Philip and the Sneaky Trashmen (9781619502185)

by Paulits, John

  “Us?” said Emery.

  “Yeah, us.”

  “My broken stuff is ‘us’?”

  “You wouldn’t know about it if it wasn’t for my broken stuff.”

  Emery’s eyebrows came together. “I guess.”

  Leon gave one of his yuk yuk laughs. “Both of you wouldn’t know if it wasn’t for me.”

  The boys turned slowly toward Leon, who wilted under their gaze. He shuffled his feet and said, “Uh, well. I guess I’ll go home. Time for dinner. Want me to come with you tomorrow?”

  “No,” said Philip and Emery together.

  “Well, bye.” Leon continued on, pulling his red wagon along behind him, and the boys watched him depart.

  Finally, Philip said, “Emery, we can get lots of broken stuff.”

  “How?”

  “We can go knock on people’s doors and ask them for their broken stuff. Then we take it to Mr. Sorino and get money. We can do that all summer. We’ll be rich.”

  “You think so?”

  “Why not? Hey, look.”

  Emery turned. Two houses away a man rolled a plastic trash can to the sidewalk. He set it at the curb and went back inside the house.

  “Emery, tonight’s the night people put out their trash. We can find stuff in the trash.”

  “You mean go through trash cans?”

  “They gotta be full of broken stuff.”

  “If I had an idea like that, you’d call it stupid. Who wants to look through people’s trash? Your trash had that yellowy, gooey stuff . . .”

  “We’ll wear gloves.”

  Emery frowned.

  Philip tried again. “Well then, how about we only look? We don’t have to touch anything unless we see something good.”

  Emery thought it over. “All right. All right. Maybe they’ll put something out separately. You know, all by itself and not in a bag. I guess it can’t hurt to look around.”

  “Right. We gotta do it before Leon thinks of it.”

  “Just look, remember. Not open up bags and empty them out.”

  “Of course not. We’d get in trouble if we did that. Hmmm. If my father knows we’re looking through trash, he’ll figure out we looked through the trash in the garage. Maybe we better not mention anything.”

  “Right. So we’ll just walk around the neighborhood and see what people put out? That’s it? No yellow gooey stuff.”

  “Right. No any color gooey stuff. That’s easy to do, isn’t it?”

  Emery nodded slowly. “I guess we can do that.”

  Philip started off. “First, let’s go to your house and find all of your broken stuff. When we finish that, we can walk around the neighborhood.”

  Emery followed along.

  Chapter Six

  The next morning Philip and Emery were on their way to Mr. Sorino’s, each carrying a plastic supermarket bag half filled with broken things they’d found at Emery’s house.

  “I can’t believe anybody’d give us money for this junk,” said Emery.

  Philip swung his bag in front of him. “You saw what he gave Leon. What about the big stuff we saw sitting outside last night?”

  “We can’t carry a TV, a sofa, a big table.”

  Philip pointed. “There he is.”

  Mr. Sorino stood on his porch talking to another man. When the second man drove away in a small truck with an open deck in the back, the boys crossed the street and waved.

  “Oh, hello, boys. You come to check over your things?”

  “Yeah,” answered Philip. “And we brought you these two bags.” Philip handed Mr. Sorino his bag.

  Mr. Sorino looked inside the bag and then glanced at Emery.

  “You have a bag, too?”

  “Yeah, here. We got all the broken stuff from my house. Maybe you can use it?”

  Mr. Sorino took the bag from Emery. “You’ve been talking to your friend Leon, I’ll bet.”

  The boys didn’t answer.

  “Okay. I can use this. I try to make a little money fixing things and selling them to the recycle store in the mall . . .”

  “Pete’s Repeat shop,” said Philip.

  “Right. Come look over your stuff.”

  Mr. Sorino carried the two plastic bags with him as he led the boys into the former garage. Someone had already emptied Philip’s bag out onto the table. Philip and Emery began their inspection, as Mr. Sorino put the new bags on a table, stood back, and watched.

  “You want this Furby?” asked Emery.

  “No, it doesn’t work.”

  “How about these two trains?”

  “No, my mother threw the tracks out long ago.”

  “How about this peanut butter and jelly sandwich? It’s got ants on it.”

  Philip tossed Emery a scornful look and finished his search in silence.

  Philip held up a few toys before sliding them into his pockets. “Just these couple things, Mr. Sorino. You can have the rest.”

  “Thanks, boys . . . I don’t even know your names.”

  “Philip.”

  “Emery.”

  “Thanks, Philip. Thanks, Emery. This is very nice of you.”

  “Glad to help,” said Philip. He and Emery exchanged a rapid glance, and Philip knew they were thinking the same thing. Where were their dollar bills?

  Mr. Sorino continued to talk to them. “If you want to—you don’t have to, of course, but if you want to—if you find out that anyone threw away a TV or something big like that, I can fix that stuff up and get a pretty good payment for it—if I can get it to work.”

  “We know where a TV’s thrown out,” Emery blurted.

  Philip followed suit. “Yeah, and a sofa and a big table—the kind you put in the dining room.”

  Mr. Sorino’s eyes opened wide. “Now, that would be helpful.”

  “You have to get the stuff quick,” said Philip said. “It’s trash day. They’ll take it away today.”

  “Don’t worry about that. Can you get me the addresses where you saw that? Make a list of what’s thrown away and put the address next to it. Can you do that?”

  “Sure,” said Philip.

  “Easy,” Emery agreed.

  Mr. Sorino reached into his pocket and pulled out some bills. “Here’s a dollar for each of you. You bring me that list, and I’ll give you each another dollar. Okay?”

  “You bet,” said Philip. The boys took the money and left.

  As they walked, Emery said, “You think he told Leon to do what he told us? Make a list like that?”

  “I don’t know, but we better go make ours fast, in case he did. My Aunt Louise is coming to stay for a couple days, so I gotta stay out of the way. I’ll have lots of time.”

  “And since we only have to write down addresses and what we saw, we can go all over the neighborhood to look for stuff.”

  “We gotta do it before the trash truck comes. Let’s get a pen and some paper at your house. We’re gonna be rich!”

  The boys gave a whoop and charged down the street.

  Chapter Seven

  About half an hour into their search, Emery cried, “Look! There’s Leon.”

  At the far end of the block, Leon pulled his red wagon and turned the corner.

  “What do you think he’s doing?” asked Philip.

  “If he’s got his wagon, he’s probably looking for stuff for Mr. Sorino.”

  “Let’s go see.”

  Philip and Emery tore down the street. When they turned the corner, they saw the red wagon, but no Leon.

  “Where’d he go?” asked Emery.

  The boys stood and waited. A moment later, Leon walked into view, leaving the porch of the house where his wagon stood. He carried something. Philip and Emery exchanged a glance.

  “Hey, Leon,” Emery called.

  Leon put what he carried into his wagon and waved. “Hi, guys.”

  “What are you doing, Leon?” asked Emery.

  “Asking people for broken stuff. Look at this neat clock the lady gave me.” The
wooden clock had cracked glass on its face and only one hand. “I’m gonna give it to Mr. Sorino.”

  “We’re . . .” Emery began.

  Philip poked him. “Good idea, Leon. Well, we gotta go. Bye.”

  Leon pulled his wagon along the sidewalk, whistling as he went.

  “What’d you poke me for?” Emery asked, rubbing his ribs. “That hurt.”

  “You were gonna tell him about what we were doing. Look, now we know what he’s doing. We can do it, too, if we want. He doesn’t know what we’re doing, so he won’t bother us or find stuff outside houses before we do. We already have three houses written down. The TV house, the big table house, and the sofa house. Let’s go find some more.”

  The boys had to give up their search an hour later, when the trash truck arrived and cleaned out the neighborhood.

  “We got six places on the list, right?” asked Emery.

  “Six, right. Let’s take the list to Mr. Sorino.”

  The boys ran the whole way. The same truck they had seen earlier stood in the driveway of Mr. Sorino’s house. The back-up lights on the truck flashed, and the boys watched the truck slowly move into the street, straighten out, and drive away. They ran up to Mr. Sorino, who still stood in the driveway.

  “Here’s the list,” Philip said, handing him the paper.

  Mr. Sorino studied the list, and Philip felt good when he saw a smile creep across the man’s face.

  “Very nice, boys.” He dug into his pocket. “This list is absolutely worth another dollar. Here you go.”

  After handing the boys their money, Mr. Sorino started toward his porch. “I have to make a few phone calls. Thanks.” He waved the list. “Keep looking. Come on, Gordon.”

  “We will,” Philip called after him. Gordon scooted through the dog door, and Mr. Sorino followed him inside.

  Emery tapped Philip on the shoulder. “Hey, look.”

  Philip turned. A decrepit wooden clock sat on top of the trash in a big, black, plastic trash can. They walked over and inspected it.

  “It’s Leon’s clock,” said Emery. “Gotta be.”

  “I guess Mr. Sorino couldn’t fix it.”

  “Guess not.” Emery lifted the clock up. “Hey, is this your stuff under it?”

  Philip poked around in the ripped open side of the white bag on top. “Looks like. Yeah. There’s the ant sandwich.”

  “I guess he couldn’t fix any of your stuff either.”

  “It was pretty junky stuff. I gotta go home. Aunt Louise is coming, and I’m supposed to be there to say hello.”

  “Is she the crazy one you told me about?”

  The boys began walking. “Totally crazy. That’s why my mother went nuts looking for that pin and cleaned the house like the President was coming to visit. The worst part is boys and girls.”

  “Boys and girls? What’s that mean?”

  “She thinks boys and girls—there shouldn’t be a difference. Everything equal. Pink shouldn’t be girls; blue shouldn’t be boys. They should get the same toys—no girl toys or boy toys.”

  “You said she always brings presents, though.”

  “Gaaaa! The dumbest presents ever. She gave me a doll for Christmas when I was five, a girl doll, and a big dollhouse the Christmas after that. My dad tells me I cried when I got the doll. By the time I got the dollhouse, I was used to it. Her last visit she gave me two T-shirts; a pink one with my baby picture on it and a blue one with Becky’s baby picture. I won’t wear them.”

  Emery laughed. “A dollhouse! That’s funny.”

  “It’s not funny to me. It’s worse than not even getting a present. I gotta smile and say thank you and act like it’s the greatest gift ever. Then I put it where I never have to see it again.”

  Emery laughed again. “Let me know what she gives you this time. Call me when you can. How long’s she staying?”

  “She lives like two hours away so she always stays two nights.”

  They had reached their own street.

  “Okay. Good luck,” Emery said, and he ran up his path to the front door.

  ~ * ~

  “Thank you, Sis. I’ll wear it tomorrow night when I take you to dinner.”

  Philip watched his Aunt Louise take the emerald pin from his mother, whose eyes strayed toward Philip. She gave him a wink. Aunt Louise went on.

  “Oh, Philip. Come give me a hug!”

  Philip dutifully walked over to his aunt and let her put her arms around him. After the hug, his aunt held him by the shoulders and moved him back. “My, oh, my. You get bigger every time I see you.”

  Philip wanted to ask her what else she expected, but he knew better.

  Aunt Louise let loose of Philip and said, “That reminds me. I have presents for all of you!”

  Philip stifled a groan as Aunt Louise went to a shopping bag on the sofa.

  “Here, Philip, this is for you.” She handed Philip a small package wrapped in solid blue paper. He ripped the paper away and nearly fainted. He held two packs of blue underwear. He could see the design on the back of the underwear through the plastic—a girl with a mountain of flaming red hair holding a bow and arrow. Philip looked at his aunt with empty eyes.

  Aunt Louise described the gift with enthusiasm. “They’re the latest, the shop lady told me. From a popular movie, she said. I forgot the name of it. Did you see it?” Aunt Louise didn’t wait for an answer. She pulled out a package and handed it to her sister.

  Mrs. Felton gently removed the blue paper and found a pair of red slacks made of very shiny material. She unfolded them and held them up. “Louise, are you taking us to a disco?”

  Aunt Louise laughed. “No, no. I have a pair, a black pair, myself. I’ve been wearing them. They’re wonderful. Comfortable and very attractive. I’ll need to wash mine out, though. I got a spot on the right leg. You have a clothesline?”

  “Of course. Out back.”

  Aunt Louise handed the same sized box to Philip’s father, who opened it up and pulled out a pair of pants similar to his wife’s, but made from shiny black material.

  “Are these . . . ?” Philip’s father began.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” Aunt Louise interrupted. “They’re perfectly acceptable on men. You can wear them when we go to dinner.”

  “Well, thank you, Louise.” Mr. Felton tossed his wife a what-in-the-world glance.

  Aunt Louise’s attention had turned elsewhere. “Your house looks so nice,” she complimented.

  “Let’s have lunch,” said Philip’s mother. “Everybody in the kitchen. Honey, get Becky.”

  Philip and his father looked at one another.

  “Shiny lady’s pants?” said his father.

  “Underwear with a girl on it?” said Philip.

  Mr. Felton shrugged. He lifted Becky out of the playpen and followed the women into the kitchen.

  Philip ran upstairs and slid the new underwear under his bed. He would have something for Mr. Sorino the next time he saw him.

  Chapter Eight

  Philip nearly gasped for joy when his father said, “Well, I think I’ll go take Becky for a walk.”

  He, his father, his mother, and Aunt Louise had finished lunch, and the two women were talking and laughing about things Philip had no interest in and didn’t know anything about. Philip caught his father sighing twice and guessed his father didn’t know what was going on either.

  “I’ll come, too, Dad,” said Philip.

  Philip’s mother smiled. “Okay, you two. Go. Louise and I have some catching up to do.”

  When Philip and his father reached the living room, they both went, “Pshew,” at the exact same moment. They turned to each other in surprise and laughed. Philip’s father put his finger to his lips. “I’ll take Becky to the playground. Want to come?”

  “No. I’m going over Emery’s, but I gotta get something first.” Philip ran upstairs and grabbed his gift packs of underwear. He waited until his father left the house and then put the packages under his shirt and hurried outside.
A few moments later he showed them to Emery.

  “Look at what she gave me,” said Philip. “I told you she was nuts. I’m not wearing them. You want them?”

  “No! I don’t want them. What are you gonna do with them?”

  “Give them to Mr. Sorino.”

  “Did you spend your two dollars yet?”

  “Nope. You?”

  “Nope. So what do you want to do after we drop off your underwear?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Hey. Suppose your aunt wants to see you in your underwear. What then?”

  “Are you crazy? I’m not gonna stand there in my underwear for her. You think she’s gonna ask me to take my pants off?”

  “You never know. Sometimes people like to see the person they gave a gift to using the gift. My aunt gave me a computer game for my birthday. Dumbest game ever. Something about sheep jumping over bushes and turning into puffy white clouds. She kept making me play it so she could watch. I think she’s kind of crazy, too. Not as crazy as your aunt, but still crazy. She kept pointing to the screen and saying that’s a ewe.”

  “That’s a-you? Is your aunt Italian?”

  “Italian? What? No. You crazy? She kept pointing at the screen and saying that’s a ewe.”

  “How could that be you? How are you in the game?”

  “I wasn’t in the game.”

  “But she said you were?”

  “No, she didn’t say I was in the game. She said that sheep’s a ewe.”

  “There. She said it again. How could you be in the game?” Philip said, his voice rising. “How could you be a sheep or a puffy white cloud?”

  “I’m not a sheep or a puffy white cloud. I wasn’t in the game,” Emery yelled back. “She said a ewe’s a sheep.”

  “Me? Now I’m in the game? Me? I’m no sheep. What are you talking about?”

  “Not you. You aren’t a sheep. A ewe’s a sheep.”

  “How can I not be a sheep, but I’m a sheep? Emery, why do you always talk like this? You never make sense.”

  “I’m telling you something you don’t know. A ewe’s a sheep.”

  “And I’m telling you something I do know. I’m not a sheep.”

  “I know you’re not a sheep, but a ewe is.”