls with great utterances of approval – well as much as anyone with a mouth stuffed with pancakes can do so.

  “Hummy dis iz dwishous” attempted Max’s father.

  “Thank you dear,” responded Max’s mother. “But please don’t try to talk with your mouth full. It sets a bad example for the boys.”She looked at the Max and Derrick as she spoke with her right hand covering her mouth. She did so as if they could not hear her.

  Why did parents do that? Max wondered. After all they were merely feet apart and could hear every word. And why cover your mouth? Last Max had checked he did not have any secret ability for reading lips. And even if Max could do so, there was no need as Max could clearly hear what his mother had said. Grownups are so strange Max thought. Catching a glimpse of Derrick stuffing pancakes into his mouth, Max realized that no matter how strange his parents were at times, they could never be as strange as Derrick.

  Derrick was fourteen, three years older than Max. He only listened to heavy metal music and only at one volume, ear bleed level. His stereo in his room had a volume button but it was broken. It was stuck on level 14, the highest level. Derrick told his father it was broken and suggested he get him a new stereo.

  Max’s father chose to invest in headphones instead. This solved the problem when Max’s parents were home. When they were out Max had to cover his ears as the sound would shake the walls. Max never complained to his parents about this. Max knew the rules. There was no snitching on what happened when their parents were out. Despite all other sibling rivalry this was an unbreakable rule between brothers. At least one thing between them was clear as day.

  Derrick was going through a wearing all black phase. Most of the kids who listened to the music he did were too. This was not EMO wear, or a Marilyn Manson type of thing. All the kids wore black – of any kind – and at all times. There was no weird clothing – normal pants, shirts, etc. – but all black and all the time.

  Max remembered when his mom bought Derrick a red shirt. Derrick spent all night coloring it with a sharpie just to make it look like a black shirt with a Black Widow symbol on it. That was the name of the band he listened to, the Black Widows, hence the black clothing. Max did not get it. Max did not care to get it. Derrick had his own issues, They were for Max to ignore, survive and avoid l
ater in life. Not for him to resolve.

  “You gwonna fimish that sqwurt?” Derrick asked with a mouthful of pancakes in mid-chew.

  Max looked at the last pancake on his plate and pushed the plate toward Derrick with a big sigh, “No, all yours brother.”

  Derrick snatched the pancake and began dismembering it at once. Ugh! Max thought – he was too full to watch Derrick stuff even more food into his mouth. It was time to head out any way. “Thanks, Mom!” Max stated. “That was awesome.”

  “Your welcome, honey,” his mom replied. “You make sure to dress warm if you plan to go outside, OK?”

  “Yes ma’am,” Max responded. “ I will.”

  “Bwee kwareful oud dare, spwort,” offered Max’s father, his mouth overflowing with the other half of Max’s leftover pancake he had sneaked from Derrick’s plate.

  “OK dad,” Max said. “ I will.”

  Max left the kitchen and made his way to the laundry room. This is where all the shoes, coats and hats were stored. It had a door that led into the garage, and according to Max’s mother, was the best line of defense for the containment of “filth” in the house. This meant that the three males in the home could detach the dirt from their bodies before entering the rest of the home. And Max knew that she was right. Max's father, brother, and Max himself,