screamed, “Mischief Night!”
It wasn’t night, and it definitely wasn’t Mischief Night, which around here is the night before Halloween, which is seven monthsfrom now. But ever since Tabby heard about Mischief Night, and ever since she was told that she would not be allowed to go out like a big kid and terrorize the neighborhood, she’s been threatening to have her own Mischief Night.
I was slowly waking up. In front of my face my left wrist was coming into focus—it was naked! My atomic watch was gone! I sleep with it. She must have snuck in and weaseled it off my wrist. I went ballistic. I roared into her room. I dragged her out from under her bed. The watch was too big for her wrist. It was on her ankle. I yanked it off. I said something murderous. She squealed, “Mischief Night!”
Evidence of other crimes today:
a string of Elmer’s Glue on the toilet seats
a vacuum cleaner humming inside the dining room closet
four sinks, a shower, two bathtubs, a laundry room tub—every faucet in the house running
a pile of Lucky Charms on the living room rug
the doorbell is ringing—nobody’s there(a hundred times)
At least my trophy was safe, hidden away for the day. Ditto Black Viper.
BT came to the rescue, took her outside for skateboard lessons. “Don’t leave the driveway,” Mom told them. Crazy as BT is with himself, he’s never that way with Tabby. He never lets her roll off the driveway.
I watched them from the dormer window. If you drove by and saw them, you’d think they’re brother and sister. I thought of BT’s little sister bringing her hurt knee to him, laughing when he fixed it….
BT stayed for dinner. He was in the kitchen helping my mother with the rigatoni. Tabby was on the phone with Aunt Nancy. Well, not really—she just punched the number, yelled “Mischief Night!” into the phone and hung up. When she turned she found me standing there. She screamed, “BT!” and tried to run. I held her. From the look on her face, shethought this was it, the Big Counterattack. She thinks that someday I’m going to get so fed up with her tormenting me that I’m going to blow my stack and come after her with all guns blazing. She flailed. “BT! BT!” All I wanted to do was ask her something, but the violence of her struggle surprised me, the terror in her eyes. I let her go. She bolted like a freed animal.
At dinner she wanted to sit on BT’s lap. My father wouldn’t let her. She pouted.
I asked her, in front of everybody, “Why don’t you like Korbet?”
Shock showed on the faces of my parents and BT, like: Whoa, Will just spoke to Tabby! They all turned to her.
Tabby was cutting her spaghetti into pieces with her blue plastic saw. She stabbed a meatball with her screwdriver. She held it up to her mouth and licked at the sauce, like it was a Popsicle. She took a bite out of the meatball, chewed with her mouth open, grinned meatball mush. I finally realized she had no intention of answering my question. For once in my life I give her some attentionand she hangs me out to dry. I wanted to plead Korbet’s case, tell her what a great little kid he is, but it wasn’t going to happen.
All my mother said to Tabby was, “Chew with your mouth shut.”
PD194
A nother week of nice from Mi-Su. I’m sick of nice.
PD200
T wo hundred days since 10:15 A.M . that September Saturday morning when Riley picked his nose and the phone rang and Mi-Su said turn on 98.5 FM and I learned that a proton had died in Yellowknife. How many have died since then across the universe? Are dying protons like roaches: for every one you see there’s a hundred behind the wall? How manyneed to die before it starts to show? Before steel becomes transparent? And people? Ghost world. I feel a twitch. A blip. Was that a tiny flash inside of me? Is my liver down one proton from yesterday?
HERE LIES WILL TUPPENCE (OR WHAT’S LEFT OF HIM)
PD201
I dea!
eBay!
Nice be gone!
PD208
I t came today, my order from eBay.
It wasn’t night, and it definitely wasn’t Mischief Night, which around here is the night before Halloween, which is seven monthsfrom now. But ever since Tabby heard about Mischief Night, and ever since she was told that she would not be allowed to go out like a big kid and terrorize the neighborhood, she’s been threatening to have her own Mischief Night.
I was slowly waking up. In front of my face my left wrist was coming into focus—it was naked! My atomic watch was gone! I sleep with it. She must have snuck in and weaseled it off my wrist. I went ballistic. I roared into her room. I dragged her out from under her bed. The watch was too big for her wrist. It was on her ankle. I yanked it off. I said something murderous. She squealed, “Mischief Night!”
Evidence of other crimes today:
a string of Elmer’s Glue on the toilet seats
a vacuum cleaner humming inside the dining room closet
four sinks, a shower, two bathtubs, a laundry room tub—every faucet in the house running
a pile of Lucky Charms on the living room rug
the doorbell is ringing—nobody’s there(a hundred times)
At least my trophy was safe, hidden away for the day. Ditto Black Viper.
BT came to the rescue, took her outside for skateboard lessons. “Don’t leave the driveway,” Mom told them. Crazy as BT is with himself, he’s never that way with Tabby. He never lets her roll off the driveway.
I watched them from the dormer window. If you drove by and saw them, you’d think they’re brother and sister. I thought of BT’s little sister bringing her hurt knee to him, laughing when he fixed it….
BT stayed for dinner. He was in the kitchen helping my mother with the rigatoni. Tabby was on the phone with Aunt Nancy. Well, not really—she just punched the number, yelled “Mischief Night!” into the phone and hung up. When she turned she found me standing there. She screamed, “BT!” and tried to run. I held her. From the look on her face, shethought this was it, the Big Counterattack. She thinks that someday I’m going to get so fed up with her tormenting me that I’m going to blow my stack and come after her with all guns blazing. She flailed. “BT! BT!” All I wanted to do was ask her something, but the violence of her struggle surprised me, the terror in her eyes. I let her go. She bolted like a freed animal.
At dinner she wanted to sit on BT’s lap. My father wouldn’t let her. She pouted.
I asked her, in front of everybody, “Why don’t you like Korbet?”
Shock showed on the faces of my parents and BT, like: Whoa, Will just spoke to Tabby! They all turned to her.
Tabby was cutting her spaghetti into pieces with her blue plastic saw. She stabbed a meatball with her screwdriver. She held it up to her mouth and licked at the sauce, like it was a Popsicle. She took a bite out of the meatball, chewed with her mouth open, grinned meatball mush. I finally realized she had no intention of answering my question. For once in my life I give her some attentionand she hangs me out to dry. I wanted to plead Korbet’s case, tell her what a great little kid he is, but it wasn’t going to happen.
All my mother said to Tabby was, “Chew with your mouth shut.”
PD194
A nother week of nice from Mi-Su. I’m sick of nice.
PD200
T wo hundred days since 10:15 A.M . that September Saturday morning when Riley picked his nose and the phone rang and Mi-Su said turn on 98.5 FM and I learned that a proton had died in Yellowknife. How many have died since then across the universe? Are dying protons like roaches: for every one you see there’s a hundred behind the wall? How manyneed to die before it starts to show? Before steel becomes transparent? And people? Ghost world. I feel a twitch. A blip. Was that a tiny flash inside of me? Is my liver down one proton from yesterday?
HERE LIES WILL TUPPENCE (OR WHAT’S LEFT OF HIM)
PD201
I dea!
eBay!
Nice be gone!
PD208
I t came today, my order from eBay.
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