who called out, “Pretty Soft? Pretty Soft? Wait!”
Eunice kept on going, frowning as the sun hit her eyes, grinning widely as she saw Bark, Handles, Two Times, Fatso, and The Ghost, running after them to play on the swings and the slides.
Twenty-two
“W HAT’S THAT?”
“A cat, that’s all. A cat.”
“Put the box in the back of the truck.”
“Shoo, cat! Scat!”
Then for a long time, there were no human voices. The box they were in was picked up and put down many times. Shoebag had crawled out of the microwave and joined his family in the bottom of the box.
It was a noisy, bumpy ride, full of stops and starts, lasting many days, during which they fed on the glue of the Super-Stik tape.
At last they arrived at their new home, a huge store in a shopping center just outside Boston.
When they landed there, it was evening, almost closing time.
They sneaked out into a section of the store called Appliances, where they stayed up under a new refrigerator while Under The Toaster scouted for a permanent place.
All the television sets across the aisle were on.
“This doesn’t look good to me,” said Drainboard. “What will we eat here?”
“I saw some books in the next aisle,” said Shoebag. “We can always eat the bindings.”
“Ugh!” Drainboard’s wings shuddered with distaste. “I’ve had my fill of sticky picnics. I hope this move isn’t a mistake!”
A new tiny sister of Shoebag’s hopped about nervously.
“Calm down, Frying Pan,” Shoebag said gently. “Daddy will take care of everything.”
“I don’t want to live in Appliances,” Radio said.
“We may have to find the toy department,” said Drainboard. “Children always wander in eating, and we can live on their crumbs.”
“There’re too many people. We’ll get stepped on!” said Wheaties Box.
“Sweethearts, there are no people around in a department store after nine at night. We’ll have the run of the place.”
“What if this store forbids you to eat and shop?” said Shoebag.
“Maybe it’s not that fancy,” Drainboard said.
For a while, the little cockroach family tried to nap, while Drainboard soothed them with an insect lullaby about the noble old order of Orthoptera, which they belonged to, along with grasshoppers and crickets.
A major order we are, sometimes with wings, and sometimes not,
Chewing mouthparts have we, as spiders, ticks, and mites do not!
Or-thop-tera are we! We crawl and fly and …
Shoebag wasn’t paying attention. His mind was back on Beacon Hill.
He could not cry anymore, of course. Roaches never cried. But their memories were very good, which was how they found their way out of crevices and out from under things, into the darkness, for their picnics.
Shoebag was not thinking about the good old late night picnics, nor even about this new place filled with the sounds of shoppers and rock music coming from the record department.
Shoebag was thinking of his friend. He did not think of her as Eunice. Even though she was no longer a star, she would always be Pretty Soft in his mind. And he would always see her beauty. It would last forever. For even if she did not know how to miss him, he bet she would remember him.
Good-bye is good-bye. But friends remember friends.
Then, as Shoebag peeked out from under the refrigerator, he saw a familiar face.
It was on all the television sets lined up across from him. A dozen big pictures of Gregor Samsa.
“Does your smile smell?”
Where the mirrors used to be in his sunglasses, there were pictures of chewing gum packages.
“Chew Great Breath!” Gregor said with a grin.
Shoebag was so happy to see his other friend and his only real pal, he leaped off the defrost timer to the floor.
Just in time he escaped being crushed by a man’s boot, and he ducked inside again.
“Good news! Good news!” he could hear Under The Toaster coming back from his search. “There’s a deli department a floor away, with a dark closet right behind
Eunice kept on going, frowning as the sun hit her eyes, grinning widely as she saw Bark, Handles, Two Times, Fatso, and The Ghost, running after them to play on the swings and the slides.
Twenty-two
“W HAT’S THAT?”
“A cat, that’s all. A cat.”
“Put the box in the back of the truck.”
“Shoo, cat! Scat!”
Then for a long time, there were no human voices. The box they were in was picked up and put down many times. Shoebag had crawled out of the microwave and joined his family in the bottom of the box.
It was a noisy, bumpy ride, full of stops and starts, lasting many days, during which they fed on the glue of the Super-Stik tape.
At last they arrived at their new home, a huge store in a shopping center just outside Boston.
When they landed there, it was evening, almost closing time.
They sneaked out into a section of the store called Appliances, where they stayed up under a new refrigerator while Under The Toaster scouted for a permanent place.
All the television sets across the aisle were on.
“This doesn’t look good to me,” said Drainboard. “What will we eat here?”
“I saw some books in the next aisle,” said Shoebag. “We can always eat the bindings.”
“Ugh!” Drainboard’s wings shuddered with distaste. “I’ve had my fill of sticky picnics. I hope this move isn’t a mistake!”
A new tiny sister of Shoebag’s hopped about nervously.
“Calm down, Frying Pan,” Shoebag said gently. “Daddy will take care of everything.”
“I don’t want to live in Appliances,” Radio said.
“We may have to find the toy department,” said Drainboard. “Children always wander in eating, and we can live on their crumbs.”
“There’re too many people. We’ll get stepped on!” said Wheaties Box.
“Sweethearts, there are no people around in a department store after nine at night. We’ll have the run of the place.”
“What if this store forbids you to eat and shop?” said Shoebag.
“Maybe it’s not that fancy,” Drainboard said.
For a while, the little cockroach family tried to nap, while Drainboard soothed them with an insect lullaby about the noble old order of Orthoptera, which they belonged to, along with grasshoppers and crickets.
A major order we are, sometimes with wings, and sometimes not,
Chewing mouthparts have we, as spiders, ticks, and mites do not!
Or-thop-tera are we! We crawl and fly and …
Shoebag wasn’t paying attention. His mind was back on Beacon Hill.
He could not cry anymore, of course. Roaches never cried. But their memories were very good, which was how they found their way out of crevices and out from under things, into the darkness, for their picnics.
Shoebag was not thinking about the good old late night picnics, nor even about this new place filled with the sounds of shoppers and rock music coming from the record department.
Shoebag was thinking of his friend. He did not think of her as Eunice. Even though she was no longer a star, she would always be Pretty Soft in his mind. And he would always see her beauty. It would last forever. For even if she did not know how to miss him, he bet she would remember him.
Good-bye is good-bye. But friends remember friends.
Then, as Shoebag peeked out from under the refrigerator, he saw a familiar face.
It was on all the television sets lined up across from him. A dozen big pictures of Gregor Samsa.
“Does your smile smell?”
Where the mirrors used to be in his sunglasses, there were pictures of chewing gum packages.
“Chew Great Breath!” Gregor said with a grin.
Shoebag was so happy to see his other friend and his only real pal, he leaped off the defrost timer to the floor.
Just in time he escaped being crushed by a man’s boot, and he ducked inside again.
“Good news! Good news!” he could hear Under The Toaster coming back from his search. “There’s a deli department a floor away, with a dark closet right behind
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