Wednesday, March 13, 2024

Scott and The Squirkle

You know that guy who hates squirkles?
Yeah... he's a meanie!
Yeah, but I got the key to his car!!

Hee. Heeheehee....

-----------------------------------

I'm here, over
I've got a warning, over
Oh yeah? What? Over.
All your foods are belong to ME! Over. And out.
No you get out! Over.
(Ominous silence.)

Over.



------------------------------------
Get thee gone, hooman!


----------------------
Mom, I don't feel so good...
What's wrong?
Well, I snuck in that guy's house...
I've told you not to do that! He's such a meanie!
Well, he had some POPCORN!
Did you eat any????
Just a little... and then I started sneezing and farting!
Oh, Junior! You must have Scotphylus! In bed with you. A week's quarantine...
Can I watch TV?
Ok... but stay under his bed while he's watching...
Ok mom!!


______________________________

The hooman did it again...
What? C'mon out of the pool...
I. Can't.
Whatsamatter?
That )(*&)(*&$^ hooman! He put vodka in the pool!
What, again?
That's ok. Wait'll he finds out what I put in his bathtub... (snort)



---------------------------------------------------




I'm bored...
Why?
The hooman...he's no challenge!
Whadya mean?
I mean he's not even trying! I do my best, I make noise, I eat his bulbs, I invade his space... I just EXIST!
Well, jeesh man, that oughta be enough for the Scott-Hooman!  How about if I help you!
(Slap-slap)
Team! Squirkle!


Wednesday, March 6, 2024

The Peg-Legged Lady

The summer the hired hand arrived it was ten years since she had lost her leg. It was lost long in her memory and suddenly. She walked on a peg-leg, now. The leg was a long smooth shaft of polished mahogany that was attached with braces and straps, just above and below her knee, which remained.

Meggon was hanging clothes the day he arrived; a dry, windy day, filled with sunshine and the early-pregnant smells of summer.

She looked fresh standing by a bushel basket, lined with fabric, and full of wet, clean wash. 

Meggon was pretty - a timid, nervous sort of pretty: thin-lipped and big-eyes, with fine, flax-like hair that slipped from pins and ribbons and drifted about her face. Pretty in a tense, expectant way.

The wet clothes attached to the line by thick, wooden clothes pins flapped in the solid wind, little droplets of water tossed from them like dew.

Meggon turned, with her fragile sort of interest and her incongruous fevered eyes, to the lane as her father's truck bumped up it toward the yard. Her father brought the man in his green pickup truck; the man's things were piled, not carefully, in the bed. She could see they were talking loudly before the engine was shut off, when their voices suddenly filled the silence left by the engine. Her father's deep and humorous, the new voice dark, and intense.

The screen door to the kitchen remonstrated; Meggon heard Caroline, her sister, with her pretty singing voice as she greeted the men. The wet sheets pushed heavily on Meggon's back as she turned to watch Caroline greeting the men.

"You can get lunch on now, Caroline," she heard her father say. "Ben's a hungry young man."

Their father was getting old. Small signs evinced his age. His bigness was shriveling. He could no longer overwhelm a room as he once had; his eyes beneath heavy and stray-haired eyebrows were dull. Now Joseph Juniper was an old, whitened, eroded man, with two spinster daughters in their thirties to protect. So he had finally brought in a hired man; he who had told his young wife, Carol, when they bought the property that no other man would, as long as he lived, touch shovel to it. He had said that with the pride and jealousy of a husband, who will keep his wife for no see but his own.

Meggon bent and raised her clothes basket to her hip, empty now of the wet and heavy wash, and stood watching the men. Evidently, the bad fruit of her father's sire and his age had reduced his jealousy, and he was trying to inject something virile into the last days of his life. They headed, talking loudly, to the barn. Meggon watched until they disappeared, and then walked, in thumps and steps, into the house.
   
Inside, the house was cool, as big, tree-shaded houses are, smelling clean and nourishing. Meggon's eyes settled into the dim interior. A small, busy mud-room, filled with old jackets and barn boots led into the kitchen. The room smelled of the barn, a deeply fragrant and womanish smell, like a hint of secret cologne. Meggon discarded the empty basket on a wringer washer that stood at one end of the long, red and yellow painted kitchen, and walked towards Caroline's back, where she stood at the sink washing fruit and putting it into a big, red bowl.

"You met him. What's his name?" Meggon asked, brushing her hair back from her brown eyes.

"Ben Ramo," Caroline said, lightly, friendly. Her fingers, long and smooth, slid over the peaches. She smiled a faint, delicate smile. Plump Caroline, the tiny veins on her cheeks and nose so close to the surface that she blushed pink with the clean health that pressed out of the bosom of her house dress.
Caroline, like her fruit, blushed with ripe development, round, firm, well-fleshed. Caroline, with her long and heavy legs that she used so sparingly, walking slowly, standing still. If Meggon had those legs, she thought, she would run until they trembled so that she could never forget they were there. Meggon loved Caroline, and Caroline nurtured Meggon.

Ben Ramo and Joseph Juniper filled the kitchen then; the loudness of their breathing in sharp contras to the waitful stillness of the women and their muted sounds.

"At least you'll never go hungry, Ben," said Joseph, as they seated themselves at the long plank table covered with a red plastic cloth.

"Doesn't seem that way," Ben replied, mater-of-fact, deep.

"You ain't met but one 'a my girls. Caroline's sister there, Margaret. Meggon, this is Ben Ramo.

Meggon approached with reserve that seemed shyness, held out a hand, large for her small frame, big-knuckled and strong. Ben took her hand without standing, avoided her eyes; instead he stared with insouciance at her peg-leg. His grip was warm, firm, and brief; long fingers, clean nails and warm-colored skin from which full veins stood out. His face had the same quality, but there was a shadow on it that Meggon took to be unshaven beard, and the effect of his long, black hair and pale skin. She could not see his eyes.

Caroline and Joseph Junper talked during the meal; Meggon was still from habit; the hired man busined himself eating wolfishly. Caroline refilled his plate three times, not concerned, calm and bountiful. The men, after the meal, sat and smoked pipes, talking. Meggon and Caroline cleared the table.

"He eats so..." Meggon whispered to Caroline as they cleaned up in the kitched.

"Just like a hungry cat," Caroline said, laughing softly.

88888888888888888888

Meggon had watched her cat mating. She had been twenty then. That cat was nine months old. It was a small cat, with slate grey fur, white around the legs. A small, green-eyed cat that rolled at her feet and purred distantly; washed its face with its candy-pink tongue, licking its paws to wipe every speck from its nose and head. Meggon had stood, transfixed, quiet, near the barn door. The two cats had sought the darkness for mating, and now Meggon peered at them from behind the sliding wooden door - intruding, stealthy, sly. 
*********************8
Meggon sat quietly, near a hot fire, a book in her hands. She watched Joseph Juniper. He sat inside; outside there was snow and wind that spun around the house and wrapped the inhabitants in their cocoon of warmpth. Joseph sat with his eyes closed, in the corner of the sofa, a hand laid, palm open and fingertips on the sofa arm, the other meditatively stroking his pant leg. He had been found, sity-three years before, on the front porch of a Methodist family on Juniper Street. The family named the abandoned baby boy after the mayor, Joseph Hoyt, and after the street they lived on. Later, he had joined the Roman Catholic Church, and was asked to leave the house. He was ready to go. So he married his sweetheart, Carol, a frail and honest lady, and they had managed, with her dowry, to buy a farm. But now he was tired.

Tuesday, July 18, 2023

The Law of the Jungle

Moira was twenty-one years old when this happened. A lot of people think twenty-one is one of the ripest years in a woman's life - the succulent years, those on the cusp of the teens and the twenties. What kind of garden, you wonder, lets a fruit reach its peak and then hang obstinately on the tree, over-ripe and unplucked, another fifty or sixty years?


However you slice it, Moira was indeed twenty-one and quite definitely a peach. Tall, and fair, and gently curved, dusted with freckles and sunlight, bursting with health and probably vitamin C.

She had a boyfriend, Max. Max was well-favored physically, too. He was dark where she was fair, with thick hair and surprizing blue eyes. By all accounts, Max was a good soul: decent, and honest, and gentle with animals smaller or more foolish than he.

When Max and Moira would appear in public, she would hang off his arm so lightly that he would seem the more strong and stalwart for it, like an oak, tall and deeply rooted.

"Such a lovely couple," elderly ladies would sign, and even difficult older men would long for that time in their lives when they might have offered her their arm. The more peevish were inclined to sniff a dismissive, "Ken and Barbie," and return to belittling their peers.

It was at one such public appearance that Max and Moira encountered Rex. Now, as you read more of this story, you'll think I'm making up his name, it's simply too ironic. But I was there, and I'm sure.

Max and Moira and Rex were all guests at a wedding which was hurried but unabashedly grand. Max and Moira were friends of the groom; Rex was a business partner with the father of the bride.

While he was a handsome and imposing man, still, Rex was somewhat long in the tooth and yellow in the eye. He was at that age men reach when, if they were woman, we might politely call them "well-preserved," or snipe at their efforts to look young and fashionable, ultimately overlooking them altogether. Instead, since they are men, we ascertain their net worth. Ten thousand buys them a year's attractiveness. Over a million, and time is at their command. And Rex, well, Rex owned every clock and calendar for miles around.

It was actually Angela who introduced Rex to Max and Moira. Angela fancied herself the social secretary of the monied set, and in this case, whatever her motivations were introducing Rex to Moira, they probably weren't kind. She swept across the ballroom floor of the country club, trailing moss rose chiffon and the scent of expensive perfume behind her, Rex's arm firmly attached to her talons.

"Here's someone for you to meet," purred Angela, her dark eyes glittering. "Moira Desmond, this is Rex Hunter. Your father was once a writer for one of Rex's papers, Moira."

"How is your father?" asked Rex.

"He died ten years ago."

"And this," Angela added, with a dismissive sweep of her hand, "is Moira's friend, ah, Marty..."

"Max," supplied Moira.

"Of course. Moira is interested in journalism, too, Rex. She and my Stacey are in school together, of course Stacey is interested in magazines. Moira is looking at television. Oh, excuse me, there's Margot and Stanley and Morgot's got to say she'll be in our fashion show..." Angela was gone, leaving a hint of L'Heur Bleu and something just gone bad behind her.

Moira and Rex exchanged looks of privileged tolerance; Max was already forgotten. And in the hour that ensued, Rex began the wrecking of the sweet, tentative structure that Moira and Max had been brick by brick building. But that was appropriate, of course. Rex's fortune was made in unmaking. In his first business, he was known as the Duke of Destruction. He had parlayed a few pieces of bargain wrecking equipment into an enormous business, and was infamous for a series of Rambo-like television commercials featuring himself cross-armed in front of a squadron of handsome, beefy wreckers. Women all over the city and beyond were suddenly finding wrecking needs they had never before imagined.

"That," said Rex, referring to his commercials, "and a few well-placed friends on the city council," Rex acknowledged with some good humor. "Buildings of a certain age," he went on, "like some people, can stand a little while longer, but what's the real point of a few more facelifts, or disguising their age with cosmetics and expensive clothes? So there are, shall we say, merciful condemnations?"

Rex's team would enter the bilding, ripping copper from the walls, marble from the window sills and floors. Brass fixtures and fine woodwork would be peeled off and carted away. Parquet flooring would be lifted, piece by piece, and even tin ceilings would be salvaged. Naturally, these things had value of two sorts: there is the value they have while attached to the walls of an elderly building, and the value they have when sold to a developer who just happens to be the brother of the city councilman who has agreed that a brand, spanking new office park simply must replace the old, sagging, wrinkled apartment house.

"So why," said Rex, turning his full attention to Moira, "are you wasting your time in school?"

"What do you mean?" Moira had not yet developed an ear for subtext.

"A news producer isn't interested in your punctuation, or whether you know the history of journalism. He wants to know if you can get the story. Who do you know? How far will you go to chase down the lead?: Who will you screw to get your sound bite? It's the law of the jungle."

"You're trying to tell here she can't be a decent human being and a good reporter?" This was from Max, who for the better part of the last hour had hovered at the edge of the growing rapport between Rex and Moira.

"What's a decent human being?" countered Rex, after a pause in which he inspected Max as if Max were an out-of-place specimen in a collection of bugs.

It wasn't too many weeks later that Rex left town, taking Moira with him on a trip to the Yucatan.

Have you ever heard the story of the Snow Queen? In this fairy tale, Kai and Gerda are two young children who love one another dearly until one day, Kai gets splinters of wicked, magic glass is his eye and his heart, courtesy of the Snow Queen. Soon after that, he is carried away by the Queen in her sleigh.

"Climb upon my sleigh," she tells the unfortunate and blighted Kai, "And I will take you to see wonders beyond your wildest dreams."

In this instance, it is Moira who is carried off not by the Snow Queen but by Rex, the Duke of Destruction, and now to the Snow Queen's icy northern palace, but to the tropical seduction of the Caribbean.

Max learned where they had gone because I called and told him.

"Hello?" Max's voice sounded strained as he answered his phone.

"Hello, Max, I'm a friend of both Moira and Rex."

"Who is this? Where is she?"

"It doesn't matter who I am. What matters is that Moira is in trouble."

"What do you mean? Where is she?" he sounded something between angry and agonized.

"She's with Rex, of course."

"Oh." He sounded deflated. "What d'you mean, she's in trouble? IS he a nut or something? Would he hurt her?"

"No, no, nothing like that. I mean, not physically. He'd never take a chance like that. I mean, she's with him, she's young, and he's just toying with her. He will damage her."

"So what?" Now he sounded belligerent, hurt. "This isn't nineteen fifty. She's a big girl. If that's where she wants to be, let her."

"The law of the jungle, right Max? I thought you cared about her."

"I do. I did. What am I supposed to do? If she wants to leave me for him and all his money, what am I supposed to do, lock her up?"

"She's young, Max. She has no idea what she's getting herself into, or what kind of man Rex is. For Rex, young women like Moira are just... fruit. Dessert. Is she ambitious, this Moira of yours?"

"I guess so, and she's not mine. She works hard in school. She has plans."

"She probably thinks a grand and glorious career at one of Rex's network affiliates will come out of this - a partnership with the electronic Citizen Kane. Rex... well, Rex isn't exactly the Marquis of Queensbury."

"So, I still want to know what I'm supposed to do about it? Who is this, anyway?"

"As I said before, who I am really has no bearing on your girlfriend's fate. I'll tell you where they are, and I'll make it possible for you to go and get her. That's the deal."

It's odd, but in fairy stories, when one lover has been abducted by a wicked witch, the other one needs no coaxing to set off on the rescue of his missing darling. Well, in this case it took a little more convincing, as well as the necessary funds for Max to make the trip to Mexico, but in the end he did make the trip. It's important that the hero perform at least some noble act to make the story come out right.

Moira and Rex were staying on the strip of beach known as the Mayan Riviera. Rex had explained to Moira that he wanted a feature series on world tourism, and the Mayan Riviera was literally invented, created, solely for the purpose of luring tourists. And while they were there, of course, there were casinos and diving and ruins and creamy beaches and exclusive clubs to sample.

The difference in the air was the first thing that struck Max as he got off the plane in Cancun. The air on the plane was synthetic: controlled oxygen, little moisture, and unscented except by coffee, polyester, and a faint whiff of electric wires.

Here, the air was full of promise, laden with life, teeming with tales of flowers dropping heavy and blown onto the jungle floor, a small monkey scaring a parrot out of a fruit tree, fresh, cool water in a cenote lying still and silent over bones and jade from centuries-old sacrifices.

It was easy enough for Max to locate Moira and Rex. Max simply looked for the biggest and most expensive hotel with the best beach and the most spectacular view.

But he decided not to reveal himself to them right away. Instead, he wandered, by rental car, further down the coast into the jungle of the Yucatan.

Here, the jungle is just barely held back by the hand of man. A road has been dragged through the roiling vegetation, running south from the upper tip of the peninsula where Cancun is located, all the way to the mosquito coast of Belize. The road is constantly threatened on both sides by vegetation so dense that it looms like a wall along either edge of the macadam, ready to snap closed on the unsuspecting traveler, forgetting forever that there ever was a traveler, or even a road. But men keep shaking their machetes and their saws at the jungle as they pass, and the jungle hangs back, slyly creeping a little closer to the road again whenever the men have turned their backs.

Max stopped in a small fishing town along the coast, and in this town, he made his plans.

To tell the truth, he wasn't even sure at this point why he was in Mexico, or what he could do, or if he should do anything anyway, but somehow he had gotten caught up in the scheme and story, and had recklessly decided to play out his part. So here he sat, under the thatch of the outside patio of a bar called Masqueras, and drank the local beer called Cervesa, watching the morning sun over the ocean.

He  needed more money. Money to stay in Mexico, but more importantly, money to help Moira make up her mind. Persuade her? Was buy her putting too fine a point on it? Probably not, he reflected, glumly lining his empty Cervesa bottle up next to the other two. The law of the jungle. The spoils to the victor.

That's what Rex had said it was, anyway. The strongest a nimal got the rewards: the choicest food, the most comfortable resting place, the most comely females.And in our world, claimed Rex, the fittest animal was the man who earned the most, who dominated in business, who headed the enterprises.

Max had tried to argue him down. With all his wit and eloquence and sincerity, Max had reminded Rex that human beings were more complex than animals, that their gift for survival was their over-sized brain. They couldn't run down prey with speed, or claw and fang it into submission. Instead, human beings relied on their intelligence and craft to win their battles.

"Precisely," agreed Rex. "So the man who outfoxes the other dominates. The man who is quicker and craftier can use the others to his advantage. He wins."

"But because we're human," Max had objected, "and because we have intelligence and imagination, we don't have to dominate. We can choose to survive, all of us. We have the possibility of... the capacity for abstractions like compassion and fairness, and love, unrelated to the law of the jungle."

The fact that Moira was in Cancun with Rex and Max was at some bar in a sleepy beach town, morosely drinking beer at eight in the morning and concocting some rescue mission for Moira was proof of the effectiveness of Max's argument.

"The casinos," Max announced, to nobody in particular, slapping his hand down on the rickety card table, making his beer bottles jump and tumble.

"Senor?" asked a small, but perfectly made Mayan man, sitting at a nearby card table, with a much more impressive line of bottles in front of him.

"The, uh, casinos," Max repeated. "I'm a pretty good gambler. I need some money. You speak English?"

"Si," said the Mayan, looking somewhat annoyed. "You want to gamble?"

"Si," agreed Max.

"Dos Cervesas," said the Mayan to the bartender. "I am Carlos," he smiled, extending his hand.

Dos, and dos Cervesas later, Max had explained to Carlos why he was in Mexico. And he had explained that he'd paid for all his books and undergraduate school gambling. He was good at counting cards, and betting the odds. So he was hoping that his magic extended as far as the Yucatan, and he planned to try his luck.

"Well, I  tell you, Max," said Carlos, "I cannot go into the casinos any more. I win too much," he added, smiling broadly. "In Mexico City, I play flute for the symphony. But I don't like Mexico City. Dirty, bad. So, I come home. I want to play my flute, fish a little, gamble a little. But I win too much. They say I was cheating. So I look like a cheater? I just know the cards. I watch. I know the tables. I tell you something, Max. I need my fishing boat back. What do you think we can do about that, compadre?"

So that was how Max ended up in the casino, two nights later, with a stake of pesos and enough information to break the bank. And that's where Rex and Moira first saw him.

Rex was amused; Moira wasn't sure whether to be embarrassed or angry. But neither of them thought to ask Max why he had come to Cancun, or how he had managed to get there, or why he was in the casino in his shorts and t shirt, next to to them in their resort level evening clothes. Or even how he had known where they were, if indeed he had known.

Max won at the tables, and Rex lost. Rex bore it with the apparent humor of the very rich. He was tanned from his weeks in the sun, relaxed, rested, looking younger by a few years than his real age thanks to tennis, swimming, massage, and the spa.

And Max, to his credit, didn't gloat over his winnings.

"I'd enjoy it more if I were you," Rex said to him. "After all, winning or losing a little money doesn't mean much to me, but this is a big moment for a guy like you. You've got a few bills to rub together now.

"Uh huh," said Max, who pocketed his money, paying the waitress for their drinks as he left, leaving Moira and Rex in the casino in the Yucatan in the Mexican night.

"Good morning, my friend," said Carlos, bearing two cool Cervesas into Max's palapa, a cinder brick hut with a thatched roof that served as a kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, and sitting room. Max was rocking in his hammock. "It's late!"

"We won, Carlos, my man!" said Max, coming to, and struggling awkwardly out of the hammock. "Another night or two and your boat is out of hock and I'm here as long as I need to be and graduate school is paid for."

"Another casino night," agreed Carlos.

"But then what?" Max sighed. "So I've got some money now.  Great. So does he. He's got more money than God."

"But God has other resources than pesos, mi amigo. What does the happy couple do today:?"

"I don't know, but tomorrow they're going fishing."

"Then," said Carlos, his brown eyes alight with mischief, "tonight we must win more at the casinos.

By the next day, Carlos had bought back his fishing boat, the Ix pu Ha, which was really just a dinghy with an ancient, oily outboard, and ropes tied to the transom. Several sets of snorkling gear and spears were stacked inside, along with a couple of coolers.

Carlos and Max were at the dock in Cancun early the next day, waiting as Rex and Moira arrived, tanned and fashionably late for their charter cruise. Carlos' boat bobbed ridiculously next to the sleek, powerful charter boat, as as Max and Carlos watched, deck hands loaded crates of iced beer and wine, bread, cheeses, and fruit onto the big boat. Pole rigs and fishing chairs crowded the aft deck, already sparkling with the bright and tiny bikinis of the girls, and the slightly larger but equally bright trunks of the men.

Carlos had a small cooler full of Cervesas, no shirt, sunglasses, and a big grin.

"Where you fish today," he called up to the charter captain.

"Nowhere you'll get to in that bucket, senor," the captain laughed, the guests laughed, and Carlos laughed.

"Well, good luck," Carlos started his engine, its mix-master sound getting lost almost immediately in the full-throated roar of the charter's engines.

"How are we gonna compete with them?" moaned Max, as they made their way slowly down the coast. "We couldn't even carry a fish as big as they can if we're lucky enough to catch it!"

"You worry too much, Max," laughed Carlos.

Carlos finally piloted the cost into a small inlet of milky water, tying it up to a stake in an outcropping of black rocks.

"What's this?" asked Max.

"White water. La leche de la madre. Mother's milk. It's volcanic ash, and it moves with the current, so the water looks like milk. But we're headed up there," he said, grabbing the snorkling gear and leading Max up a path into the jungle.

They passed ruins, ancient and modern, the way a New Yorker would pass a drunk in a doorway. Ancient stones that had once been homes and temples; newer cinder block that had been someone's palapa or vacation dream. Max kept wanting to stop and be awed, but there were so many that eventually he began to take them for granted. The beachhouses of the Maya, though Max, standing empty and silent, but looking as though the architect had just fled into the jungle, moments before the last stone was fitted into place.

It was so quiet in the jungle Max could hear his own labored breathing. The jungle ate the sounds of the surf within yards of leaving the shore. A man in this jungle could live his whole lifetime and never know that the huge blue Atlantic was his next door neighbor.

"Cenote," said Carlos, finally, when they had walked far enough to be bathed in sweat and bothered by bugs. "What have you got?"

"What d'you mean, what have I got?"

"I mean, something of value. What you got?"

"I don't know. My watch. It's a Rolex. A gift from my grandfather."

"Ok, I guess. Anything more personal?"

"My pants, you mean?"

"Smart ass," Carlos was partly serious. "Ok, your watch. Put on your mask."

They had stopped by a small opening in a rocky hillside in the jungle.

"What is this?" Max asked.

"Cenote. A fresh water well. The ground in the Yucatan is full of them. The holes are left when the limestone washes away. That's what the scientists tell us, anyway. They're sacred to the Maya."

Again, though Max, the combination of the mock and the serious. They slid down the rock face of the inside cave wall into the water of the cenote.

Carlos swam to the periphery of the well until he located a small opening near the bottom of the pool. Breathing deeply and repeatedly, he saturated his lungs, then dove, and disappeared.

Max fanned his swim fins slowly in the silence, and turn 360 degrees, waiting and feeling more alone than he ever had in his life. But at the same time, he kept catching something out of the corner of his eye, or feeling a rush of water pass his side as he looked the other way, rippling past him.

Far off, muffled, and after what seemed forever, he heard Carlos' voice.

"Dive," he said.

By then, Max wasn't sure if  it was his friend or some golem or devil trying to trick him. And he had no idea where the hole in the well led, or even if he could make it through - Carlos had experience with this. He had a moment of imagining himself in a watery tunnel, the unimaginable weight of the earth crushing down upon the slim cushion of water as he swam through a sightless tunnel. He sucked in air, and dove. The tunnel was plenty big, and very dark, so he felt his way along with his hands, pulling himself through the tunnel with all the caution his air supply and nerves would allow.

He burst, at last, into the next cenote and and shot up to the surface like a torpedo. He spit out his snorkel and gulped air.

Carlos was sitting on a rock in a bright, sunny, almost completely enclosed cenote. The roof vaulted up about fifteen feet over their heads, with a hole in it big enough to act as a light. Sunlight danced and filtered off the walls and the water, the rocks and unknown bits of brightness at the bottom of the pool fifteen feet down.


"It's beautiful," gasped Max.


Carlos grinned, but the customary deviltry was missing.


"It's sacred," he said.


Max left his watch at the bottom of the cenote, as Carlos instructed him, alongside pieces of jade and silver and carved bone from previous sacrifices. And he left a request that he silently sent deep into the water.


After that, they had an astounding day of fishing, Carlos caught fish almost with his bare hands. Conch and langusto he did catch with his bare hands. They picked up a third for their party after they left the cenote, Felipe, who piloted the boat, heading down the coast again until at no point Max could identify by a landmark, Carlos signified to Felipe to cut the engine.


Then he and Max put on their snorkle gear and jumped into the sea.


The ropes on the back of Carlos' transom were for fishing, Max learned. You held a spear gun in one hand, and trailed along behind the slowly moving boat by hanging onto the rope with the other. And you watched, beneath you, another world pass by. You might drift, occasionally, into the wake of the boat, and let the bubbles beat and tickle you, and then, refreshed, drift back out again.


Carlos could spot the fish as if with radar. Max finally learned to see the conch trails in the sandy bottom, and follow them with his eyes for the barely discernible shell; and he learned which rocks promised nice little cave dwellings for langusto, the lobster; but the swimming fish only Carlos seemed to spot from the corner of his mask, or maybe by the feel of the fish's movement in the water. He would drop off the rope and be ten feet deep before Max even saw the fish.


By early afternoon, they had gathered and speared grouper, langusto, several conch and two crabs. A feast. Their boat looked like an ad for a seafood restaurant.


"Time to go," Carlos said, as Max dumped one more conch into the boat. "These fish will get old."


"A little further," urged Max. "One more, I can feel it."


"This is plenty of fish, man, but ok."

And almost immediately, Max, not Carlos, saw the fish. It was a snapper, looking ruddy in the water. From the surface where he floated, Max couldn't tell how big the fish was, but he knew it was the biggest they had seen all day. He dropped the line and dove. The fished sensed him and ran, as only fish can, darting a few yards in one direction, then turning and coasting, darting again, all with no visible sign of panic, yet clearly running for his life.

Max knew he had the fish. That it had been pre-determined when he left his watch in the cenote. But that didn't make catching him any easier.

The fish was indeed big, maybe three feet long, and clever as any hunted creature is. It ran for the rocks. Max followed, already feeling the lack the air. Into a gap in the rocks went the fish, Max close behind. Max took aim and fired his spear gun, but missed the fish. He reloaded, feeling the pounding in his temples as his air was used up.

The fish swam for open water, and Max wondered if he was wrong. If the fish chose to run now, he could never keep up, and he'd have to surface for air very soon. But the fish, incredibly, slowed down, and hung suspended for just a moment. And with a simplicity that hurt Max when he relived it in his mind, Max speared the fish.

A few hours later, Max and Carlos were lounging at the dock back in Cancun, their fish on ice and proudly displayed in their boat when the charter boat and its sunburned occupants docked.

"Good day, amigo?" Carlos called to the captain.

"Not too. Hooked a couple, but didn't bring them in. What you got?"

"Dinner," said Carlos. And before they left, the whole charter party, Rex and Moira included, had been invited to Carlos' beach house to eat seviche and snapper. And Carlos had fishing charters planned with all the rich gringos.

"So how did you know we'd outfish them?" Max wanted to know, as they headed back down the coast.

"The fish are inshore right now. That's the first rule of fishing, man. You fish where the fish are."

The party was at Carlos' beach house, a big, open room with a thatched roof and a loft, with surprisingly modern and first-class amenities. Carlos and Max had cleaned and cooked the snapper, and made a hot and tangy seviche out of the conch. The surf was gentle, a nice background to the music and talk that was being conducted in several languages. With tanned and scantily clad women completing the scene, the whole thing looked as though Carlos had hired Hugh Hefner to be his stylist. And Carlos seemed to be just as much at home here as he had on the sea with the fish.

In a way, Carlos had accomplished what Max had come to Mexico to do. It was Carlos, after all, who knew the tables at the casinos. And it was Carlos who knew where the fish were. And most of all, it was Carlos who invited Susan to the party.

Susan wasn't so much beautiful as she was intriguing. Nobody was quite sure why she was in Mexico. She was about thirty, American, and she spent a lot of time writing. She also had a seemingly inexhaustible supply of money. Rumor had it that she wrote the advice column for Penthouse, and was working on a book of erotica. When people talked about her, which they did as often and as avidly as possible, she was referred to as Susan the Porn Queen. And she was slim, extremely well-dressed, quiet, and rather bored.

So it was unexpected by no one save perhaps Moira that when Rex, the Duke of Destruction, met Susan, the Porn Queen, that Moira would become the News of Yesterday.

Rex stood, drink in hand, eyes darting around the room.

"Hard to tell just how big it was," he was saying. "Swordfish. It was quite a fight, too. But those rigs weren't the best; I've landed bigger fish more easily before. You got some nice little fish," he added, nodding to Max.

"Have some," Max said, filleting a piece of the steamed snapper Carlos had stuffed with potatoes, onions, tomatoes, peppers and chilies. "It's good."

"How long are you here?"

"I don't know. Til it's time to go back to school. I like it here. How about you?"

"I'm not sure, either. Business to run and I've just about exhausted the possibilities here."

"Rex thinks my next story should be in Europe," said Moira, who was idling at the edge of the conversation.

"Well, I said maybe. I'm not sure the series is going to work. It's been done, I'm not sure there's a new angle. But we'll see." And Rex drifted off toward Susan, who was leaning against the center pole of the house.

The only problem with Rex's interest in Susan, of course, was Eduardo. Not big or menacing, Eduardo had expressionless eyes, and he was mean. And he owned Susan. In the fashion of Spanish men, he offered no outward sign of affection or possessiveness, but he stood, slim, elegant, silent, and solemn, off to the side of the gathering, his eyes never straying from the Porn Queen.

The rest of the story is rather anti-climactic. Rex had had enough of Moira to suit him. Fruit course finished, he was ready for some of the odd, exotic fish that was Susan.

What happened with Max and Moira that night, Max never really went into when he told me the story. I seem to recall him saying that she drank too much when she realized that Rex had moved on, and tearfully asked Max to take her home, which of course he did. And Susan never really was a very important part of the story; Rex was just hoping for another brief, memorable fling. But it's my understanding that in Latin countries a man is not held accountable for wreaking vengeance on another man who tries to steal his woman. And Rex was, at his age, hardly a match for the quick, ruthless Eduardo. I will say that Rex did look a bit worse for the wear when he got home.

Should I mention that Rex is my husband? I'm not sure that it is germane to the story. I had considered, even, changing the names of the characters to protect the innocent, except that nobody in this story is really innocent. Or if they were when it started, they surely weren't at it's end.

But it all worked out for the best. Max got Moira back if he still wanted her. Moira got a valuable lesson, and if she was lucky, Max. Carlos got his boat, and a few charter jobs, and a story to tell his friends and his children. Rex, I'm afraid, got what he had coming to him for a long time.

And I? I got Rex back, at least for a time. There may come a day when I am too tired, or perhaps no longer interested in getting him back. But for now, I do whatever is necessary, and he returns home and is quiet and tractable for a time. And that is the law of the jungle.

Monday, December 20, 2021

Monsters

Monsters

Chapter 1
The Monsters Under the Bed


All of the monsters that lived under the bed were angry.

They weren't specifically angry with Angela. They were just angry. It happens with monsters. It's sort of like a kid's getting hungry, or a bear feeling sleepy in the fall, or a dog wanting to chase a ball. It's just what they do.
What did they say they were angry about?

  • No toys
  • Bad food
  • Peas
  • Spinach
  • Beets
  • Needing a haircut

So every night, when Angela went to bed, the monsters would start to complain. They'd start with a little whining. And then they'd begin to grumble. And soon, some of the bigger monsters would be banging and thumping under the bed, making it shake.

Even if Angela could sleep through the whining and the grumbling, the banging and thumping were sure to wake her up. And every night Angela would whisper, "Be quiet! I can't sleep!"

And the monsters would only whine, grumble, bang and thump louder and louder.

Then Angela would say in her loud-voice, "Be quiet!"

More whining, grumbling, banging and thumping.

Finally, Angela would shout, "BE QUIET!"

And her baby brother would hear her and cry, and her Mommy and Daddy would come to her door and say, "Angela! You woke your brother up!"

Sometimes Daddy would come in to her room while Mommy shushed her brother, and he would say, "Angela, every night you yell 'be quiet!' Why do you do that?"

And Angela would tell the truth. "Because the monsters under the bed are making so much noise I can't sleep."

"But Angela," Daddy would say. "We've looked for the monsters under the bed, but we can't find any."

"I know, Daddy," Angela would say. "But they're there. I can hear them!"

And Daddy would kiss her and tell her to go back to sleep.

One day, when Angela was playing, her little brother took one of her dolls and broke her head off!  Angela knew he was only a baby, but she was angry, anyway. She grabbed her doll and threw it across the room. She didn't mean to do it, but she hit the kitty!

"Angela!" said Mommy, in her mad-voice. "Why did you do that? You better go have a time-out in your room."

Angela stomped all the way down the hall and into her room. Then she slammed the door. A few minutes later, Mommy knocked on the door. "May I come in?" said Mommy.

"Ok," said Angela.

Mommy came in and sat on Angela's bed.

"I'm sorry, Angela. Mommy has been having a very busy day. I shouldn't have gotten angry with you. I'm sure you didn't mean to hit the kitty. Why did you throw your doll?"

Angela explained about the doll and her baby brother and the kitty. Mommy hugged her and said, "Let's go have a cookie! It's always a good idea to find out why someone is angry, isn't it?"

That night, Angela had an idea. She was so excited she couldn't sleep, so she was already awake when the monsters started whining. Tonight, instead of telling them to be quiet, Angela whispered, "What's wrong? Why are you mad?"

And just like that, the monsters were quiet!

You can tell me," said Angela, in her best Mommy-voice. "Why are you so mad you make noise every night?"

One monster poked his head out from under the bed and said, "We don't have any toys!"

Soon, another monster peeked out and said, "And we're tired of peas, beets, and spinach for dinner!"

And then a third monster called out, "And we can't remember the last time we had a haircut and we look terrible!"

So Angela said, "If you'll be quiet tonight, I think I can help you out!"

The monsters thought about it for a while, and then they said, "Ok." And everybody had a good night's sleep.

The next day, Angela got busy. She went to her playroom and found some toys that she thought the monsters would like, and she put them in a box. Then she went to the kitchen, and she asked her Mommy if she could have some apples, some cookies, and some juice.

"Why?" her Mommy wanted to know.

"For the monsters' picnic," said Angela.

"Oooh, " said Mommy, and she gave Angela some apples, some cookies, and some juice boxes. Then she said, "And here are some raisins, too."

Angela put the snacks in the box, and then she went back to her room. Angela wasn't allowed to play with scissors, but she had another idea. She opened her dresser drawer and found barrettes and hairbands and a fancy hat. She put everything into the box, and then she pushed the box under the bed. And then she went to play.

That night, Angela lay in bed waiting to hear if the monsters would complain. Not a peep! No a whine, a grumble, a bang, or a thump! Instead, what did Angela hear?

First, she heard some slurping. Then she heard some chomping. Then she heard some giggles. And soon, she heard some out-loud laughing! And then Angela was laughing, because the monsters sounded so funny and were having such a good time!

And Daddy called out, "Angela! Be quiet!"

And Angela just smiled, and fell asleep.

Chapter 2

The Monster in the Closet
For his last birthday, Grandpa had given Danny a puppy, Rags! Rags had two bright, shiny black eyes, big, floppy ears, and a tail that wagged when he was happy. Danny and Rags played all day long, chasing balls and running in the yard and making forts out of leaves.

Rags was always into some kind of mischief. He liked to chew things: shoes, balls, toys. He liked to jump up on the couch and the chairs, even though Mom didn't like that, and scolded him when he did. When the family ate dinner, Rags would sit and look at them and whimper, wanting to be fed. And when it was time for bed, Rags wanted to sleep in Danny's bed. 
"Absolutely not!" said Mom. 
"Positively no," said Dad.
Rags had his own bed, a big green cushion. That was where Rags was supposed to sleep. Mom and Dad put it in the living room, and put his toys in it for him, so he would know it was his special place. Still, neither Danny nor Rags was very happy about that.

There was another reason Danny wasn't very happy about bedtime.  Danny was absoltively, posilutely certain there was a monster in his closet. His dad was equally certain-for-sure that there wasn’t. The reason Danny was so sure it was there was that it had NOT been there when he was a little kid. If he’d just been making it up because he was a ‘fraidy-cat, he would have had a monster in his closet when he was a little kid, not now that he was a big kid. Besides, his best friend Mike had heard it, too, when he stayed overnight.

It wasn’t really loud or anything. Sometimes it would whimper. Other times it would whine. And sometimes it would scuffle, sniffle and squeak. Danny told his dad about the monsters, and for a while, Dad would check in the closet. “Nope,” he’d say, after opening the door and looking carefully. “Not a monster in sight.” And Danny would say, “But dad, every night I heard my bedroom door open, and pretty soon, I can hear the monster.”

And Dad would say, “Well, there’s no monster now, Danny. I promise! Now go to sleep.”

And Danny would ask, “Could it be a mouse?”

And Dad would say, “No, Danny. Mom and I won’t let any mice in the house!”

And Danny would ask, “Maybe Rags can sleep in here with me, just in case?”

And Daddy would answer, “No, Danny. Rags has his own bed out in the living room. That’s where Rags sleeps. Now, give me a kiss, turn out your light, and go to sleep!”

Danny was glad that even though he was a big kid, Dad still left the door open just a crack, and the hall light on.

One day, Danny’s Grandpa was visiting. Danny loved his Grandpa. His Grandpa always took time to talk to him, and was always interested in what Danny was doing. He read books with Danny, and took him fishing, and helped him learn to throw a baseball. So Danny told Grandpa about the monster in the closet.

“Hmm,” said Grandpa. “That certainly sounds like a monster. But you can never be sure. I have an idea.”

The next day, Grandpa came over and brought Danny a present. It was a big, yellow flashlight!

“You can keep this next to your bed, Danny,” said Grandpa. “And the next time you hear the monster, you can turn the flashlight on, and look in the closet. Now, I happen to know that monsters don’t like light! So as long as you are shining this light, the monster won’t be able to move!”

“Really?” said Danny.

“Really!” said Grandpa. “I promise.”

That night, Danny carefully put the flashlight next to his bed, and then waited for the monster to make noise. Not too long after Dad and Mom had said good night, and pulled the door shut to a crack, Danny heard his door squeak, and then he heard the monster snuffling and squirming in the closet.

Danny got the flashlight, and turned it on. He was kind of scared, but he knew his Grandpa always told him the truth, so he took a deep breath, climbed down from his bed, went to the closet and peeked in.

He saw two bright eyes shining back at him!
And he saw a wet nose!

And two big, floppy ears.

And a tail that was wagging as fast as it could.

And then Danny laughed and laughed. What do you think he found in this closet? A monster? A mouse?

Of course not, it was Rags, his puppy!

The next day, Danny couldn’t wait to tell his Grandpa all about Rags hiding in his closet.

“I have an idea, Danny,” said Grandpa. “You know your Mom and Dad don’t want Rags to sleep in your bed. But maybe Rags can sleep in your room in his own bed?”

So Danny and Grandpa talked to Dad and Mom, and Dad and Mom agreed that Danny could move Rags’ bed to his room. That night, Rags and Danny got in bed, Rags in his bed, and Danny got his flashlight and got into his bed. And Dad came in to say good night
.
“No monsters in the closet?” said Dad.

“Nope,” said Danny.

And there weren’t.

Chapter 3
Monster Spray
Lana and her cousin Joey were visiting with Lana's Grandma in Grandma's big old house in the country.
Lana loved her Grandma, but she didn't like Grandma's house!

At home, Lana had a bright, cheerful room, with blue flowers on her wall paper, and a pretty rug and yellow curtains on her windows. Mama let her pick out her bedspread, and of course all her toys were there, lined up neatly on shelves. Lana like to put her toys away after she played with them, so she always knew where to find them. 

But Grandma's house was very big, and very dark.

Mama said that she had lived in that house when she was a little girl, and that Grandma had lived there when she was a little girl, too. 

Joey liked the house, which was full of dark corners and had lots of rooms that nobody lived in. Joey always wanted to go exploring, but Lana was afraid. Joey even liked to go in the basement, that was full of cobwebs and spiders and old boxes.

Lana was sure that there were monsters in some of those dark corners, and in the empty rooms, and probably in the big kitchen, up high in the cupboards you couldn't reach without a stool.

Lana  was sleeping in the room where her Mama had grown up. It was a nice room, but the closet was very big, and the bed was very high, and Lana was afraid that the monsters could be hiding there, too!
"Grandma," said Lana, in a little voice, when they were getting ready for bed the first night,"Do you think there are monsters in this house?"

Grandma smiled, and said, "I don't think so, Lana, but when your mama was your age, she wasn't so sure. So you know what we did?"

"What?" said Lana.

"We made monster spray! 

Flower-fairy-rainbow monster spray.  Monsters hate flower-fairy-rainbow monster spray, and they won't go anywhere it's been sprayed. Would you like to make some tomorrow?"

"Oh, yes!" said Lana.

The next day, after breakfast, Lana asked her Grandma, "Can we make monster spray now, Grandma?"

"Oh, yes," said Grandma.

Grandma went to a shelf in her kitchen, and pulled out a box full of cardboard cards. She looked through them until she found one that was very pretty. It had stars and flowers and rainbows on it, and all the words written on it were in pink.

"There it is!" said Grandma. "This is my recipe for monster spray."

"Can we make some?" asked Lana?

"Of course," said Grandma. "I don't know if I have the ingredients, though. I think we'll have to go find them!"

"Can I come?" asked Joey, who had been listening to the plan.

"Let's all go!" said Grandma. "We can take a picnic!"

They made sandwiches, and put them, along with some apples and cookies and lemonade in a big basket.  Then, grandma got some jars from her cupboard. "We'll need these to collect the ingredients," she said.

They all went out in to the yard. It was a bright, sunny day.

"I think I know where we can get some fairy water," said Grandma. "Follow me!"

She led them into the woods and along a pretty stream that flowed there. "Be careful not to slip!"

They came to a pool in the woods. It was quiet. You could hear bees buzzing, and squirrels chattering, and birds twittering. 

"Do you see this pool?" said Grandma.

Joey and Lana nodded.

"This is where the fairies take their bath! So we'll need some of this water."

Lana and Joey each filled up a jar, and put the lid on tight.

Then everybody took off their shoes and socks, and waded in the pool. The water was cold and the rocks were slippery, and it was lots of fun! They found tiny crabs Grandma called crayfish in the water, and they saw a big fish hiding under a fallen tree limb.

"Now," said Grandma, "we have to go look for our flowers! I know just the place!"

They followed the stream back out of the woods and into a beautiful, sunny meadow. The meadow was full of wild flowers!  Because it was lunch time, they spread out the blanket they had brought under a big tree, and opened the picnic basket. Everyone was very hungry, and soon all the sandwiches, apples, and cookies were gone! Then Grandma said, "Do you see all those flowers out there? We need one of every color!"

So they all hurried out into the field and found blue flowers, and red flowers, yellow ones and pink ones, white ones and even tiny pale green flowers20! They found purple clover flowers and black-eyed Susans. They even found some orange flowers Grandma called "paintbrushes." Soon, they had a big pile of colorful flowers that Grandma put in a bag and tucked in the picnic basket with the fairy water.

"Now comes the last part," said Grandma. "We have to gather some rainbow!"

"How do we do that?" asked Joey.

"Easy!" said Grandma. "Let's go back home."

So they all walked back to the house. When they got back, Grandma had everybody sit in her bright, sunny kitchen. She got some white paper, and the jars of fairy water. She put all the flowers in the jars of water, and then put the jars on the white paper, in a sunny spot on her kitchen table. Then, she got a cloth from her kitchen drawer and dipped it in hot water. She wiped the cloth on her kitchen window, and what do you think happened? A rainbow appeared on the paper under the jars of fairy water! 

"That's it," said Grandma. "Flower-fairy-rainbow spray!"

She got two spray bottles, a pink one and a blue one, and gave one to Joey, and one to Lana. They filled their bottles with flower-fairy-rainbow spray.

"Now," said Grandma. "Time to spray for monsters!"

They went in every room, and down all the halls, into the basement, and even into the closets. They sprayed nooks and corners, under chairs and behind dressers. Finally, they sprayed their own rooms, being very careful to spray under the beds!

"That's it," said Grandma. "I don't think any monsters will be able to come into this house, do you?"
"No!" said Lana and Joey together.

That night, when Lana was getting ready for bed, her Grandma came in to help her.

"That was a big day, Grandma!" said Lana. "Yes, we had a big, BIG day, Lana," said Grandma.

"I had fun," said Lana.

"I had fun, too. And no monsters tonight?" asked Grandma.

"No," said Lana. "We've got monster spray!"

"Big, happy days, and flower-fairy-rainbow spray," said Grandma. "That's the best way to keep monsters away!"

Chapter Four
The Monster Under the Basement Stairs


Most houses have a scary place. It might be a dark old attic, full of shadows and mice and stuff that was put away years ago.

It might be the back of a closet where a floorboard creaks for no reason.

Or, it might just be the space under the basement stairs.

Ever since they had moved into their new house, Drew knew he didn't like the space under the basement stairs. 

When his mom or dad asked him to go to the basement for something, like a hammer or a laundry basket, Drew would stand at the top of the stairs, turn on the light, and wait, and listen.

And he would hear breathing! Sometimes, he'd hear a noise like a big box being moved. Other times, he would hear a little whispery sound.

He would get all his courage together, and jump from the top step to the bottom step, holding on to the railings, and making sure his feet didn't touch the in-between steps. That way, the monster under the stairs couldn't reach out and grab his feet. 

Once he was at the bottom, he'd RUN as fast as he could to get what he needed, and then he'd run back up the stairs, two at a time. And every once in a while, Drew would be sure he saw a long, skinny arm reaching out as he passed.

When Drew and his family had moved into the new house, it was summer. But now it was fall and time to go back to school. Drew was very excited, because all summer he had wanted someone to play with, and there was nobody on his block but his dumb old little sister, Julie. Julie liked to play with dolls and her pretend kitchen, and only sometimes would play catch with Drew.

On the first day of school, Drew was up early, finished his breakfast, and was all dressed and ready to go when Dad said, “Ok, kiddos, let’s get in the car.”

Dad, Mom, Drew, and Julie all climbed in the car. Usually, Drew and Julie would take a bus to school, but today, since it was the first day, they would all go together.

It didn’t take long for Drew to realize that he wasn’t going to like this new school!

The teachers were nice. His teacher, Mr. Jones, introduced him to the class and said, “Welcome to our class, Drew.”

And he was given a desk near the window. The girl next to him showed him where supplies were kept.
But some of the boys tossed spitballs at him when Mr. Jones wasn’t looking!

When Drew was walking down the hall to get a drink, some boys were standing in the hall, leaning on the wall and talking. And as Drew walked by, one of the boys, a big, tall boy with red hair, stuck out his foot so that Drew tripped on it. Then all the boys laughed and said, “Welcome, new kid!”

Drew felt terrible! Back at his old school he had lots of friends. He had play dates, and sleepovers, and had a best friend, Carl. At this school, it didn’t seem like he’d have any friends at all.

That evening at dinner, Mom asked how the first day of school had been.

Julie said, “It was great! Our teacher, Miss Watson, is so pretty and nice. And a girl in my class, Katie, wants me to come over and play tomorrow. Can I Mom, can I?”

“We’ll see,” laughed Mom. “I’ll call Katie’s mom tonight and make arrangements. How about you, Drew?”

Drew mumbled, “It was ok.”

“Just ok?” said Dad.

“You know,” said Drew.

Dad looked at Drew for a moment, and then they talked about different things.

That night, Dad was hanging up pictures in the living room.

“Drew,” said Dad. “Can you run downstairs and get me a hammer? It’s on my workbench.”

“Ok,” said Drew, before he remembered about the monster under the stairs. Drew didn’t want to go down those stairs! He stood at the top, and counted to ten, and then he jumped down the stairs as fast as he could. He went and got Dad’s hammer, and then he went back to the foot of the stairs.

And right then, Drew heard someone crying! It was very, very soft and quiet, but it was a sniffling-sobbing kind of sound like Julie made when he made her mad. Drew looked around, but there was nobody in the basement but him. He realized then that the crying sound was coming from under the cellar stairs!

Drew wasn’t about to go under the staircase and look, so he got his courage together, and ran up the stairs two at a time as fast as he could.

All night long, Drew couldn’t get the sound of crying out of his mind. He was even thinking about it when he went to school the next day.

Today was even worse than the day before. The mean red-haired boy took Drew’s lunch money, and when one of the other boys said, “Hey, don’t do that, he’s just a new kid,” the mean boy said, “I can take your money, too, you know!” After that, nobody said anything else to help Drew.

He was very hungry when he got home, but he still didn’t say anything to Mom or Dad about the bully at school. And he was still worried about the sound from under the stairs.

Days went by, and weeks, and Drew got more and more lonely. There was no one to play with. Some of the girls would color with him, and sometimes a couple of the older boys would let him play kickball with them. But mostly, Drew was alone. He didn’t have any play dates, or sleepovers. He didn’t have lunch with anyone.

Sometimes, one of the other boys in his class would talk to him about where he was from, or his baseball cards, or school work. And then the bully would come over and make them stop.

One night, near Halloween, Drew’s Mom asked him to go to the basement to bring up a box of Halloween decorations.

“I think they may be right by the cellar stairs,” said Mom. “Over in the corner.”

Drew jumped down the stairs, and then stood very quietly. And he heard it. A sniffly, sobby noise coming from under the cellar stairs. It sounded so sad that Drew forgot to be scared!

He crouched down and peered under the stairs. “Hello?” he said, very softly.

Nothing but a loud sigh.

“Is somebody there?” said Drew, a little louder.

“Boo hoo!” said a gruff little voice.

“Who are you?” said Drew.

“Nobody,” said the voice.

“Well, you can’t be nobody or you couldn’t talk to me!” said Drew.

“Are you talking to me?” said the voice in amazement.

“Of course I am,” said Drew. “So, who are you?”

“The monster under the stairs,” said the voice, and then a big, loud sniff.

“I knew it!" said Drew. "My name is Drew. What’s yours?”

“I don’t have a name. Well, maybe I have a name, but I don’t know it because nobody every talks to me,” said the monster, and then gave another big, loud sniff.

“Here,” said Drew, and he went and got a handkerchief from the clean laundry. “You sound like you could use this!”

He held the handkerchief under the stairs, and what do you think? A long, skinny arm came out, and it’s long funny fingers gently took the handkerchief from Drew’s hand.

Drew heard the sound of a nose blowing, and then another sigh. “Thank you,” said the voice. “Nobody ever gave me a handkerchief before.”

“You’re welcome,” said Drew. “Why are you living under our basement stairs?”

“I don’t have another home. This used to be my home years and years and years ago, and I lived in a hollow tree near my family and friends. They all lived in trees, and under rocks, and under great big bushes. But then some men came along and knocked down the tree and dug up the rocks and bushes and built houses. I fell asleep in the basement of this house, and when I woke up, everyone was gone! And I’ve been here ever since.”

“What do you eat?” asked Drew.

“Oh,” said the monster. “I come out at night when you’re all asleep, and I go find berries and nuts and things. And sometimes I come up in your kitchen. When there are cookies,” said the monster, looking a little guilty.

“That’s ok,” said Drew. “Mom loves to give people cookies. But don’t you get lonely?”

“Yes,” said the monster, and started to cry again.

“Well, we can be friends,” said Drew.

“We can?” asked the monster, amazed.

“Of course. I’m not sure how to tell Mom and Dad about you, but let me think about that a little. Ok, I better go upstairs again. But I’ll be back tomorrow with some snacks, ok?”

“Ok!” said the monster.

Drew started up the stairs, and the monster softly said, “Goodnight, friend Drew!”

The next day, Drew didn’t even care that the bully and his friends tied his shoelaces together under the lunch room table. He didn’t mind that he fell down in front of all the big kids. He just wanted to get home to see his friend the monster again.

That afternoon, after school, Drew ran home. He got some fruit and a couple of cookies from the kitchen, and ran down the basement stairs.

“Hello?” said Drew.

“Is that you, Drew?” he heard the gruff voice say.

“Yep. Here, I brought you some snacks.”

And then Drew heard a shuffling and a creeping, and soon, the funniest looking creature was sitting in front of him! The monster looked like a cross between a toad and a rabbit. He had a wide mouth, long skinny arms and legs with funny flat fingers like a toad, but he had floppy ears and fur on his back like a rabbit. The monster carefully took a cookie, and carefully took a tiny little bite. He smiled a big, toady smile.

“We’ll have to call you something,” said Drew. “We can’t just call you ‘monster.’”

“I don’t have a name that I remember,” said the monster.

“Well, let’s call you – Mike! Mike the Monster.”

“Oh, I like that!” said the monster, and took another, bigger bite of his cookie.

Drew and Mike ate the cookies and fruit, and they talked and talked. Danny went upstairs and got his Chutes and Ladders game, and taught Mike how to play. Drew got Mike a pillow and blanket from a storage box in the basement, and then he said goodbye and went upstairs for dinner. But he promised he’d be back the next day!

Now Drew felt a lot better. School still wasn’t much fun, but now that he didn’t care about the mean boys, they didn’t seem to find picking on him as much fun anymore. And Drew always looked forward to going home to visit with Mike.

Mike loved all the things Drew showed him: his baseball cards, his video games, and some of his books. (Mike couldn’t read, but he loved the pictures!) And Mike liked to play catch. They would play as quietly as they could, but they laughed a lot, and sometimes had to put their hands over their mouths so that Mom, Dad, and Julie wouldn’t hear.

One day, Drew told Mike about the boys at school.

“But that’s terrible,” said Mike.

“I guess,” said Drew. “I liked my old school better, where I had lots of friends.”

“I know what you mean!” said Mike. Then Mike was quiet for a while, and finally he said, “I have an idea.”

Soon, it  was Halloween night. Drew was going dressed as a cowboy, and Julie was going to be a fairy princess. Dad was going to walk them around the neighborhood. But when they went out that night, there was someone else going with them! Who do you think it was? Right! It was Mike!

Mike came along with them, dressed as a ghost in a white sheet. 

"Who's your friend?" asked Dad. 

"This is Mike," said Drew.

"Hi, Mike," said Dad. "I like your costume!"

"Thanks," said Mike. 

They walked around the neighborhood, and finally they walked down the street where the bully lived. He and some of the other boys saw Drew and his sister, Dad, and Mike. And they started to laugh. 

"Look at the cowboy!" they said. "What a stupid costume!"

"Ignore them," said Dad.

"Who's your friend? Woooo, what a scary ghost!" said the bully.

"You don't think I'm scary?" said Mike, walking up to the bully.

"Nah, that's just a stupid sheet," said the bully. And he pulled the sheet off of Mike.

And then he screamed! Just like a little kid. And all the other boys smiled. And then they giggled. And soon they were laughing!

"What a baby!" said Drew.

"Woooo!" said Mike, running toward the bully with this big long fingers wiggling. The bully just turned and ran!

"Wow," said the other boys. "That's a great costume!"

"Thanks," said Mike. And he and Drew laughed. 

"Yours is pretty cool, too, Drew," said one of the other boys.

"I'm glad you scared him," said another boy. "He's mean, and we're getting tired of him!"

"No problem," said Mike.

They all had fun trick or treating until it was time to go home, and the boys asked Drew and Mike to play kickball with them the next day.

After that, Drew made lots of friends at school, but he and Mike stayed special friends, and neither one of them was lonely any more.

That night, Drew told Dad and Mom about Mike. They were surprised to learn that there was a monster living in their basement! But they gave Mike some cookies and milk, and asked him where his family lived.

"I don't know," said Mike, and his eyes brimmed with tears.

"But," said Dad, "You said that everybody lived in hollow trees and under bushes and rocks?"

"Y..yes," said Mike, trying not to cry.

"Well, I have an idea!" said Dad. "Let's all go to sleep, and tomorrow we'll see if we can find your family."

The next day was Saturday, and after a breakfast of pancakes and bacon (which Mike said was delicious!), everyone got into the car, and Dad drove them out in the country. Julie was a little scared of Mike at first, but he taught her how to play paper-rocks-scissors, and soon she was having so much fun she forgot to be afraid.

"Here we are," said Dad, and he pulled to the side of the lonely dirt road.  All around them was a woods, and in the woods were big rocks and fallen trees, and dark hollows.

"This is beautiful!" said Mike.

"It's a little spooky," said Mom.

"I think it's just what we're looking for," said Dad.

They all got out and walked a little ways into the woods, where they found a clearing. Then they sat down on a fallen log and waited.

It was quiet for a long time. After a while, they heard some noises. Little scratchy sounds. Whispery noises. Sounds like footsteps!

"Hello?" said Dad.

"Hello?" said a soft, dry voice.

"I think you forgot someone when you moved," said Dad. "Is this your lost boy?"

There was a great commotion, and suddenly, the clearing was full of monsters! Tall monsters and short ones, skinny monsters and fat ones, scary-looking monsters and silly looking monsters, grown-up monsters, and little baby monsters.

"He is ours," said the biggest of the monsters, who stepped forward and held out his arms to Mike. With a quick look at his friend Drew, Mike ran to the big monster and got a monster-sized hug! Then all of the monsters started talking and laughing at once.

The big monster went to Drew's Dad and held out his big, hairy hand. "Thank you," he said, "for bringing our little one home safe."

Drew's Dad shook the monsters hand. And then Mike went to Drew and shook his hand. "Will you come and visit me sometimes?" asked Mike.

"Sure!" said Drew.

"Thank you for being my friend," said Mike.

"Thank you for being mine!" said Drew.

Then Drew's mom pulled a huge bag of cookies out of her backpack, and everyone had one! And Drew and Mike were both very happy, because they knew neither one of them would be lonely any more.
 

Chapter 5
The Hatch Lake Monster

Doug and his family spent every summer at Hatch Lake. They lived in a big yellow house on the lake. They swam, and played baseball, rode bikes, hunted for frogs, and when it rained, they played games. They cooked hot dogs and hamburgers on an outdoor grill, and hardly ever wore shoes all summer long.
The only thing that wasn't good about Hatch Lake was the Hatch Lake Monster.

Nobody was quite sure how the story got started, but everybody on the lake knew about the monster.
People were pretty sure it lived in the swampy end of the lake where nobody went, but sometimes just at dusk it might be spotted swimming in the deeper water; and often people said when the weather was stormy and rainy, the monster would swim around as if it loved the bad weather.

While nobody could describe the monster exactly, some of the old time camp owners claimed that it had a long body, like an eel, and a big head with a wide mouth and huge eyes. It seemed to be brownish green. 

When Doug and his brother Larry were little, they were scared of the Hatch Lake Monster. They never went to the swampy end of the lake, and if they swam out a little to far past the raft, they usually turn around and swam very fast back to shore.

But now that they were older, they were pretty sure the Hatch Lake Monster didn't really exist. It was a just a story people made up to scare little kids and keep them from swimming out too far into the water. 

One day, Doug got an idea.

"Let's make a Hatch Lake Monster," he said to Larry.

"Huh?" asked Larry. "How are we gonna do that?"

"Easy," said Doug. "We need some logs, and some old inner tubes. It'll be easy."

They found the inner tubes in the shed where Dad kept them. Then they went looking in the woods for just the right logs. The found a nice long one that had bumps and short branches coming off of it, and then they found one that was bent at an angle, so it looked like a neck and a head.

Soon they were busy in the shed, putting the "head" on the "body," and tying the inner tubes to the bottom of their "monster."

They waited til evening, and when the rest of the family was sitting around a campfire Dad made, they dragged the monster to the edge of the water, and hid it under some bushes they grew close to shore. 


"Now we just have to wait for a rainy day," laughed Doug.

It didn't taken long until just the right day came along. On rainy days, most families stayed inside, playing board games and cards, reading books, or baking cookies. There was always something fun to do at the lake.

Doug and Larry had another plan. They put on their swim trunks, and when nobody was looking, they snuck out to the bushes where they had hid their monster. Carefully, they pulled it into the water, and then swam along side it, pulling it along through the water.

It didn't take long before someone spotted the monster, and soon people were running to the lakeside, looking through the gloomy rain at the "monster" swimming across the lake toward its home in the swamp.

Doug and Larry hid the monster in the reeds at the swampy end of the lake, and then they hiked back to their house, where they joined in the fun talking about how everybody had actually seen the Hatch Lake Monster!  That night, they could hardly stop laughing at how they had fooled everybody.

Every chance they got, on rainy days, and sometimes in the evening just as the sun was going down, they would swim the monster around the lake, making people shout and take pictures. 

But then one rainy evening, as they were returning the monster to its hiding place, Larry suddenly yelped in surprise.

"What?" said Doug.

"What's that?" said Larry, pointing into the reeds.


It was a big head, with huge goggly eyes and a wide mouth. And it was swimming right toward them.

Doug and Larry didn't know what to do. They were too far away from the camps to yell for help, and the monster was between them and the shore. And the monster kept swimming toward them.

The monster opened it's big wide mouth, and the boys were sure it was going to eat them. But what do you think happened? The monster started to laugh. 

"Thank you!" said the monster.

"Ex...excuse me?" said Doug, trying to be polite.

"Nobody ever made me a toy before," said the monster. "People are usually afraid of me, so I try to stay away and not scare them. But it gets kind of lonely here all by myself. But now I have this toy to play with. I hope you don't mind that I play with it when you're not using it."

The monster was very polite. 

"N..no," said Larry. "It's ok. Do you really like it?"

"Of course! It's not a real friend, of course, but I can swim around with it and make up games. And it looks just like me!"

"We can come and play with you," said Doug. 

"Really?" said the monster, in a very excited voice. "I can show you lots of places around the lake that most people don't know about. "

So all that summer, Doug, Larry and the monster had a wonderful time exploring the lake, and pushing the toy monster around on a dark and rainy days. 

And when Doug and Larry grew up and had children, they introduced them to the Hatch Lake Monster, who has been happy to have a friend ever since.

Chapter 6
The Lost Monster

There was a boarded up building on Frankie's block. Most of the other buildings Dad called "brownstones" had been fixed up. They were old, but people liked them because they were pretty and had big rooms. In the old days, one family would live in a brownstone, but now they had been turned into apartments like the one Frankie and his Dad lived in.

But nobody had ever fixed up number 1212 Huntington Street. The front door was locked, and all the windows had been broken, so somebody had nailed boards over them. Still, some of the big kids broke in once in a while.

Dad said it was dangerous, and Frankie wasn't supposed to go in it, but of course all the boys in Frankie's class were curious about it. They'd try to peek through the boards in the basement windows, or they'd pull a trash can up close to the building to look in the first floor windows. 

And everybody knew about the loose board in the back basement window.

That was how the big kids got in, but nobody ever talked about it, because the big kids would make you sorry if you said anything.

One day, Frankie and his friend Ramos were back behind the building tossing a ball against the wall, seeing how many times they could hit the wall and catch it without dropping it.  When it was Frankie's turn, he tossed the ball, and it flew through a space between two boards - and disappeared into the basement!

Frankie and Ramos ran over to the window and peeked inside.

Suddenly, their ball came flying out of the boarded-up window! Frankie and Ramos were so surprised they didn't know what to do!

Frankie went to get the ball, which was lying in a patch of weeds at the far side of the lot where the old house stood. 

"Hey," called Frankie, running back over to where Ramos was peering into the space in the basement's boarded up window. "Look at this," he said, holding the ball out.

"It's a note. Yuck, it's stuck to the ball with gum!"

"Let's look at it," said Frankie, gently pulling it loose, being careful not to touch the gum.

"I... want... to... weet? What's weet?" said Frankie, making a face as he tried to read the note.

"I think it means meet," said Ramos, taking the note from Frankie. "Meet. Meet other p-e-e-p-l-e?"

"Ha," laughed Frankie. "People. I think it means people. Whoever wrote this sure can't spell!"

"Well, you couldn't either if you never went to school!" called a voice from the basement.

Frankie and Ramos both jumped, looking at each other to decide whether they should run. Frankie took a deep breath and marched over to the basement window, where he tugged at the looser of the two boards.

"Who's there?" he said, into the black rectangle of the broken window.

"Just me."

"Who's me?"

"I don't know," came the answer, followed by a little hiccupy sniffle.

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

"I'm just here," said the voice. "I watch people from the cracks in the windows. But I have to scare them away if they try to come inside."

"What? Why?" demanded Ramos.

"That's what I was told to do, a long time ago. There were people here and I was supposed to watch and wait, because they said they had to go find a new place to live, and they'd come back for me. But they haven't yet, and I'm bored," responded the voice. It sounded like a big kid, but one who had the sniffles.

"How long have you been there?" asked Frankie.

"I don't know, my calendar ran out a long time ago. It's been winter and summer this many times," said the voice, and a piece of paper, all messy and dirty poked out from the space between the boards. Frankie took it, carefully.

"One, two....five, ten. Thirty times? That's thirty years!" said Frankie. "You've been watching this house for thirty years?"

"I guess so."

"But, what do you eat? What about school? Don't you have any friends?"

"There are cans of food down here," explained the voice. "But not many are left. And I don't go to school. I read books. There are books here," said the voice, with a little excitement. "About ghosts, and cowboys, and a couple are about plants and animals. None of them look like me, though," added the voice, a little sadly.

"Well, come on out," said Frankie. "I've got some snacks."

"What's a snack?" said the voice.

"You don't know what a snack is?" said Ramos, astounded.

"N...no."

"Well then you have to come out," said Frankie. "We'll show you!"

"Ok, but you have to promise something," said the voice.

"Ok," said Frankie. "What?

"That you won't run away."

"Why should we run away?" Ramos said. 

"I scare people," replied the voice, very softly. "I'm a monster."

"What? Why do you say that?" said Frankie.

"I don't know. That's just what I was told."

"Well, come on out, then," demanded Ramos. "Let's find out."

"How about you come in?" said the voice. "I'm not supposed to come out."

"We're not supposed to go in!" said Frankie.

"Ok, then, what if... what if we pull the boards off and just say hi?" said Ramos.

"Ok," said the voice, after a minute.

"Hang oh," said Frankie. He ran over to get a piece of pipe lying in the weeds near the tumble-down garage. He brought it back to the window, and together he and Ramos got it wedged between the boards, and then used it to lever one of the boards on the window. "Watch out," said Ramos. "We don't want to hurt you!"

Soon the boys had the boards off the basement window, and some sunlight fell into the dark basement. 

"Where are you?" called Frankie.

"H...here," replied the voice. 

"Well, come on into the light where we can see you!" said Ramos.

There was a shuffling, some deep sighs, a few "ums," and "ahs," and finally two very large, hairy brown feet with long, long toenails appeared in the rectangle of light that fell onto the basement floor.

"What the..." breathed Ramos.

"Promise you aren't going to run away?" said the voice.

"Ok," said Frankie. "We swear."

Another deep breath, and finally, the whole hairy, lumpy, filthy thing had stepped into the light, it's face turned down toward the floor. Its arms were long, and its head was very big - bigger than Ramos' brother Louis, who was a wrestler, who had a big head and a neck so strong he could carry three of his brothers hanging on to it at the same time. Finally, the thing raised its face into the light, and Ramos grabbed Frankie by the arm, one foot sliding away as he got ready to run. Frankie grabbed him.

"Hi," said Frankie. "I'm Frankie, and this is Ramos. What's your name?"

"I'm not sure. Nobody has talked to me in a long, long time. But I think it's Thomas. That's what I remember." 

"How come you haven't met any of the big kids? They break in sometimes."

"I know, but I hide from them. And if they stay too long I  make noises, and then they run away," replied Thomas.

Thomas definitely didn't look like any kid Frankie or Ramos had ever seen. His eyes were very big and round, and his nose was kind of flat. He had hair all over his face, and when he talked they could see he had very big teeth behind his lips - which looked kind of grey. 

"I don't look like you guys, either," said Thomas, sadly.

"No, but that's ok," replied Frankie. Ramos looked at his friend and raised his eyebrows. Frankie nudged him in the ribs. 

"So, you want to meet people?" asked Frankie.

"I'm kind of lonely down here," said Thomas. "But any time I've tried to say hello, people run."

"I'm thinking," said Frankie. "I have this book, it's a bunch of stories about monsters."

"Monsters?" asked Thomas.

"Well, they aren't really, as it turns out. They're kind of cool, but they have to hide because they scare people because they're different. So, maybe I could ask the writer of the book if any of the stories are real."

"How will that help?" asked Thomas.

"Well, if they're true, maybe we could find some of them and you could meet them!"

"I don't know..." said Thomas, scratching his head with one of his long, hairy fingers.

"I know the person who wrote the book," said Frankie. "She runs the bookstore a few blocks from here. She's really nice, she even signed my copy of the book. So if you're really a monster, and you do sort of look like the drawings in my book, then maybe you'd find some friends. Besides me and Ramos, I mean," added Frankie.

"Oh, by the way," said Ramos. He ran over and grabbed a paper bag. Inside it were a couple of apples and a box of lemonade, along with a couple of oatmeal raisin cookies. "This is a snack. Normally we'd share with you, but since you don't have much to eat... here you can have all of it," he said, shoving the bag through the window opening.

Thomas looked up, and expression of amazement in his yellow eyes. "I can have all of this?" he said.
"Sure," said Ramos and Frankie, together.

"Tell you what," said Frankie. "It's getting late and my mom will get worried if I don't get home. But Ramos and I will come back tomorrow and the book and some more snacks and we'll figure out what to do, ok? Meanwhile, are you ok in there?"

"Sure," said Thomas, his mouth full of apple. He was eating all of it - seeds, core and all - and smacking his lips in delight. I have a room I hide in in case anybody comes in at night."

"Ok," said Frankie. "We'll put the boards back, and we'll be here tomorrow. I'm going to stop at the bookstore on the way home from school, and then we'll come here, ok?"

"Sure," said Thomas. This time his mouth was full of cookie crumbles, and he had an expression of wonder on his funny face.

The boys and the monster said goodbye for now, and replaced the boards on the window. Then Frankie hid the pipe so it wouldn't be so easy for someone to break in and disturb Thomas. And the boys jumped on their bikes and headed home.

The next day, Frankie brought his copy of The Big Book of Monsters to school with him, careful not to show it to anyone, and when the bell rang after the last class, he and Ramos rushed over to Mainly Books, a neat and comfortable little shop on Main Street. There were shelves and shelves full of books - history books and picture books and mysteries and science books. There were little kid books and big kid books, and books for adults and even books in foreign languages. The lady who ran the shop was small and quick and kind of old, and reminded Frankie of a little bird. She was always busy, tidying, dusting, making tea, or reading a book herself. 

"Hi, Miss Grundy," said Frankie, as he and Ramos entered the store. 

"Why Frankie!" she exclaimed. "It's been a long time since I've seen you!"

"I'm sorry," he said. "I had baseball practice all spring and then we played in summer. But I don't have a sport for fall."

"How did you like the book you got?" she asked, a twinkle in her eye.

"This one?" Frankie said, realizing she could see it carried loosely under his arm.

"Yes. I wondered whether you enjoyed it."

"Yes!" said Frankie, enthusiastically. "And I have a question about it."

"What would that be, dear?" Miss Grundy offered a plate of chocolates to the boys, who each took one, stuffed it in his mouth, remembered to say "thank you" and then Frankie continued as quickly as he could swallow the creamy treat.

"Are those stories real?"

"What makes you ask that, Frankie?" said Miss Grundy, looking a little puzzled and a little wise.

"Well, there's this house..."

"The one on Huntington Street?" she asked.

"What?" said Ramos, surprised. "How did you know?"

"Well, you asked if the stories were true," said Miss Grundy, "so I thought you might have a reason." She turned to look at Frankie. "And yes, the stories are true. Have you met Thomas?"

*******************************************

Miss Grundy went to the door of the shop, locked it, and turned the "Closed/Open" sign so that "Closed" faced the street, and then invited the boys to come and sit in the cozy armchairs by her fireplace. Since it was still a warm, summery day, there was no fire, but people often enjoyed sitting by the fire on a chilly fall or winter day, and browsing through the books that Miss Grundy recommended. She knew each of her customers well, and would walk with them through the shelves until she had at least three or four for them to choose from. Often, they went home with all of them.

"So, you have met Thomas?" Miss Grundy repeated.

"Yes," said Frankie. "He's really nice, but he's lonely - and he could use a bath!"

Ramos made a face and nodded.

"And he's hungry," added Ramos. "Why is he stuck there?"

"Because I don't know where he belongs," said Miss Grundy, with a sigh. "I met Thomas when he was just a young monster. His family was chased out of town by some men who thought just because they were different and didn't look like us they were bad. But the truth is," she added, confidentially, "while they are very nice, they are monsters, and they usually live in the woods - in caves, or hidden valleys, or abandoned barns or mills. Places where people rarely go." She settled back in her chair, and picked up her cup of tea. Miss Grundy always seemed to have a fresh pot of tea ready to share with her customers.

"You see, Thomas's family had lived in an old factory outside of town for many years. But they wanted to go and find the rest of their kin."

"What's kin?" asked Ramos.

"It means family - like, cousins and grandparents and other people in your big family, right?" said Frankie.

"Exactly, Frankie," said Miss Grundy with a smile. "Well done. But they needed to make a plan, and make sure all the children in their family could make the trip. I took them some maps so they could plan," she added.

"You knew them?" said Ramos, with wonder.

"I did. You see, I was the little girl, Julie, in your book, Frankie," said Miss Grundy.

"You?"

"Yes," she replied. "We got to know the Monsters who lived nearby, but they made us promise not to tell anyone else where they lived, because people were afraid. And time passed, and new houses and factories were built, and the Monsters had to move further and further away. Drew grew up and moved to the big city to work, and eventually I was here in town with my bookshop." Miss Grundy paused for a sip of tea. 

Ramos was wriggling in his chair, waiting for her to go on, but Frankie began to nod his head.

"Well, stories began to pass around among the children - because all the children in town eventually come to visit the bookshop," smiled Miss Grundy. "And some of the stories were about the abandoned house on Huntington. And, I began to put two and two together."

"Four!" shouted Ramos. He loved math.

Frankie and Miss Grundy laughed. "Right, Ramos," said Miss Grundy. "But in this case, I mean I began to figure it all out. That maybe there really was a monster in that house. Because I knew that there were monsters - but that they weren't scary the way people thought."

Miss Grundy shifted in her chair, put down her tea cup, and leaned towards the boys.

"Oh, I don't mean they might not look scary. Or even act scary sometimes. But mostly, they're just creatures who have families, and like to dance and sing and play and have good food. Maybe too much good food sometimes, but then, many of them are quite large!"

"So, we met Thomas," said Frankie. "And he's getting tired of living there all alone, and Ramos and I can only go visit after school and on weekends. So what do we do?"

"Well, that was my problem," said Miss Grundy. "My family took Mike back to live with his family when he and his people lived in the woods far out of town. But over time they moved further and further away, up into the hills and I suspect into the caves, but I finally lost touch with them. And I didn't want to tell anyone about them because I didn't want anyone to hurt them or chase them."
"But now we know," said Frankie.

"Yes, now you know. And now it's time for us to do something about Thomas, don't you think?" said Miss Grundy.

"Yes!" shouted Ramos.

****************************

Over the next few weeks, Frankie and Ramos made sure Thomas had food and company, and the boys and Miss Grundy began to study. 

Fortunately, Miss Grundy had lots of books and knew how to do research.

Research, she explained to the boys, was when you try to solve a problem by looking for answers to questions. So their problem was: how could they get Thomas back with his people so that he could live happily? And one of their questions was, where might those people have gone?

"Our biggest problem will be if they have gone too far away," said Miss Grundy. "Fortunately, I know where they were when I was a little girl, and we can look at old maps to see where the newer houses and other buildings were built, and that might tell us something about where they went.

Together, they looked at maps that showed where some new roads and houses had been built when Miss Grundy was a girl, and where a factory had been built on the outskirts of town, very close to where the Monsters had made a camp.

Miss Grundy also found a map that showed a mine that had been dug into the side of a huge mountain that bordered the woods outside of town. Eventually, it had been closed - and while sometimes kids would explore the outer parts of it, even they knew that it was dangerous to go too far into abandoned mines, and they would only go in until the tunnel branched out into two, one going left, and one going right.

"So, I have an idea," said Miss Grundy. "If the monsters are living in the mine - and it would certainly make a nice enough home, though I would imagine they miss the trees and streams, and it must make finding food difficult - they must live somewhere beyond the branch in the tunnel."

"But, but," Frankie stammered, "we can't go in the mine!"

"No, not further than the branch," said Miss Grundy. "But..."

"But what if we lure them to the branch?" said Ramos, thoughtfully.

Both Miss Grundy and Frankie looked at the boy with expressions of delight.

"Right!" said Frankie. "You're right!" 

And soon a plan was concocted - which is a fancy word meaning "created by combining raw materials," which is exactly what it was. Because Miss Grundy, Frankie and Ramos decided that the best way to lure monsters out of the mine was with food. Good food. Lots of food. Because if Miss Grundy was right, the monsters were probably missing good food.

So they began to cook, and to bake, and to make sandwiches and soups and lemonade and cocoa and lots and lots of cookies. They packed up wooden crates and Miss Grundy drove them up in her old truck into the woods and near the abandoned mine and stacked the crates up and then weighed them down with rocks. Everything was securely wrapped, and nothing that might spoil was left until everything that wouldn't was moved. Finally, the entire feast was outside the mine, and the three adventurers were outfitted with sturdy boots, hats with lamps on them, and a map Miss Grundy had found of the mine, with the path to the branch marked in red. 

And the final thing they needed was Thomas. It was summer, so the day was still bright at six o'clock, when most families in town had gone home for supper. So Miss Grundy stopped her car outside the boarded up house, and Frankie whistled for Thomas. It was the signal they had created to let Thomas know that it was his friends, and not some other kids, who had come to visit him. Thomas knew about the plan, and he was excited, so he dashed to the basement window, and helped move the boards away from it, and scampered up the window well and outside, where Miss Grundy, Thomas and Frankie were waiting. 

Thomas had done his best to clean up, as well as most monsters can. He'd tidied his bushy hair, and he looked as though he'd even tried to wash up. He was dancing with excitement, though Miss Grundy told him to stay low in her truck when he climbed in. "We don't want someone to spoil our plan if they spot you," she said. And with that, they headed out to the mine.

Miss Grundy had also brought a big wagon with very large rubber tires that bumped over rocks and ruts with no trouble. They loaded several of their crates into the wagon, and pulled it into the mine. This first part of the mine was big and open, and for quite a way the daylight gave them enough light to see by. But eventually they needed to turn on their headlamps, and they began to move more slowly, and carefully.

Still, it was not long before they reached the branch, and saw that two tunnels split off, one to the left, and one to the right, and both were dark and began to narrow. There were old lamps on the walls, but they no longer worked, so all the light the group had was from their headlamps, and from the lanterns Miss Grundy had thoughtfully brought. 

They stopped, and carefully pulled the crates from the wagon, then returned to the mouth of the main tunnel for the others. When they left the tunnel to gather up the remaining crates, a couple of squirrels were sitting on the crates, chattering. Miss Grundy laughed, reached in her pocket, and pulled out a couple of cookies. The squirrels ran when they saw the children and the old lady, but stopped and sniffed when she tossed some broken cookies towards them. And then, in that funny way that squirrels have of scampering a few steps, stopping, looking quickly around, and scampering forward again, they reached the cookies, stuffed some pieces in their mouths, and dashed away.

"Normally I wouldn't feed wild squirrels, though I do admit I feed the ones who live in the trees by my house," said Miss Grundy. "Most wild creatures need to know how to find their own food. But I reckon these little fellows earned their cookies by guarding our crates."

Ramos and Frankie laughed, knowing that if the squirrels could have found their way to the food, they wouldn't have been guarding it!

The two boys and Miss Grundy loaded the remaining crates into the wagon, and pulled it into the tunnel, tugging it along as it bumped and bounced along the old dirt floor, until they reached the branch.
Now they had the entire feast - and Thomas - at the branch, and they began to unload the crates and unpack the food. Using the up-turned crates as tables, they set out sandwiches and soups and cookies and cakes and pies, pickles and crackers and cheese. They had some sausages and nuts and bottles of juice and tea. There were soft foods and chewy foods and crisp foods - they had no idea what monsters other than Thomas might like, so they decided to make everything they could think of that they thought was delicious. 

And when it was all unpacked, they sat down and waited.

Thomas was too excited to sit still. He could see much better in the dark than the boys or Miss Grundy, and he would dash a few yards into one branch of the tunnel or the other, and then back, sit for a moment, and then dash off again. The boys and Miss Grundy began to sample some snacks from the feast, but Thomas - who usually ate anything he was offered - was too excited to sit still and eat.

And after what seemed like forever, Thomas suddenly stopped fidgeting and stood very still.

And the boys and Miss Grundy stopped eating and chatting, and listened.

And they heard a little whine. And a scuffle. And a thump, and a bump and a giggle. They heard a scrape and a sniff, and some more sniffing. And then a bigger whine, and some pattering like feet on dry rocks.

And when Miss Grundy turned her head so that her headlamp shone down the right hand tunnel, she saw a reflection in what looked like two very big eyes, very close to a high, high ceiling.
And the first monster crept carefully into view.

If Miss Grundy and the boys, and for that matter, Thomas, had not been prepared, they might have screamed and run. The creature that appeared in the circle of the lantern light and the lights from the groups' helmets was certainly a little scary - or at least, different. It was very tall, and very hairy, and had very very big eyes. Its arms were long, and it had long fingers on its hands. As it moved closer to the boys, Thomas, and Miss Grundy, it appeared to be trying to smile, and to make itself appear smaller.

"Hell...hello?" said Thomas, in his friendliest voice.

"Hello," responded the monster, and as soon as it did, the tunnel suddenly filled with monsters of all kinds. Tall ones, and small. Hairy ones and ones with scales or bristles or skin like a toad. Some that stood upright and others that bounced along on all fours. They were brightly colored monsters and others that had dark features, and some even were spotted or striped. 

But suddenly Frankie, who had been standing quite still in amazement, said, "But you're not scary at all!"

And the monsters all stopped and stared and the children and the old lady, and most especially at Thomas. 

"You aren't either," said the large monster who had first appeared.

"I'm Thomas," said Thomas, stepping forward with pride. "I think I belong to you."

And from the back of the tunnel came a sniffling sound, a wet kind of noise, and pushing its way forward came a monster who looked an awful lot like Thomas.

"I'm Rufus," said this monster, softly. "I think you're my brother." Rufus reached out and pushed Thomas on the shoulder, and Thomas reached out and pushed Rufus, and soon they were laughing monster laughs and pushing one another.

"We're Miss Grundy," said Miss Grundy, pointing to herself, "and this is Frankie, and this is Ramos."

"And what is that?" asked the big monster, looking longingly at the piles of food.

"Well, this is a picnic," replied Miss Grundy.

The big monster nodded and made what was probably a smile.

"And," she said, "we'd like you to join us." 

The monsters, including Thomas, didn't quite know what to do. "By the way," said Miss Grundy. "You might have known me as Julie. And maybe you remember Angela, or Drew, or maybe Doug or Larry?"

"Yes!" shouted a small voice, and from somewhere in the back of the group came a small monster carrying a doll. "I knew Angela! I lived under her bed. She knew we were there, but her Mom and Dad didn't believe her. She was good to us."

"And my family," said a squishy voice, as a froggy monster hopped over the heads of several other monsters to enter the circle of light, "lived in Hatch Lake!"

"Well then," said Miss Grundy. "Shall we eat?"

Soon monsters and kids and Miss Grundy were sharing stories, meeting old friends, and enjoying their wonderful feast!

Finally, the whole big, strange group had feasted, laughed, played, sung songs, and were settling into that tired but happy feeling you feel after a big Thanksgiving Day dinner, or a wonderful game of tag: you are too full and weary to want to do more but you don't want your good time to end.

"So," said Miss Grundy, after a quiet descended on the gathering, "I have an idea."

Everyone looked up at her, expectantly. They had learned by now that Miss Grundy had excellent ideas.

"I know we're all just getting re-acquainted, and I know that Monsters and People haven't known much about one another til now."

There were general murmurings, some nods, and a few people and monsters clapped softly.

"What do you say we plan a picnic every season - spring, summer, winter and fall - right here, and we bring more and more of our friends and families - so we get to know one another? I'm sure we all have much to learn about each other."

There was a moment of silence, and then Thomas stood up and from his comfortable spot leaning against a wall, and shouted, "Yes!"

And then a little yellow bird-like monster cried out, "Yay! Let's do it!"

And together, Frankie and Ramos pumped their fists and said "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

And before long, the whole group, even some of the older monsters who had been a little nervous, was standing and clapping and stomping their feet with joy.

"It may take some time," said Miss Grundy, "but I know many good people, and so do Frankie and Ramos. And we can find some of your old friends and invite them to come with us. And I would guess that our picnic will soon be the place everyone wants to be at the change of the seasons!"

And that's why, every year, a special picnic is held at the Old Mine. And every year, a few more kids find out that Monsters aren't really as scary as people think, and a few more Monsters find out people can be friends. And everyone has cookies for dessert!