When Arthur woke up the next morning, his eight-year-old mind had all but forgotten about the mysterious phone call, as well as the fate of his sister's toy. It came rushing back to him when he heard a plaintive cry from the hallway.

"Mommm! Where's my Tina the Talking Tabby?"

"I thought you took it to bed with you," came their mother's voice.

"I did," moaned D.W. "But she distappeared."

Arthur stretched and jumped out of his bed, prompted by hunger and an urge to correct his sister's pronunciation. As he walked out of the bedroom in his bunny slippers, a scowling, indignant face greeted him.

"You did it!" D.W. bellowed. "You stole my Tina! Where is she? If you harmed one hair on her head, I'll call the United Nations!"

Arthur did his best to look innocent. "I didn't do it," he claimed. "No one saw me do it. You can't prove anything."

To his surprise, D.W.'s pupils started to glow with an angry red shade. The furious little girl pointed a finger at him, and an odd, tingly sensation spread through his body…

When Mrs. Read next looked up at the hallway, she saw D.W. lowering her arm and grinning with satisfaction. "Where's Arthur?" she asked, seeing no sign of the boy.

"I wished him into the cornfield," D.W. replied.

"We don't have a cornfield," Mrs. Read pointed out.

"Oopsie," said D.W. indifferently.

The aardvark girl descended the stairway, marveling at what she had just done to her brother. "What do you want for breakfast?" her mother inquired.

"I'd like some of Dad's leftover cake," was D.W.'s answer.

"Oatmeal it is," said Mrs. Read.

Frowning, D.W. raised a finger and pointed it at her mother, whose expression suddenly became glazed.

"Yes, D.W.," she droned. "You may have as much cake as you want."

"Excellent," said D.W., tenting her fingers.

As she grabbed a plate and fork to serve herself, Mrs. Read wandered upstairs in search of her son. "Arthur, come down for breakfast," she called out. "We're having cake this morning."

Finding that the remaining pieces of cake were somewhat stale, D.W. closed the refrigerator door, sat down at the kitchen table, gripped her fork tightly, closed her eyes, and concentrated. When she looked again, an ornately frosted three-level wedding cake had materialized in front of her. Standing on top of the cake were miniature versions of Arthur in a tuxedo and Francine in a wedding gown.

Smiling eagerly, D.W. took up her fork and started to carve a chunk from the cake. "Arthur, I love you so much," she mumbled while grabbing the slice with her bare hands. "Will you marry me? Oh, Francine, I thought you'd never ask!"

Three greedy bites later, she watched her mother return from the upper floor. "I can't find Arthur anywhere," the aardvark woman reported. "Where did you get that cake?"

"From heaven," replied the girl with frosting on her cheeks.

Mrs. Read watched in astonishment as D.W. shoveled one forkful after another into her mouth. When it appeared that her daughter had consumed her own weight in cake, she stepped forward and said, "I think you've had enough."

D.W. merely waved a finger at her.

The place where Mrs. Read had stood was now occupied by a shiny new vacuum cleaner.

A frantic, muffled voice emerged from the machine. "Where am I? I can't see! Help! Let me out of here!"

"Suck it up, Mom," said D.W.

A few houses away, Tommy and Timmy Tibble were dressing for school when a strange object appeared on the floor before them.

Tommy paused from buttoning his shirt. "Wow, did you see that?" he remarked. "A toy just popped up out of nowhere."

"It must be from Santa Claus," said Timmy.

"I don't think so," said Tommy. "We've been good, but not that good."

Curious, Timmy bent over and picked up the little plush toy. "It looks like Arthur," he commented.

"Yeah, it's got the glasses and the sweater," said Tommy.

"But no pants," Timmy observed.

"Maybe it's a Tickle Me Arthur," said Tommy excitedly. "Push its tummy."

Timmy did so, and the doll spoke in a clownish voice: "My name is Arthur the Aardvark, and I'm a big fat doofus."

"Cool!" said Tommy with glee.

Timmy pushed the toy's belly button again. "My name is Arthur the Aardvark, and I'm very sorry for what I did to my sister."

"Again!" said Tommy.

"My name is Arthur the Aardvark, and I don't want to be a toy anymore."

"This is the coolest toy ever," Timmy enthused.

"Let's tear it open and see what's inside," said Tommy.

"Yeah," said Timmy. "Maybe it has a spirit."

to be continued