by Jack Cady
“We played together all weekend,” Jerome whispered.
“That bear’s name is Gruff.” Jerome looked at all of the other children. He counted on his fingers. Jerome and Sally and Johnny-red-head and Wong Li and Sandy. All five of them could hear the bear. The rest of the children could not.
When Mr. Keeper arrived Mrs. Keeper did not even speak. She pointed at Sally. She handed Mr. Keeper a note. Mr. Keeper winked at Sally when Mrs. Keeper was not looking. “I prithee give me leave to go from hence,” he snickered. Sally went with Mr. Keeper. They went to the principal’s office.
Mrs. Keeper threw her second fit during the ‘name the bear’ contest. Sally was at the principal’s office, and Jerome knew that Sally was sitting in a corner thinking cuss. That happened when you went to the principal’s office.
Jerome and Wong Li and Johnnie-red-head and Sandy all said the bear’s name was Gruff. Goody-two-shoes Annabel said the bear’s name was Rugby.
“Bad pun,” said the stuffed rabbit Henry. He flopped his ears and gave a big sigh. “She is an exterior sort of person,” said Candace the paper mache alligator in a raspy, papery voice. “Goody-two-shoes types always are.”
“You can talk,” Jerome whispered to Candace. “You never did before.”
“I talk all the time,” Candace said, “you never listened before.”
Another girl said the bear’s name was Rosalyn.
A boy said the bear’s name was Fire Chief because of the red hat.
Another boy said the bear s name was Captain Marvel.
A girl said the bear’s name was Douglas Fur.
“Not bad,” growled Gruff.
“Jolly good,” said Henry.
A girl said the bear’s name was Poopsy.
“It’s garbage time,” growled Gruff. “Now we’ve descended to Poopsy.”
“Poop for short,” said Waterbury from the fish tank. “Really, now.” The voice giggled and burbled. Ebb and Flow hummed along as Waterbury sang.
Mrs. Keeper will take Poopsy
As a name that not too oopsy
Shorten Poopsy down to Poop
Mrs. Keeper will yell and whoop.
“Your meter’s off, “ growled Gruff. “read ‘will go whoop.’ I despise a cracked meter.”
“I’m new at this business,” Waterbury said apologetically. He blushed so orange that he was almost red.
Mrs. Keeper said that the new bear’s name was Percy, and that was the end of it. She said that the children had suggested some very good names, but the bear’s name was really Percy.
“The bear’s name is Percy,” Gruff said in a simpery little voice. “The bear is not a romantic poet.” The bear abhors romantic poets.
“The bear’s name is Percy,” said Gruff in a hollow voice. “Although the bear goes ‘this and that’ on the shades of Wordsworth and Perce Shelley. The bear is really taking a bath on this one. “
“It isn’t fair,” Jerome said. “Me and Johnnie-red-head and Wong Li and Sandy know that ain’t right.” He gulped. He had said ain’t.
“Take your chair and sit in the corner,” Mrs. Keeper told Jerome. “The bear’s name is Percy.”
A Mouse Is Down
On Tuesday Jerome and Sally wore their red berets to school. Mrs. Keeper made them put the berets in the cloakroom, and Sally and Mrs. Keeper had a fight. Sally said why do we put our hats in the cloakroom and Gruff doesn’t.
“Percy,” Mrs. Keeper said.
“Gruff,” Sally said.
Then Gruff said something under his breath that made the stuffed rabbit Henry blush.
That same day Gruff explained to Jerome and Sally how Mr. Keeper had not kidnapped Claymore the mouse.
“There were witnesses,” Gruff said. “The rabbit Henry, and the alligator Candace, and the three fish were watching. Claymore had an adventure.”
“That is a droll way of putting it,” said Henry the rabbit. “While I do not watch Spider Man reruns, I believe the accurate description says that Claymore was ‘offed’.”
Both Johnnie-red-head and Johnnie-yellow-hair gasped. Now Johnnie-yellow-hair was hearing the animals too.
“Or,” said Henry, “one might say ‘we have a mouse down ‘—or one might say ‘Claymore bit the big one’—or, as the English would say, ‘toodle-oooh Claymore’.”
“Rabbits should jump,” Gruff observed. That is the nature of rabbits. Rabbits should not jump to conclusions.”
“Claymore jumped to a hasty conclusion,” said the paper mache alligator Candace. “Claymore was tired of the first grade. This was his fourth year in first grade. He was greedy. He was sick of eating crumbs from peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. He swore if he touched another twinkie it would put knots in his tail. “
“I reconstructed events leading to the disappearance of Claymore,” said Gruff. “Claymore wanted an adventure, and yes, he was greedy. His biggest task was to get through the doorway unobserved. Mrs. Keeper always keeps the door closed . . . .”
“During recess Mrs. Keeper takes her flowery satchel and hides in the cloakroom,” one of the fish trilled. “She hums and eats and cusses.”
Jerome did not believe the fish. He looked at the rabbit Henry. “She doesn’t cuss,” Henry said, “most days.”
“When Mrs. Keeper goes home at night she always closes the door,” Gruff said. “The only one who comes to the room is Mr. Keeper the janitor.”
“And he always closes the door,” the three fish hummed. “But on what may have been the fatal day . . .” and Gruff paused dramatically, “at least on the day of moment, Mr. Keeper left the classroom and closed the door. Then Mrs. Keeper came back to the classroom. She left the door ajar. She walked past this table and to the cloakroom. She entered the cloakroom . . . .” Gruff paused even more dramatically.
“And,” said Henry the rabbit, “that is when Claymore yelled, ‘The Hell with it boys, I’m out of here’.”
“He jumped,” said Candace sadly. “We heard a muffled scream and that is the last that is known of Claymore.”
“Now that all interruptions are over,” said Gruff, “I will continue my case. I will prove deductively that Claymore must still be in this room. But first, my investigation.
“There is a stuffed calico cat named Susan in the third grade. I interviewed her as a prime suspect. I theorized that the cat entered the classroom behind Mrs. Keeper. As Mrs. Keeper passed the table the cat waited. Claymore jumped. The cat took a nap after devouring Claymore, then sneaked back to third grade in the dead of night.”
“A pretty theory,” Gruff continued, “but it came to naught. Susan had an unshakable alibi for the evening in question. She was at the home of a student. The student’s mother was sewing Susan’s head back on, because Susan had been involved in a pillow fight.”
Jerome whispered to Sally that he could hardly wait ‘til they got to third grade.
“I then sought inductive evidence,” said Gruff. “I tried to induce Claymore to reveal his presence. “This was accomplished by spreading cookie crumbs all over the cloakroom floor. For,” Gruff continued, “had Claymore been in the classroom he would have been seen. The crumbs were spread after Mr. Keeper swept. On the following morning the crumbs were still there. However,” and Gruff paused again, “Yesterday, Monday—and before Mr. Keeper swept—the crumbs were gone.”
“Greedy Mrs. Keeper,” said Candace.
“Claymore is in the cloakroom,” Jerome whispered to Sally.
Gruff looked at Candace and shook his head. “You are no judge of character,” Gruff said sadly.” If Mrs. Keeper saw crumbs she would just yell for Mr. Keeper to clean them up.”
“If you and Sally do not stop whispering,” Mrs. Keeper said to Jerome,” I’ll have to send you both to the principal.”
Then she turned to the rest of the class. “Johnnie and Johnnie and Sandy and Wong Li what is wrong with you today? All of you are usually so good.”
“Gruff is telling about what happened to Claymore,” Sandy said
.
“Percy,” Mrs. Keeper said, “The new bear’s name is Percy.”
“We have to have an English lesson pretty soon,” Gruff growled. “There is going to be a glorious joust during English.”
“It is a pretty name for a pretty bear,” said Mrs. Keeper.
“A pritttty name for a pritttty bear,” Gruff grumbled. “Well I have seen some pritttty bears, Madame, and I am not the bear of whom you speak. Wouldst joust?”
The Horny Butterfly
On Wednesday Jerome and Sally wore their red berets to school. Johnnie-red-head wore his red beret to school, and Sandy wore her red beret to school. Wong Li wore a red scarf to school. Johnnie-yellow-hair wore a red shirt to school. A quiet little boy named Peter wore a red tie and red socks, and a girl named Mary Lou wore a red bandanna.
Gruff was happy. Gruff pushed the red beret forward. It came down just above the button eyes. “Sink me that ship, master gunner,” Gruff muttered. “Split her, rend her, tear her in twain.”
Mrs. Keeper was mad. Jerome did not know why. Mrs. Keeper was so mad she even forgot to put her big flowered satchel in the cloak room. She was so mad she even forgot to be nice to goody-two-shoes Annabel.
“We will not read today,” Mrs. Keeper said. “We will make pictures with words.”
“That is a courageous woman,” Gruff muttered. “Have I missed something?”
“Like Spider Man?” Sally said.
“Spider Man always fights battles he can win,” Gruff said. “That is not courage. Mrs. Keeper, however, sets forth on a deep and turbulent sea.”
“Some of those pictures you have already heard,” Mrs. Keeper said. “Like, ‘A bolt from the blue’.”
“Cliché,” Gruff said, “although it is used as an example. ‘Like a mouse overboard’ might suit our cause.”
“Madder than a wet hen,” said Mrs. Keeper. “Can you see the picture of a wet chicken? Can you imagine how mad that chicken would be?”
“Cliché,” said Sally. “Although it is used as an example.” Sally was trying to sound just like Gruff.
“Madder than a stuffed rabbit,” said Henry. Then he said, “Oh dear, that doesn’t sound exactly right.”
“A fish out of water,” Mrs. Keeper said.
“This party is getting rough,” Waterbury said. “Rough as a trout among tadpoles.”
“Rough as an alligator in a hot tub,” said Candace. “Like Garibaldi at the Republican Convention,” Gruff sniffed. “C’mon, let’s get on with it.”
“Cliché,” said Sally, “Cliché, cliché, cliché.” Sally liked the new word.
Mrs. Keeper did not like the new word. “Sally will make a picture,” Mrs. Keeper said. “Since Sally knows all about clichés she will make a new picture.”
“A paradise of swallows,” Gruff muttered. “Throw that one at her. “
Sally did. Mrs. Keeper gasped. “That is wonderful,” she said, “where did you hear that?”
“Gruff told me.”
“You have a very creative mother,” Mrs. Keeper said, and that seemed to explain something but nobody could figure out what. Mrs. Keeper forgot that Gruff’s name was supposed to be Percy.
“Softer than a rabbit’s bottom,” said Henry. He chuckled.
“I say,” he said, “I believe I’m catching on to this.”
“Boo,” said Candace.
“Hiss,” said Waterbury.
“Painted bunting pretty,” said Mrs. Keeper.
“Not bad alliteration,” said Gruff, “give her ‘condominiums like a harmonica’.”
Jerome did, although he had a hard time saying condomim-
imimum.
Mrs. Keeper gasped. “Where did you hear that?”
“Gruff told me.”
Mrs. Keeper stood before the class and for a little while she did not look so fat. She looked excited.
“Slippery as a brigade of fishworms,” said Waterbury.
“Yum,” hummed Ebb and Flow.
“Warm as the spots on a giraffe,” said Mrs. Keeper.
“Hey, hey,” said Gruff, “now we’re cracking. Wong Li, give her ‘a rosary of stars’.”
Wong Li did.
Mrs. Keeper looked like she was about to cry, but she did not look sad.
“Scratchy as a towhee,” Jerome said, and he realized that he had made that one up himself.
“Very good, toddler,” Gruff said. “That is very good indeed.”
“Orange as strained carrots on a baby,” Sally said. Then she looked surprised because she had made one up herself.
“It appears,” said Gruff in a happy voice, “that the speed limit has been raised back up to seventy. Give her, ‘a cacophony of carousels’.”
Johnnie-red-head said it, but he stumbled over ‘cat-cat-
phoney.’
Mrs. Keeper actually was crying, but she was smiling too. “You never heard of cacophony in your life,” she said to Johnnie-red-head, “but magic happens. I’d forgotten that magic happens.”
“It’s called passive resistance,” Gruff said to Henry. “ It’s a way of fighting so that everybody wins.”
“Passive as a snoozing rabbit,” said Henry.
“Very good,” said Candace, “Henry seems to be catching on.”
“Henry is sparkly as a butterfly in heat,” Gruff said. “Whoops!” Gruff yelled. “Don’t say that one. That one will get us all kicked out.”
It was too late. Jerome had already said it.
Mrs. Keeper actually giggled. “I’m not mad at you at all,” she said to Jerome, “but you will have to explain that to the principal.”
Goody-two-shoes Annabel stood up. She was going to go find Mr. Keeper.
“Jerome can find Mr. Keeper all by himself,” Mrs. Keeper said. “I think Mr. Keeper would like to talk to Jerome.”
A Poet Unmasked
“As one poet to another,” Mr. Keeper said, “I do enjoy your butterfly line. It is only slightly pornographic.”
Mr. Keeper and Jerome sat on the stair steps outside the principal’s office.
“I thought you are a janitor,” Jerome said.
Mr. Keeper reached in the pocket of his jacket, and he pulled out a red beret. At least it had been red sometime. Now it was faded. It looked like Waterbury the goldfish when Waterbury blushed. “In my day,” Mr. Keeper said, “I could zip out similes with the best of ‘em. Iambs came as natural as speech.”
“You are not a janitor?”
“I’m a janitor on the side,” Mr. Keeper said. “Poets often are.”
“I’m glad you did not take Claymore to the dump.”
“Oh dear, “ said Mr. Keeper, “that greedy Claymore. I did not take him to the dump. Claymore would love to be taken to the dump. The dump is not unlike mouse heaven.”
“Did Claymore say that?”
“Did you ever hear a mouse whine,” Mr. Keeper asked. “We all have our duty, and Claymore’s duty is to the first grade. Every day after school Claymore whined to be taken to the dump. Claymore cared aught for duty.”
“Is Mrs. Keeper’s duty to the first grade?”
“Yes,” said Mr. Keeper in an unhappy voice, “as is mine. But Mrs. Keeper is sad and eats too much. That is because the first grade no longer spends much time watching birds and fairies. The first grade no longer looks for trolls and unicorns. Spider Man is easy to find, but elves are not. “
Jerome gulped.
“However,” Mr. Keeper said cheerfully, “some things changed in first grade today. Mrs. Keeper is excited again. I’ll bet she goes to recess instead of sitting in the cloakroom, eating.”
“Will Claymore come back?”
“That depends,” Mr. Keeper said. “If the first grade keeps thinking about poets, Claymore will be forced to come back. Gruff will tell you why. In fact, I expect Gruff already knows the entire sordid tale of Claymore.”
“Are you sad like Mrs. Keeper.”
“When the first grade stopped thinking about frogs who are princes, my hat b
egan to fade.”
“I’ll think about birds,” Jerome said. He stood up. “All the time in the principal’s office.”
“That will make Mrs. Keeper very happy,” Mr. Keeper said.
“It will also make me very happy, because fat as she is, I am rather more fond of Mrs. Keeper than you might imagine.”
The Last Bedad
Thursday was the reddest day. Almost every child had some kind of red hat. Those who had no hat wore something red. Johnnie-yellow-hair even wore a red clown nose but it kept falling off. Even goody-two-shoes Annabel was wearing a little red bow. Mrs. Keeper called the new bear Gruff.
“Leg over leg, the dog got to Dover,” said Henry the rabbit.
“Cliché,” said Gruff. “Besides, the subject today is arithmetic. Besides, I’m busy with observations. Tomorrow I will reveal the whereabouts of the recalcitrant Claymore.”
Mrs. Keeper talked about twos. Twos were wonderful things. When Mrs. Keeper talked about adding twos, Jerome saw how to do it right away. It was just like building blocks. He said so.
“It is just like building blocks,” said Mrs. Keeper. “Show us.”
Jerome went to the table for blocks. He snapped two together. “A two,” he said. He snapped another two together.
“A two,” he said.
He snapped the twos together. “Two twos,” he said, “not just four ones. I could make a whole house out of twos,” he bragged.
“People do,” said Mrs. Keeper. “They call them bricks, and that was very very good, Jerome.”
“Bravo, ragamuffin,” said Gruff.
All the children expected Mrs. Keeper to stay in at recess. They did not think she would come outside for recess two days in a row.
Mrs. Keeper surprised them. She left her flowery satchel sitting by her desk. She did not pick it up and take it to the cloakroom. Instead she put on her coat and everybody followed. Mrs. Keeper showed them an Indian dance you could do outdoors.
On Friday Mrs. Keeper came to school and she was wearing a red beret. Sally thought it looked like a redbird sitting on a pig’s back end. Jerome was shocked. He thought Mrs. Keeper looked pretty in the hat.
“Wait ‘til you get a baby sister,” Sally said. “You will know about back ends.”
“Somebody bite your toe?” asked Gruff. He said it in a snickery, funny way. Pretty soon Sally was laughing. Sally thought Mrs. Keeper looked all right.
