13 April 2008
Story #232
Chapter 5
The sign on Mrs. Egduf's shoppe announced:
Senor Skcusnailatiym's Chocolate Bunnies
Now offered at Mrs. Egduf's House of Fudge Pancakes
Come see the tribute chocolate effigies of
Senor Skcusnailatiym and his nameless helper
In the shoppe window, dozens of purple boxed chocolate bunnies could be seen, all packaged with the name Senor Skcusnailatiym's Bunnies on the top flap.
The weasely-looking blond lad looked at the bunnies and knew the one he coveted was much bigger and better. He squinted his eyes to look beyond the bunnies in the window and could see what looked like a giant chocolate sculpture of Senor Skcusnailatiym and his nameless helper. Still, the white bunny was better, but then, if the lad couldn't figure out a way to get the white bunny, there were always those life-sized sculptures of Mrs. Egduf's.
The day was getting warm for London. The lad adjusted his collar and decided to go inside. The place was humming, and people populated the tables, a first in the pancake house's history. Mrs. E was busy flinging pancakes topped with Senor Skcusnailatiym's miniature bunnies as I served and took orders. The lad found a table with one empty seat and sat himself down.
"Be roight wit ya," I called as I flew by with a tray of pancakes, obviously not recognising the young lad who saved meself from the sinking Titanic and who I shared a cabin with for ten years.
The lad looked at the pancakes and melting bunnies on the plates around him but decided he had no appetite for them. He got up and, just as he did, walked smack into me busy self. Me tray went flying, as did me serving towel, and both of us fell flat on our backsides. The hanky, though, was still adhered to me hand.
"Not again," I moaned, rubbing me bum as I got meself up with the help of the blond lad who had bumped into me sore self. "Why do I know you?" I said, trying to remember from where.
"Yeah, iz me."
"Is you who?" I asked, looking closely at him, memories flashing in and out.
"Iz me from da shippy, Skippah."
Oooh," I said, realising the singing wonder was back in me life. "Wot you want now?"
"I goter tell ya sumthin'." The lad pointed at the chocolate effigies, "Ya think those r sumthin, wait untilly ya seaz wat be in da window on Baker Street."
I lowered me head, but me eyes were looking into the face of the lad. The effect I wanted was the same one you get from pulling a torch under your chin, but I had no torch. In a low voice, I said, "Baker Street, you say?" That was me old street.
He nodded, "Supa-sized whitey bun-nay. Bigger an dem'," he gestured at the chocolate effigies.
"Come back when we're closing, and we'll talk," I said, letting the blond boy out. "Oh, and come the back way."
LATER THAT NIGHT, IN ME UPSTAIRS ROOM
"Soz mizta Todd, I seen it wit me own two eyes I did. Biggest bun-nay yaz evah Ima did sea."
I stood against the dresser listening, Mrs. Edguf hanging off me right side like she owned me. Well, she did. We were partners in crime, one for all and all for one. I thought about putting this young blood into the mix, but his speech would drive me up a pole, so I decided not to. But he was proving useful, only I didn't know that until Mrs. Egduf piped up.
"I know where that white chocie bunny is, Squeam; it be Judge Sraetaei's place; he gets hiz self one every year for Easter from Belgium. Word is he eats only the ears and gives the rest to his gnarly sidekick, the undertaker, a scoundrel named ah . . . ah . . . ah . . . "
"Sounds like?" I said, trying to jog her memory, but all we got out of her was a furrowed brow and more 'ahs' as she looked like her head was going to explode. She walked around the room, still 'ah-ing' and moving her hands like she was talking with them. Both the lad and meself tried to ignore her.
"Anywayz dissy here judgie needs an excusie to be outty and aboutty soz I kin stealie da bun-nay. Datz where hugh cum in."
It took me a moment to translate what he was saying in me brain. But me mind was racing ahead of him. Yes, an excuse to get me stepfather to Mrs. Egduf's where he'll be invited up to me abode and then I'll tie him in a chair I will, and cut off his ears!
"I figures I kin steal da bun-nay while da judgie be here eatin' on Mrs. E's stuffins."
"Now, just a moment here, there will be no eating on Mrs. E." I declared, insulted that he'd send me stepfather for a romp with me, Mrs. E.
"Nah, ha! Ya ain't followin' me. Not anything baddie, ugh . . . ta eat Mrs. E's fudge pancakies now dat da wurdie be outty she's partnered wit da renownie Senor Skcusnailatiym."
I was amazed he could pronounce that last name since it was obvious he couldn't pronounce common English words, but something difficult, yeah, he was right there.
"What's in it for us?" I asked, catching Mrs. Egduf as she stumbled by me, still trying to remember the undertaker's name.
"Welly, I takes offin wit da bun-nay an uh . . . hugh, um . . ."
"That's what I thought. There is nothing in for me, just you and some guy named Hugh!"
"Who'z Hugh?" He asked, confused.
"Smottobyggos!" Mrs. E suddenly exploded. "That's the name," she smiled, quite taken with herself.
"Did you say Smottobyggos?" Why that old cranky fool was still alive, I bet he still had that same box of Altoids.
"Yeah, he's the judge's pal." Mrs. Egduf said proud of herself that her memory sort of worked.
"An I wuz gonner sae ya kin havda bun-nay's tail and feets," the blond lad declared, flourishing a finger in the air like I do. That got me a little taken aback it did. How dare he!
"I reckons I'll bring da bun-nay backie here an' we'll chop it up," he said in a low voice, his eyes slits. "I'll take the head and hugh two, the tail and feets, and we'll sell the rest 50-50."
"Hold on there . . . wot's yer name?" Mrs. E asked, scratching her head.
"Weasil Mam, da Weaz fer shortie."
Mrs. Egduf stroked her chin as if she had a beard.
"All roight, Mr. Weasil. We cut up the bunny body and split it 50/50; we get the tail and feet, and you get the head and EARS!"
I gasped, outraged.
"Welly yer due da ears," Weasil said, nodding as if he was in deep thought. "Since yer doin da biggest part a da werk, meltin' down wots leftie."
When I got over me squeamishness about bunny ears, it dawned on me that for the first time since I was eleven years old, I was getting bunny ears. EARS, yes all to meself. Well, almost to meself, there was a 4-foot midget dressed like she had hit number one on Mr. Blackwell's worst dressed list. But, I thought to meself, I being 6'2", I tower over her as it is; she'll never see those ears from where she stands. YES!
"Here be the plan," I said. "Mr. Weasil, you send the undertaker over first for some of Mrs. E's pancakes, and I'll meet him here. He'll remember me and go flying back to Judge Sraetaei's, who will be unhappy to hear I be back in London. The Judge will fly over here, so be ready."
"Why? Wot duz hugh has ta do wit anythin'?" Weasil asked, scratching his head.
"Who is Hugh?" Mrs. E asked, looking around her. I had heard him use that name, too.
"I dunno, nevah said Hugh," Weasil answered, looking around too.
"Oh my gosh, Squeam, he means YOU," Mrs. E interrupted.
"Me?"
"No, Y-O-U, the word you!" She was pulling her hair out at me.
"Ooh, okay. . . 'you' like in me, okay?" I finally understood.
"No, not you liking me," she said, "I don't know if I like you!"
I decided to ignore her.
"I be the judge's stepson," I announced.
"Hugh? Hugh? Hugh, are Gabriel O Navillus?" Weasil stepped back in awe.
"The very one, and I have chocolate to melt." I said, meaning I have an axe to grind, but in light of the circumstances, I thought 'chocolate to melt' was rather a clever thing to say, but neither of the twits standing in front of me got it. Mrs. Egduf started looking for a pot and she put a bunny in it and handed it to me to melt. I shook me head at her discreetly, but she didn't get it. The other one was still scratching his head and looking around, then he said he thought he should go and see the undertaker. He backed out the door, and as soon as he was out of sight, I hit Mrs. E on the top of the head with the pan. She fell straight down on her bottom, legs straight out, arms dangling on the floor and head to the side.
"Well, that'll keep HUGH quiet for a while," I said, and off I went to sharpen me spatulas.
"Sounds like?" I said, trying to jog her memory, but all we got out of her was a furrowed brow and more 'ahs' as she looked like her head was going to explode. She walked around the room, still 'ah-ing' and moving her hands like she was talking with them. Both the lad and meself tried to ignore her.
"Anywayz dissy here judgie needs an excusie to be outty and aboutty soz I kin stealie da bun-nay. Datz where hugh cum in."
It took me a moment to translate what he was saying in me brain. But me mind was racing ahead of him. Yes, an excuse to get me stepfather to Mrs. Egduf's where he'll be invited up to me abode and then I'll tie him in a chair I will, and cut off his ears!
"I figures I kin steal da bun-nay while da judgie be here eatin' on Mrs. E's stuffins."
"Now, just a moment here, there will be no eating on Mrs. E." I declared, insulted that he'd send me stepfather for a romp with me, Mrs. E.
"Nah, ha! Ya ain't followin' me. Not anything baddie, ugh . . . ta eat Mrs. E's fudge pancakies now dat da wurdie be outty she's partnered wit da renownie Senor Skcusnailatiym."
I was amazed he could pronounce that last name since it was obvious he couldn't pronounce common English words, but something difficult, yeah, he was right there.
"What's in it for us?" I asked, catching Mrs. Egduf as she stumbled by me, still trying to remember the undertaker's name.
"Welly, I takes offin wit da bun-nay an uh . . . hugh, um . . ."
"That's what I thought. There is nothing in for me, just you and some guy named Hugh!"
"Who'z Hugh?" He asked, confused.
"Smottobyggos!" Mrs. E suddenly exploded. "That's the name," she smiled, quite taken with herself.
"Did you say Smottobyggos?" Why that old cranky fool was still alive, I bet he still had that same box of Altoids.
"Yeah, he's the judge's pal." Mrs. Egduf said proud of herself that her memory sort of worked.
"An I wuz gonner sae ya kin havda bun-nay's tail and feets," the blond lad declared, flourishing a finger in the air like I do. That got me a little taken aback it did. How dare he!
"I reckons I'll bring da bun-nay backie here an' we'll chop it up," he said in a low voice, his eyes slits. "I'll take the head and hugh two, the tail and feets, and we'll sell the rest 50-50."
"Hold on there . . . wot's yer name?" Mrs. E asked, scratching her head.
"Weasil Mam, da Weaz fer shortie."
Mrs. Egduf stroked her chin as if she had a beard.
"All roight, Mr. Weasil. We cut up the bunny body and split it 50/50; we get the tail and feet, and you get the head and EARS!"
I gasped, outraged.
"Welly yer due da ears," Weasil said, nodding as if he was in deep thought. "Since yer doin da biggest part a da werk, meltin' down wots leftie."
When I got over me squeamishness about bunny ears, it dawned on me that for the first time since I was eleven years old, I was getting bunny ears. EARS, yes all to meself. Well, almost to meself, there was a 4-foot midget dressed like she had hit number one on Mr. Blackwell's worst dressed list. But, I thought to meself, I being 6'2", I tower over her as it is; she'll never see those ears from where she stands. YES!
"Here be the plan," I said. "Mr. Weasil, you send the undertaker over first for some of Mrs. E's pancakes, and I'll meet him here. He'll remember me and go flying back to Judge Sraetaei's, who will be unhappy to hear I be back in London. The Judge will fly over here, so be ready."
"Why? Wot duz hugh has ta do wit anythin'?" Weasil asked, scratching his head.
"Who is Hugh?" Mrs. E asked, looking around her. I had heard him use that name, too.
"I dunno, nevah said Hugh," Weasil answered, looking around too.
"Oh my gosh, Squeam, he means YOU," Mrs. E interrupted.
"Me?"
"No, Y-O-U, the word you!" She was pulling her hair out at me.
"Ooh, okay. . . 'you' like in me, okay?" I finally understood.
"No, not you liking me," she said, "I don't know if I like you!"
I decided to ignore her.
"I be the judge's stepson," I announced.
"Hugh? Hugh? Hugh, are Gabriel O Navillus?" Weasil stepped back in awe.
"The very one, and I have chocolate to melt." I said, meaning I have an axe to grind, but in light of the circumstances, I thought 'chocolate to melt' was rather a clever thing to say, but neither of the twits standing in front of me got it. Mrs. Egduf started looking for a pot and she put a bunny in it and handed it to me to melt. I shook me head at her discreetly, but she didn't get it. The other one was still scratching his head and looking around, then he said he thought he should go and see the undertaker. He backed out the door, and as soon as he was out of sight, I hit Mrs. E on the top of the head with the pan. She fell straight down on her bottom, legs straight out, arms dangling on the floor and head to the side.
"Well, that'll keep HUGH quiet for a while," I said, and off I went to sharpen me spatulas.
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