"Help! Help!" squealed D.W. mockingly. "Vicita, D.W., help us! The wicked
witch Galaundriel captured us and put us in her tower and turned us into ugly
trolls!"
In D.W.'s room, Vicita sat and watched while D.W. performed a comedy sketch with her toys. She had built a block tower with two troll dolls standing on top, and was bringing two princess dolls mounted on unicorns up to the tower entrance.
"Do not fear!" D.W. cried triumphantly. "I, Princess D.W., and my best friend, Princess Vicita, will rescue you!"
She then provided the raspy voice of one of the trolls. "But how will you get us out? The tower is so tall, and you are so small!"
"Not a problem!" D.W. caused the mounted princesses to charge into the tower wall, knocking it down and reducing the structure to a pile of blocks.
"Hey, you squished us!" complained one of the fallen trolls.
Vicita laughed gleefully. "Oh, D.W., that's so funny!"
Suddenly D.W. heard a noise and turned her head toward the bedroom door. "Someone's coming!"
Vicita gasped with alarm and instantly vanished in a puff of smoke. Through the door charged the real Vicita, wearing a broad smile and clutching a blonde cowgirl doll in each hand. "I brought my dolls," she announced proudly. "Now we can play Gunslinging Girls of the Golden West."
"Saddle up, pardner!" said the excited D.W. As Vicita sat down beside her, they placed the cowgirl dolls atop the unicorns and wiggled them in a slow trot.
"Well, looky there, Vicita," said D.W. in a Texas drawl. "Ah reckon that there's a Wanted poster on that there tree over yonder."
"Well, let's mosey on over and have a look-see," Vicita suggested. The two girls dismounted their dolls. "Well, looky there, D.W. It says on that there Wanted poster, 'Wanted, Dead or Alive, Nasty Nadine and Evil Emily.'"
"Ah reckon it does say that," D.W. concurred. Then the girls used their free hands to pick up the two troll dolls from the wreckage of the block tower.
"Hey, you over yonder! Stick 'em up!" said D.W., wiggling her troll doll. "I'm Nasty Nadine!"
"And I'm Evil Emily!" Vicita added.
"And we're the Gunslinging Girls of the Golden West," said D.W. through her cowgirl doll. "We're the law in these here parts, and you got two choices. You can go to jail alive, or you can go to jail dead."
"We choose dead!" cried Vicita in a troll-like voice.
"Bang, bang!" shouted D.W.
"Bang, bang!" shouted Vicita.
"Ugh, ugh!" grunted D.W.
"Ugh, ugh!" grunted Vicita. The two troll dolls fell over onto the floor, vanquished.
"Good shootin', pardner," D.W. commended Vicita.
The two girls fell silent when they heard the voice of a strange man coming from the living room. "Someone's here," D.W. observed.
After a few seconds of careful listening, she recognized the voice. "It's that wind guy again."
"What wind guy?" asked Vicita, setting down her cowgirl doll.
"He's my dad's old friend," D.W. replied. "His name's Gust Windblow, or something like that. Come on."
The girls sneaked quietly out of the bedroom and along the upstairs hall. From their vantage point they saw Angus Winslow, now dressed in a yellow knit sweater, sitting on the couch below. Arthur sat next to him, and the two seemed to be enjoying a friendly chat.
"Yeah, she was in our class today," Arthur told the man. "She's some kind of magician. She did all kinds of cool tricks."
"What kind of tricks?" asked Winslow with interest.
"She made a power cord wave around like a snake," answered Arthur, his voice tinged with amazement. "She stuck a flute through her head. And when we were at the Sugar Bowl, she changed my voice so I sounded like my friend Muffy."
Winslow scowled slightly. "I think you're exaggerating," he said sternly. "Now tell me about Dolly's tricks again, only this time I want the truth." With that, he started to wave his right hand, jade ring and all, in front of Arthur's face.
D.W. and Vicita watched with surprise as Arthur's eyes glazed over and a vacuous grin spread over his face. "What I told you was the truth," the aardvark boy insisted. "I think she's really a witch, like she says."
A thought suddenly struck D.W. "Stay here," she whispered to Vicita, and then started to amble casually down the stairway, singing, "La de da de da..."
Winslow smiled welcomingly, and Arthur grinned vacuously, as D.W. strolled into the living room, consciously trying to act as if nothing were out of the ordinary. Vicita observed curiously as D.W. stopped in front of Arthur, reached up, pulled his glasses off, breathed on them, and replaced them on his face.
Arthur showed no hint of anger, but simply removed his glasses and started to wipe the fog from them with his shirt. His grin remained vacuous.
"Your feet stink, Arthur," said D.W. innocently as her brother put on his glasses. "And your breath stinks, and your ears stink, and your nose stinks. You stink all over. You're the stinkiest stinker who ever stinked."
"I'm glad you're my sister, D.W.," said Arthur, still grinning (you guessed it) vacuously.
"I don't know how somebody who stinks like you do can have so many girlfriends," D.W. went on. "Francine's your girlfriend, and Muffy's your girlfriend, and Fern's your girlfriend, and Jenna's your girlfriend, and..."
"I only had one girlfriend," said Arthur, grinning (that's right) vacuously. "That was Sue Ellen."
Before D.W. had a chance to hurl more insults, Mr. Winslow interrupted her. "I think you should talk more nicely to your older brother," he said, moving his ring hand in front of D.W.'s face.
But D.W. was ready for him. Quickly wrapping her hands around his jade ring, she began to pull and tug with all her strength. "Ow!" exclaimed Winslow. "What are you..." After about five tugs, D.W. managed to yank the ring from the man's finger.
"Give that back!" Winslow bellowed. He lunged for the ring, but D.W. leaped backwards to avoid his grasp. She then seized the ring with both hands and began to wave it back and forth, its jade end pointed at Winslow. "You are in my poooweeer," she droned hypnotically. "You will be niiiice...you will tell the truuuth..."
"D.W., please give Mr. Winslow his ring back," Arthur asked politely.
Apparently unaffected by D.W.'s spell, Winslow put his long arm forward and plucked the ring from the girl's hands. D.W. fled out of the room and up the stairway as he replaced the ring on his slightly chafed finger. The doorbell rang, but he seemed too aggravated to notice.
"Well?" asked Vicita when D.W. reached her position on the second floor.
"It didn't work," said D.W. gloomily. "It's not magic."
Mr. Winslow's ears (which were unusually long, even for a rabbit person) picked up the sound of Mrs. Read greeting a visitor as he turned to the grinning Arthur and remarked, "Your sister's smarter than she looks."
"She's the best little sister I ever had," said Arthur with a tone of idyllic cheerfulness.
Maria Harris, wearing her best red silk blouse and blue slacks with a hole in the back for her tail, followed Mrs. Read into the living room. "I left Nadine with Emily and Marie-Helen," she related as Mr. Winslow stood up to greet her. "She's still angry with D.W. over the lamp situation."
"Arthur, why don't you go see if Adil needs help with his report?" asked Mrs. Read, who was seating herself across from Mrs. Harris and Mr. Winslow.
"Yes, Mother." Without hesitation, Arthur jumped to his feet and hurried into the guest bedroom, where Adil was laboring tirelessly on a report about water on Mars. His place on the couch was snatched up by Mrs. Harris, who couldn't seem to take her eyes off of the tall, handsome rabbit man seated next to her.
"Dave tells me you're an expert on witches," she said wistfully. "I'm interested in witches as well. I dress Nadine up like a witch every Halloween. I had a great-aunt who claimed she was a witch. When I was a little girl, my favorite book was 'The Witch of Blackbird Pond'."
"Mm-hmm," grunted Winslow.
"So tell me, what interests do you have besides witches?" Mrs. Harris asked him.
"More witches," was his reply.
---
While Mrs. Harris cozied up to Mr. Winslow, Alan and his parents were welcoming a stranger into their home. Dolly was holding a suitcase, which Prunella had packed full of Muffy's clothes, while Alan and Prunella shook hands.
"Now you've got your bed to yourself again," Alan observed.
"Oh, I don't mind sharing it," Prunella responded. "I'm just a little worried about Dolly casting spells in her sleep."
Dolly giggled as Prunella departed through the front door. "The guest bedroom is this way," said Alan, and Dolly followed after him, suitcase in hand.
The two children stepped into the guest room, which featured bare walls, a dingy wooden floor, and a few spots of peeling paint. "I know it's not much to look at," said Alan as Dolly put down her suitcase, "but at least it's warm."
"It will do nicely," said Dolly. "'Tis very kind of you and your parents, Alan."
"My mom will bring in some sheets and blankets in a..." Alan began, but stopped when Dolly suddenly went into a trancelike state. "What is it?"
Dolly didn't answer, but walked forward slowly, her gaze fixed. Alan watched silently as she knelt down, reached underneath the bed, and seemed to wrap her hand around an object. Then she pulled out her arm, rose to her feet, and unclenched her fist. "Good heavens!" she cried ecstatically. "Alan, it's gold!"
At first, Alan thought the shiny object in Dolly's hand might be a discarded piece of chocolate in a golden wrapper. He moved in to take a closer look...and slapped his forehead in dismay.
It was indeed a gold coin. The image of a boy's face was engraven on it, and around it the words, REPUBLIC OF JASON.
"I wonder how that got there," Alan silently asked himself. To Dolly he said aloud, "You...you can sense gold?"
"Any witch worth her salt can sense gold," replied Dolly, still gloating over her find. "It must be worth a pretty penny. I've never heard of the Republic of Jason. Is it over the sea?"
Alan simply groaned.
----
The conversation between Mrs. Read, Mr. Winslow, and Mrs. Harris wound to a close, and soon Winslow was standing by the front door, retrieving his jacket from the coat closet. Mrs. Harris was saying her farewells, while Mrs. Read remained in the living room, knowing well enough to leave the pair alone.
"I can't tell you how happy I am to meet someone like you," Mrs. Harris gushed, her tail wagging vigorously. "It's so hard to make interesting conversation with the men in this neighborhood. All they talk about is work, sports, work, beer, work..."
"And I'm pleased to meet such a fine woman as yourself, Maria," said Winslow, fastening the buttons on his jacket. "I'll be in Elwood until the weekend, so perhaps you and I could meet for dinner."
"Oh, that would be lovely!" Mrs. Harris enthused. "And a movie. I just love movies."
"Dinner and a movie it is, then," declared Winslow. "Friday evening, perhaps?"
"Friday's good," said Mrs. Harris breathlessly.
"Six p.m.," said Winslow, reaching for the doorknob. "I'll meet you here."
"I'll be here." She smiled eagerly as the tall man disappeared through the door.
Soon Winslow was strolling down the sidewalk, breathing in the somewhat nippy February air, and feeling as if all was right in the world. Elwood City was such a contrast to Salem--friendlier people, fewer crowds, a slower pace, drivers who didn't look upon other cars as prey. And maybe the dating pool wasn't as daunting to men as he had been told. But the girl...was she really what she claimed to be? It seemed impossible, but if it was true, then nothing would ever be the same again...
He walked on, carelessly whistling the Dies Irae, unaware that a pair of invisible eyes were carefully observing his every move.
TBC
In D.W.'s room, Vicita sat and watched while D.W. performed a comedy sketch with her toys. She had built a block tower with two troll dolls standing on top, and was bringing two princess dolls mounted on unicorns up to the tower entrance.
"Do not fear!" D.W. cried triumphantly. "I, Princess D.W., and my best friend, Princess Vicita, will rescue you!"
She then provided the raspy voice of one of the trolls. "But how will you get us out? The tower is so tall, and you are so small!"
"Not a problem!" D.W. caused the mounted princesses to charge into the tower wall, knocking it down and reducing the structure to a pile of blocks.
"Hey, you squished us!" complained one of the fallen trolls.
Vicita laughed gleefully. "Oh, D.W., that's so funny!"
Suddenly D.W. heard a noise and turned her head toward the bedroom door. "Someone's coming!"
Vicita gasped with alarm and instantly vanished in a puff of smoke. Through the door charged the real Vicita, wearing a broad smile and clutching a blonde cowgirl doll in each hand. "I brought my dolls," she announced proudly. "Now we can play Gunslinging Girls of the Golden West."
"Saddle up, pardner!" said the excited D.W. As Vicita sat down beside her, they placed the cowgirl dolls atop the unicorns and wiggled them in a slow trot.
"Well, looky there, Vicita," said D.W. in a Texas drawl. "Ah reckon that there's a Wanted poster on that there tree over yonder."
"Well, let's mosey on over and have a look-see," Vicita suggested. The two girls dismounted their dolls. "Well, looky there, D.W. It says on that there Wanted poster, 'Wanted, Dead or Alive, Nasty Nadine and Evil Emily.'"
"Ah reckon it does say that," D.W. concurred. Then the girls used their free hands to pick up the two troll dolls from the wreckage of the block tower.
"Hey, you over yonder! Stick 'em up!" said D.W., wiggling her troll doll. "I'm Nasty Nadine!"
"And I'm Evil Emily!" Vicita added.
"And we're the Gunslinging Girls of the Golden West," said D.W. through her cowgirl doll. "We're the law in these here parts, and you got two choices. You can go to jail alive, or you can go to jail dead."
"We choose dead!" cried Vicita in a troll-like voice.
"Bang, bang!" shouted D.W.
"Bang, bang!" shouted Vicita.
"Ugh, ugh!" grunted D.W.
"Ugh, ugh!" grunted Vicita. The two troll dolls fell over onto the floor, vanquished.
"Good shootin', pardner," D.W. commended Vicita.
The two girls fell silent when they heard the voice of a strange man coming from the living room. "Someone's here," D.W. observed.
After a few seconds of careful listening, she recognized the voice. "It's that wind guy again."
"What wind guy?" asked Vicita, setting down her cowgirl doll.
"He's my dad's old friend," D.W. replied. "His name's Gust Windblow, or something like that. Come on."
The girls sneaked quietly out of the bedroom and along the upstairs hall. From their vantage point they saw Angus Winslow, now dressed in a yellow knit sweater, sitting on the couch below. Arthur sat next to him, and the two seemed to be enjoying a friendly chat.
"Yeah, she was in our class today," Arthur told the man. "She's some kind of magician. She did all kinds of cool tricks."
"What kind of tricks?" asked Winslow with interest.
"She made a power cord wave around like a snake," answered Arthur, his voice tinged with amazement. "She stuck a flute through her head. And when we were at the Sugar Bowl, she changed my voice so I sounded like my friend Muffy."
Winslow scowled slightly. "I think you're exaggerating," he said sternly. "Now tell me about Dolly's tricks again, only this time I want the truth." With that, he started to wave his right hand, jade ring and all, in front of Arthur's face.
D.W. and Vicita watched with surprise as Arthur's eyes glazed over and a vacuous grin spread over his face. "What I told you was the truth," the aardvark boy insisted. "I think she's really a witch, like she says."
A thought suddenly struck D.W. "Stay here," she whispered to Vicita, and then started to amble casually down the stairway, singing, "La de da de da..."
Winslow smiled welcomingly, and Arthur grinned vacuously, as D.W. strolled into the living room, consciously trying to act as if nothing were out of the ordinary. Vicita observed curiously as D.W. stopped in front of Arthur, reached up, pulled his glasses off, breathed on them, and replaced them on his face.
Arthur showed no hint of anger, but simply removed his glasses and started to wipe the fog from them with his shirt. His grin remained vacuous.
"Your feet stink, Arthur," said D.W. innocently as her brother put on his glasses. "And your breath stinks, and your ears stink, and your nose stinks. You stink all over. You're the stinkiest stinker who ever stinked."
"I'm glad you're my sister, D.W.," said Arthur, still grinning (you guessed it) vacuously.
"I don't know how somebody who stinks like you do can have so many girlfriends," D.W. went on. "Francine's your girlfriend, and Muffy's your girlfriend, and Fern's your girlfriend, and Jenna's your girlfriend, and..."
"I only had one girlfriend," said Arthur, grinning (that's right) vacuously. "That was Sue Ellen."
Before D.W. had a chance to hurl more insults, Mr. Winslow interrupted her. "I think you should talk more nicely to your older brother," he said, moving his ring hand in front of D.W.'s face.
But D.W. was ready for him. Quickly wrapping her hands around his jade ring, she began to pull and tug with all her strength. "Ow!" exclaimed Winslow. "What are you..." After about five tugs, D.W. managed to yank the ring from the man's finger.
"Give that back!" Winslow bellowed. He lunged for the ring, but D.W. leaped backwards to avoid his grasp. She then seized the ring with both hands and began to wave it back and forth, its jade end pointed at Winslow. "You are in my poooweeer," she droned hypnotically. "You will be niiiice...you will tell the truuuth..."
"D.W., please give Mr. Winslow his ring back," Arthur asked politely.
Apparently unaffected by D.W.'s spell, Winslow put his long arm forward and plucked the ring from the girl's hands. D.W. fled out of the room and up the stairway as he replaced the ring on his slightly chafed finger. The doorbell rang, but he seemed too aggravated to notice.
"Well?" asked Vicita when D.W. reached her position on the second floor.
"It didn't work," said D.W. gloomily. "It's not magic."
Mr. Winslow's ears (which were unusually long, even for a rabbit person) picked up the sound of Mrs. Read greeting a visitor as he turned to the grinning Arthur and remarked, "Your sister's smarter than she looks."
"She's the best little sister I ever had," said Arthur with a tone of idyllic cheerfulness.
Maria Harris, wearing her best red silk blouse and blue slacks with a hole in the back for her tail, followed Mrs. Read into the living room. "I left Nadine with Emily and Marie-Helen," she related as Mr. Winslow stood up to greet her. "She's still angry with D.W. over the lamp situation."
"Arthur, why don't you go see if Adil needs help with his report?" asked Mrs. Read, who was seating herself across from Mrs. Harris and Mr. Winslow.
"Yes, Mother." Without hesitation, Arthur jumped to his feet and hurried into the guest bedroom, where Adil was laboring tirelessly on a report about water on Mars. His place on the couch was snatched up by Mrs. Harris, who couldn't seem to take her eyes off of the tall, handsome rabbit man seated next to her.
"Dave tells me you're an expert on witches," she said wistfully. "I'm interested in witches as well. I dress Nadine up like a witch every Halloween. I had a great-aunt who claimed she was a witch. When I was a little girl, my favorite book was 'The Witch of Blackbird Pond'."
"Mm-hmm," grunted Winslow.
"So tell me, what interests do you have besides witches?" Mrs. Harris asked him.
"More witches," was his reply.
---
While Mrs. Harris cozied up to Mr. Winslow, Alan and his parents were welcoming a stranger into their home. Dolly was holding a suitcase, which Prunella had packed full of Muffy's clothes, while Alan and Prunella shook hands.
"Now you've got your bed to yourself again," Alan observed.
"Oh, I don't mind sharing it," Prunella responded. "I'm just a little worried about Dolly casting spells in her sleep."
Dolly giggled as Prunella departed through the front door. "The guest bedroom is this way," said Alan, and Dolly followed after him, suitcase in hand.
The two children stepped into the guest room, which featured bare walls, a dingy wooden floor, and a few spots of peeling paint. "I know it's not much to look at," said Alan as Dolly put down her suitcase, "but at least it's warm."
"It will do nicely," said Dolly. "'Tis very kind of you and your parents, Alan."
"My mom will bring in some sheets and blankets in a..." Alan began, but stopped when Dolly suddenly went into a trancelike state. "What is it?"
Dolly didn't answer, but walked forward slowly, her gaze fixed. Alan watched silently as she knelt down, reached underneath the bed, and seemed to wrap her hand around an object. Then she pulled out her arm, rose to her feet, and unclenched her fist. "Good heavens!" she cried ecstatically. "Alan, it's gold!"
At first, Alan thought the shiny object in Dolly's hand might be a discarded piece of chocolate in a golden wrapper. He moved in to take a closer look...and slapped his forehead in dismay.
It was indeed a gold coin. The image of a boy's face was engraven on it, and around it the words, REPUBLIC OF JASON.
"I wonder how that got there," Alan silently asked himself. To Dolly he said aloud, "You...you can sense gold?"
"Any witch worth her salt can sense gold," replied Dolly, still gloating over her find. "It must be worth a pretty penny. I've never heard of the Republic of Jason. Is it over the sea?"
Alan simply groaned.
----
The conversation between Mrs. Read, Mr. Winslow, and Mrs. Harris wound to a close, and soon Winslow was standing by the front door, retrieving his jacket from the coat closet. Mrs. Harris was saying her farewells, while Mrs. Read remained in the living room, knowing well enough to leave the pair alone.
"I can't tell you how happy I am to meet someone like you," Mrs. Harris gushed, her tail wagging vigorously. "It's so hard to make interesting conversation with the men in this neighborhood. All they talk about is work, sports, work, beer, work..."
"And I'm pleased to meet such a fine woman as yourself, Maria," said Winslow, fastening the buttons on his jacket. "I'll be in Elwood until the weekend, so perhaps you and I could meet for dinner."
"Oh, that would be lovely!" Mrs. Harris enthused. "And a movie. I just love movies."
"Dinner and a movie it is, then," declared Winslow. "Friday evening, perhaps?"
"Friday's good," said Mrs. Harris breathlessly.
"Six p.m.," said Winslow, reaching for the doorknob. "I'll meet you here."
"I'll be here." She smiled eagerly as the tall man disappeared through the door.
Soon Winslow was strolling down the sidewalk, breathing in the somewhat nippy February air, and feeling as if all was right in the world. Elwood City was such a contrast to Salem--friendlier people, fewer crowds, a slower pace, drivers who didn't look upon other cars as prey. And maybe the dating pool wasn't as daunting to men as he had been told. But the girl...was she really what she claimed to be? It seemed impossible, but if it was true, then nothing would ever be the same again...
He walked on, carelessly whistling the Dies Irae, unaware that a pair of invisible eyes were carefully observing his every move.
TBC
