As promised, Chapter 1, Part II Grandpa takes over and pulls out a whopper. I take one look at the fish who is staring at me with his gills pumping hard and fast. I see a little blood from the hook and even though I know he is big enough to keep, I throw him back in the water, almost throwing myself overboard at the same time. “Get out of here! Swim away!” I yell and feel a sack of potatoes drop in my stomach. Grandpa gives me one of his puzzling looks and he scratches his temple. I’ve never felt more like I didn’t belong to this family. “I thought you liked fishing, boy. You lost our keeper.” “Sorry.” Sitting in the small boat, I feel a lick on my cheek. Sparty wakes me from my dream as if he knows the Exotic Animal Farm is near. “Ostrich!” Callie says. I tuck the memory away as my foggy brain settles and the Exotic Farm sign gets clearer and clearer, closer and closer. “You were supposed to wake me up BEFORE we pass the farm,” I say wiping my eyes, but trying to spot a rare species at the same time. “Zebra!” Callie, says. “And I was just about to. Sparty read my mind.” Rrgh… “He’s good at that. And bird!” I yell. “That’s a regular species,” Callie says, so gets 1 point. Ostrich and zebra are worth 3.” She writes the points on a notepad, under ‘deer,’ and ‘squirrel.’ “Hey, you started without me. Not fair.” I unbuckle to get a closer look. “Click it or ticket,” Dad says, always attuned to the law being that he’s a lawyer. “Click it or worse,” Mom says. Just seconds later, the Animal farm is behind us, and my only species left available will be regular ones, worth a measly 1 point. “I don’t want to play.” I drag out my spiral and start up a new comic book story for my Puggle series, this one titled “Species Spotter tricks Master Puggle.” Before long, the Beeswood sign shines closer and closer. “We’re here!” Dad says. I stuff my comic book behind the seat and sit back to enjoy the small town farms, then the little downtown area, all the way to the ceramic shop - the signal for where to turn to get to the G’s house. Once you turn, you immediately see the tall trees that drape the street. As we pull into the drive, Grandma Morgan is waddling down the steps, and there on the bench on the porch sits a clown. I’m the first one out of the car, with Sparty alongside me, running to give Grandma Morgan the first hug. Callie is second, running up the steps to squeeze the clown. Then we switch. Grandpa stands slowly with his cane that squeaks. No, really. He added one of those squeaky dog toys under the grip of his cane to squeak as he pleases. “SQUEAK! SQUEAK! Hey, you two,” he starts. “You know the best place to catch a fish?” Grandpa’s eyes are big and eager, ignoring Sparty’s hops to get a hold of his squeaker. “Down, Boy!” I say. I’m thinking the creek where I threw back the keeper, a stream, Alaska, anyplace not with DEVIN. “Right here,” he says, putting his finger in his mouth like a hook. Everyone laughs. Mom shakes her head like she usually does at what she calls, ‘Grandpa’s corny jokes,’ and we head inside to the familiar smell of coffee, roses, and old folks. “Charles, you can take off the clown suit now,” Grandma says. “Are you kidding, my audience is here. How often do I get to entertain? Not for you! SQUEAK!” He says, poking her behind with his cane. Callie and I scrunch our noses, but Mom thinks this is funny. We spend a good amount of time listening to more of Grandpa’s circus stories and ‘corny jokes.’ I remember the magic trick in my suitcase, but I’m not ready to show it to him with everyone watching. “Oh, that reminds me,” Grandpa says. “I have a new magic trick for you two. Let’s see if you can figure it out.” Grandpa waddles over to behind the couch, opens the cedar chest with another SQUEAK with Sparty again on his heels, and the aroma of cedar fills the room. Then he pulls something out cupped in his hands. “Now,” he says turned around doing something, and Callie and my eyes are glued, except for the glance we give each other. He turns around with a coin in one hand. Then he moves the other hand with his fingers spread, and the coin begins floating around Grandpa and then back again, orbiting his body like the Earth does the Sun, except not all the way around. I look as hard as I’ve ever looked, even harder than when we passed the Exotic Animal farm, but I can’t see any evidence. Callie’s grinning, like she always does, while I’m concentrating harder than her, like I always do. “Well?” Grandpa says. Being a genius, this should be a piece of cake. “A Magnet!” I say. “You have some kind of magnet somewhere that’s pushing or pulling the coin.” Grandpa shakes his head. “No magnets,” as I hit myself in the forehead. Coins aren’t magnetic. What’s wrong with you? Callie puts her hands over her mouth, which means either she has a good idea or she thinks she does. “You have a very thin string!” she blurts out and Grandpa raises both eyes, his eye brows still painted white and invisible, but it’s clear in his big brown eyes that Callie got it right. “That’s my girl!” he says. “But- where is this string?” Okay, I have one more chance to demonstrate my intelligence. “Holding up the coin! It’s up there somewhere!” I say before thinking, pointing to a hanging lamp above Grandpa. Grandpa shakes his head and I can’t help but show in MY eyes just how I feel. “It’s under the coin, and attached to you,” Callie says, feeling around his belt, and finally finding the thin string. She jumps up and down, just like she did when Elliot Marvels picked her as volunteer, just like she always does, all the time, when she wins something, and of course, she gets a big hug from the big clown. I stomp away. I’ve had enough. “Oh, don’t be a Frankenstein, Devin,” Grandpa says. I raise my shoulders and squeeze my fists even more, just like Frankenstein. “You know I hate that movie!” “Yeah, Devin. You look like Frankenstein. Can we watch that, again, Grandpa?” Callie pleads, ignoring the steam that must be coming from my head and how much she KNOWS I hate scary movies. I look around for Mom, Dad, or Grandma, but they’re at the kitchen table. I’m defenseless and give a quick look upstairs where the guest room is, and where my secret magic trick for Grandpa is hidden. Now is definitely NOT the right time. When I hear Frankenstein start up on the T.V., I march myself upstairs, pull the magic trick box out of my suitcase and toss it in the trashcan as I get a side-tongue drooling look from Sparty. “I know I worked hard. Sometimes a mastermind must sacrifice his best work for a bigger cause, even if that cause is to prevent looking stupid. Remember that,” I say rubbing him between his eyes at the top of his nose, causing him to squint and accept my every word. I wish the world could see me the way Sparty does. There is one thing about my Grandfather I’ll never understand, he has his sweet I’m-so-involved side with all his jokes and fishing trips, but if you don’t catch the fish or guess the joke, he tosses you aside. This IS a good time for another story, ‘Frankenstein Puggle Tramples Cal the Clown Sidekick.’ Writing a good story is a great way to get ready for bed. I tuck myself in, and put the magic trick-Frankenstein fiasco behind me. Tomorrow, we’re going to either the Train Depot or the Museum of Magic, which is really the Museum of Trickery. You would think those with genius minds could figure out the tricks.
Posted on: Thu, 13 Jun 2013 19:03:38 +0000
Trending Topics
© 2015