Jawbreakers, Bubble Gum and Stick Candy
Page 12
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Jawbreakers, Bubble Gum and Stick Candy
Who Took the Jingle Out of the Bell?
It was an Indian summer in late August, early September. The rain dripped slowly from the little bell shop’s porch located at the end of town. Drip, drip, drip went the rain as it fell into the little puddles of water on the ground and sent tiny ripples through the puddle.
Professor Ding-a-ling lived inside the bell shop with his collection of jingling bells. He was an old man small in stature. He stood about five feet two inches tall with a plump belly and a long flowing white beard that curled upward at the ends. From time to time, he would get so excited that he would step on the end of his beard, almost trip and fall. He would quickly look around to see if anyone had seen him; then he would giggle to himself. Stinker, his old hound dog, lived with him; he was his best friend, sidekick and silent partner.
Drip, drip, drip fell the drops of rain as Professor Ding-a-ling peeped out the window to see if the rain had stopped. Stinker lay at his feet and didn’t move. Professor Ding-a-ling couldn’t hear it thunder, so to speak, but his eyes were sharp and quick to see.
All went well for a while until one day Professor Ding-a-ling awoke from his sleep. Immediately, he sensed something was wrong. He didn’t know what it was or what on earth had happened. At first, he rolled about in his bed, back and forth and side to side; up he sat and down he went.
“Something is wrong,” he cried. “Something is not right,” he said as he tilted his head a slight, sat still and listened. “By George,” he said softly, “that’s what it is.”
He listened a little closer. Silence had slipped in. He looked about the room once more and quietly listened.
“Shhh,” he hushed Stinker, “be quiet old buddy. “Be still, can you hear it?” he asked.
Old Stinker just opened his mouth, yawned, got up, went to lie in the corner and yawned again. Very carefully, Professor Ding-a-ling slipped out of his bed and eased over to the door. All was quiet. The only sounds that could be heard were very faint creaking and popping sounds as he walked across the floor. Carefully, he placed his hand around the doorknob, turned it to the right first and then to the left. Next, he pulled on the doorknob slightly and opened the door. When the door gently hit the hanging doorbell, he listened. That was it; there was no jingle in the sound of the bell. Frantically, he paced here and there about the room. There wasn’t a single jingle in the bell.
“Who took the jingle out of the bell?” he cried out. “Where, oh where has it gone? What could have happened to the jingle? Did someone take it when I was not at home or when I was asleep?”
He abruptly stopped, turned, looked across the room, stepped on the curl of his beard and almost fell. He stopped, looked about and said to himself with a giggle, oh shucks; I hope no one was watching. Then his eyes caught a glimpse of the wind chimes. Even the wind chimes blew in the wind and made not a sound. What could it be? he thought. What on earth could have happened? Who would do such a thing? Why, even the coo-coo clock ticks no more. What time of day is it? Who would do such a thing? he questioned himself. He paced back and forth across the floor and thought everything imaginable as the floor beneath him popped and creaked. Stinker watched for a while until he got wore out watching him pace back and forth. Several times, he stepped on the end of his beard and almost fell only to look about, giggle softly and talk to himself. Silly me, I must go out and search the town to see if I can find the missing jingle.
He grabbed his umbrella as he rushed out the door just in case it rained while he was out searching for the missing jingle. He disappeared down the street and diligently searched throughout the town for the jingle of the bell. He suddenly stopped in the middle of his search, scratched his head, tripped over his beard and laughed.
“This bell has no life,” he said as he turned and continued his search.
In his little bell shop were bells of all kinds. He had big, little, slightly light, some heavy, some that ringed, some that went ding-a-ling and many different colored bells. He also had some from faraway places and some from around home.
As he was searching, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a big old pocket watch with a long golden chain. He held it up to his ear and listened, but he didn’t hear a sound. He pecked on it with his finger, not once but twice. He knew it was time for the church bell to sound, so he listened for one minute, then two and then three. But, he never heard a jingle or a jangle and not even a tick tock which really got away with him. He didn’t know what else to do but head home. When he arrived back at the little bell shop, he went in and shut the door behind him. He quickly turned. Then, all of sudden, he turned again and held his breath. His eyes popped out and his face blushed as a tiny little tear seeped from his eye.
“Achoo!” he cried out.
When he sneezed, his feet went back over his head and out popped not one but two ear plugs from his ears. The silence was broken. He began to hear the jingle of the bells once more.
“Oh, silly, silly me,” he said. “I forgot to take out my earplugs. I’m so embarrassed.”
He started walking about the room when he stepped on his beard once more. But, this time, he slipped his foot over to the side, shuffled his feet a bit and laughed.
“I got you this time,” he laughed, “silly me!”