Nicholas
Excerpt from a story I'm writing for grandson Nick. Backstory: Nick is a polite, well-brought up boy whose parents have rules. Nick's Mom is always saying, "If you don't like the rules here, then go to the New Mommy Store and get a new one." A new boy moves in next door. His name is Lyddle Fleming Brad (Little Flaming Brat). Nick doesn't know him yet and is visiting his house for the first time. Later, Lyd convinces Nick to go to the New Mommy Store with him and pick out a rule-free Mommy.
* * * * * *
At the door to Lyd's room, Nick stopped in amazement.
The entire room was painted bright red. The wall and ceiling glowed as red as a fire truck, a candy apple, a ’66 Mustang, and a bonfire, all put together.
“Wow!” said Nick.
“Nice color, isn’t it,” said Lyd. “Picked it out myself. I told my Mom to make sure it was painted before we moved here, or else I’d hold my breath until I turned purple.”
The carpet was bright lime green, and the window panes were bright yellow. “I picked out the other colors too,” said Lyd proudly.
It took a moment for Nick’s eyes to adjust to the colors. Lyd’s adjoining master bathroom was painted all black. Even the bathtub and sink were midnight black.
Inside the bright red room stood a wall-to-wall moonwalk! It covered the left half of the room. The other side contained a large jungle gym, big screen t.v., a mini-refrigerator, a Laz-Y-Boy, five cages of different animals, a pool table, and a jumbly mountain of unorganized toys that nearly reached the bright red ceiling.
“Want to see the animals?” asked Lyd.
“Sure,” said Nick.
They walked over to the cages.
“This is Poopy,” said Lyd, opening the cage where a spider monkey sat scratching its head.
“Come ‘on out, girl,” he said. Poopy leaped excitedly out of the cage and swung herself through the air, landing on top of the television. She crawled across the top, bent over on all fours. Then she stopped, looking thoughtful, scratching her head. Squatting, she pooped across the top of the big screen.
“Ewww!” said Nick.
Poopsy opened her toothy mouth as wide as a basketball and emitted a cackling monkey-laugh, as she swung over to the top of the Moonwalk.
“What’s the big deal?” shrugged Lyd. “Mom’ll clean it up. Here, look at Babsy.”
Babsy was a stinky-smelling carraberra, a sort of giant hairy guinea pig from South America. His snout was soft and pink, and he had big brown eyes. Babsy snorted as Lyd handed him a carrot stick through the cage bars.
“He doesn’t want to come out right now. Hey, check it out, here’s Vulcan.”
Vulcan was an angry pitbull. His mouth was pulled back, revealing sharp white teeth that stuck out like knives. Growling, he crouched in the cage. His eyes were slits of rage.
“Don’t be scared,” said Lyd, “he’s as sweet as a kitten.” Suddenly, Vulcan threw himself against the cage bars, barking furiously. He bounced back onto the cage floor and race against the bars a second time, barking like a thunderclap.
Nicky was terrified and backed away from the cage.
Lyd opened another cage door. Inside, a green-eyed baby tiger with black stripes yawned and stretched.
Lyd reached into his mini-refrigerator and pulled out a blob of raw hamburger.
“C’mon, Tornado,” intoned Lyd in a baby voice. “Want a burger, want a burger? Come to Daddy!”
Tornado sniffed the air, caught the scent of the burger, and sauntered out of the cage. Although his body was the size of a housecat, each of his giant paws was as big as Nicky’s head. Lyd proffered the burger to the tiger. Tornado leaned forward and gulped it down in one swallow. Lyd scratched the back of Tornado’s ears and the tiger began to purr. His claws, bigger than most kitchen knives, began to mix into the carpet. Wads of carpeting flew into the air, dislodged and shredded.
“You want to pet him?” asked Lyd. Cautiously, Nick reached out and touched Tornado, who had rolled over onto his back, purring, arms outstretched, claws retracting in and out.
“What’re you going to do when he grows up?” asked Nick. “He might eat you.”
“Ah, I’ll just make Mom donate him to the San Diego Zoo ‘fore he gets that big.”
The last cage contained a wart hog.
“This is Fluffy. I just had to have a warthog after seeing Lion King,” explained Lyd. He opened the cage door.
Fluffy, the warthog, snorted and bellowed as she waddled out of the cage. Nick stepped back. Fluffy stopped, sniffed the air, and then walked slowly over to a bowl of Cheerios and milk in the corner. She slurped and crunched noisily until the bowl was empty and then flipped it over, looking for more.
“How did you get all these animals?” asked Nick.
“I got Tornado for my sixth birthday, last March,” said Lyd. “Poopy was a present when I graduated from kindergarten. Babsy was a `Just because’ present for being the best boy in the world, Mom said. Vulcan was my Martin Luther King Day present. I got Fluffy after seeing Lion King because I deserved him because I’m me.”
“You sure get a lot of presents,” observed Nick.
Lyd said, “I’ll tell you a secret. It wasn’t always this way.”
Just then, there was a knock on the door. Mrs. Brad walked in carrying a tray with two cokes, 10 Hostess Twinkies and five McDonald’s apple pies.
“I’ll bet you boys would like a little snack,” she beamed. “Oh, Fluffy, no no!” she exclaimed, as Fluffy lifted her leg against the big screen and peed torrents.
“Thanks for the snack, Mommy,” said Lyd, ignoring Fluffy.
“Gee, Lyd, sweetheart, I wish you wouldn’t let that warthog and that monkey out of their cages,” said Mrs. Brad.
“Aw, chill, Mom,” said Lyd. “It’s not that bad. It’s a much neater room than Hugh’s was.”
“Lyddie, remember to be polite---or I’ll have to take away your cell phone.”
“Ya want it?” cried Lyd. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. “Here!” he said, throwing it at her. “You can have it!”
The phone flew through the air and struck Mrs. Brad on the leg.
“Sweetheart,” said Mrs. Brad soothingly. “Mommy understands that you feel upset about moving to a new house in a new part of town. Mommy understands that you have lots of funny feelings inside that make you feel angry and want to throw things. But, remember, you have to think about how the other person feels when----”
Lyd slammed the door in her face. “Go away!” he yelled. “You’re giving me a headache!” They could hear her footsteps retreating.
“Hey, Lyd,” said Nick. “That wasn’t very nice to throw a phone at your mother.”
“Pahh, ”said Lyd. “She’ll get over it.”
“Who’s `Hugh’?” asked Nick. “You said your room is much neater than Hugh’s.”
“My brother,” said Lyd. “He doesn’t live with us anymore.”
“Where does he live?”
“None of your beeswax.”
"How old is he?"
“Fifteen. Hey,” said Lyd, changing the subject, “I want to show you my new hang glider. Wait a sec while I run downstairs and get it.” Before Nick could say anything, Lyd charged out the door.
“But what about the animals?” called Nick. Tornado the tiger was clawing the bedspread with those big paws and shredding the beautiful comforter into confetti. Meanwhile, Poopsy was pooping on top of the cherry chest of drawers, showing all her teeth as she laughed gleefully.
“They’ll be okay,” called Lyd from down the stairway.
Nick watched Fluffy, the warthog, saunter over to Tornado, who was happily occupied clawing up the comforter. Fluffy started sniffing Tornado’s long striped tail. Tornado whirled around and batted Fluffy across the face with his massive paw. Fluffy looked stunned. Then she lowered her hairy head and rammed Tornado. Noticing the excitement, Poopsy swung down from the chest of drawers and landed on Fluffy’s back. Jumping up and down, Poopsy boxed Tornado, who leaped up on his back feet and---suddenly the three animals were a swirl of flying fur and growls, squeals and cries. Vulcan, the pitbull, barked and threw himself against the cage bars. Babsy, the carraberra, threw back his head and gave a long, vociferous squeal that sounded like a car without brakes.
Nick was scared! He raced out of the room, just as Lyd was returning with the hang glider.
“They’re fighting!” yelled Nick.
“Aaahh, no biggie; I got it,” said Lyd. He walked into the room, laid down the hang glider, picked up a styrofoam baseball bat, and swung---WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!---at the flying whirl of fur, yelling, “Enough! Stop it! In your cage, Tornado, now! Poopsy, get in your cage! Fluffy! Move it!” Again and again, he smacked the bat at the tornado of animals---WHALLOP! THUMP! THWACK! Nicky covered his ears and closed his eyes. He thought the growls and wails and screams would never end. Finally, Clang! Clang! Clang! three cage doors shut.
“Hey, Dude, ” said Lyd. “Uncover your ears. They’re in the cages now, so relax. Hey, check out my hang glider.”
Nick dropped his hands from his ears and opened his eyes. Huge clumps of animal fur were spread from one end of the room to another. Fur was stuck to the walls. To the big screen. To the bed. To the cages. To the mountains of toys in the corner.
Nick followed Lyd to the other side of the room, squeezing his hang glider between the Moon Walk and the Laz-y-Boy. Lyd opened his huge picture window, and kicked out the screen. It crashed to the ground below. Then he climbed up on the ledge and mounted the hang glider on his back.
“C’mon, stupid,” he said, reaching out his hand.
* * * * * *
End of excerpt
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