he would miss Two Times.
He sat with them at the front table, and played the game with them that he’d invented.
Here’s to The Rest of Us,
Here’s to the Best of Us,
Here’s to us one and all!
Here’s to, here’s to, our power, our power,
Here’s to lunch hour,
Here’s to who’s able,
To sit at this table!
… for now there were others in the Beacon Hill Elementary School who pulled up chairs to join them, shouting out lines and rhyming them. Ones with big noses, and ones with little eyes, and ones afraid of the dark, and ones who stuttered, and ones who still wet their beds at night.
They could hear Eunice from all the way across the cafeteria. “You have such good taste in clothes, Tuffy Buck!”
“This is my father’s hat. This is my father’s vest. Say congratulations to my father.”
“I’ve never congratulated a single soul but myself,” said Eunice, “because stars are the most unselfish of people. They give of themselves tirelessly … and no one has more heart.”
We pick up for each other,
We stick up for each other,
The rest of us know what to do!
What a, what a, crew, what a crew!
“And Stuart Bagg sticks up for me!” Fatso called out at the end of another game.
Shoebag said, “But if I am ever gone, what will happen then?”
“The rest of us will handle it!” said Handles.
Shoebag smiled.
When Shoebag passed Mr. Doormatee in the hall, he said to him, “Thanks for being my pal,” even though Shoebag could not think of any way the principal had ever been his pal.
“I’m a pal of those who need a pal,” said Mr. Doormatee, squashing an ant under his shoe.
“Except that ant,” Shoebag said.
“Ants don’t belong in school, Stuart Bagg. I’m not a pal of those who don’t belong in school. I’m a principal pal.”
When Shoebag went to the cloakroom at two-thirty that afternoon, there was this note in his jacket pocket.
Just because I like your sister,
Do not get your hopes up, Mister,
You’ll be hearing your own moans,
When I come to break your bones!
Shoebag would not miss the poems, or the boy who wrote them.
Late that night, when the house was very quiet, when no one in roachdom dared come out for fear that Shoebag would step on him, Shoebag opened the slip of paper with the secret formula written on it. After he memorized it, he went into the kitchen.
He did not turn on the light. He did take off all his clothes. He did close his eyes.
“Flit, flutter, quiver, quaver, totter, stagger, trumble, warble, wobble, wiggle, swing, and sway.”
And then he heard his mother’s voice call out, “Get your cerci moving! Hurry up, Shoebag!”
Shoebag moved his cerci.
He moved his two back legs.
He moved his two middle legs.
He moved his two front legs.
And his antennae.
“The cat from upstairs is two inches away from you, Shoebag!” cried Drainboard.
“I’m only half an inch away from you now,” said Mildred, “and being out of a job has given me a ferocious appetite.”
Twenty-one
T HE NEXT MORNING THERE were two notes, side by side on the kitchen table.
From Stuart Bagg,
Mr. and Mrs. Biddle: Thank you for everything. Do not worry about me for I have found my way home.
From Shoebag:
Eunice: It is all right not to miss me. Good-bye is good-bye. If you ever want to remember me, though, save some crawling insect as you did the roach that night.
Mr. and Mrs. Biddle had overslept and were hurrying to finish breakfast and get on with their day.
“We will miss Stuart Bagg,” said Mr. Biddle, “but I am glad his amnesia is over. Now I must get to my store. The customers will be waiting.”
“And I must get to my first job interview of the day,” said Mrs. Biddle clearing away the dirty dishes from the. table. “I will miss Stuart, too … Eunice? Why are you just sitting there. Get ready for school!”
“I can’t believe he’s gone,” said Eunice.
“Honey, there are things to be done now, don’t mope,” said her father. “Get
He sat with them at the front table, and played the game with them that he’d invented.
Here’s to The Rest of Us,
Here’s to the Best of Us,
Here’s to us one and all!
Here’s to, here’s to, our power, our power,
Here’s to lunch hour,
Here’s to who’s able,
To sit at this table!
… for now there were others in the Beacon Hill Elementary School who pulled up chairs to join them, shouting out lines and rhyming them. Ones with big noses, and ones with little eyes, and ones afraid of the dark, and ones who stuttered, and ones who still wet their beds at night.
They could hear Eunice from all the way across the cafeteria. “You have such good taste in clothes, Tuffy Buck!”
“This is my father’s hat. This is my father’s vest. Say congratulations to my father.”
“I’ve never congratulated a single soul but myself,” said Eunice, “because stars are the most unselfish of people. They give of themselves tirelessly … and no one has more heart.”
We pick up for each other,
We stick up for each other,
The rest of us know what to do!
What a, what a, crew, what a crew!
“And Stuart Bagg sticks up for me!” Fatso called out at the end of another game.
Shoebag said, “But if I am ever gone, what will happen then?”
“The rest of us will handle it!” said Handles.
Shoebag smiled.
When Shoebag passed Mr. Doormatee in the hall, he said to him, “Thanks for being my pal,” even though Shoebag could not think of any way the principal had ever been his pal.
“I’m a pal of those who need a pal,” said Mr. Doormatee, squashing an ant under his shoe.
“Except that ant,” Shoebag said.
“Ants don’t belong in school, Stuart Bagg. I’m not a pal of those who don’t belong in school. I’m a principal pal.”
When Shoebag went to the cloakroom at two-thirty that afternoon, there was this note in his jacket pocket.
Just because I like your sister,
Do not get your hopes up, Mister,
You’ll be hearing your own moans,
When I come to break your bones!
Shoebag would not miss the poems, or the boy who wrote them.
Late that night, when the house was very quiet, when no one in roachdom dared come out for fear that Shoebag would step on him, Shoebag opened the slip of paper with the secret formula written on it. After he memorized it, he went into the kitchen.
He did not turn on the light. He did take off all his clothes. He did close his eyes.
“Flit, flutter, quiver, quaver, totter, stagger, trumble, warble, wobble, wiggle, swing, and sway.”
And then he heard his mother’s voice call out, “Get your cerci moving! Hurry up, Shoebag!”
Shoebag moved his cerci.
He moved his two back legs.
He moved his two middle legs.
He moved his two front legs.
And his antennae.
“The cat from upstairs is two inches away from you, Shoebag!” cried Drainboard.
“I’m only half an inch away from you now,” said Mildred, “and being out of a job has given me a ferocious appetite.”
Twenty-one
T HE NEXT MORNING THERE were two notes, side by side on the kitchen table.
From Stuart Bagg,
Mr. and Mrs. Biddle: Thank you for everything. Do not worry about me for I have found my way home.
From Shoebag:
Eunice: It is all right not to miss me. Good-bye is good-bye. If you ever want to remember me, though, save some crawling insect as you did the roach that night.
Mr. and Mrs. Biddle had overslept and were hurrying to finish breakfast and get on with their day.
“We will miss Stuart Bagg,” said Mr. Biddle, “but I am glad his amnesia is over. Now I must get to my store. The customers will be waiting.”
“And I must get to my first job interview of the day,” said Mrs. Biddle clearing away the dirty dishes from the. table. “I will miss Stuart, too … Eunice? Why are you just sitting there. Get ready for school!”
“I can’t believe he’s gone,” said Eunice.
“Honey, there are things to be done now, don’t mope,” said her father. “Get
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