-Beaver Meets the Brit-
(This is one of my weirder stories, which is saying something if you've read any of my others. XD Just to warn you, the anachronisms of two properties from different decades coming together are never really explained. But, I believe I've covered everything else.)
-Chapter One-
June Cleaver examined her fingers. They looked remarkably like pink prunes, which usually happened when one was washing dishes. This didn't bother June, as it was a labor of love. All these dirty dishes meant that her family was eating heartily.
June heard the door open and someone walk into the kitchen behind her. Following that, she heard her husband say "June? Sorry I'm late."
June paused and turned to face her husband. He was a strong-looking man with a rugged chin and an upbeat demeanor. "That's alright, dear. Did they have you do some extra work? Or did Fred Rutherford corner you by the water-cooler again?"
Ward wiped his shoes on the mat and glanced out the door behind him. "Neither, actually. Apparently, our city won a country-wide contest. A party of tourists from England are coming to America to observe the differences between our two countries, and Mayfield was selected as the ideal American city."
June turned back to her dishes and said "Well that's wonderful, dear, but why were you late?"
"Er, the bus the tourists were on broke down right on the road I was taking home, and they had me just sit there while they were fixing the problem and the tourists got out and walked around. There was one peculiar-looking fellow, knocked on my windshield. Do you think the British do that a lot?"
"I couldn't say, dear," replied June. "Did they ever get the bus going again?"
"Oh yes, the tourists all made a big scramble trying to hurry back on."
"I hope nobody got lost in the shuffle."
"Well, June, if they did, that'll be one more Mayfield taxpayer."
June smiled in spite of herself, but quickly remarked "Now, dear, that wouldn't be funny. They'd be stranded in another country with no transport."
Ward started to take his briefcase upstairs. "I suppose you're right, dear. Are the boys home?"
June nodded. "They're upstairs. I finally persuaded them to pick up their own dirty socks." Ward started up the stairs, and was about to jokingly ask his wife what kind of mother made you pick up your own socks, when he heard a young voice holler "Hey Mom, Dad!"
Ward sighed and yelled back "What is it, Beaver? What's so important that you have to yell instead of walking down the stairs?"
"There's a MAN in the middle of the street, Dad!" Beaver shouted. "What? A man?" called Ward, not sure that he'd heard right.
Little Beaver, and his older brother, sandy-haired Wally, appeared at the top of the stairs. Beaver continued "Yeah! Standin' right out in the middle of the street!" Wally added "He keeps lookin' at a map! He looks like he's lost or something!"
Ward and June rushed to a window and looked out onto the street. Sure enough, a man was standing right in the middle of the street, seemingly oblivious to all the honking cars that swerved to avoid him. "Say, that's the odd little fellow that tapped on my windshield!" Ward exclaimed.
The man on the street was acting very peculiar. Still ignoring the traffic, he would look up from his map, look left, look right, scratch his chin, look back at his map, look up again, look left, look right, scratch his chin, and look back at his map. He repeated these motions like clockwork.
"There's going to be an accident if he doesn't get out of there!" June cried. Ward rushed out the front door, followed by the rest of the family, and tried to get the man's attention. "Hey!" He called. "Look out! You're going to get hit!" The others also tried to get his attention.
The man looked up, smiled, and waved at them genially. Ward cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted "YOU, THERE! LOOK OUT!" The man held his hand to his ear, indicating that he couldn't hear them, then held up one finger as if to say, hang on a second.
As the Cleaver family watched in disbelief, the man folded up his map and casually started to walk across the road toward them. It seemed to be pure luck that the cars and trucks missed flattening him by mere centimeters as he strolled toward the Cleavers' front lawn.
The man reached the Cleavers and stepped onto the sidewalk, exactly one second before a large pickup drove over the spot where he had just been standing. The family sighed in relief, and Beaver exclaimed "Gee whiz, Mister, those cars nearly squashed you!" Ward said "You gave us quite a scare there, Mister. You alright?" The man nodded and, with an air of importance, drew himself up and said "Bean."
"Bean?" asked June, confused. The man pointed to himself and said "Mm-hmm. Bean. Ah- Mister Bean." His British accent was deep and rather goofy-sounding.
"Oh!" exclaimed June and Ward. Ward cleared his throat and said "Well, nice to meet you, Mister Bean. I'm Ward Cleaver and this my wife, June, and our children, Wally and Theodore."
Mr. Bean shook hands with Ward, then knelt down and kissed June's hand gallantly. June was just about to remark on what a gentleman he was, when she noticed that something was wrong. Mr. Bean's face had turned purple, and he started to gasp.
Mr. Bean jumped up and grabbed his throat, making strangled gags. "What's wrong?" asked Ward, alarmed, and started to pat him on the back. June looked down and yelped.
"My wedding ring!" she cried. "It's gone!" Wally's eyes widened. "Hey! I think he SWALLOWED it!" "He's choking on it!" shrieked June.
Suddenly, Beaver remembered last month, when his class had learned some First Aid from a doctor that had visited the school. Not stopping to think, he ran forward and grabbed the choking Mr. Bean around the waist and squeezed the way the doctor had shown them.
After a second, a small shiny object came flying out of Mr. Bean's mouth. Beaver let go and Mister Bean doubled over, gasping as the purple drained out of his face. "Are you alright?" Ward asked anxiously.
Mr. Bean looked up, not at Ward, but at Beaver. "Saved… saved my life," he wheezed. Beaver backed away, saying "Aw, gee, I-I was just-" he stopped, astonished, as Mr. Bean got down on his hands and knees, head bowed, and proclaimed "Your servant!"
Behind them, Ward coughed awkwardly. "Um- yes, well, Mr. Bean, you were on the bus, correct? What happened?"
Mr. Bean stood up and shrugged. "Er… the bu-bus left. Wasn't on it." Ward nodded. "No wonder, with all those people stampeding to get back in." "Oh dear," June breathed. "What became of your luggage?"
Mr. Bean reached down his side, as if reaching for an invisible suitcase. Then, after grasping at the air, he looked down and let out a bloodcurdling shriek.
The Cleavers jumped, and Mr. Bean wildly looked around in panic. He then started to run up and down the street and shouting "TEDDY! TEDDY! TEEEEEEEEEEEDDDDDY!"
Ward caught Mr. Bean by the shoulder. "Calm down, calm down! Do you remember where you left your luggage, and -er- Teddy?"
Mr. Bean took a deep breath and scratched his chin. Then he scratched his head. Then he winked one eye, and then the other. Then he whirled his head around as if he had a stiff neck. Then he bent over forwards at the waist, then backwards. Wally whispered to Beaver "Is this guy for real?"
Finally, Mr. Bean threw up his hands and waggled his head like a dog, which the Cleavers took to mean no. He collapsed onto the lawn and put his head in his hands. Ward and June looked at each other. Ward cleared his throat. "Er- cheer up, old man, maybe we could lend you a change of clothes while you find a hotel."
Mr. Bean looked up hopefully, but Beaver said "But, gee, Dad, how will he get a hotel room if all he has is British money, like in that one picture?"
Everyone stared at Beaver. Wally actually glanced around, as if looking for someone else who might have said it. It was no surprise that this obvious fact had evaded Mr. Bean, but all of the Cleavers but Beaver?
After an awkward silence, Ward coughed and said "Er- you're right, Beaver. Well… I suppose… you could stay with us? For the night, anyway?"
June looked worried. She whispered to Ward "Dear? D-do you think that's a good idea?" Ward murmured back "Well, June, it's like what we were talking about earlier. He's stranded in a foreign country with no money. He's got nowhere else to go."
When Mr. Bean had processed what they were offering, he joyously jumped up and nodded vigorously. He then moved to hug Ward, who reflexively backed away. Then he turned back to the Beaver, and inclined his head, once again intoning "Your servant."
Much to Beaver's confusion, Mr. Bean proceeded take Beaver's baseball cap off of his head and delicately carry it in his hands like a crown on a cushion.
Privately, June worried that they had made the right decision.
-Chapter Two-
The door to the kitchen opened and in stepped Mr. Bean. Despite the mundaneness of the small kitchen, Mr. Bean gaped around as if it was the most amazing thing he'd ever seen. He nearly tripped over the shoe rack.
The Cleavers followed him in. Ward tapped Mr. Bean on the shoulder, causing him to jump. "The sitting-room is this way, won't you sit down?" Mr. Bean nodded and dutifully followed Ward out of the kitchen and through the hallway, pausing only to briefly marvel at the stairs.
The Cleavers' sitting-room was clean and cozy, much like the Cleavers themselves. Ward gestured to a chair, and Mr. Bean lowered himself into it, slowly and reverently. June and the boys entered, and June joined Ward on the sofa. "I'm sorry if the house seems a bit untidy," she said, "We really weren't expecting company." Ward opened his mouth, then closed it. He had been about to offer Mr. Bean a pipe, then remembered how he'd nearly killed himself by just kissing a hand and thought better of it.
"Well, I think I'll go make us something to snack on," said June. Mr. Bean started to get up and say "I'll help-"
"NO, no, thank you, I can manage. I'll only be a moment."
Mr. Bean started to sit back down, then seemed to notice Beaver standing with Wally beside the couch. He immediately jumped back up and gestured warmly at the chair to Beaver. Beaver, realizing that Mr. Bean was offering it to him, shook his head and said "Oh, um… no thanks, mister, I-I'm okay."
At this, Mr. Bean grabbed the chair and pushed it noisily across the sitting-room to behind the Beaver. Beaver was rather embarrassed but felt that he couldn't refuse now, so he started to sit down into it. Suddenly, Mr. Bean shrieked
"WAIT!"
Ward and Wally both started, and Beaver jumped up in alarm. "What is it? What's wrong?" he cried.
Mr. Bean dusted off the cushion and plumped it up. Then he gestured for Beaver to sit back down.
Ward and the boys sighed in relief, and Beaver collapsed into the chair, red-faced. Ward put his hand on his heart and said "You gave us quite a scare again, Mr. Bean. Er- so what do you do for a living?"
Mr. Bean said nothing for a moment. Then he started to mumble something incoherent. Ward leaned toward him, but couldn't make out what he was saying any better. Mr. Bean started to wave his hand around dismissively, and looked off into the middle distance as he muttered, but didn't raise his voice.
Ward started to ask "Sorry, I couldn't make that out, what were you-?" when June came in carrying a plate of finger sandwiches. The men appreciatively helped themselves.
Ward bit into his, then looked up and said "Pardon me, Mr. Bean, but… I think the Beaver can feed himself his sandwich."
-Chapter Three-
After the refreshments, Wally was asked to go up and show Mr. Bean the guest room. Wally's patience was admirable as Mr. Bean poked around the room, looked in the drawers, and experimentally bounced on the bed a little.
Back downstairs, Ward and June were discussing their outlandish guest. Ward was sympathetic with him, but June was worried about him staying in the house with them. "He just seems…" she said, which actually summed up his character nicely.
"He is rather odd," Ward conceded, "but he's isolated right in the middle of the United States. He has nowhere else to turn to. And he seems to have a sense of integrity. I mean, the Beaver stopped him from choking, and he made himself his servant!"
"And that's another thing, dear. Assuming he does genuinely want to be Beaver's servant, will he still want to leave eventually? And come to think of it, how will he even be able to leave?"
Ward shrugged. "I suppose we'll have to find his luggage. Hopefully he can remember where he left it before his group leaves the city. In the meantime, he is our guest, and we will treat him hospitably."
June sighed and said "Yes, you're right, he is a guest. And he is devoted to helping the Beaver. I have to admit that that is rather endearing." And she turned back to dinner.
Dinner was roast beef. As soon as Ward called "Soup's on!" Mr. Bean jumped up from the magazine's he had been reading in the sitting-room. He rushed into the dining room and pulled out the chair for the Beaver. Beaver, still slightly discomfited, sat down –and crashed to the floor. Mr. Bean had accidentally pulled the chair out too far.
After everyone had sat down and gotten situated, Mr. Bean began eating with extreme gusto, making loud noises of satisfaction all the while. Everyone else awkwardly tried to overlook this and make conversation with their company. They quickly discovered that Mr. Bean apparently wasn't the over-dinner-chatting type. He answered all questions directed at him with mumbles and mutterings that he seemed to assume the Cleavers would understand. The highlight of the meal- for Wally at least -was when Mr. Bean enthusiastically tried to pass Beaver the salt and ended up spilling it all over him.
After the main course, June brought out some chocolate cake for dessert. Mr. Bean at least knew how to keep the icing on hid plate, but Beaver's patience was running thin as Mr. Bean kept trying to slip him some of his own cake.
After dinner, Beaver had a word with his mother about this annoyance. Usually a polite boy, Mr. Bean's attempts at servitude had done a number on Beaver's nerves.
"Gee, Mom, I know he's a guest and stuff, but he's drivin' me crazy!" "Sssshhhh!" reprimanded June, glancing around to make sure that Mr. Bean wasn't around. "I know how you're feeling, but Mr. Bean is only trying to repay you for saving his life. It's really an honorable gesture, and there are definitely less appreciative people out there. So while he's staying with us, we need to do our best to make him feel welcome. He didn't ask to be stranded in America, you know."
Beaver nodded. "Yeah, I-I guess that makes sense. But I sure hope he doesn't try and feed me my sandwich again." June smiled in spite of herself. "Well, I think he won't do that again. He didn't at dinner, right?"
Beaver smiled too. "Sure, Mom. And chocolate is pretty good on shirts, too."
June chuckled and playfully swatted Beaver on the shoulder.
Mr. Bean was actually rather bearable for the rest of the evening. True, when Ward suggested that Wally and the Beaver go out and play catch for some bonding time, he went out with them. And true, he did keep jumping in front of the Beaver to catch the ball for him. But some positive reinforcement on the boys' part set him straight, and he spent the rest of the dying sunlight attentively watching the game from a lawn chair.
After the sun had set, Beaver and Wally let Mr. Bean put away the ball and gloves before following them into the house. When they were inside, Ward glanced at his watch and said "Well, boys, tomorrow's a school day, and today's been pretty hectic. You better head up and start getting ready for bed."
"Goodnight Mom, Dad. Goodnight Mr. Bean," The boys said. They went and started up the stairs. Mr. Bean began to follow them. June exclaimed "Oh, no, Mr. Bean -er- you don't have to." Mr. Bean turned back and grunted "Tired. Turn in."
"Oh, alright then," said Ward, "Earlier I got some of my nightclothes and put them on the guest room bed. You can wear them for the night. Sleep well." Mr. Bean nodded, smiled, and followed the boys up the stairs."
As the boys got ready for bed, Beaver tried to be as polite as he could when he told Mr. Bean that he could brush his own teeth and wash himself. From these clues, Mr. Bean seemed to have guessed that Beaver might not want his help changing into his pajamas either, as he patiently waited outside the door. Wally was finding all this very entertaining indeed.
As Mr. Bean stood outside the door, Wally, trying to break the awkward silence between them, asked "So, how long are you gonna be the Beav's servant?" Mr. Bean shrugged and muttered "Till… leave."
Wally started to ask something else, but Mr. Bean suddenly jumped and looked at his finger. It was red with blood.
Mr. Bean smiled feebly at Wally and said "Go... wash." He then rushed off. Wally rubbed his head. He could wrap his brain around choking on a wedding ring, but he wasn't even going to try to figure out how Mr. Bean had managed to prick his finger on a doorknob.
The boys finished changing and got into bed. Beaver said goodnight to Mr. Bean after explaining that there was no need to tuck him in. Wally let out several strange coughs.
At last the boys were alone in their bedroom after Mr. Bean had went to the guest room. Beaver propped himself up on his elbows and said "Say, Wally, what do you think of Mr. Bean?"
Wally rolled over to face the Beaver. "Well… I think he's an "acquired taste". I've heard Mom say that about some people. Eddie Haskell says those people have a screw loose."
Beaver scratched his chin. "I think what Mom says is better. I think that's less likely to get a guy popped one." Wally nodded, and they both lay back down.
Mr. Bean sat up. He looked at the clock beside the bed. From the window's dim light, he could see that it was somewhere around two in the morning. There was a funny feeling in the pit of his gut. A watery, sloshy feeling, like a water balloon had become lodged in his intestines. Mr. Bean knew that feeling. He climbed out of bed and went to find the Cleavers' bathroom.
Mr. Bean blinked several times, the hallway light made it much brighter than the guest room. Not quite awake, he looked around, trying to remember where the bathroom had been. He yawned cavernously and leaned against the wall. The light went out.
Mr. Bean jumped. When he'd leaned against the wall, he'd accidentally switched off the light. He fumbled around in the dark, trying in vain to find it.
Had someone been observing the scene at this point, they wouldn't have seen anything. The hallway was pitch-black, no better than having your eyes shut. Had they listened carefully, however, they would have heard several frantic footsteps. Followed by a thumping sound, a grunt of pain, a crash, a smash, a cat yowl, an "Aha!", a small click, and, after a moment… a toilet flushing.
-Chapter Four-
The Beaver's eyes cracked open. It was morning, and he had to get ready for school. He sat up and yawned, rubbing his groggy eyelids. Wally's bed was empty. He must have already gotten up. Beaver rose and dressed. Afterwards, he opened the bedroom door.
There was a strange man waiting to greet him on the other side.
Beaver yelped and jumped back. It wasn't until the man had lunged forward to catch him, failed and sent them both tumbling to the ground that Beaver remembered. It wasn't a stranger; it was Mr. Bean.
Beaver and Mr. Bean picked themselves up, and Mr. Bean quickly dusted off Beaver's shoulders with a feather-duster he was carrying with him. Beaver managed to utter a "Thanks," and headed downstairs. He wondered what Mr. Bean, who was now following him at what he clearly thought was a respectful distance, would do all day while Beaver was at school.
Wally was already downstairs, along with Ward and June. All three of them were eating bagels in the kitchen. Ward looked up and smiled at the two latecomers. "Well! Good morning, Mr. Bean, Beaver. Grab some bagels."
Mr. Bean took a bagel and spread some cream cheese on it. Beaver quickly said "That's good, Mr. Bean, thanks," just in time to stop him from using the feather-duster on it. Mr. Bean then prepared his own bagel, and commenced to eat it rather messily from the center out for some reason.
June glanced at the clock. "Oh, my, you boys had better had better get going. I've packed your lunches." Sure enough, there were two brown paper bags on the counter. Mr. Bean picked them both up, handing one to Wally. "Thanks," said Wally, surprised that Mr. Bean was paying attention to him as well.
Beaver held out his hand, but Mr. Bean kept holding the bag, seeming to not notice. Beaver looked bewilderedly at his parents. Ward cleared his throat awkwardly and said "Ah… Beaver needs his lunch, Mr. Bean."
Mr. Bean nodded. "Hold on to it 'til then." Ward shared a glance with June, mustered a feeble smile and said "But Mr. Bean, the Beaver needs his lunch at school!"
Mr. Bean nodded again and said "Yes. Hold on the way." June snapped her fingers. "Oh! You mean you want to walk with Beaver to school!" Mr. Bean nodded vigorously.
Ward got up to put his plate away. "Sorry, old sport. Beaver's taking the bus now." Mr. Bean nodded knowingly, as if Ward had just given him a subtle code. "Ah."
June glanced out of the window. "Speaking of the bus…" Beaver followed her gaze. "Whoop! There it is! Bye Mom, Dad, Wally!" Beaver pecked his mother in the cheek and ran out the door. Mr. Bean dutifully followed, still carrying his lunch. In the doorway, he turned around and gave a small wave to the remaining Cleavers. "Cheerio."
The Cleavers automatically waved back. Mr. Bean smiled and hurried out the door. Ward grinned at their eccentric guest, then his smiled faded. He looked at June.
"'Cheerio'?"
Eustace Cloudboyd wasn't exactly the very definition well-raised person. He'd always been his parents' third favorite, and he was an only child.
Despite his rocky early days, however, he was rather well-mannered and polite. Throughout his unexceptional high school life and ups-and-downs college years, he rarely talked back or acted rude. Not even when he was fired from his office job- with severance, fortunately.
It might have been his patient demeanor that had convinced the school to hire him as a bus driver for the elementary school children. Certainly it was a positive quality. Not even when the little brats stood up in their seats or flung spitballs at him did he raise his voice.
There were times, however, when he got fed up. There were occasions when he felt like all his pent-up frustration and anger from over the years would explode out of him. Such as, for example, when odd grown men insisted on taking up seat space to accompany little boys who didn't even look like he wanted to be accompanied.
"I said NO! Get off my BUS!"
Mr. Bean huffed indignantly and backed off the bus onto the ground. He glanced at the Beaver and mouthed Meet you there then. The driver glared at him one more time. Then the doors closed with a hiss and the bus lurched forward to drive away. Mr. Bean tightened his grip on Beaver's lunchbag and took a deep breath. He would have to run fast.
After Mr. Bean was thrown off of the bus, Beaver sighed and sat down next to his best friend, Larry Mondello. Larry's eyes were as wide as his torso as he glanced back Mr. Bean's shrinking figure in the distance. "Gee, Beav, who was that?"
And so the Beaver summarized to Larry how they had met Mr. Bean and how he was Beaver's self-proclaimed servant. When he finished, Larry stared at him with his mouth open. Then he started laughing. "BOY, Beav! I never seen anything like this, not even in a picture!"
Then he turned serious. "You're not pulling my leg, are you? You wouldn't lie to your best friend about something like that, would you?"
"'Course not, Larry!" Beaver looked down to his side. "See, he still has my lunch. He'll probably bring it to school for me today!" Larry sighed. "Gee, Beav. I wish I had a servant like that."
Beaver reflected that it wasn't as great as you would think, but knew it was pointless to tell this to Larry. Once Larry had an idea in his head, it was almost impossible to get it out. The only way to persuade him that an idea was bad was to do it and get in trouble, as Beaver could attest to countless times.
The bus had pulled up in front of the school, and the students had gotten off. Eustace Cloudboyd had gone home to take some pills for various ailments, headaches not the least of them. As the other children milled about before the bell rang, Larry and the Beaver stood on the sidewalk looking out in the direction of Beaver's house.
Larry was eating the apple he was supposed to give to his teacher. "I thought he was gonna bring you your lunch, Beaver." Beaver frowned. "I thought he was too. I figured he would drive up with my dad's car, or somethin'."
Larry scornfully took a bite of the apple. "I'll bet he isn't, Beaver. I'll bet you just made up the whole thing about him being your servant." Beaver whirled around and glared at Larry. "I did NOT! He'll come!"
Larry was about to say "Yeah, sure," but then he saw something over Beaver's shoulder. Beaver turned around and saw it too. It was a distant figure running towards the school. Beaver grinned. "See, I told ya!"
It was, indeed, Mr. Bean, huffing and puffing as he sprinted up with Beaver's lunchbag. He had a hard time stopping, however, and ended up ramming into Larry, sending him tumbling into several other students and toppling them like dominoes.
Mr. Bean, panting but smiling, handed the Beaver his lunch, oblivious to the chaos he was causing. Beaver took it appreciatively. "Thanks, Mr. Bean!"
Mr. Bean glanced down at the ground, and picked up a half-eaten apple. He held it out to the Beaver. "Dropped this." Beaver shook his head. "Uh-uh. It's not mine."
Larry had untangled himself from the other kids, and ran over to Mr. Bean… a few seconds too late. When Mr. Bean learned that the apple wasn't Beaver's, he carelessly tossed the apple over his shoulder and into a nearby garbage dumpster. Larry ran over to the dumpster and looked inside. Then he peered up to the heavens and yelled "WHYYYYYYY?"
-Chapter Five-
The other kids had started to gather in an awed crowd around the Beaver and his servant. This was something entirely new to the schoolyard denizens, who were shocked by the alien concept of an adult at the beck and call of a child. Even haughty Judy Hensler was having a hard time thinking of a snobbish retort.
Beaver was beginning to see Mr. Bean's devotion in a better light, and was having a good time introducing Mr. Bean to all the other kids. Mr. Bean, for his part, kept half-smiling, muttering "Hello," to each child, and patting them on the head.
The teacher for Beaver's grade was Miss Landers. As she moved some papers off of her desk before the bell, she glanced out the window. It looked as though the children were gathering around something, but her angle obscured the view. One of them probably had a new baseball glove, she guessed, or an old license plate.
By the time most of the kids had met Mr. Bean, the school bell rang. One by one, they all reluctantly peeled away from the cluster and went into school. Larry finally managed to stop lamenting by the dumpster and stagger into the building. Beaver glanced at Mr. Bean. Mr. Bean gave no indication of leaving. Beaver experimentally took a few steps toward the building. Mr. Bean dutifully followed him.
The Beaver may have been naïve at times, but he was not stupid. He had realized full well that Mr. Bean was probably going to try and accompany him during class. He could have tried to dissuade him. He could have told Mr. Bean to go home. But… he didn't. This time, Beaver decided, he would just sit back be a bystander, quietly watching events unfold. Besides, he could use a break.
The children gradually filed into Ms. Landers's classroom. They sat down, some chatting amongst themselves. Ms. Landers thought she caught the words neat and bean. Neat beans?, she wondered with a smile.
A few minutes later, Ms. Landers got the first real shock of the day. Mentally, she checked off each student as he or she came in, before she took attendance. If you could read her mind, it would be something like this:
Joseph Shinks: X
Larry Mondello (looking rather upset): X
Margaret Underhill: X
Theodore "Beaver" Cleaver: X
Strange, Odd-looking Man: X
Wait.
Ms. Landers stared at the atypical man who had just followed Theodore into the classroom. He had wide, peering eyes, as if taking in the whole world around him with a mix of wonder and fear. Ms. Landers found something disarming about those eyes.
Trying to get a handle on the situation, Ms. Landers tentatively cleared her throat. "Ha ha hem. Pardon me?"
The man looked at Ms. Landers, then made a peculiar sound in his throat, as if wanting to say something but not having anything to say. Without taking his eyes off of Ms. Landers, he reached up to his head to remove his cap, only he wasn't wearing one.
It took him a moment to figure this out, and when he did he turned red and hurried away towards Theodore. Even more confused, Ms. Landers asked "Theodore, do you know this man?" Beaver, with the same gusto that he'd used when telling the other kids, related to Ms. Landers how Mr. Bean had crashed into the Cleavers' lives.
If the proof for the story was not standing right in Ms. Landers's classroom, she would have never believed it. As it was, she wasn't sure what to say. Beaver, for his part, was suitably proud at having flabbergasted his teacher. How many other kids could boast of that?
While Beaver had been explaining Mr. Bean, Mr. Bean himself had taken advantage of an absent student to sit down in a desk. Getting himself situated, he scooted his chair backward (knocking down Whitey and his desk) and his desk forward (knocking the wind out of Richie by slamming him up against his desk). Mr. Bean smiled to himself. Students and desks having various painful collisions- it brought back memories of his old school days.
Beaver, meanwhile, had managed to convince Ms. Landers of the futility of trying to get Mr. Bean from leaving the class. He told her that Mr. Bean would be quiet and probably wouldn't cause any trouble. Admittedly, he was stretching the truth somewhat, but he was trying to save Ms. Landers a lot of unnecessary hassle. So, against her better judgement, Ms. Landers agreed to let Mr. Bean stay for the lesson, much to the delight of the other children.
At the end of the day, Beaver and his servant went home, the latter shyly waving goodbye to Ms. Landers. Once everyone was gone, she sat down at her desk, rubbed her head, and sighed. As much as she hated to admit it, Mr. Bean had been worse than some of the boys.
It was plain to see that he wasn't trying to make trouble. It hadn't been until the sixth pencil-dropping that things had started to get a bit grating. And then, of course, there had been the time when, eager to solve an arithmetic problem, he'd bumped his head on the desk and had to go to the nurse. Guiltily, she hoped that Mr. Bean would not come back again, and deep down inside she actually felt sorry for the Cleavers. Even if Mr. Bean was rather handsome.