Read Online A Fistful of Fig Newtons by Jean Shepherd - Free Book Online
Authors: Jean Shepherd
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good-bys and make it snappy. We move out at 0700. Convey all your baggage over there to that platform. All Chipmunks raise your hands.”
I stuck my hand proudly in the air along with about a third of the rest of the kids.
“This is your first year, and you are not aware of the tradition of the Chipmunk cap. My assistant, Lieutenant Hubert Kneecamp, will pass them out. You will wear your Chipmunk cap at all times, so that you can be readily identified as a Chipmunk.”
Oh boy! A Chipmunk cap! It has often been noted that lambs go eagerly to the slaughter. So it was with Chipmunks. Lieutenant Hubert Kneecamp, who doubled as the bus driver, stumbled out onto the platform carrying a huge cardboard box. He was tall, very thin, and had a sad expression that reminded me of Pluto in the Mickey Mouse cartoons.
The lieutenant opened the box and began to pass out bright green beanies with a yellow arrowhead on the front. I pressed forward, so as not to miss my cap. Lieutenant Kneecamp shoved one into my waiting mitt. I quickly jammed it onto my head. It came down over my ears and I could barely see out from under the brim.
“They’re all the same size,” Lieutenant Kneecamp said overand over as he passed them out. I noticed Schwartz’s beanie sat on the top of his head like a half of a green tennis ball.
“NOW, ALL YOU CHIPMUNKS,” Captain Crabtree shouted, “LINE UP ON THE PLATFORM. You will sit in a group at the rear of the bus. A Chipmunk does not speak unless spoken to.”
The non-Chipmunks were a head taller and a foot wider than any of us. They had the kind of faces that kids who smoke have. They hit each other in the ribs, laughed back and forth, and a few threw wadded-up balls of paper at us Chipmunks. They wore identical blue jackets and Captain Crabtree called them Beavers.
“O.K., kid. Give ’em hell and hang in there.” That was all my old man had to say to me.
My mother patted my hat down over my ears and whispered, “Don’t forget what I said about your underwear. And you be careful, you hear me now?”
“ALL RIGHT, CHIPMUNKS, ONTO THE BUS. SINGLE FILE, THERE. MOVE OUT.”
The captain herded us onto the bus. We surged to the rear, battling for seats next to the windows. I squatted down in the back between Flick and Schwartz. Kissel sat a few rows up, next to a big fat Chipmunk who looked scared and was sobbing quietly. Then the Beavers whooped and trampled aboard, and Captain Crabtree stood in the aisle.
“Now, I don’t want any trouble on the trip, because if there is, I’m gonna start handing out demerits. Y’hear me? You play ball with me and I’ll play ball with you.” This was a phrase I was to hear many times in future life.
The parents stood on the platform outside the bus, waving and tapping on the windows, making signs to the various kids. Up front, Lieutenant Kneecamp started the engine with a roar. As it bellowed out, the fat Chipmunk next to Kissel wailed and began sobbing uncontrollably. Captain Crabtree stood up and glared angrily around the bus until he spotted Fatso.
“I DON’T WANNA GO!! WAAAAAAAA!! WAAAAAAAAAA!!!”
Lieutenant Kneecamp peered wearily around from the driver’sseat with the expression of one who had witnessed this scene many times before. A couple of the grizzled Beavers laughed raucously and one gave a juicy Bronx cheer.
“WAAAAAAAAAA! I AIN’T GONNA GO!!”
The fat Chipmunk had hurled himself onto the floor of the bus and was crawling toward the door. Captain Crabtree, with the practiced quickness of a man who had seen it all, grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and said in a cold, level voice:
“Chipmunks do not cry. We will have no crying.”
The fat Chipmunk instantly stopped bawling and retreated slightly, his eyes round and staring.
“Put that hat back on, Chipmunk. NOW!” The fat Chipmunk quickly jammed his hat back onto his head.
“Lieutenant Kneecamp, will you please proceed?” Captain Crabtree had the situation well in hand.
I stuck my hand proudly in the air along with about a third of the rest of the kids.
“This is your first year, and you are not aware of the tradition of the Chipmunk cap. My assistant, Lieutenant Hubert Kneecamp, will pass them out. You will wear your Chipmunk cap at all times, so that you can be readily identified as a Chipmunk.”
Oh boy! A Chipmunk cap! It has often been noted that lambs go eagerly to the slaughter. So it was with Chipmunks. Lieutenant Hubert Kneecamp, who doubled as the bus driver, stumbled out onto the platform carrying a huge cardboard box. He was tall, very thin, and had a sad expression that reminded me of Pluto in the Mickey Mouse cartoons.
The lieutenant opened the box and began to pass out bright green beanies with a yellow arrowhead on the front. I pressed forward, so as not to miss my cap. Lieutenant Kneecamp shoved one into my waiting mitt. I quickly jammed it onto my head. It came down over my ears and I could barely see out from under the brim.
“They’re all the same size,” Lieutenant Kneecamp said overand over as he passed them out. I noticed Schwartz’s beanie sat on the top of his head like a half of a green tennis ball.
“NOW, ALL YOU CHIPMUNKS,” Captain Crabtree shouted, “LINE UP ON THE PLATFORM. You will sit in a group at the rear of the bus. A Chipmunk does not speak unless spoken to.”
The non-Chipmunks were a head taller and a foot wider than any of us. They had the kind of faces that kids who smoke have. They hit each other in the ribs, laughed back and forth, and a few threw wadded-up balls of paper at us Chipmunks. They wore identical blue jackets and Captain Crabtree called them Beavers.
“O.K., kid. Give ’em hell and hang in there.” That was all my old man had to say to me.
My mother patted my hat down over my ears and whispered, “Don’t forget what I said about your underwear. And you be careful, you hear me now?”
“ALL RIGHT, CHIPMUNKS, ONTO THE BUS. SINGLE FILE, THERE. MOVE OUT.”
The captain herded us onto the bus. We surged to the rear, battling for seats next to the windows. I squatted down in the back between Flick and Schwartz. Kissel sat a few rows up, next to a big fat Chipmunk who looked scared and was sobbing quietly. Then the Beavers whooped and trampled aboard, and Captain Crabtree stood in the aisle.
“Now, I don’t want any trouble on the trip, because if there is, I’m gonna start handing out demerits. Y’hear me? You play ball with me and I’ll play ball with you.” This was a phrase I was to hear many times in future life.
The parents stood on the platform outside the bus, waving and tapping on the windows, making signs to the various kids. Up front, Lieutenant Kneecamp started the engine with a roar. As it bellowed out, the fat Chipmunk next to Kissel wailed and began sobbing uncontrollably. Captain Crabtree stood up and glared angrily around the bus until he spotted Fatso.
“I DON’T WANNA GO!! WAAAAAAAA!! WAAAAAAAAAA!!!”
Lieutenant Kneecamp peered wearily around from the driver’sseat with the expression of one who had witnessed this scene many times before. A couple of the grizzled Beavers laughed raucously and one gave a juicy Bronx cheer.
“WAAAAAAAAAA! I AIN’T GONNA GO!!”
The fat Chipmunk had hurled himself onto the floor of the bus and was crawling toward the door. Captain Crabtree, with the practiced quickness of a man who had seen it all, grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and said in a cold, level voice:
“Chipmunks do not cry. We will have no crying.”
The fat Chipmunk instantly stopped bawling and retreated slightly, his eyes round and staring.
“Put that hat back on, Chipmunk. NOW!” The fat Chipmunk quickly jammed his hat back onto his head.
“Lieutenant Kneecamp, will you please proceed?” Captain Crabtree had the situation well in hand.
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