say: See... when we first got to Maine we moved into this big, old house. It had seven bedrooms and four bathrooms and you could see the ocean from every window. But unfortunately, there was a big problem.
What problem? Jimmy would ask.
Poison gas, I'd say. Poison gas in all the toilets. Green, steamy, gurgling stuff that bubbled up every time we flushed.
Blechhh... Jimmy would say, making a terrible face.
Dad had to call the Health Inspector, I'd continue. She took one look and went nuts! "This is a disaster!" she cried. "This is a serious environmental disaster!"
57
So then what? Jimmy would ask, biting his nails.
She condemned the place. Even though she was sorry about ruining our vacation, she had no choice. The police came and boarded up the house. They nailed a sign to the front door:
WARNING! POISON GAS IN TOILETS.
FLUSH AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!
Wow! Jimmy would say. You're lucky you got out alive!
And I'd say: Yeah... I know.
A brilliant story! I told myself as I turned out the bathroom light. Jimmy's very big on environmental issues. He's got posters all over his room-- Save the Whales, Save the Dolphins, Save the Rain Forest. So he'll understand that the Tubmans were just trying to Save Our Vacation when they let us share their house.
I went back to my room and got into bed. This time I had no trouble falling asleep.
58
8 Fudge-a-Mania
"How come you're in such a bad mood?" Sheila asked me the next morning.
"It must be the weather," I grumbled. Actually, it had nothing to do with the weather, which was as gray and damp as usual. It had to do with my brilliant idea from last night. Somehow, when I woke up this morning my poison-gas story sounded really weird. I wasn't sure Jimmy would buy it. And where would that leave me?
After breakfast I went back to bed. Dad says falling asleep when your body's not tired is a
59
way of avoiding your problems. Maybe he's right. Because when I woke up, an hour later, I still didn't know what to do about Jimmy. I looked out the window. The sun was making an effort to break through the clouds. Maybe I shouldn't worry yet, I thought. A lot can happen in a week. The Tubmans might decide they've had enough of Maine. They might be gone by the time Jimmy gets here.
I got out my baseball cards and went down to the porch. I was laying them out alphabetically, by players' last names, when Mitzi showed up. I still can't believe Mitzi's grandfather is Big Apfel. I wonder why Mrs. A didn't tell us about him? Unless she's sick of people falling all over themselves when they find out who he is. I suppose I'd feel the same way if Dad were famous.
Mitzi looked at my baseball cards. "That used to be Grandpa!" she said when she spotted Big.
"What do you mean, used to be?" I asked. "He's still your grandpa, isn't he?"
"Yes... but he's different now. He has more fat."
"He was probably a lot younger when they took this picture," I said, holding up his card. She nodded.
"Where's Fudge?"
"He's planting a garden with his baby-sitter."
"Where's the garden?"
"Behind the house."
60
"Will you take me?" I started to tell her to go by herself. After all, she'd walked all the way to our house on her own. But she looked at: me with these big eyes. "Sometimes monsters live behind houses," she said. "And I didn't bring my monster spray."
"Monster spray?" I said.
"Grandma makes it for me. It's a secret formula. When you spray the monsters, they melt."
"Sounds like an interesting product." Dad would have a field day with it, I thought. He's in advertising. Commercials are his business. I can see it now:
Mitzi's Monster Spray
Made from a Grandmother's Secret Formula
Spray Twice a Day and Melt Your Monsters Away!
Mitzi held out her hand. "Will you walk me around the house?"
How could I refuse? I walked her to the backyard, where Sheila and Fudge were hard at work. They'd already dug out a plot of land. Now they were lining up rows of pink rocks from the beach. "You're planting rocks?" I
What problem? Jimmy would ask.
Poison gas, I'd say. Poison gas in all the toilets. Green, steamy, gurgling stuff that bubbled up every time we flushed.
Blechhh... Jimmy would say, making a terrible face.
Dad had to call the Health Inspector, I'd continue. She took one look and went nuts! "This is a disaster!" she cried. "This is a serious environmental disaster!"
57
So then what? Jimmy would ask, biting his nails.
She condemned the place. Even though she was sorry about ruining our vacation, she had no choice. The police came and boarded up the house. They nailed a sign to the front door:
WARNING! POISON GAS IN TOILETS.
FLUSH AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!
Wow! Jimmy would say. You're lucky you got out alive!
And I'd say: Yeah... I know.
A brilliant story! I told myself as I turned out the bathroom light. Jimmy's very big on environmental issues. He's got posters all over his room-- Save the Whales, Save the Dolphins, Save the Rain Forest. So he'll understand that the Tubmans were just trying to Save Our Vacation when they let us share their house.
I went back to my room and got into bed. This time I had no trouble falling asleep.
58
8 Fudge-a-Mania
"How come you're in such a bad mood?" Sheila asked me the next morning.
"It must be the weather," I grumbled. Actually, it had nothing to do with the weather, which was as gray and damp as usual. It had to do with my brilliant idea from last night. Somehow, when I woke up this morning my poison-gas story sounded really weird. I wasn't sure Jimmy would buy it. And where would that leave me?
After breakfast I went back to bed. Dad says falling asleep when your body's not tired is a
59
way of avoiding your problems. Maybe he's right. Because when I woke up, an hour later, I still didn't know what to do about Jimmy. I looked out the window. The sun was making an effort to break through the clouds. Maybe I shouldn't worry yet, I thought. A lot can happen in a week. The Tubmans might decide they've had enough of Maine. They might be gone by the time Jimmy gets here.
I got out my baseball cards and went down to the porch. I was laying them out alphabetically, by players' last names, when Mitzi showed up. I still can't believe Mitzi's grandfather is Big Apfel. I wonder why Mrs. A didn't tell us about him? Unless she's sick of people falling all over themselves when they find out who he is. I suppose I'd feel the same way if Dad were famous.
Mitzi looked at my baseball cards. "That used to be Grandpa!" she said when she spotted Big.
"What do you mean, used to be?" I asked. "He's still your grandpa, isn't he?"
"Yes... but he's different now. He has more fat."
"He was probably a lot younger when they took this picture," I said, holding up his card. She nodded.
"Where's Fudge?"
"He's planting a garden with his baby-sitter."
"Where's the garden?"
"Behind the house."
60
"Will you take me?" I started to tell her to go by herself. After all, she'd walked all the way to our house on her own. But she looked at: me with these big eyes. "Sometimes monsters live behind houses," she said. "And I didn't bring my monster spray."
"Monster spray?" I said.
"Grandma makes it for me. It's a secret formula. When you spray the monsters, they melt."
"Sounds like an interesting product." Dad would have a field day with it, I thought. He's in advertising. Commercials are his business. I can see it now:
Mitzi's Monster Spray
Made from a Grandmother's Secret Formula
Spray Twice a Day and Melt Your Monsters Away!
Mitzi held out her hand. "Will you walk me around the house?"
How could I refuse? I walked her to the backyard, where Sheila and Fudge were hard at work. They'd already dug out a plot of land. Now they were lining up rows of pink rocks from the beach. "You're planting rocks?" I
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