chewed the big hole. They said it was a mouse, and they thought it was a mouse, and it was!” He hops up and down in glee. “It
was
a mouse. It was me! It was me!”
. . . . .
A week or so later, while StingRay and Lumphy are playing Uncle Wiggily, DaisySparkle scoots herself over and nudges StingRay with her nose. “Hey,” she says.
“Hello there,” StingRay says, drawing a card and moving her Uncle Wiggily rabbit four spaces, as if she’s awfully busy.
“Did I tell you I’ve been chewing the Barbies?” DaisySparkle asks, casually.
“No!” StingRay is so surprised she turns to face the shark.
“Oh, yeah,” says DaisySparkle. “You know how Honey keeps putting me in stupid outfits and making me play with those dumb things? Well, as soon as she goes out of the room, I go to town. At first I just did a few small nibbles, but a couple days ago I chewed the leg of one of them. I made some serious dents in it, too.”
“You shouldn’t do that,” says StingRay.
“I didn’t break them. I just chewed one on its left leg.” The shark coughs. “And.”
“And what?”
“Yesterday I got the arm of the other one. I nearly bit off its hand.”
“What if they can feel it?” wonders Lumphy from the other side of the Uncle Wiggily board.
“Nah. They never talk. It’s no different from chewing a table leg.”
“They might talk amongst themselves,” Lumphy says. “Like when they’re alone in the Barbie box. We don’t know for sure, just ’cause we’ve never heard them.”
DaisySparkle shrugs her top fin. “If you’re worried about it, I’ll stop. But really, if you hung out with those Barbies as much as I have, you’d know they don’t feel the smallest bite. And let me tell you, chewing them is very satisfying.”
StingRay is secretly pleased. She doesn’t want anyone hurt, but really, she hates those Barbies, too. “You don’t like playing dress-up with them?” she asks.
The shark shakes her head. “Hardly. It’s like playing with a table leg.”
“But you’re Princess DaisySparkle,” says StingRay. “Honey puts you in all those special blue outfits.”
The shark snorts. “I don’t want to wear clothes. I like to go natural.”
“You do?”
“And if you like my name, take it,” says the shark. “Blech.”
StingRay can’t believe what she is hearing. “You don’t want to be DaisySparkle?”
“Can’t stand it,” says the shark. “Call me Spark, if you don’t mind.”
“Okay,” says StingRay, absorbing the new information. “Spark, would you like to play Uncle Wiggily with us?”
“You betcha!” says Spark, looking at the board game. “Hand me a rabbit, bison! I’m gonna wiggle my Wiggily!”
Maybe it’s because DaisySparkle changed her name, or maybe it’s because she chewed the silent Barbies—but from that day on, she and StingRay are friends.
CHAPTER FIVE
In Which There Is a Sleepover and Somebody Needs Repair
W hen Lumphy wants to visit Frank and have a dance in his washtub, he gets himself sticky with jam. Or soy sauce, or peanut butter. Then Honey puts him in the washer and hangs him up to dry. Of course, Lumphy can go down to the basement for a visit any night he wants, or any day when the people are at work and school. But he enjoys most when he and Frank are together singing their buffalo shuffle song during the wash cycle.
Lumphy doesn’t much like talking to the Dryer. In fact, he finds her disagreeable. He can never understand a word she says—it’s all rumbling and grunting. And when she’s silent, it’s even worse. The way she sits there, it always seems as if she’s thinking something bad.
Lumphy has never been inside the Dryer. Honey’s dad says it has been “on the fritz for ages” and they shouldn’t put anything big in, like sneakers or a stuffed buffalo, because then the barrel would get out of line.
So one weekend morning, when Honey takes him downstairs to breakfast, Lumphy (very cleverly, and in the
was
a mouse. It was me! It was me!”
. . . . .
A week or so later, while StingRay and Lumphy are playing Uncle Wiggily, DaisySparkle scoots herself over and nudges StingRay with her nose. “Hey,” she says.
“Hello there,” StingRay says, drawing a card and moving her Uncle Wiggily rabbit four spaces, as if she’s awfully busy.
“Did I tell you I’ve been chewing the Barbies?” DaisySparkle asks, casually.
“No!” StingRay is so surprised she turns to face the shark.
“Oh, yeah,” says DaisySparkle. “You know how Honey keeps putting me in stupid outfits and making me play with those dumb things? Well, as soon as she goes out of the room, I go to town. At first I just did a few small nibbles, but a couple days ago I chewed the leg of one of them. I made some serious dents in it, too.”
“You shouldn’t do that,” says StingRay.
“I didn’t break them. I just chewed one on its left leg.” The shark coughs. “And.”
“And what?”
“Yesterday I got the arm of the other one. I nearly bit off its hand.”
“What if they can feel it?” wonders Lumphy from the other side of the Uncle Wiggily board.
“Nah. They never talk. It’s no different from chewing a table leg.”
“They might talk amongst themselves,” Lumphy says. “Like when they’re alone in the Barbie box. We don’t know for sure, just ’cause we’ve never heard them.”
DaisySparkle shrugs her top fin. “If you’re worried about it, I’ll stop. But really, if you hung out with those Barbies as much as I have, you’d know they don’t feel the smallest bite. And let me tell you, chewing them is very satisfying.”
StingRay is secretly pleased. She doesn’t want anyone hurt, but really, she hates those Barbies, too. “You don’t like playing dress-up with them?” she asks.
The shark shakes her head. “Hardly. It’s like playing with a table leg.”
“But you’re Princess DaisySparkle,” says StingRay. “Honey puts you in all those special blue outfits.”
The shark snorts. “I don’t want to wear clothes. I like to go natural.”
“You do?”
“And if you like my name, take it,” says the shark. “Blech.”
StingRay can’t believe what she is hearing. “You don’t want to be DaisySparkle?”
“Can’t stand it,” says the shark. “Call me Spark, if you don’t mind.”
“Okay,” says StingRay, absorbing the new information. “Spark, would you like to play Uncle Wiggily with us?”
“You betcha!” says Spark, looking at the board game. “Hand me a rabbit, bison! I’m gonna wiggle my Wiggily!”
Maybe it’s because DaisySparkle changed her name, or maybe it’s because she chewed the silent Barbies—but from that day on, she and StingRay are friends.
CHAPTER FIVE
In Which There Is a Sleepover and Somebody Needs Repair
W hen Lumphy wants to visit Frank and have a dance in his washtub, he gets himself sticky with jam. Or soy sauce, or peanut butter. Then Honey puts him in the washer and hangs him up to dry. Of course, Lumphy can go down to the basement for a visit any night he wants, or any day when the people are at work and school. But he enjoys most when he and Frank are together singing their buffalo shuffle song during the wash cycle.
Lumphy doesn’t much like talking to the Dryer. In fact, he finds her disagreeable. He can never understand a word she says—it’s all rumbling and grunting. And when she’s silent, it’s even worse. The way she sits there, it always seems as if she’s thinking something bad.
Lumphy has never been inside the Dryer. Honey’s dad says it has been “on the fritz for ages” and they shouldn’t put anything big in, like sneakers or a stuffed buffalo, because then the barrel would get out of line.
So one weekend morning, when Honey takes him downstairs to breakfast, Lumphy (very cleverly, and in the
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