All About Max, page 7
But he decided against giving his full name the way he’d done with the Measley’s. What was the use? He didn’t need to prove anything to Mrs. Dumpty, and Snitch would only take it out on him later, making his life even more miserable.
“Well, how do you do, Max,” said Mrs. Dumpty.
But while it was true you could take a boy out of Ballyhoo, you could never take Ballyhoo out of a boy. Almost without thinking, Max went up to Mrs. Dumpty with his hand outstretched.
“How do you do, Mrs. Dumpty,” he said, bowing slightly, as she reached out her hand to shake his.
Mrs. Dumpty’s eyes widened. It was clear that this startled her. She gave Max a searching look, but she said nothing about it, and simply gave him a warm smile.
“Well, I’m afraid, Snitch, there’s not much Max can learn today. My bathroom is quite clean, I assure you,” said Mrs. Dumpty.
“Never mind,” said Snitch. “I been ordered to do the bathrooms, clean or not. Besides, like I said, I got to learn Max a thing or two ‘bout the cleanin’ business. So if it’s alright with you, we’ll just go in and get started.”
The minute they entered the bathroom, Snitch said, “Well, Max, main thing I’m goin’ to learn you ‘bout is the terlit. Now watch me careful. You see that first thing you got to do is lift up the lid, like this.”
This was said in such a loud, important voice that there was no doubt it was intended for Mrs. Dumpty to hear.
“Now, Max, you got that?”
“Yes, Mr. Snitch,” said Max dutifully. He wondered if Mrs. Dumpty thought he’d gone all his life without knowing about lifting toilet lids. Still, she was only a wrinkled old person, so what did it matter?
“Now,” said Snitch. “What you do is take that bottle with the green sticker on it from y’r bucket. You screw off the top, and then pour some right into the terlit. So let’s see you do it.”
Max unscrewed and poured.
“Okay, then,” said Snitch. “Now you take the brush what’s sittin’ behind the terlit, and you go swishin’ ‘round inside.”
Max swished.
Snitch peered down into the now spotless toilet.
“You missed a spot,” said Snitch, in an even louder voice. “Now go ‘round swishin’ again. You got to get every spot.”
Max went around again.
Snitch stuck his nose into the toilet.
“Well,” he grunted, “It’s y’r first time doin’ it. Next time you can do better. So put down the lid, and we’ll do the shower floor.”
Max by now knew there was no “we” about it. Snitch was going to do the ordering, while Max did all the working. But as Max lowered the toilet lid, he saw something that had been hidden when Snitch raised it, which instantly erased all thoughts of Snitch from his mind. What he saw was the name of the company imprinted on the back of the bowl. It was the name of Pencival’s father’s company! Of all the terrible things that had happened to Max, this came very close to being the worst. He could see Pencival laughing his head off over it.
Max’s brain was so filled with this depressing sight, that he never even felt the pain in his knees as he scrubbed the shower floor, or cared that Snitch made him do it all over again twice after the first time.
Then, as he and Snitch were preparing to leave the room, Mrs. Dumpty called out. “Snitch, I’d like to ask your assistant to help me with my shoes. Could you wait in the hall for him for just a moment?”
“Er...well, all right, Mrs. Dumpty,” said Snitch, so taken off guard, his brain couldn’t come up quickly enough with a reason why Max couldn’t do as requested.
But he managed to hiss at Max before he walked out the door, “You do what Mrs. Dumpty wants, but be quick ‘bout it, you little weasel.”
Snitch, of course, left the door open so he could get a full view of what was going on,
“Darlin’” said Mrs. Dumpty, “Something Delilah always helped me with was putting on my shoes. Hope you don’t mind doing it for me, please. My shoes are right here beside me.”
Max actually minded very much. What he’d learned in the bathroom was bad enough, but putting shoes on the feet of a wrinkled old person was about more than he could bear. On the other hand, he was still a Ballyhoo boy with manners, and wouldn’t telling Mrs. Dumpty that putting on her shoes wasn’t in his job description be bad manners? He quickly picked up the shoes and kneeled down in front of her. If things weren’t bad enough, here was having to put shoes on the skinny, boney feet of a wrinkled old person that would usually give him the creeps.
As he was doing this, she whispered, “Here take this,” and thrust a small folded note into his hand. “Put it in your pocket, darlin’, and read it when you’re alone sometime.”
Then she raised her voice and said, “Snitch,” she called out, “thank you for letting your assistant do this for me.”
“Oh, no problem, Mrs. Dumpty,” replied Snitch grandly. “Any ol’ time.”
But the minute the door closed behind them, he hissed at Max, “So what was she whisperin’ to you ‘bout, you little turd?’
“Nothing,” said Max. “She just said thank you.”
“Well, all right, then,” said Snitch. “Just no more whisperin’. You got that?”
“I got it, Mr. Snitch,” said Max.
Then he sneaked the note from Mrs. Dumpty into his jeans pocket.
But by the time he had been instructed in the fine art of bathroom cleaning in the rooms of all the other residents, Max had forgotten all about Mrs. Dumpty’s note.
Chapter XI
In which Max finds out something about all the mother goose-ites, and a few lessons in the course of “old people 101.”
L ater, by the time Snitch had repeated the exact same bathroom routine in every one of the Mother Goose-ite rooms, Max felt he could write a book on the subject. Of course, his hands were so red and sore, he wouldn’t have been able to work a computer, a typewriter, or even hold a pencil.
But one thing he learned was that there were indeed some very interesting old people living in Measley Manor.
“Avast and belay,” shouted Commander King Cole when Snitch knocked on his door. “Enter and identify yourself.”
Snitch and Max entered a room that had a big brass anchor hanging on the wall surrounded by pictures of navy ships.
“This here’s Max,” said Snitch. “I’m in charge while Delilah’s away, and he’s my helper. I’m learnin’ him the cleanin’ business, you might say.”
A man with a great mane of white hair, wearing a sweatshirt about like the one Max was wearing, jumped up from a chair at a desk.
“Splendid! You’ll find it all shipshape, but clean away, if it pleases you.”
Then when the cleaning job had been done, the man jumped up again, and this time, stiff as a ramrod, gave them a smart salute.
Now it so happened that Max had not only practiced sneering in front of a mirror so he could out-sneer Pencival, but after a sail on his father’s yacht where all his father’s friends were having a good time saluting each other, Max had practiced saluting as well. Now he finally had a chance to properly salute, and a real sailor as well, so he stood up straight as he could, bearing in mind that he was holding a heavy bucket in one hand, and smartly saluted Commander King Cole.
Commander King Cole beamed. “Splendid, my lad! Splendid!”
Of course, Snitch didn’t think it was splendid at all. The minute the door closed behind them, he gave Max a painful pinch on the arm he’d used for saluting. “Don’t you never do that again!” he hissed. “Tryin’ to make me look bad. You do it and I’ll see you’ll be wearin’ that arm in a sling, you little turd. You got that?’
“Yes, Mr. Snitch,” said Max, who could barely lift his arm anyway by now. The salute had actually been painful.
But so far, at least, Max had met two old people, and neither one had given him the creeps. Still, there were eight more to go.
“See you don’t do nothing stupid with the others,” said Snitch, applying another pinch to Max’s arm.
“Yes, Mr. Snitch,” said Max dutifully. He had no intention of risking yet another pinch from Snitch’s thick fingers.
“This here lady was oncet a detective,” said Snitch as he knocked on the door of Miz Bo Peep. “So you better keep your weaselly mouth shut ‘round her, and don’t go talkin’ about your fancy jacket and gold medals. She’ll think you’re lyin’ anyhow.”
“Enter!” a voice called out.
The voice sounded old and crackly, so Max expected to see someone all huddled in a chair with a shawl around her shoulders. She was an old person, all right, but was dressed in a neat navy-blue pantsuit and was standing at a table with an enormous magnifying glass in her hand. On the table lay a large sheet of paper with what looked like rows of fingerprints on it.
“Don’t tell me, Snitch,” she said. “Let me guess. Delilah’s away and this young man is helping you out with your duties. Is that right?”
“You guessed right, Miz Bo Peep,” said Snitch. “I’m learnin’ him the cleanin’ business. He ain’t much good at it, but I’m tryin’ hard.”
“I’m sure you are,” said Miz Bo Peep, who like Mrs. Dumpty, gave Max a long hard look, but kept quiet about what she had learned from it.
“Well, learn him away then, while I get back to work,” was all she said.
The man who came to let them in at the next room was wearing a white sweat suit with a pair of red satin shorts over it. He had a basketball in his hands. This was Coach Winkie, and after Snitch gave his familiar speech about “learnin’ Max the bathroom-cleaning business”, and was issuing orders to Max in the bathroom, they could hear the ball bouncing into a basketball net hanging over the front door.
But as they were leaving, Coach Winkie suddenly said to Max. “You ever played basketball in school, young man?”
Now, having been ordered by Snitch to keep his trap shut, Max just shrugged.
Then, without any warning, Coach Winkie said, “Catch!” and threw the ball at Max. Max instinctively caught the ball, twisted, and lobbed it right through the hoop, catching it as it fell.
“Thought so,” said Coach Winkie. “Couldn’t get Snitch to do that. He’s pretty good, don’t you think so, Snitch?”
Max could see from the look on Snitch’s face that what he was thinking wasn’t printable. Oh, how he wished he’d missed that basket
“You’ll have return and have a game with me, young man,” said Coach Winkie.
Max just shrugged and didn’t bother with a Ballyhoo “thank you”.
He knew what was waiting for him with Snitch the minute the door closed behind them! And, naturally, he wasn’t wrong. Calling him a little turd who was just showing off, and better not try it again if he knew what was good for him, was only the beginning of it. Max began wondering if he’d ever make it until the end of the day. He could only hope he’d remain invisible to the rest of the old people. That seemed impossible, though, as long as Snitch continued to brag about “learnin’ him” the bathroom cleaning business!
The next room belonged to Officer Dickory.
Officer of what Max discovered as soon as they entered the room. Although he was wearing the same kind of sweat suit as Coach Winkie, pictures lined up the wall were of Officer Dickory in a police officer’s uniform. In some of the pictures he was by himself, but mostly he was with important looking men, or having a medal pinned on his chest.
After their bathroom business was done, Max was breathing a sigh of relief as they were ready to leave the room. He hadn’t been noticed by Officer Dickory, and would not have to suffer another lecture from Snitch as soon as the door closed behind them.
And then Officer Dickory called out, “Just a moment, young man, come on over and let’s see how clever you are at picking out a criminal among these pictures.”
Snitch dug him in the ribs. “Well, go on, do it!”
So Max went over to the pictures, and picked out the most unlikely person he could.
Officer Dickory chuckled. “He’s actually the president of a bank and a splendid fellow. Criminals don’t always look like criminals, you know, my boy. Why, Snitch picked the right one out right away. But come again, young man, and we’ll have a lesson in how to...er...finger a criminal.”
“See, you ain’t so smart, you little weasel,” said Snitch.. “Don’t know a thing ‘bout fingerin’ criminals like me. But you better not go back ‘lest I’m with you. And no talkin’ ‘bout that stupid gold medal neither.”
“Yes, Mr. Snitch,” said Max, grateful that he’d escaped that room as easily as he had. It was a good thing he’d thought fast enough to pick a bank president as a criminal!
After that cleaning job, they made trip to the kitchen to pick up what food Mrs. Fiddle had for them left over from the last night’s dinner. Although Max didn’t care if he never saw Mitzi again, she was unfortunately there with her mother, and grinned when she saw him.
“Having fun, Ballybooboo boy?” she said under her breath when they passed each other. “What kind of toys you got in that bucket? Show them to me, huh?
Max just shrugged and didn’t bother to reply. What was the point of any conversation with a girl like that? She wasn’t even worth arguing with. The less he saw of Mitzi Fiddle the better.
After their meal, back they went to Max’s bathroom-cleaning lessons. Except for one slip-up, he was grateful that he escaped each room without the usual Snitch lecture or painful pinch on the arm.
The one slip up was when they went into Mrs. Doodle’s room. Mrs. Doodle turned out to be Dr. Doodle, a veterinarian, who asked Max if he’d ever had any pets. And Max stupidly lost his head, and said, “Two Borzois.”
“Ah yes, Russian wolfhounds,” said Dr. Doodle. “Very elegant, aristocratic, and I might add expensive dogs. Were they actually yours?”
“Yes, they belonged to my family,” said Max.
“Ah, I see,” said Dr. Doodle.
“Bor-wotevers! Gold medals! Wot you had was mutts and a piece o’ tin,” said Snitch, the moment they were alone together. “And y’r nothin’ but a lyin’ little snot!”
“Guess so, Mr. Snitch,” said Max, who was almost ready to believe it. In just a few days, he had almost forgotten that he had ever had another life.
And it looked as if even with the few nice people he’d met, Moose, who he was beginning think wasn’t all that bad, and the surprising old people, plus Moxie and Mojo, the rest of his grim life was going to go on forever. Unless he did something about it, which he still might. Yes, he absolutely still might! The running-away roller coaster hadn’t hit rock bottom yet, but it was close. And it would take planning so he wouldn’t make some stupid mistake if and when the roller coaster ever got there.
After Dr. Doodle, Max met and then continued his bathroom-cleaning lessons under Snitch in the room of Mrs. Muffet, also Dr. Muffet, who with her once husband, had been an anthropologist and had the most wonderful cabinet full of assorted bones, flint arrowheads, shark’s teeth and all sorts of interesting objects. When she asked Max if he’d like to have a closer look at it all, he would love to have said “yes!” But one look at Snitch’s face, and all he did was grunt like an idiot.
Dr. Humpty was a “perfessor o’ astronomy” announced Snitch proudly, as if he had invented the subject, when he introduced Max. But when Dr. Humpty invited Max to have a look through the enormous telescope at his window, Snitch gave him such a warning look that he just stood and shook his head like a moron while Snitch explained that they “ain’t got time for that today.”
Mrs. Diddle arrived to open her door with a paintbrush in hand and wearing a billowing yellow smock streaked with paint. An easel by her window showed that she was half finished painting the scene outside her window. Max could see that many of her paintings hanging on the wall were of the same scene outside her window, done over and over again as if she hadn’t left the room in a long time. But other paintings were not, and even had blue first prize ribbons attached to the frames. Max would love to have taken a closer look at all of Mrs. Diddle’s beautiful paintings, but he knew what the answer would be to that if he asked Snitch. So he just looked into Mrs. Diddles’ “terlit” and shower floor instead.
The last room they went to belonged to Mr. Tweedle-dee, a former animal trainer who, despite Snitch’s scowling face, managed to ask Max if he knew Moose’s dogs, Moxie and Mojo.
“I was able to give them a few training lessons before the Measley’s took over Dolly Manor, and I was informed I could no longer leave the building to do it,” said Mr. Tweedle-dee.
But before Max could tell him about the jumping up and the slobber and goo which might need further reminders from Mr. Tweedle-dee, he had already been dragged off for his own reminders about “terlits” and shower floors from Snitch.
By the time Snitch had left for the day, and Max had collapsed in his cot with sore hands and aching knees, he realized something. He suddenly realized that his former ideas of old wrinkled people had changed remarkably. He no longer hated them. They could be very interesting. And most important of all, they no longer gave him the creeps.
On the other hand, so what? That didn’t change much else in his life. He was still living in a room in a cellar and under the iron fist of “Mr.” Snitch, He would miss Moose whom he sort of kind of liked (though it was hard for him to admit it) and definitely Moxie and Mojo if he left, but that was all.
All things considered, although the running away roller coast hadn’t quite reached rock bottom yet, it was still perilously close to getting there.
Chapter XII
In which Max manages to survive an encounter with the Measley’s, makes a ridiculous promise, learns why he was told to keep his ballyhoo jacket looking nice, and then finally makes a miserable discovery.
“W hat may we ask are you doing prowling the halls?” said a menacing voice.
“Have you no chores to do?” said a second, equally menacing.
“S...s...Snitch and I have finished and he’s gone home,” stammered Max. “I...I...was on my way to...to the kitchen to see if I could help Mrs. Fiddle.” That, of course, was only partly the truth. He was actually starving and even though it might mean running into Mitzi, he hoped to find something like a piece of bread or just about anything to eat.
