Soon after the kids had returned home from school, Arthur was in his room
solving some algebra homework problems when he suddenly realized that it was
time to watch Bunny League. His feet barely made contact with the floor as he
rushed out of his bedroom, sailed down the stairs, and landed on the couch in
front of the TV. The remote was lying on the armrest of the couch, free for
him to take, so he took it.
"Bionic Bunny! Dark Bunny! Amazon Bunny!" intoned the announcer as the opening credits of Arthur's favorite show commenced.
Then his ears were met with an unpleasant sound. "Arthur, it's time for New Moo Revue!" whined D.W. "Give me the remote!"
"But I'm watching Bunny League," Arthur griped as D.W. jumped onto the couch next to him.
"Mom said I could watch New Moo Revue," D.W. insisted. Unwilling to be denied, she grabbed one end of the remote control as Arthur held on to the other end, and soon a struggle was underway. Arthur, being the older child, easily gained the upper hand...but then he recalled his fantasy from earlier in the day.
He quickly released the remote. "Okay, D.W. You can watch your show."
D.W. eagerly flipped the channel.
"When one hero is not enough, you need...Mary Moo Cow, Mary Moo Cow..."
As Arthur bemoaned his misfortune, Adil emerged from the guest bedroom and looked at him and D.W. curiously. "Why are you fighting?" he asked.
"D.W. wants to watch the new Mary Moo Cow show," Arthur explained, "but it's on at the same time as Bunny League."
"In America you have many choices," Adil responded. "When I was in Turkey there was only one channel. We did not fight."
"Whatever," Arthur muttered. On the TV screen, the new Mary Moo Cow, identical to the one that he and D.W. had met at the mall, waltzed about and sang songs with an ethnically diverse and gender-balanced band of adoring children.
"Let's play a game!" gushed Mary in a voice that was even more ridiculously high-pitched than that of the previous cow. "Can you spell game? G-A-M-E."
"Can you spell barf?" Arthur grumbled. "B-A-R-F."
Yet the more he listened to the new cow, the more convinced he was that her voice indeed belonged to Jean Stiles, his one-time teacher, who had denied involvement. On the other hand, if he were Mary Moo Cow, he would surely be loath to admit it...
"Hey, Arthur," D.W. said to him, "is that Mrs. Smiles in the cow suit?"
"That's Mrs. Stiles," Arthur replied. "And that's not her. We asked her, remember?"
"We're riding in a train, we're riding into town," sang Mary and her acolytes. "The doors slide open, closed, the wheels go round and round." Arthur found the song to be intolerably childish, despite the fact that it encouraged the use of public transportation.
Suddenly a pale, feathery hand reached in front of the TV screen and pressed the power button, causing the image to disappear. "Hey!" cried Arthur and D.W. together.
The hand was attached to a long, slender arm, which was in turn attached to the body of a teenage duck girl with spiky blond hair and horn-rimmed glasses. Arthur had seen her before; she was Van's sister Quinn, and this was her first day of service as their babysitter.
She rubbed her fingers on the front of her green vest, as if afraid that she had acquired germs from touching the television. "Mary Moo Cow is a program utterly devoid of anything remotely resembling educational value," she said in a grating, officious voice.
"What did you say?" asked the confused D.W.
"She said it's a baby show," said Arthur, smirking.
"Wrong," Quinn corrected him. "It's a show designed to mesmerize small children and prevent them from crying or misbehaving. It's not intended for the benefit of babies. The only people it helps are parents who are too busy or lazy to give their children the quality personal time they need to develop properly." The girl was now standing directly in front of the TV.
"Okay, okay, I agree with you," said Arthur hastily. "So let's watch Bunny League instead."
Quinn shot him a dirty look. "Bunny League is a show about unrealistic superheroes who do nothing but smash things."
"They don't smash things. They try to stop the supervillains from smashing things."
"But the end result is the same," Quinn went on. "Things get smashed. Children watch them getting smashed. It all happens so quickly that it's hard to tell the heroes from the villains."
"No, it's not," Arthur responded. "The heroes are good-looking and the villains are ugly."
"I can tell we're gonna get along just fine," Quinn grumbled. She then struck her hands together. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Quinn Cooper, and I'll be your babysitter tonight. I just turned eighteen, and I've been accepted into the Harvard law school. That's enough about me. Why don't you tell me who you are?"
"I am Adil Faruk," said Adil, who hadn't moved from his spot in front of the guest bedroom. "I am from Turkey. I promise to be very obedient."
"I'm Arthur Read," Arthur replied. "I'm nine years old, and I'm in Van's class."
"I'm D.W. Read," said D.W. "I'm five years old, and..."
"Hold it," Quinn interrupted. "What does D.W. stand for?"
"I don't like to talk about it."
Arthur was about to tell Quinn the meaning of the initials, but the girl held a hand in front of his mouth. "Let her tell me what it stands for," she insisted. "Refusal to say one's own name is often a symptom of a severe pathology."
D.W. remained speechless. "Tell me what D.W. stands for," Quinn ordered her. "I'm authorized to use whatever means are necessary to extract the information, up to and including dropping spiders down your shirt."
D.W. lowered her eyes. "Dora Winifred," she said bashfully.
Quinn looked a bit disappointed. "I don't like the name Dora. I'll call you Winnie."
"Winnie..." Arthur chuckled with delight. D.W. gave him a scorching look.
"Now let me go over the rules with you," Quinn went on. "Rule number one, no TV."
"No TV?" Arthur and D.W. groaned.
"Rule number two, no junk food."
"Awwww!" they whined.
"Rule number three, no whining."
"What gives you the right to tell us what to do?" Arthur demanded.
"Rule number four, no arguing."
"I'm getting out of here," said D.W., who started to climb down from the couch.
"Rule number five, no leaving the house."
D.W. seated herself and began to sulk.
"Rule number six, no sulking."
"You're not like the other babysitters," Arthur observed.
"You mean the ones who spend all their time listening to music or making out with their boyfriends while you get into all kinds of trouble?"
"Yeah, the good ones."
"You're right," said Quinn flatly. "I'm not like them."
"So what are we gonna do?" Arthur asked her.
"First off, you'll finish your homework. After that, we'll have a delicious dinner of wild rice and spinach salad."
"Ewww!" D.W. grimaced.
"Rule number seven, no picky eating."
Arthur lowered himself from the couch. "Well, I guess I'll get back to my homework."
As Arthur went up the stairs toward his bedroom, D.W. smiled fearlessly at Quinn. "I don't have any homework," she boasted.
"That's all right," Quinn replied. "I'll make you some." The girl walked over to a shelf, then pulled down some sheets of paper and writing instruments.
"Quinn?" said D.W.
"Yes, Winnie?"
"Did you murder our parents?"
(To be continued...)
"Bionic Bunny! Dark Bunny! Amazon Bunny!" intoned the announcer as the opening credits of Arthur's favorite show commenced.
Then his ears were met with an unpleasant sound. "Arthur, it's time for New Moo Revue!" whined D.W. "Give me the remote!"
"But I'm watching Bunny League," Arthur griped as D.W. jumped onto the couch next to him.
"Mom said I could watch New Moo Revue," D.W. insisted. Unwilling to be denied, she grabbed one end of the remote control as Arthur held on to the other end, and soon a struggle was underway. Arthur, being the older child, easily gained the upper hand...but then he recalled his fantasy from earlier in the day.
He quickly released the remote. "Okay, D.W. You can watch your show."
D.W. eagerly flipped the channel.
"When one hero is not enough, you need...Mary Moo Cow, Mary Moo Cow..."
As Arthur bemoaned his misfortune, Adil emerged from the guest bedroom and looked at him and D.W. curiously. "Why are you fighting?" he asked.
"D.W. wants to watch the new Mary Moo Cow show," Arthur explained, "but it's on at the same time as Bunny League."
"In America you have many choices," Adil responded. "When I was in Turkey there was only one channel. We did not fight."
"Whatever," Arthur muttered. On the TV screen, the new Mary Moo Cow, identical to the one that he and D.W. had met at the mall, waltzed about and sang songs with an ethnically diverse and gender-balanced band of adoring children.
"Let's play a game!" gushed Mary in a voice that was even more ridiculously high-pitched than that of the previous cow. "Can you spell game? G-A-M-E."
"Can you spell barf?" Arthur grumbled. "B-A-R-F."
Yet the more he listened to the new cow, the more convinced he was that her voice indeed belonged to Jean Stiles, his one-time teacher, who had denied involvement. On the other hand, if he were Mary Moo Cow, he would surely be loath to admit it...
"Hey, Arthur," D.W. said to him, "is that Mrs. Smiles in the cow suit?"
"That's Mrs. Stiles," Arthur replied. "And that's not her. We asked her, remember?"
"We're riding in a train, we're riding into town," sang Mary and her acolytes. "The doors slide open, closed, the wheels go round and round." Arthur found the song to be intolerably childish, despite the fact that it encouraged the use of public transportation.
Suddenly a pale, feathery hand reached in front of the TV screen and pressed the power button, causing the image to disappear. "Hey!" cried Arthur and D.W. together.
The hand was attached to a long, slender arm, which was in turn attached to the body of a teenage duck girl with spiky blond hair and horn-rimmed glasses. Arthur had seen her before; she was Van's sister Quinn, and this was her first day of service as their babysitter.
She rubbed her fingers on the front of her green vest, as if afraid that she had acquired germs from touching the television. "Mary Moo Cow is a program utterly devoid of anything remotely resembling educational value," she said in a grating, officious voice.
"What did you say?" asked the confused D.W.
"She said it's a baby show," said Arthur, smirking.
"Wrong," Quinn corrected him. "It's a show designed to mesmerize small children and prevent them from crying or misbehaving. It's not intended for the benefit of babies. The only people it helps are parents who are too busy or lazy to give their children the quality personal time they need to develop properly." The girl was now standing directly in front of the TV.
"Okay, okay, I agree with you," said Arthur hastily. "So let's watch Bunny League instead."
Quinn shot him a dirty look. "Bunny League is a show about unrealistic superheroes who do nothing but smash things."
"They don't smash things. They try to stop the supervillains from smashing things."
"But the end result is the same," Quinn went on. "Things get smashed. Children watch them getting smashed. It all happens so quickly that it's hard to tell the heroes from the villains."
"No, it's not," Arthur responded. "The heroes are good-looking and the villains are ugly."
"I can tell we're gonna get along just fine," Quinn grumbled. She then struck her hands together. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Quinn Cooper, and I'll be your babysitter tonight. I just turned eighteen, and I've been accepted into the Harvard law school. That's enough about me. Why don't you tell me who you are?"
"I am Adil Faruk," said Adil, who hadn't moved from his spot in front of the guest bedroom. "I am from Turkey. I promise to be very obedient."
"I'm Arthur Read," Arthur replied. "I'm nine years old, and I'm in Van's class."
"I'm D.W. Read," said D.W. "I'm five years old, and..."
"Hold it," Quinn interrupted. "What does D.W. stand for?"
"I don't like to talk about it."
Arthur was about to tell Quinn the meaning of the initials, but the girl held a hand in front of his mouth. "Let her tell me what it stands for," she insisted. "Refusal to say one's own name is often a symptom of a severe pathology."
D.W. remained speechless. "Tell me what D.W. stands for," Quinn ordered her. "I'm authorized to use whatever means are necessary to extract the information, up to and including dropping spiders down your shirt."
D.W. lowered her eyes. "Dora Winifred," she said bashfully.
Quinn looked a bit disappointed. "I don't like the name Dora. I'll call you Winnie."
"Winnie..." Arthur chuckled with delight. D.W. gave him a scorching look.
"Now let me go over the rules with you," Quinn went on. "Rule number one, no TV."
"No TV?" Arthur and D.W. groaned.
"Rule number two, no junk food."
"Awwww!" they whined.
"Rule number three, no whining."
"What gives you the right to tell us what to do?" Arthur demanded.
"Rule number four, no arguing."
"I'm getting out of here," said D.W., who started to climb down from the couch.
"Rule number five, no leaving the house."
D.W. seated herself and began to sulk.
"Rule number six, no sulking."
"You're not like the other babysitters," Arthur observed.
"You mean the ones who spend all their time listening to music or making out with their boyfriends while you get into all kinds of trouble?"
"Yeah, the good ones."
"You're right," said Quinn flatly. "I'm not like them."
"So what are we gonna do?" Arthur asked her.
"First off, you'll finish your homework. After that, we'll have a delicious dinner of wild rice and spinach salad."
"Ewww!" D.W. grimaced.
"Rule number seven, no picky eating."
Arthur lowered himself from the couch. "Well, I guess I'll get back to my homework."
As Arthur went up the stairs toward his bedroom, D.W. smiled fearlessly at Quinn. "I don't have any homework," she boasted.
"That's all right," Quinn replied. "I'll make you some." The girl walked over to a shelf, then pulled down some sheets of paper and writing instruments.
"Quinn?" said D.W.
"Yes, Winnie?"
"Did you murder our parents?"
(To be continued...)
