In Todd We Trust

by Louise Galveston

  “How was your dinner?” I inquired.

  “Uh … nutritious,” she replied. “Stir-fried shitake and baby bok choy.”

  “Oh, dear,” I said. “I am not familiar with the race of bok choy, but eating any kind of infant is firmly against my principles.”

  Lucy giggled. “Baby bok choy is tender Chinese cabbage, and shitake is a kind of mushroom. Fungus is full of folic acid, an essential vitamin at my time of life. I’m still a little hungry, though.”

  “No wonder! Poor Lucy, having to eat such things! It must be a terrible trial to be human. I am sorry you will be hungry this evening.” It was a sensation that had become all too familiar.

  “Don’t feel too sorry for me,” Lucy said with a wink. We all gasped as she reached into her lab coat pocket and pulled out … was that a Red Thing? Yes, it had the same beautiful round shape, smooth red skin, and leafy stem! We knew too well that soon the skin would shrivel and curl, the stem grow fuzzy, the leaf wither, and the white flesh grow brown and slimy. Did Lucy realize her danger? Did she know that changeable Thing harbored horrible beasts?

  Lucy tossed it in the air, caught it, and crossed to her dresser. She seemed completely unafraid. Was this another sign? Had Todd given the Red Thing to her?

  We did not wait to see what would become of the treacherous object; we ran as one screaming mass into the furthermost corner of the Slipper to hide. “Another message!” “Watch out for the Worm!” “What will become of us?” wailed the Toddlians.

  Then Lewis implored, “Someone, please! Go see what she does with it!”

  My people stood cowering in the darkest part of the Slipper. Not even brave Persephone spoke up. “I will go,” I said finally. “As the poet Robert Frost put it: ‘Freedom lies in being bold.’”

  “You ain’t facin’ that Thing alone!” Persephone cried, rallying to my side.

  Lewis joined her. “I wish to be free as well … I think.” He slung my arm over his shoulder. I was glad of it; my injured ankle was throbbing incessantly.

  Lucy’s face was hovering over us as we emerged. “Hey! Where’d you guys go?”

  We fixed our astonished eyes on Lucy. She was actually eating the Red Thing! “Is that Thing … food?” I ventured to ask.

  “Of course,” Lucy said around a bite. Juice dribbled down her chin, and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. “Would you like to try it?” She pushed the Thing in our direction, and we stumbled backward. Even brave Persephone let out a little scream.

  “It won’t hurt you,” Lucy promised. “It’s merely Malus domestica, commonly known as an apple. This variety is a Red Delicious, although I prefer Gala. Susan—that’s my mom—never buys them; she’s under the common misconception that the darker the skin, the more nutritional the content.”

  Lucy tossed the core of the apple into a Refuse Dome, and our trio exhaled in unison. “Told ya it weren’t nothin’ to worry about,” Persephone boasted.

  “That may be,” I answered. “But it still does not solve our problems.”

  Lewis sighed and slumped onto the floor.

  “What’s the matter with him?” Lucy asked. “What’s the matter with all of you? Pardon my saying so, but you all seem pretty bummed, yanno?”

  “Translation, please,” I said.

  Lucy rested her chin on her fist. “Bummed, depressed, downcast …”

  “Ah—” I began, but I did not want to betray our frustrations with Todd to Lucy. Not until all hope was lost.

  Persephone had no such scruples. “Yer darn tootin’ we’re bums or whatever ya call it. That fool Todd—”

  “—didn’t take time to feed us before we left,” I interrupted.

  “Really?” Lucy said, raising her eyebrows. “I wonder why? Hmm … So you’re hungry?” Lucy jumped up and scanned her room. “Let’s see …” She crossed back to the dresser and picked up various bottles. “Hmm. Turtle Tidbits … No, that’s too low in protein, plus it contains algae, which might turn your stomachs sour.”

  My stomach was turning already.

  She picked up another bottle. “Tarantula Treats … No, that’s mostly dead crickets. Hey! How about mealworms? Those are full of protein, and I’ve got a tub of little live ones in the fridge!”

  Lucy dashed out of her room and in no time was back with a white carton. She popped the lid off and dangled a wriggling brown-striped worm over us.

  Lewis whimpered, and I was about to protest when Persephone whipped out her paper-clip pistol. “We ain’t eatin’ no creepy crawlies, Miss Lucy. No offense, but iffin one of those mealy things comes near me, I’ll blow it clean into tomorrow.”

  Lucy smiled a little and put the worms away. She let out a long breath and glanced around her room once more. “If only Todd had thought to bring along some of his dirty laundry. Mine’s all clean …” Her eyes rested on her bed. “Except for this!” She shook the covering off her pillow and held it up for us to examine. Upon a white background was printed a series of colorful squares she called a “periodic table.”

  “I haven’t washed it in five days, so there should be approximately”—she shut her eyes and muttered a string of enormous numbers—“approximately three hundred thousand dead skin cells for you to feast upon. You can indulge and learn about chemistry at the same time! Will that do?” she asked.

  Ah, a decent meal at last! I bowed to her. “On behalf of the Toddlians, we are most truly grateful for your gift of delicious dirt!”

  Lucy nodded and crossed her arms. “Well, go ahead. Taste it!”

  We obeyed. “Mmmm,” Lewis and I hummed as we chewed. Compared to the crisp, salty goodness of Todd dirt, Lucy’s dirt was bland and rather sticky. But we grinned and “mmmm”ed anyway. Beggars could not be choosy chewers.

  “So what do you think?” Lucy asked expectantly. “Is it as good as Todd’s? Be completely honest, now.”

  Lewis and I looked at each other. “Ahem,” I said. “Well, while there is nothing wrong with your wonderful dirt, we were created from Todd, so naturally his dirt suits our palate better.”

  “Horse nuggets!” Persephone huffed. She grabbed a handful of dirt from the pillowcase and stuffed it into her mouth, wincing slightly. “This is … the best-tastin’ grub I ever ate. And so healthy! I can barely swaller down Todd dirt; that nasty nacho cheese aftertaste burns the belly. Sheweeee!”

  Lewis explained the mystery of the Red Thing (which we now knew was once an edible apple) to our people as Lucy spread out her pillowcase so everyone could eat their fill. But that still didn’t account for the worm creature or the deafening droning noise. I still believed it might be a sign that Todd was preparing to abandon us.

  Unfortunately, most of our friends agreed with Lewis and me about the food; Lucy’s leavings were less appetizing than Todd’s, no matter how many times Persephone shoved our arms and said, “Mmm, mmm! Ain’t that the tastiest grub you ever did eat?”

  After everyone had eaten all they could stand, Lucy looked us all over and made her observation. “You guys seemed stressed out. What’s really going on? Why do you look so worried?”

  Lewis glanced at me, and I nodded. He took a deep breath and asked, “How would one know when their god has … forsaken them?”

  We all studied Lucy, who was obviously startled. She mused for a moment and then said quite seriously, “Maybe Todd’s just got something on his mind. Knowing him, that’s probably the case. After all, if he didn’t care about you, he wouldn’t have brought you to me, now would he?” Lucy didn’t look as sure as she sounded.

  “Could he be testing us?” I suggested.

  She furrowed her brow and then nodded. “Well … almost all of the world’s religions have a point in their mythologies where the ‘god’ has tested the devotion of its followers.”

  “Oooo,” we chorused. I knew we had been right to appeal to Lucy’s higher wisdom.

  “Um, I’m not sure what Todd is doing, but let’s break this down.” Lucy wheeled her whiteboard over and uncapped a blu
e marker. She shoved her magnification spectacles up onto her forehead and wrote “history of comparative religions” across the top. Below that, she scribbled “buddhism,” “roman mythology,” “judaism,” “christianity,” “hinduism,” “islam,” and “taoism.”

  Jasper the youth regarded the board skeptically. “Do any of these gods try to devour their subjects with a huge terrifying worm?” he asked.

  Lucy coughed. “Um. Well, no. But, for comparison, Kali, the Hindu goddess of destruction, evil, and death, is so fearsome she wears skulls around her neck.”

  “Just like Saki!” Lewis exclaimed.

  “The Dragon Sensei salamander princess? Mm-hmm. When Kali’s angry with the activities of people, she wreaks all kinds of havoc.”

  Lewis spoke again. “Do you have any stories of angry gods punishing their people for doing something wrong, but then restoring them to their former place of favor … and friendship?”

  Lucy looked thoughtful. “Well, sure. Several cultures and religions share some form of flood account. But in these instances it’s generally the ‘good’ people who are rescued, and everyone else is wiped out … For instance, the Hopi tribe have a tale of a great flood in which a Spider Grandmother sealed righteous people inside of boats made from reeds, and they sailed away safely to what was known as the Fourth World.”

  “Oooo,” we replied, although none of us was very keen on the idea of assistance from elderly arachnids. Still, there was something intriguing about the tale.

  “What are some other flood accounts?” I inquired.

  “Well, Judaism and Christianity share the story of a creator so fed up with the behavior of humanity that he warned people to change their ways. When they remained evil, he told a good man named Noah to build an enormous boat, called an ark, and gather two of every beast and bird. When they were all safe inside, he sent a deluge of massive proportions and opened the fountains of the deep, flooding the entire planet. He basically started over.”

  My mind was being flooded. I needed to hear that one again. “Could you repeat that last bit, about the ark? It would have to be enormous!”

  Lucy nodded. “Bible scholars speculate that it was taller than a three-story building and as long and as wide as a football field.”

  I was speechless.

  “Oh, and I forgot to mention that when God gave Noah instructions to build his floating zoo, it had never rained before. So it really was a test of Noah’s faith and devotion.

  “Now … moving on to Buddhism. What really attracts me to the teachings of the Buddha is the emphasis that wealth does not guarantee happiness. In our materialistic society—”

  “Wait!” I was not ready to move on. “How did Noah get all of those animals on the ark? Did he have to capture them, or were they divinely drawn to him?”

  Lucy tapped the marker against her temple. “Not sure. It doesn’t really matter if the end result was the same, does it? Now, the Buddha—”

  “So did all of the earth’s inhabitants have a warning that the flood was coming? Did only Noah survive by entering the boat?”

  Lucy sighed. “According to the Old Testament there were actually eight onboard the ark: Noah, his wife, their three sons, and their wives. Now, let’s look at the teachings of—”

  “What’s a ‘testament’?” Marty wanted to know.

  Lucy looked as if she was beginning to lose patience. “It’s part of the Bible, okay? There’s an old one and a new one. Can we move on now?”

  There was a gentle knock at the door, and Lucy’s maternal person peeped in. “Are you on the phone, Lu? To whom are you talking?”

  “Myself,” Lucy said. “Just writing out some calculus proofs to help me relax before going to bed—like counting sheep?”

  Susan chuckled. “Clever girl. Well, you might want to turn off your light. It’s getting late, and every hour before midnight—”

  “Is worth two after,” Lucy finished. “See you in the morning.”

  “Pleasant REM sleep!” Susan sang as she clicked the door closed.

  Lucy knelt down by us and stifled a yawn. “Why don’t we call it a night, guys? There’s plenty of time to continue our discussion of divinity tomorrow.”

  She went to her closet and brought back a large, rectangular white box. Opening it, she pulled a lavender sweater out from under pink tissue paper and then spread the sweater at the foot of her bed. “This sweater is made of angora. It was my grandmother’s—she actually knitted the fur from her very own rabbit! I mean, from the fur it shed; she didn’t hurt her rabbit or anything. It’s the softest thing I own, and will make a warm, snuggly bed,” Lucy explained with a tender smile. “I can’t wash it, so it’s probably covered in edible ‘Lucy dirt.’”

  I was already feeling warm from the kindness of Lucy, which was so different from the treatment of our god lately. The softest thing Todd had ever given us was the Slipper—and that seemed so very long ago.

  Once nuzzled into our warm bed, we were quite still … except for an occasional “Achoo!” Apparently some of us were allergic to angora. We waited quietly until we heard Lucy’s snores. We didn’t have to wait long.

  “What if he never takes us back?” worried Cynthia, a tiny Toddlian.

  “I miss Todd!” another young Toddlian named Milly cried.

  “Hush now, and close your eye-peeps,” I assured them with a pat on the head. “All will be well, I promise.”

  But was it a promise I could keep?

  “Suppose he takes us back,” whispered an Old One, “but serves us an even worse punishment than the Red Thing? Remember how it caused you to injure your ankle? What if it had been little Milly or Cynthia instead of you?”

  Gerald agreed. “How many more of us must suffer harm? I am not certain how much more persecution our people can endure.”

  Persephone hopped up and declared, “Y’all are makin’ a mudslide outta a cowpie.”

  Lewis shook his head. “What?”

  “Look, Herman got it right after we got away from that buzzin’ varmint,” she said. “We need us a new god.” Several of the Toddlians cheered, waking the sleeping wee ones. Persephone pointed at Lucy’s uncovered foot. “Yer answer’s right in front of ya. We can hunker down right here in her lab and never have to fret over food again.”

  “But I’m starving!” Lewis moaned, and others agreed. “Lucy dirt has no substance or flavor; it’s not even filling!”

  Chester’s crackly voice rose above the rest. “If Lucy becomes our new god, can we at least sneak her some junk food? I need Oreo dirt! Like yesterday!”

  “OR-E-OS!” someone chanted. It caught like a wildfire. “OR-E-OS! OR-E-OS!”

  As Persephone quieted the crowd, I closed my eyes and meditated on what Lucy had said about Noah. Could we start over as a civilization in a new world? I wondered. How long would it take us to build a watertight craft that could hold us all and have enough room for two of every creature?

  “If you will all please be still and listen for a minute,” I implored. “An idea has come to me …”

  CHAPTER 7

  The next day after school, Duddy and I suited up for swim team tryouts. The school supplied swim caps and goggles, but we had to come up with our own trunks. At least my blue-and-red Superman trunks still fit. Duddy’s bright yellow trunks looked about two sizes too small and were covered in sunglasses-wearing starfish.

  I tugged at my trunks as we walked out of the locker room. “I hope the Toddlians are okay,” I muttered. “I usually try to give them a snack after school. I mean, when I remember.”

  “They’re fine,” said Duddy, pulling out a nose clip and shoving it onto his nostrils. “Lucy will dake good care of dem.”

  I nodded, knowing he was right. Still, I’d feel better with the Toddlians back under my own roof.

  Duddy had invited his Dragon Sensei role-playing buddies, Ike and Wendell, to be our cheering section. He wanted to include Ernie, he explained, but figured it might have been awkward, with Ernie jus
t being kicked off the team and all. Ike and Wendell were standing in the bleachers as we came out of the changing room, giving us the three-fingered Saki Salute. “HOO-YA HI-YA—” Wendell began.

  “KEEP THAT RACKET DOWN!” A voice suddenly boomed from the small office behind the bleachers, and I turned to see a guy—he must have been six feet tall, made out of granite, with a shaved head—appear in the doorway, shaking his fist at Wendell.

  Wendell looked like he was about to pee himself. “S-so s-sorry, Coach Tomlin,” he said, quickly sitting down. “Didn’t—er—didn’t mean to—”

  “Oh, you d-didn’t, eh?” the Granite Man yelled back. “It’s bad enough this flower show of a sport takes place right outside my office. At least keep it down!” He walked back into his office and slammed the door behind him, loud enough to make the kids across the pool jump.

  Duddy turned to me with wide eyes. “Do you know who dat is?” he asked.

  “Mr. Clean’s very angry brother?” I joked.

  But Duddy shook his head solemnly. “Dat’s Coach Domlin. Da eighth grade gym coach. Dey call ’im ‘Derrifying Coach Domlin.’ Dere’s a rumor he drew a garbage can ad a kid one dime.”

  I shrugged, looking back at the closed office door. “Wouldn’t surprise me. Well, I guess we’d better hope we’re on the WAVES by eighth grade, to avoid that guy.”

  Duddy nodded. “I hope Wendell’s all right.” He pointed to the crowd of kids milling about in bathing suits by the deep end. “Look, dere dey are! Dude! Dat’s a wot of kids for dree spots.”

  “Yeah,” I said, clutching my towel tight. “Must be at least forty of them. Do we even have a shot?”

  Duddy shoved his goggles onto his forehead and stared at me solemnly. “Wemember why we’re doing dis, Todd.” He jerked his head toward the deep end. “Da same weason all dose udder kids are here: da getting-out-of-gym card is just doo good do pass up. And dey’ve probably heard about Madame P’s crêpes.”

  I frowned at him. “Dud, do you have to wear that nose thing? You realize you sound kinda like Ernie, right?”

  Duddy nodded solemnly. “Widdoud da clip, I jus’ suck in wadder. Like a bacuum. I dink dere’s someding wrong wif my nose.”