by David Parkin
“Christopher?” It was Little Big Nose, calling weakly from the table.
“It’s okay!” shouted Christopher. “Keep him talking, we’ve got a plan.” He turned to his sister and said in a low voice, “Just listen to him, he’s not well, I’m not sure how long he’s going to last.”
Lauren frowned and thought as hard as she could. She was annoyed with herself. She was supposed to be the clever one but so far she’d been useless. She’d made fun of Christopher and his spy kit, but it had already been more helpful than anything she’d brought. All she’d packed was some chocolate and winter clothes.
The thought hit her so suddenly that she jumped and banged her head on the cage, “Got it! Ow!”
“Watch out,” said Christopher. “Got what?”
“Come here…” Lauren reached over to her brother and unwound the scarf from around his neck. She then grabbed her scarf and tied them together.
“You should be able to reach it with this,” she knotted a loop at the end. “But hurry up. I think he’s coming back!”
Christopher grabbed the makeshift lasso and aimed for the remote. Distant footsteps and a terrible giggle echoed up the stairwell. He had to be quick.
The loop landed just short of the bin.
“Quickly, try again,” said Lauren. “Come on, concentrate!”
“Will you be quiet!” snapped Christopher. “You’re not making this any easier.”
The footsteps got louder.
Christopher threw again, and this time the loop landed on the remote.
“Brilliant,” said Lauren. “Now just reel it in…”
Christopher pulled ever so gently, but the scarf slid silently over the remote and then fell to the floor. He’d have to try again … if he had time.
“Yoo-hoo!” Doctor Skinner’s cry was close, nearly at the top of the stairs. “Who wants to make history?”
Christopher didn’t stop to aim; he just threw the lasso and hoped. The loop snagged over the antenna.
“Hello, my little ones! Is everyone as excited as me?” As Doctor Skinner burst through the door Christopher tugged on the scarf and the remote control clattered to the floor.
“Now, let’s get this set up.” Skinner set down the large security eyeball he was carrying and began to connect its various wires to a recording device. Christopher stretched his arm out across the laboratory tiles.
“I really should have thought of this earlier,” chuckled the doctor.
Christopher whipped the control through the bars and thrust it into his coat.
Skinner turned to them with eyes ablaze. “Who’s ready for the grand finale?”
There is Always a Choice
“Where is your father now?” said Little Big Nose, a bead of sweat running down his nostril.
The blade of the scalpel hovered above the nose’s tip.
“I don’t know … he didn’t say where he was going.”
“And you haven’t seen him since?”
“No, I have not!” Doctor Skinner prepared to make the first cut. “Now be quiet!”
Christopher was struggling with Scuttler’s controls. The hand weaved across the floor of the laboratory, stumbling and skittering this way and that. Christopher had lots of experience with remote control cars but this was something else.
“Over there.” Lauren pointed to a corner of the laboratory. “That’s where he put them.” By a dormant Funky Feet and a pile of old specimens, the keys to the cage hung from a low hook.
“Hurry up…” said Lauren. “He’s about to start cutting.”
Scuttler teetered on his fingertips and then clumsily crawled over to the keys.
“Now,” said Christopher. “How do I make this thing reach up?”
He fiddled with the controls and stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth.
Scuttler sank down on to its knuckles.
“No, wrong way,” said Christopher. “So if that’s down … this must be up.” He pushed a lever and Scuttler’s index finger stretched towards the keys.
“That’s it,” he whispered. “Quite easy once you get the hang of it.”
The index finger quivered, reaching … reaching.
“Just a bit more.”
Then the finger suddenly flopped down, all power gone. Scuttler trembled and then collapsed in a limp pile on the floor.
“And why did your father leave?” asked the nose as he trembled in his straps.
“Because he was a coward,” snarled Skinner and drew his hand across his brow.
“I don’t understand,” said Little Big Nose.
“I don’t understand,” whispered Christopher. “The controls are still working but Scuttler just isn’t responding.”
“It must be out of range,” said Lauren. “You’ve got to get closer.”
“He left because…” said Doctor Skinner and faltered. A sad look passed across his face. “He left because he knew my mother … he knew my mother was dying and he didn’t want to watch.”
The sad look changed into a scowl, “Happy now?”
“How old were you?”
“Eleven, twelve. I was young.”
“So you looked after her as she died.”
“Yes…”
“That was a very brave and kind thing to do.”
“I had no choice,” said Skinner.
“There is always a choice,” replied the nose.
“Not for me there wasn’t.” The doctor narrowed his eyes and looked closely at the nose. “Now … if you don’t mind I would like to get on.”
He lowered the scalpel and Little Big Nose shuddered as the cold metal touched his skin.
“When my mother died,” said the nose. “I couldn’t help her at all.”
Doctor Skinner raised the scalpel. “So, you of all noses should understand why I need to do this.” His eyes sparkled with emotion and his hand shook. “If I could find out the secret of life … I could destroy death.”
Doctor Skinner braced himself and prepared to make the cut. “Because of this sacrifice, no child need ever watch their mother die again.”
“If you take away death, you change life,” said Little Big Nose. “Every trail must have a beginning and an end. That’s what makes life such an incredible experience.”
“But it’s horrible and mean and unfair. And ... and …” The doctor’s voice trembled. “It’s sad … yes, that’s it. Above all else … it’s … sad.”
“Yes … but its also beautiful,” said the nose. “And it’s the sadness that makes it so.”
Little Big Nose spoke softly, “I know you miss your mother, I miss mine. But we can’t bring them back…”
“But why?” whispered the doctor. “Why should it be this way?”
Christopher squeezed the control through the bars, held it at arm’s length and frantically pushed the levers and switches. Scuttler’s fingers twitched and once again stretched upwards.
Lauren peered over at the dissection table. “He’s about to start cutting. We’ll never get the keys back in time.”
“I think,” said Christopher. “That I have another idea.”
“I have to do this,” said Skinner. “For science, for my mother.”
“But you made me,” said the nose. “Please…”
“I’m sorry…” said Skinner.
Boogying Around the Laboratory
Skinner lifted the scalpel and looked around the laboratory. “What’s that?”
A bass drum and cymbal.
Dum tusch tusch tisch tusch tusch tisch, dum dum tusch tisch tisch.
“What in the blazes?” cried Skinner.
Christopher smiled. “Cool daddy-o!”
The drum beat skittered along at its laidback pace
and was joined by a single trumpet, which weaved a playful melody around the hypnotic rhythm. A double bass thrummed into the fray, giving the tune a deep and solid feel. Each instrument would solo and then give way to the next that would play, slowly building until the drums rolled, cymbals crashed and chimed, the bass went double time and the trumpet screamed at a high and frantic pitch and Funky Feet clicked its heels and was away: skipping, jiving and swaying. Boogying around the laboratory.
As Doctor Skinner glared at the dancing legs, Christopher made Scuttler crawl quickly under the dissection table and then whipped the controls behind his back.
“Most unusual,” said the doctor, narrowing his eyes. “Machines don’t just start by themselves.” He shot Christopher and Lauren a look, but they just smiled back sweetly.
“Faulty circuitry?” said Christopher.
“Bad workmanship!” added Lauren.
The doctor scowled and cracked his twelve knuckles.
“This is only a minor setback!” he declared to the children. “It won’t take long to deal with this contraption.”
Funky Feet shimmied over to Lauren and Christopher and elegantly swirled around the cage. The doctor advanced upon the machine, the blood rising in his cheeks.
“I’m gonna give your shins such a kicking.”
Lauren watched the machine intently. As Funky Feet reeled around the front of the cage, she very quickly reached out and flicked the speed dial up a notch.
It was a masterstroke. The record got faster and so did Funky Feet. Doctor Skinner lunged for the machine but it was off and away, dancing crazily about to a jazz tune that sounded as if it had been recorded by a band of hyperactive chipmunks.
Christopher clapped his hands in delight.
“Lauren! You’re a genius!”
“You’re a pain in the neck!” growled Skinner and chased after the frantic legs. Christopher and Lauren watched as Funky Feet out-jigged and out-jived the stumbling doctor. The machine was hard enough to control normally, but now it was on super speed it was unstoppable. The needle skipped and the machine’s movements became even more erratic and uncontrollable.
“This is the absolute limit!” the doctor yelled as Funky Feet jitterbugged furiously around him. It was almost as if the machine were making fun of him. “Right, that’s it!”
With a roar he threw himself upon the contraption just as the legs were beginning an ultra fast version of the high kicking can-can.
Thwack, smack, crack! Funky Feet’s heels smashed Skinner’s chin with three swift blows.
“That looked like it hurt,” said Christopher.
The doctor’s six knees gave way and he collapsed backwards, sending specimen jars crashing to the floor. Reaching out to steady himself, he grabbed onto the centrifuge, knocking its power button on as he did so.
With a shake of his head Doctor Skinner quickly regained his composure and, as the centrifuge hummed into life, he launched himself back at the swooning, sweeping, knee-bending, toe-flinging legs of funk.
“Christopher, now’s the time.”
Christopher looked down at the controls and focused. Scuttler sat just under the dissection table. He had to get the hand up there and free Little Big Nose. He could get the keys to their cage next, he just wanted to see his friend out of those straps. He pushed the remote back out through the bars so he would be in range, and fiddled with the levers and buttons.
The hand reached up, grabbed one of the dissection table legs and inched itself upwards.
“This isn’t so hard once you get the hang of it,” whispered Christopher as the hand crawled up the leg.
“You stupid knock-kneed disaster!” roared Doctor Skinner. “Come here!”
It was hard to tell who was causing more destruction around the laboratory – Funky Feet as it wobbled, kicked and hip swiveled or the doctor as he chased after it with his gangly arms and legs.
Computer screens splintered and cracked as elbows and knees smashed into them, chairs went flying, the centrifuge span and span and all around glass, blue liquid and body parts lay everywhere.
All the while Doctor Skinner raged and cursed and Funky Feet played a ridiculous soundtrack of extra high speed jumping jazz.
Lauren tore her eyes away from the spectacle to check on Christopher’s progress.
Scuttler swung deftly onto the table and fingertipped over to the trembling nose. Christopher pressed a button and the hand reached out and grappled with the thick leather straps.
“Well done,” said Lauren. “You’ve really got the hang of it now.”
Suddenly silence fell upon the laboratory.
The song had finished on the record and Funky Feet came to a standstill.
Christopher and Scuttler froze.
Doctor Skinner crept toward the record player.
“I’ve got you now, you pesky…” He lunged but it was too late. The next song came up and the legs were off again in a rapid jive.
“Aaarghhh … if I … when I … you’re gonna be so…” Skinner skidded on an ear and flew backwards into the air, landing on the floor with a bone shuddering thud.
Christopher concentrated and fiddled. One strap was off.
Little Big Nose wasn’t sure what to make of the whole thing. Whoever or whatever this hand was, he was just glad that it seemed to want to help. Soon he would be free.
“We’ve done it,” said Lauren.
“Well, almost,” replied Christopher.
The nose flared his nostrils and sighed with relief.
“Oh no you don’t.” Doctor Skinner rose from beneath the table and before Christopher could put Scuttler in reverse, he grabbed the hand.
“Well, well, well,” he snarled. “My own invention has turned against me. What a terrible cliché! And you…” he turned on the nose. “All the time you were keeping me talking, you were plotting against me.”
“I meant everything I said,” replied the nose.
“A likely tale, or trail if you will … yes … a trail of deceit! That’s what it was!”
“Leave him alone,” yelled Lauren. “What do you expect if you lock children and noses up against their will?”
“Do be quiet, you insufferable little brat,” shouted Skinner over Funky Feet’s superfast soundtrack. “Though I have to say you two aren’t as dumb as you look. Using Scuttler like that,” he held the hand up. “Very ingenious!”
Christopher seized his chance. With a flick of a switch Scuttler’s fingers and thumb formed a pincer. A pincer that grabbed Doctor Skinner’s nose very hard.
“OW!” yelped Skinner and pulled at the hand. Christopher held the switch in position; he knew from bitter experience that Scuttler’s grasp was strong and immovable.
“Ged id orf! Ged id orf!”
“Let the nose go!”
“Dever!” cried the doctor. His eyes crossed and his face turned a terrible purple.
“Then I guess you won’t have a nose yourself!” Christopher tightened the grip. “That’s the deal then is it? A nose for a nose!”
The doctor yanked and pulled at the hand but it wouldn’t budge. Tears began to stream down his cheeks.
“Okay okay,” he squealed.
Funky Feet almost seemed to jig in celebration as it swiveled around Lauren and Christopher’s cage.
The Doctor fumbled with the last strap.
“Please jusd ged dis ding off. I cand breed!”
“Only when the nose is free, then I’ll…” Christopher was silenced mid sentence as Funky Feet kicked up and knocked the control from his hands and high into the air.
Lauren watched the remote fly and reached out to catch it.
It landed just inches from her fingers and smashed into tiny little pieces.
“Oh no,” she muttered.
> Funky Feet jived on, oblivious.
Christopher and Lauren looked up at the doctor. He was already smiling. Scuttler slid from his face and landed on the floor with a lifeless thud. Funky Feet suddenly stopped as the high-speed jazz came to an abrupt end.
The doctor strolled over to the record player.
“End of side one,” he said, reaching across and turning the machine off. A deadly quiet settled upon the laboratory. All that could be heard was the spinning of the centrifuge and Little Big Nose’s wheezes.
Doctor Skinner calmly walked back to the dissection table.
“Right, now all that shenanigans is out of the way,” he said picking up the scalpel. “I would like to continue with my research.”
Mucus and the Moon
Christopher couldn’t watch. Lauren put her arm around him and he buried his head in her shoulder.
“Leave him alone, you horrible man!” Her eyes were red and angry with tears. “What has he done to you?”
Doctor Skinner stood over Little Big Nose and lit a candle. As he reached for his scalpel his face was a mask of shadows.
“He just betrayed me,” said Skinner, looking from Lauren to the nose. “You pretended you were interested. Pretended to care about where your trail began … and all the while you were just buying time.”
“No,” said Little Big Nose. “That’s not true.”
Christopher looked up. Little Big Nose sounded utterly beaten, as if he were preparing for his fate.
“After all…” said the nose. “You are my father.”
Christopher shook his head and tears rolled down his cheeks.
For a moment Doctor Skinner said nothing. “I am your creator, not your father. They are two completely different things.”
“You are where my trail begins.”
The doctor blinked and looked hard at the nose.
“Lies,” he said finally. “You’re just trying to confuse me.”
“You are my father,” continued the nose. “And I know in your heart you can be good.”
