to me. The old lady looked at him real strange.
That was Mouth, though—always doin' what he shouldn't.
He started pouring his glass into the others, just to irritate her, I think. The sound of the water trickling sounded kind
of like going to the bathroom, which gave me an idea. If I pretended I had to go to the bathroom, I could excuse myself from
the table and I might get a little time and privacy to check the place out. So I started tosquirm around the way I used to when I was a kid and had to go. That made me remember that this was the sort of place that
had daddy longlegs in the bathroom, so I shivered, and then I really did have to go a little.
The kitchen doors flew open, and Jake came out wearing a bloody apron and carrying a huge, steaming pot with a big ladle in
it. He set it down on the table and said, “Okay, who ordered Fish Surprise?”
Chunk raised his hand, kind of nervous. Jake ladled a mess of the stuff into Chunk's dish. It was totally gross. Kind of a
jellified black soup with fish heads and parts. I think it's considered a delicacy in France or some damn place, but it just
made me sick.
“Yummy,” said Chunk. I couldn't tell if he was kidding or not. He knew a lot more about food than I did.
Mama looked into the pot. “Is there any left?” She checked her wristwatch.
Jake nodded.
“Then it's time to feed your brother,” the old lady went on.
“Let Francis do it,” said Jake. “I fed it last night.”
“Francis is busy,” said Mama.
“But I hate goin' down there, Ma. It—”
“He's your brother. Now get goin' before it gets cold.” She pushed him hard.
He walked across the room without much enthusiasm, opened a creaky old door, and walked down a lot of creaky old stairs.
Now that we were alone with Mama again, it seemed like a good time for me to try out my plan. I stood up. “'Scuse me, ma'am,”
I said, real polite. “Where's the men's room?”
She turned to look at me. Chunk, behind her, kept motioning me to forget it, but it just looked like he wasdancing to the silent jukebox again, and I was hearing my own tune now—I mean, I really knew I was in the right place at the
right time.
Mama glared at me. “Can't you hold it?”
“Yeah, Mikey,” said Chunk, “can't you hold it?”
Mouth, of course, couldn't help stirring things up. He poured a thin, noisy stream of water from one glass to another. What
a jerk.
It was perfect for me, though. “Lady, please!”
She nodded kind of understandingly, like maybe she really
was
somebody's mama once. “Downstairs, to your right,” she said. “And stay to your right!”
I nodded and went to the door before she changed her mind. I could hear Chunk whispering behind me, stuff like “Mikey, don't,
you can't…” but I ignored him and started down the stairs.
It was dark, too dark to see much, and twisting down, so I kept my hand against the wall to guide me. The wall was cool, damp
stone. The steps were rotting wood. They creaked the whole way down.
At the bottom was a long corridor with a few bare bulbs dangling from the ceiling. There was nobody else around, so I took
out the map to see if I could find any comparisons or clues. But I didn't get much time to check, because suddenly I heard
this weird growling coming from the other end of the hall. It made my hair tingle.
I put the map away and followed the sounds. They led me, after a little turning, to a thick wooden door, open a crack. The
growling was much louder inside, like a sick animal or something, and mixed in with rattling chains.
I don't know, but somehow it wasn't exactly scary, just sort of sad and weird and pitiful.
I pulled the door open a little wider, and I stuck my head inside.
It was a stone room, small, like a jail cell, with heavy, old wood beams and a slatted ceiling. There was a light in the room
above us, which sent stripes of light through the slats into this room. There was a thin, stained mattress on the
That was Mouth, though—always doin' what he shouldn't.
He started pouring his glass into the others, just to irritate her, I think. The sound of the water trickling sounded kind
of like going to the bathroom, which gave me an idea. If I pretended I had to go to the bathroom, I could excuse myself from
the table and I might get a little time and privacy to check the place out. So I started tosquirm around the way I used to when I was a kid and had to go. That made me remember that this was the sort of place that
had daddy longlegs in the bathroom, so I shivered, and then I really did have to go a little.
The kitchen doors flew open, and Jake came out wearing a bloody apron and carrying a huge, steaming pot with a big ladle in
it. He set it down on the table and said, “Okay, who ordered Fish Surprise?”
Chunk raised his hand, kind of nervous. Jake ladled a mess of the stuff into Chunk's dish. It was totally gross. Kind of a
jellified black soup with fish heads and parts. I think it's considered a delicacy in France or some damn place, but it just
made me sick.
“Yummy,” said Chunk. I couldn't tell if he was kidding or not. He knew a lot more about food than I did.
Mama looked into the pot. “Is there any left?” She checked her wristwatch.
Jake nodded.
“Then it's time to feed your brother,” the old lady went on.
“Let Francis do it,” said Jake. “I fed it last night.”
“Francis is busy,” said Mama.
“But I hate goin' down there, Ma. It—”
“He's your brother. Now get goin' before it gets cold.” She pushed him hard.
He walked across the room without much enthusiasm, opened a creaky old door, and walked down a lot of creaky old stairs.
Now that we were alone with Mama again, it seemed like a good time for me to try out my plan. I stood up. “'Scuse me, ma'am,”
I said, real polite. “Where's the men's room?”
She turned to look at me. Chunk, behind her, kept motioning me to forget it, but it just looked like he wasdancing to the silent jukebox again, and I was hearing my own tune now—I mean, I really knew I was in the right place at the
right time.
Mama glared at me. “Can't you hold it?”
“Yeah, Mikey,” said Chunk, “can't you hold it?”
Mouth, of course, couldn't help stirring things up. He poured a thin, noisy stream of water from one glass to another. What
a jerk.
It was perfect for me, though. “Lady, please!”
She nodded kind of understandingly, like maybe she really
was
somebody's mama once. “Downstairs, to your right,” she said. “And stay to your right!”
I nodded and went to the door before she changed her mind. I could hear Chunk whispering behind me, stuff like “Mikey, don't,
you can't…” but I ignored him and started down the stairs.
It was dark, too dark to see much, and twisting down, so I kept my hand against the wall to guide me. The wall was cool, damp
stone. The steps were rotting wood. They creaked the whole way down.
At the bottom was a long corridor with a few bare bulbs dangling from the ceiling. There was nobody else around, so I took
out the map to see if I could find any comparisons or clues. But I didn't get much time to check, because suddenly I heard
this weird growling coming from the other end of the hall. It made my hair tingle.
I put the map away and followed the sounds. They led me, after a little turning, to a thick wooden door, open a crack. The
growling was much louder inside, like a sick animal or something, and mixed in with rattling chains.
I don't know, but somehow it wasn't exactly scary, just sort of sad and weird and pitiful.
I pulled the door open a little wider, and I stuck my head inside.
It was a stone room, small, like a jail cell, with heavy, old wood beams and a slatted ceiling. There was a light in the room
above us, which sent stripes of light through the slats into this room. There was a thin, stained mattress on the
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