CHAPTER 41
Video Voodoo
They were into their second quarter's worth of viewing. Now the show was Places and Faces Around L.A. It was a program that dragged cameras and lights and cables to different locations and interviewed various interesting citizens. This time they were visiting Nick Bluegum, owner of Nick's Knickknackery on Pico Boulevard.
"Mr. Bluegum is not only the proprietor of one of Los Angeles's finest shops, specializing in curios, gifts, gimcracks, and objets d'art," the announcer was saying. "He is also a famous collector, and expert in ethnological artifacts and oddities." Nick Bluegum was an insane-looking character with a greasy mustache. He was wearing a dark suit and smiling into the camera.
"I find this interesting," Seamus Finn whispered to me.
"So do I," I whispered back.
"And why do you find it interesting?" he whispered.
"Because that guy reminds me of Sandor Eucalyptus," I whispered.
"Know what else?" Seamus Finn whispered.
"What?" I whispered.
"Know another name for a blue gum tree?" Seamus whispered.
"Eucalyptus?" I whispered.
"Shut up," Yggdrasil Birnbaum whispered. "You guys are distracting me with all the whispering."
Then something happened—or didn't happen—or seemed to happen ... No, it happened, but it didn't happen in a normal way. Not normal at all. What happened was Nick Bluegum, who was talking with the TV announcer about his knickknack store and the things in his collection, at the same time—while he was talking to the guy—looked into the camera and said, "Nedward Wentworthstein, I want that turtle!" And I knew nobody else saw or heard him do or say that! But I also knew he had, and I had seen it and heard it.
"You look weird," Seamus Finn whispered. "Something happen?"
"We're going again," Yggdrasil said. "You two kids, come with me."
I was still in some kind of state of shock while Seamus and I left the lobby with Yggdrasil.
We were back in the restaurant. "What's going on with you two beach balls?" Yggdrasil asked.
"What makes you think something's going on?" Seamus asked.
"What? With the whispering, and Neddie going pale, I'd have to be an idiot. So, tell me what the deal is. I'm trustworthy, and besides, if you don't tell me, I might just thump it out of you."
"I don't know," I said to Seamus. "Should we tell her?"
"I'm going into the kitchen to make us all a hot chocolate," Yggdrasil said. "Talk it over, and when I come back, I want the story. Things are dull enough around here—if you guys are involved in something interesting, I want in."
"Is this hot chocolate left over from the golden age of the movies?" I asked.
"It's instant. I keep packets here. I have powdered chicken soup too. You want?"
Yggdrasil went into the kitchen at the back of the defunct restaurant.
"She's pretty bossy," Seamus said.
"Yes, but it might be good to have her on our side if we have to fight or anything."
"Plus, we're scared of her," Seamus said. "Let's take a chance and tell her."
When Yggdrasil Birnbaum came back with three cups of ghastly instant hot chocolate, Seamus and I told her about Melvin the shaman giving me the turtle, and Sandor Eucalyptus trying to get it from me, and jumping out of the airplane, and Melvin the shaman's letter to me saying that Sandor Eucalyptus was in Los Angeles, and the fake sacred turtle at Stuffed Stuff 'n' Stuff, and how I had switched the real one with it, and then Nick Bluegum appearing on television and giving me a secret message that no one else had seen.
"Cool!" Yggdrasil said. "Come with me."
We went back to the lobby. The grownups had let the television set go off and were sitting around talking.
"Excuse me, Dad," Yggdrasil said to Captain Buffalo Birnbaum. "What do you know about a sacred turtle, one made out of stone?"
"Sacred turtle. Very important artifact. There are lots of them around, but only one real one—and that's been lost for ages. When I lived with the Paiutes, they said that the one and only real sacred turtle came from a long way off, had serious magical powers, and in the right hands could prevent the destruction of the world. In the wrong hands, hoo-boy! Let me think—what else do I know about it? Oh, yes, it is made of stone, but not igneous stone, and not sedimentary stone, and not metamorphic stone."
Seamus and I knew what he was talking about because we studied geology in Miss Magistra's class. "Aren't those all the kinds of rocks there are on the planet?" I asked.
"So I believe, but the article isn't made of any of them. Draw your own conclusions," Captain Buffalo Birnbaum said. "Why do you ask, daughter?"
"No reason. We were just talking," Yggdrasil Birnbaum said.
CHAPTER 42
We Get Organized
Yggdrasil had told Seamus and me to skip breakfast the next day, which was Sunday, and meet her in the lobby. "Bring money," she said.
"Sunday is waffles at our house—I mean, Neddie's house," Seamus said.
"It's fried eggplant and venison at mine," Yggdrasil said. "So I breakfast out. You can treat me."
She was waiting in the lobby when we came downstairs. We went to the Rolling Doughnut, shaped like a doughnut, naturally, on Vine Street, where she ordered hot doughnuts and coffee for the three of us. "My friends are paying," she said. There were some wooden picnic tables and benches next to the Rolling Doughnut. "I want to see the turtle," Yggdrasil said.
"You mean the fake one?" I said. "I have it here." She looked it over.
"If the actual turtle is not igneous rock, and not sedimentary rock, and not metamorphic rock—which covers all the kinds of rock there are," Seamus Finn asked, "what does that mean? It came from outer space?"
"Obviously," Yggdrasil Birnbaum said.
"Obviously," I said.
"Obviously?" Seamus asked. "Space men brought it?"
"Or it is meteoric rock," I said.
"Ohh, a meteor!" Seamus said. "That makes sense."
"I happen to know that Steve Kraft is in his shop early on Sunday mornings," Yggdrasil said. "In fact, he lives in the back."
"So you know the place?" Seamus asked.
"I live here. I know all the places," Yggdrasil said. "We can walk over there later, and just casually take a look at the real one. I'd like to see it. Now, I think we ought to get organized. That Eucalyptus guy is going to find you, you know. He's clearly a dangerous nut—he pulled a gun on you, and he jumped out of an airplane. We ought to have some sort of plan."
"Do you think we ought to handle this ourselves?" I asked. "I mean, don't you think there should be an adult or two involved?"
"Well, my father is very much able to deal with bad men, old and weird as he is," Yggdrasil said. "And so am I, if it comes to it. What about this Sergeant Caleb you told me about? He sounds like a tough hombre."
"In addition to being Melvin the shaman, who got me involved in the first place, I am ninety-nine percent sure," I said.
"Have you confronted him and accused him of being Melvin?" Yggdrasil asked.
"No. It didn't seem polite to do so," I said.
"Oh, yes, we must be polite," Yggdrasil said. "An armed loony is sending you secret messages by television, you are in charge of some incredibly valuable doodad, and you are ninety-nine percent sure that probably the only guy who knows what's going on is working as the security guard at your school, and you're worried about being polite? Jumping horny toads! You amaze me. I don't suppose either of you knows how to handle a six-shooter. It might come to that."
Yggdrasil was wearing a plaid pinafore, with a frilly blouse and the black Mary Jane shoes with little white socks, and this time the hair ribbon was plaid. She was a girl of strange contrasts.
CHAPTER 43
A New Cadet
We got a new kid in Miss Magistra's class. Bruce Bunyip: he was big and swarthy, and had tiny eyes, a scowl, and a low forehead, and his eyebrows grew together. But his personality was not as nice as h
is appearance. He came into the hobby shop after school, squashed a little kid's model airplane, stuck his fist under my nose, and said, "My father is Sholmos Bunyip, the head of International Mammon Studios, and he is the richest and most powerful man in Hollywood. I have a private boxing coach, and I can, and will, if necessary, beat up every kid in this school. By the way, this watch is solid gold, and has diamonds." Then he left, probably to introduce himself to others.
"A bully and a showoff," Seamus said. "Lucky us."
"Maybe he's insecure," Al Crane said. "Thinks we're going to gang up on him, so he's trying to act tough."
"Or he's a monster, and we should gang up on him," I said.
"Time will tell," Seamus said. "This used to be such a peaceful military school."
"Well, if he gives me trouble, I am going to tell Iggy," I said.
Seamus and I both called Yggdrasil Iggy, but not to her face, of course. We figured she would make short work of Cadet Bruce Bunyip, and it would be interesting to see.
Al had not met Iggy yet, but naturally his father knew her father from Captain Buffalo Birnbaum's circus and Wild West show days. We were all three invited to Al's house for a hot dog supper later in the week—and since we had taken Yggdrasil into our confidence about the turtle, it didn't seem right not to tell Al, who was our friend. Al thought the story was interesting, but he may not have believed it was true. He may have thought it was just a game Seamus and I had made up. Most of the time, I didn't believe it was true myself.
Bunyip was the main topic of discussion the next day. He had already hit a couple of people—when there was no one around to help them—and a couple of weak characters, like Stover, had become his stooges, and went around with him doing some advance threatening, and encouraging him. If he had become a bigger problem, the older cadets would have dealt with him—but he was sneaky and crafty. He knew just how far to go. He was an experienced bully. This was his third school in a year.
"I may have to straighten Cadet Bunyip out," Seamus said. "I am not my father's son for nothing."
"Is your father a tough guy?" I asked.
"Actually, no," Seamus Finn said. "But he taught me how to do the scary squint he did in The Sword of Caravaggio. I will dominate Bunyip with acting."
I had no confidence that this would work. The only way to dominate Bunyip would have been with a club, or maybe by taking his raw meat away. But Seamus was completely sure he could do it. He went looking for him, with Al and me trailing a safe distance behind.
Seamus found him smoking a cigarette behind the bleachers facing the parade ground. Seamus got this really serious expression, casual but with a steely look in the eyes, and sauntered up to him.
"See here, young fellow," Seamus Finn said to the mouth-breathing bully. "You're new, and obviously don't know how to behave, so I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you're a good chap and want to fit in. Isn't that so?"
"Yes, sir," Bunyip said. It was working! Al and I couldn't believe it.
"Let's have no more slugging people, and you'll get along fine," Seamus said. "If I hear any more bad reports about you ... well, we have a tradition of dueling here, and I am captain of the junior saber team. If you look closely, you'll see that a couple of the cadets have an artificial ear. I think you understand." While he said this he looked exactly like Count Caravaggio, the greatest swordsman in Italy.
"I can get you a pass to visit the movie studio," Bunyip said.
Seamus did this excellent chuckle. "My father is Aaron Finn," he said. "I visit the studio whenever I like."
"Ohh," Bruce Bunyip said. He stuck his hand out. "I hope we can be friends."
Seamus shook his hand. "We'll see. No more playful punches, agreed?" Bunyip nodded. He looked grateful.
"Now off with you, you rascal," Seamus said. And Bunyip lurched off harmlessly.
"That was incredible!" Al said.
"How did you do it?" I asked Seamus.
"I watch my father practicing," Seamus said. "He says anybody can be an actor. Bunyip is still an idiot, but he may keep his hands to himself now."
Another interesting thing happened that day. As Seamus and I were passing the main gate, Sergeant Caleb called us over. "Tighten your necktie, Wentworthstein," he said. "And, yes, I am Melvin."
"You admit it?" I asked.
"Your friend Yggdrasil stopped by this morning," Sergeant Caleb said. "Did you know she is the daughter of Captain Buffalo Birnbaum? A man of great honor among the Indian people."
"So are you going to explain everything about the turtle?" I asked Sergeant Melvin the shaman Caleb.
"In due course. I will tell you everything, but not now. I have to direct traffic, and holler at the cadets. Good afternoon, gentlemen."
CHAPTER 44
Hot Dog Supper
The Faceless Man called Yggdrasil Iggy and she did not pop him in the nose—how could she? Besides the fact that he had no nose to pop, he was so friendly and informal, like all the circus people, that Yggdrasil would have seemed stuck up and stuffy if she had corrected him. Al Crane called her Iggy too, and soon everyone did, Seamus and me included. She was stuck with it—and it didn't seem to bother her. In fact, she was having a good time at the hot dog supper at the Cranes'. She must have known that Seamus and I were going to call her Iggy from then on. Yggdrasil is the name of the tree that connects heaven, earth, and hell in Norse mythology, and it is a weird name for a person.
The Faceless Man, whose name was Peter, was one of the sideshow freaks with the Gibbs Brothers Circus. He kept his mask on while we ate—the top part was a Lone Ranger type of mask, and the rest was like a little curtain or veil that covered his face ... well, his nonface. He sort of worked the food up under the edge of the veil, while conversing in a very amusing fashion. It turned out he spoke five languages and had degrees from three universities in Europe.
The other guest, besides us kids, was Clive Montague himself, the main attraction and wild animal tamer with the circus. He was a little guy with quick, dark eyes and really nice clothes. He had been all over the world capturing wild animals, and he had lots of good stories.
The meal, as promised, was all hot dogs. Al's mother served them Texas-style with chili, New York–style with mustard and sauerkraut, and Chicago -style with mustard, green pickle relish, chopped onions, tomato slices, hot peppers, and celery salt. Also, she tucked a kosher pickle spear into each bun. The only guest who could eat one of these without making a mess was Peter the Faceless Man. Clive Montague had to tie a napkin around his neck like a bib. The grownups drank beer, and there was root beer for the kids. It was the best dinner party I had ever been to.
All the grownups had good stories to tell about life in the circus, and animals they had known, and in Peter's case, about hanging out with Professor Einstein in Switzerland. Einstein, the smartest guy in the world—they were still friends, and Einstein always got a free ticket when the circus played Princeton, New Jersey. Peter said he had helped Einstein do some calculations based on the performance of the aerialists—those are the high trapeze artists—and showed them how to improve their act.
Clive Montague told about catching full-grown tigers in Sumatra, and living with the native people, and how two pythons put the squeeze on him at the same time.
Al's father told about the time Sadie, my favorite elephant, had gotten loose and wandered away north of Poughkeepsie, New York, and spent a whole day on her own, turning up in people's backyards and stopping traffic.
And Al's mother played the banjo, and the Faceless Man sang Russian songs. He had a beautiful voice. Then we heard something between a meow and a blood-chilling scream.
"Ah, the leopards are awake," Clive Montague said. "They'll be wanting their bottles." He went to one of the bedrooms and brought out a carton with two baby black leopards in it. "Too young to be left alone," Clive Montague said. "So I brought them along."
These animals were so beautiful, they made us whisper. They were blackest bl
ack, with regular leopard spots in an even blacker blackest black. Clive Montague let us play with them and give them their bottles.
"Melanistic is what you call it when they come black like this," he said. "They can be born to regular spotted leopards, and with a spotted littermate or two. These little chaps will get to be as much as two hundred pounds, and you'll never guess where they come from."
"Africa?" Iggy said.
"India?" I said.
"Siberia?" Seamus said.
"I know where, so I won't guess," Al Crane said.
"They come from the wilds of Scotland," Clive Montague said.
"Scotland? So they were bred in captivity?" Iggy asked.
"They are wild-born," Clive Montague said. "Not many people know there are still leopards in the British Isles. They're incredibly hard to find, clever as they are. They live wild in this country too, in places like Ohio and Michigan. They're man-eaters as well. Usually a pet will disappear, or the family cow, and no one will know what happened—but sometimes it's Uncle Fred. It's leopards more times than you'd think."
I had a little man-eater in my lap, sucking away at a baby bottle and looking very content.
"These little chaps are with me all the time," Clive Montague said. "They have a future as circus stars, and they won't eat me, because I'm their mommy."
"Mr. Montague, what do you know about sacred turtles?" Iggy asked.
CHAPTER 45
Too Horrible to Tell
"Sacred turtles?" Clive Montague said. "Let me see ... there's the Giant Turtle of Sumatra, but that is a story too horrible to tell. Then there is the Turtle Temple of Colombo, Ceylon. The monks there nurse sick and injured turtles back to health and return them to the wild. There's the Kwakiutl turtle dance—takes hours and hours—and the Jivaro Turtle Society. There's the great turtle statue in Kamakura, the singing turtles of the Amazon, the early and completely unsuccessful submarine of Peruvian design called 'the Turtle,' and Leo the Turtle, the trademark and mascot of International Mammon Studios—you must have seen it at the beginning of every picture. Sholmos Bunyip, the owner of the studio, is a great collector of turtle art. He has turtles made of wood, marble, malachite, alabaster, gold, halvah, and every precious substance—also paintings, mosaics, frescoes, tapestries, all of turtles. But I don't think I have ever heard of a sacred turtle as such."
The Neddiad: How Neddie Took the Train, Went to Hollywood, and Saved Civilization Page 10
