The manny stopped to let Belly pet the snake. She named it Lola.
“LOLA’S HER BESTEST SNAKE EVER,” Belly said as if she had a pet snake collection at home.
I petted Lola too. I wasn’t scared. I was just pretending so I didn’t miss out on any of the chasing fun. Lulu and India collapsed on top of each other in the grass with exhaustion. They quickly got up when the manny set Lola on the ground and she started to slither away.
Belly yelled after Lola, “GOOD-BYE, LOLA! GROW UP! SOMEBODY GO TO SCHOOL!” She got the manny’s wake-up words mixed up.
Lulu ran ahead of us back to Mom and Dad and Clarissa.
To Clarissa she said, “You need to punish your son, or he’ll never learn that his behavior is not acceptable or appreciated. He’s a menace to society!”
Clarissa laughed. “Well, when he was little and we had to punish him, we used to make him wear itchy polyester.”
“I looked like I was from The Brady Bunch,” said the manny. “But I was flame resistant.”
When the manny’s father walked down from the barn, Clarissa introduced us to him. His name is Roger, but Clarissa calls him Rog. When I shook Roger’s hand, he said, “Hi, guy!” and winked with the whole right side of his face. His hand was rough and calloused, and his fingernails looked like he had been biting them. I used to bite my fingernails too, until Lulu told me that I could get worms that way. She said it while we were eating spaghetti and meatballs, which Mom said was “tacky.” Tacky is what Sarah calls it when Craig asks other kids if they’ll invite him to their birthday parties. India said that it’s not really tacky, just desperate. I invited Craig to my birthday party without him having to ask. He gave me a BB gun, but Mom took it away because guns aren’t allowed in our house, except water guns.
“My friend Sarah has a cousin named Roger,” I said. “He’s one of my favorite people. I’ve never met a Roger I didn’t like.”
I’ve only met two Rogers, but it was still a true statement. I wanted Roger to like me. He squeezed my shoulder and started to help Mom and Dad unpack the RV.
India and Lulu went inside the house to help Clarissa make chocolate chip cookies. The manny took Belly and me up to the barn to see Cochise, who was in a pen with a big, fat cow. The cow was lying down and looked like her legs were too small to support her enormous body. The barn smelled like hay and cow poop. There were cats running around all over the place. The manny kept saying, “Hi, Griddlebone!” or “Hi, Macavity!” or “Hi, Jennyanydots!” Clarissa had named all the cats after the characters in the Broadway musical Cats. The manny said it was because his mother loved Andrew Lloyd Webber musicals. Except he didn’t say “love,” he said she was “obsessed” with them. The same way Lulu is obsessed with the school handbook. She reads it all the time to make sure that she isn’t breaking the dress code or having too many sick days.
“Why are there so many kitties?” I asked.
“BECAUSE HER LOVES THEM,” Belly said, giving a cat named Bustopher Jones a choke-hold hug around the neck.
Roger answered my question, “They just find us! They come to visit one day and never leave because they love the barn. We take them to get fixed so we won’t have any more, and then another stray shows up.”
The manny explained that fixing a cat or a dog means it has surgery so it can’t have kittens or puppies anymore. He says it’s the responsible thing to do so they don’t add to the problem of homeless pets.
“Oh, you mean spay and neuter your pets,” I said, remembering that the white-haired host of The Price Is Right always ended the show by saying, “Help control the pet population—have your pet spayed or neutered.” I was watching it once and a woman from Kansas won a sailboat. She jumped up and down even though she probably wouldn’t be able to use it for anything except a lawn ornament. That’s what the manny said. He also said that the woman should have worn a better bra. He said it quietly to Mom, but I still heard him.
Cochise is a paint, which means he’s white with big brown and black splotches. The manny says that Cochise is twenty-two years old and that’s why he’s so gentle. He’s really pretty, and he snorts a lot and whips his tail around to get rid of the flies on his backside. Roger had left the saddle on Cochise so that the manny could give us rides. He lifted me up first and then Belly right in front of me. Then the manny took the reins and led Cochise around the yard. A cat named Rumpleteazer followed us the whole way. Dad waved to us, and Mom took our picture. We even went right up to the kitchen window to wave at Lulu and India, who both had aprons on and were practicing cracking eggs into a mixing bowl. Belly made the manny lift her off of Cochise so she could go inside and practice cracking eggs. I got to ride Cochise all by myself. I hugged him around his neck. His mane smelled like itchy, worn wool socks. I didn’t want it to end.
When we got back to the barn, Roger was making sure that there was enough water in the trough for Cochise to drink. The manny lifted me off. I rubbed Cochise’s nose while the manny removed the saddle and bridle and hung them up on hooks. The big, fat cow was lying down in the shade. She had dried mud all over the sides of her. Roger said he’d meet us in the house; he was going to hose the cow off because she looked hot. I laughed because at school when things are hot, it means they’re sexy or beautiful. Roger meant that the cow looked sweaty and uncomfortable. He didn’t mean that she had a spray-on tan and was dressed for a girls’ night out.
The house smelled like the freshly baked chocolate chip cookies that were cooling on a metal rack. When the manny grabbed three, his mother pointed her finger at him and reminded him about gluttony. It was the same gluttony talk that he had once given to me when I took too much food at Thanksgiving. The manny told his mother that he didn’t need to be reminded, and he took a fourth cookie and shoved the whole thing into his mouth.
“You really are a menace to society,” Clarissa said, using Lulu’s words. She was whipping all of the eggs that Lulu and India had cracked in a big metal mixing bowl. Mom was giving Belly a bath. All of the eggs she had cracked had ended up in her hair. The manny called her egghead.
I walked around the living room, looking at all of the framed photographs. There was a picture of the manny’s nephew wearing only a diaper and cowboy boots. There was a picture of the manny at the county fair when he was little, with no front teeth, wearing a Western shirt. There was a picture of the manny and Uncle Max from their vacation to Palm Springs. They stayed at a hotel called the Parker Palm Springs. Uncle Max told me that a guy named Jonathan Adler designed it. The staff all wore bright pink blazers, and there were chairs that hung from the ceiling like tree swings. Uncle Max has a book by Jonathan Adler that has him on the cover in bright flip-flops sitting in a lime green room. I love looking at it because it gives tips on how to live fabulously.
Overtip.
Go barefoot.
Take tambourine lessons.
The shelf below the picture shelf was full of videos. Most of them were Andrew Lloyd Webber musicals on DVD: Phantom of the Opera. Evita. Sunset Boulevard. I picked up Cats and looked at the back cover. There was a picture of a human dressed up as a cat singing and looking up into the stage lights that were supposed to look like the moon. Clarissa said that Lulu, India, and I could watch it. Lulu didn’t want to. She said she needed some “me time.” That’s what she says when she wants to be alone. Or sometimes she says, “I have one nerve left, and you’re on it!”
Lulu went to the room that she and India were sharing to read. Lulu told her that I reminded her of Scout because I always ask too many questions and I’m a pest. Those are her words, not mine. I like to say that I’m inquisitive. “Inquisitive” means that you ask good questions. That’s what Mr. Allen, the principal of our school, called me when I asked him if he made more money than the teachers. He didn’t answer me. He just patted me on the head and jangled the change in his front pocket.
India and I settled into beanbag chairs and started watching Cats. Belly came out from her bath, already in her paja
mas, and joined us at the part where the cats run all around the stage and sing, “Jellicle songs for Jellicle cats, Jellicle songs for Jellicle cats, Jellicle songs for Jellicle cats!” They sing the same line over and over again but stress a different word each time. The manny says it’s not brilliant songwriting but it’s catchy, like “I like big butts and I cannot lie!” That’s another catchy song.
Mom and Dad helped Clarissa with dinner while we watched the rest of the musical. Belly took her shirt off and used it as a pillow. Roger came in and watched the show with us while he drank a beer out of a bottle and ate popcorn. He called it an appetizer. When the movie was over, Belly climbed up on top of Roger’s shoulders and started pawing at his head like a cat. She even licked the top of his head like she was cleaning him. He was saved when Clarissa called us in for dinner.
We didn’t sit down at the table all at once to eat because we were having made-to-order omelets. There were bowls of cheese, onions, peppers, bacon, ham, tomatoes, cream cheese, and even avocados. Lulu and India took orders on little notepads like they were real waitresses at a diner. They even had on name tags. India’s said FLO, and Lulu’s said ALICE. Clarissa had a name tag that said MARGE, and Roger kept calling her “Marge in charge.” When he did this, she swatted him on the butt with the spatula.
Roger, Dad, and Mom ordered the same thing, Denver omelets, with ham, peppers, onions, and cheddar cheese. Belly ordered a cream cheese omelet and a saucer of milk so she could drink like a cat. The manny ordered a cheddar omelet with avocados and tomatoes. After he ordered it from India, he said, “Why, yer the prettiest little gal I’ve seen in this joint in some time!”
India turned around to him and put her hand on her hip and said, “Kiss my grits!” in a twangy accent just like the manny told her to.
I ordered a suicide omelet. It’s kind of like a suicide soda, where you put a little bit of every kind of soda in your drink at the soda fountain. I did it once at Pizza Hut. It was really gross because it had iced tea, Dr Pepper, and Hi-C fruit punch in it. I got a large, and my dad made me drink every bit of it to teach me a lesson about being wasteful. I threw up in his car on the way home. Mom said I taught him a lesson about teaching lessons. There’s still a stain on the floorboard of his Audi.
My omelet had a little bit of everything in it. Roger thought it sounded so good that he ordered a suicide omelet too. Clarissa made herself a garden omelet, with just vegetables. She told me that eating like that was what kept her décolletage so beautiful. I felt myself blush.
We sat around a dining-room table that was big enough for twelve people to sit at. I thought that there were so many of us that the kids would have to sit at a kids’ table, but Clarissa said that she didn’t like being separated from the kids because “kids make conversations more fascinating.” At the kids’ table we usually compare our scars and talk about who we know that pees their pants when they laugh too hard. India’s friend Taylor does. One time India imitated Napoleon Dynamite and asked Taylor if she “wanted some tots.” Taylor thought it was so funny that she left a puddle on one of our barstools. I don’t sit on that barstool anymore, even though the manny cleaned it with disinfectant.
We didn’t talk about scars or pee at dinner that night. We talked about current events, politics, and places we’d like to visit someday.
Clarissa said she’d like to visit Morocco and Vietnam.
Dad said Dubai.
India said India.
I said Dollywood, Dolly Parton’s theme park in Tennessee. Craig went there over spring break and said that there’s a ride called the Tennessee Tornado that does loop-the-loops like you’re stuck inside a tornado. The table got silent and everybody stared at me. The only sound was Belly slurping milk out of her saucer.
“I think Dollywood looks like fun,” Clarissa finally said, smiling at me.
Lulu cleared her throat and leaned up on the table, with her hands gesturing out toward her audience. “I’d love to visit Monticello, the home of Thomas Jefferson. He was, you know, the primary author of the Declaration of Independence.” Lulu looked around the room, hoping to get some approval. It was the same look that the president gives to the audience during his State of the Union address when he uses words like “resolve” and “subliminable.”
“GOY!” I said to Lulu when she was done with her story.
“What does ‘GOY’ mean?” Mom asked.
“‘Get over yourself!’” I said. “Sarah made it up.”
Everybody laughed. Even Lulu, who laughed and slapped me on the back like I was a cute kid and she was an adult.
The manny told Lulu that his parents had taken his sister and him to Monticello when they were in middle school. They had also gone to Washington DC. Clarissa pulled a framed picture off the picture table of the manny and his sister in front of the Lincoln Memorial. The manny had blond hair that was parted on the side and was long in back. He called it a mullet.
India said, “I’m wondering if your hair really fell out, or if it ran away out of embarrassment.” The manny pretended to wipe tears from his eyes.
“It’s okay,” India said, rubbing the manny’s bald head. “You’ve turned your Glamour Don’t into a Glamour Do.”
Lulu looked at the picture of the Lincoln Memorial and sighed, “Ah, the Great Emancipator,” trying to show off her knowledge again. Lulu helped me with a report on President Lincoln for history class this year. He was called the Great Emancipator because he signed a treaty that ended slavery. My report was titled “Abraham Lincoln: Forward Thinker in Top Hat.” Sarah’s report was titled “Dolley Madison: You Think You Know Everything About Her, But You Donut.” Mrs. House put a red smiley face by our titles. She even drew a top hat and a goatee on my smiley face.
“Max and I want to take a trip to Paris—,” the manny started a story but was interrupted by his dad, who stood up and started clearing off the table.
“Anybody want to help me with the dishes?” Roger asked.
I stood up and started to help clear and noticed the manny look at Mom, shrug, and then look down into his empty plate. I cleared his plate and leaned close to him. It must have cheered him up, because he lifted his head and yelled, “I get to dry!”
The “ladies,” as Belly wanted us to call them, sat around the fireplace while Dad, the manny, Roger, and I cleaned up and washed the dishes. I could hear Mom telling Clarissa about Uncle Max and his painting show. Lulu and India were playing checkers on a wooden checkerboard that was on the coffee table, while Belly was petting a fluffy yellow cat named Skimbleshanks under the collar. Mauling would be a better way to describe what she was doing, actually. Mom would stop her story every once in a while to tell Belly not to be so rough. Belly loves animals, but she can get carried away. Kind of like Lennie in Of Mice and Men, another book that Lulu read out loud to us. Lennie is a man who keeps mice in his pocket and loves a puppy so much that he hugs and squeezes it so hard that it dies. Belly has never loved an animal to death, but she once loved a hamster so hard that it limped away when she put it down.
By the time we finished the dishes, it was already time for bed. Mom and Dad and Belly stayed in the guest room, which had its own bathroom. India and Lulu stayed in the manny’s sister’s old room, which had a canopy bed and lots of stuffed animals and posters of a rock band called Bon Jovi on the walls. I was staying with the manny in his old room. It had bunk beds and red carpet and medals from when he used to compete in gymnastics meets when he was little. There was also a stack of cassette tapes on a shelf: Michael Jackson, Thriller; Hall and Oates, Private Eyes; Prince, Purple Rain.
I climbed on the top bunk and found a stack of Wyoming postcards up there. The manny must have told Clarissa and Roger that I was sending postcards every day, so they stocked up on some for me. I smiled.
On a postcard with a buffalo on it I wrote:
Dear Uncle Max,
The manny seems sad because his mom and dad won’t talk about you. I think they would really like you if they got
to know you. His dad has the same kind of sense of humor that you do. Warped. He hid in the closet and jumped out and scared Mom. She said, “HOLY——!” Don’t tell Mom I told you.
Keats Rufus Dalinger
I wrote to Sarah on a postcard with a picture of a jackalope on it. A jackalope is a mix between a jackrabbit and an antelope. They don’t really exist. It’s really just a stuffed rabbit with deer antlers glued to its head. It looks like something that might live near a nuclear power plant.
Dear Sarah,
Have you ever seen the musical Cats? It’s kind of creepy. There are a bunch of people dressed up as cats, and they sing and dance and lick the tops of their hands like they’re cleaning themselves. I wish they would have shown them going to the bathroom in a great big litter box. That would have been funny. The manny just made a fart noise when his mom walked by, and then he yelled, “Mom! GROSS!” like she had done it.
From the Cowboy State,
Keats
The manny wrote a postcard to Uncle Max, and I wrote the P.S. again.
Sugar Bear,
I miss your hugs!
Thanks for being you!
Cut the pickle!
Love,
Matthew
P.S. I miss you too, pickle cutter.
Keats
20Expelliamus!
When I woke up the next morning, the manny was already up and had made his bed. He’s really neat and organized. I got up and made my bed too. I found a quarter in my bag and tried to bounce it on the bed to see if I had made it really tight. I saw on a movie once that in the army they make you make your bed so perfect that you can bounce a quarter on it. The quarter didn’t bounce. It just plopped. I think it would have bounced if there hadn’t been egg-crate foam on top of the mattress.
Hit the Road, Manny: A Manny Files Novel Page 10
