Read The Man Who Ate the 747 for Free Online Page B

asked.
    “No,” the man said. “I’m here about the 747.”
    “What 747?” Wally kneeled down to his dog. “Arf? You see a 747?” The mutt yelped and licked his face.
    “Look here,” the man said. “I’ve got a few questions about the plane.”
    “I knew it.” Wally stood up. “You’re a Fed. Aviation Administration, right?”
    “Not even close. I’m with
The Book of Records.
Came all the way from New York. Name’s J.J. Smith.”
    “What do you want with me?” Wally said.
    “Are you eating that plane?”
    Wally just stared.
    “No one’s ever eaten a 747 before,” J.J. said. “This is the first time ever. It could be a world record.”
    “What do you get for setting a record?”
    “A certificate and you’re in The Book.”
    It didn’t sound like much. A piece of paper and your name in a book. He wasn’t eating the plane for any reward. “Think you came a long way for nothing, mister,” Wally said. “I can’t help you.”
    “But wait—”
    As Wally started to close the screen door, he saw his best friend riding up the dirt path on a bicycle. “Hey, Nate!” he called out.
    Nate Schoof got off his bike and leaned it against the house. He wore square black Kissinger glasses, his hair shined with a good coating of Brylcreem, and his Wildcats T-shirt and Wranglers looked ironed.
    “Interrupting something?” Nate asked.
    “Fella here is looking for a man eating a 747.”
    “Who’d be crazy enough to do that?” Nate said.
    “Beats me,” Wally said.
    J.J. handed Wally a business card. “Thanks for your time. I’ll be at the motel in town.”
    “Good visiting with you,” Wally said.

    J.J. rushed down the dirt road back to his car.
    A man eating a 747. It transcended astonishment. Edgar Snavely at
Ripley’s Believe It or Not
would have a cow when he found out. Too late! The record would be all locked up for The Book.
    Wally Chubb’s resistance would be easily overcome. He’d been through this dance many times. The locals were simply testing, but soon they’d come around. He would wait, mind his own business, and eventually they would beg to be in The Book.
    J.J. checked the rearview mirror. It was filled with the silvery creature that the farmer in the Halloween costume was eating piece by piece. The big man in his red pajamas was waving from the porch.
    Why was he eating the plane? Was he nuts, suffering from some neurological disorder, a perfect case for Dr. Oliver Sacks? It didn’t matter. People chased records for all sorts of reasons. They wanted their 15 minutes. They wanted to make money. They wanted to impress friends and family. They wanted spiritual fulfillment. Who was J.J. to judge? All he wanted was to ratify the record, get out of town, and get Peasley off his back.
    In the shade of the porch, Wally, Nate, and Arf watched the stranger head off down the lane.
    “Wonder how that guy heard about you,” Nate said.
    “Who cares?” Wally said. “I’ve seen
The Book ofRecords.
Looked through it at the library once. Just a bunch of freaks.”
    “Perfect fit.” Nate polished his trifocals with the corner of his T-shirt.
    “Very funny,” Wally said.
    “You think I’m kiddin’.”
    “I’m gonna get you for that one.” Wally sat down on the porch glider that bucked a little under his weight. “So? Did you see Willa today?”
    “She wasn’t in the café this morning, and I didn’t see her in town either.”
    “You hear anything about her lately?”
    “Nope. Nothing. Just what I see in the paper.”
    “No big deal. I was just wondering.”
    “It’s okay,” Nate said. “Come on, let’s go to work. I solved your problem.”
    “Oh yeah, how’s that?”
    “I’ll show you.”
    The big wood doors to the barn swung open, kicking up a cloud of dust. A mouse scrambled through the hay. Streams of light dropped down through cracks in the roof, illuminating a huge metal contraption. It stood 15 feet high, like an oversize refrigerator, with wires, pulleys,