Read Online Leon and the Spitting Image by Allen Kurzweil - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Allen Kurzweil
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Lily-Matisse.
“What do you mean?” P.W. asked.
Lily-Matisse gave a coy shrug.
“Did your mom tell you something?” Leon demanded.
“Maybe.”
“Start talking,” said P.W.
“Yeah, out with it,” Leon insisted.
“Swear you won’t blab?” said Lily-Matisse.
“Swear,” said Leon.
“Promise,” said P.W.
“Crossyourhearthopetodiestickaneedleinyoureye?”
“I’m sick and tired of needles,” said Leon.
“Say it,” Lily-Matisse demanded. “Both of you.”
After the needle oath was duly sworn, Lily-Matisse said, “Okay. Here goes. Did you notice how the first batch of animiles just kinda disappeared from the finished bin?”
“Yeah, so?” said Leon.
“What about it?” said P.W.
“Mom told me she saw the Hag carrying a big black plastic garbage bag out of school. Mom said she looked like the Grinch.”
“The Grinch wears green, not black,” said P.W.
“What difference does
that
make? The point is, the Hag is swiping our projects!”
“Maybe she’s selling them,” P.W. suggested.
Lily-Matisse swung into a sitting position. “Who’d want to buy animiles?”
“And besides,” said Leon. “How much could the Hag make?”
“A lot,” said P.W. “I mean think about it. Say each animile sells for five bucks. Twenty kids times—”
“There are only eighteen in our class,” Lily-Matisse interrupted.
“Don’t nitpick,” said P.W. “I’m just guesstimating. Let’s figure five dollars times twenty kids times ten animiles.”
“We only have to make
nine,”
said Leon. “One a month, remember?”
“Will you guys let me finish?” P.W. took a deep breath and started over. “Five dollars times twenty kids times ten animiles. That makes … ”
The jungle gym turned silent. Then P.W., who was the fastest calculator of the three, screamed, “A THOUSAND DOLLARS!”
They were mulling over the staggering sum when someone beckoned from below.
“Yoo-hoo, Sir Panty Hose!”
Leon’s stomach tightened. He recognized the voice. A quick glance downward confirmed his fears.
“Oh, please come down, Sir Panty Hose.” Henry Lumpkin jumped up and smacked Leon on the thigh.
“Please!”
Leon tried to stay put, but the smacking intensified until he had no choice. He had to hop off and face Lumpkin.
P.W. and Lily-Matisse dropped down, too.
“So you think I look better with a pillowcase on my head?” Lumpkin sneered.
“I was only kidding,” said Leon, anxiously kicking the asphalt.
From inside his olive drab army jacket, Lumpkinremoved a pair of panty hose and pitched them at Leon’s feet.
“He’s throwing down the gauntlet!” P.W. exclaimed.
It was a phrase they all knew from their
Medieval Readers
. A gauntlet was a kind of old-fashioned glove that nobles tossed to the ground when demanding a duel.
News of the challenge spread quickly. Within minutes, a dozen or so classmates circled the two combatants, creating a human wall that screened the makeshift battleground from the teachers’ bench.
It would be wonderful to report that Sir Leon summoned up some untapped power and that he trounced the evil Lord Lumpkin. Sadly, that did not happen. More predictably, Lumpkin dispensed a vicious array of punches, slaps, kicks, dead-arms, and bent-knuckled noogies that left Leon sprawled on the playground blacktop.
It took him a long, painful minute to shake off the daze and stumble away.
“Not so fast,” said Lumpkin.
Something soft smacked Leon in the shoulder blade. Instinct told him to keep moving, but he couldn’t. A powerful hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.
“Put them on,” Lumpkin snarled. “Now!”
“What?” said Leon, pretending not see the “gauntlet” on the ground.
Lumpkin snatched up the panty hose and brandished them threateningly, inches from Leon’s face. “I
said
put them on.”
A couple of onlookers reinforced the command by chanting, “Put, them, on! Put, them, on!”
Leon looked around. There was no way he could break
“What do you mean?” P.W. asked.
Lily-Matisse gave a coy shrug.
“Did your mom tell you something?” Leon demanded.
“Maybe.”
“Start talking,” said P.W.
“Yeah, out with it,” Leon insisted.
“Swear you won’t blab?” said Lily-Matisse.
“Swear,” said Leon.
“Promise,” said P.W.
“Crossyourhearthopetodiestickaneedleinyoureye?”
“I’m sick and tired of needles,” said Leon.
“Say it,” Lily-Matisse demanded. “Both of you.”
After the needle oath was duly sworn, Lily-Matisse said, “Okay. Here goes. Did you notice how the first batch of animiles just kinda disappeared from the finished bin?”
“Yeah, so?” said Leon.
“What about it?” said P.W.
“Mom told me she saw the Hag carrying a big black plastic garbage bag out of school. Mom said she looked like the Grinch.”
“The Grinch wears green, not black,” said P.W.
“What difference does
that
make? The point is, the Hag is swiping our projects!”
“Maybe she’s selling them,” P.W. suggested.
Lily-Matisse swung into a sitting position. “Who’d want to buy animiles?”
“And besides,” said Leon. “How much could the Hag make?”
“A lot,” said P.W. “I mean think about it. Say each animile sells for five bucks. Twenty kids times—”
“There are only eighteen in our class,” Lily-Matisse interrupted.
“Don’t nitpick,” said P.W. “I’m just guesstimating. Let’s figure five dollars times twenty kids times ten animiles.”
“We only have to make
nine,”
said Leon. “One a month, remember?”
“Will you guys let me finish?” P.W. took a deep breath and started over. “Five dollars times twenty kids times ten animiles. That makes … ”
The jungle gym turned silent. Then P.W., who was the fastest calculator of the three, screamed, “A THOUSAND DOLLARS!”
They were mulling over the staggering sum when someone beckoned from below.
“Yoo-hoo, Sir Panty Hose!”
Leon’s stomach tightened. He recognized the voice. A quick glance downward confirmed his fears.
“Oh, please come down, Sir Panty Hose.” Henry Lumpkin jumped up and smacked Leon on the thigh.
“Please!”
Leon tried to stay put, but the smacking intensified until he had no choice. He had to hop off and face Lumpkin.
P.W. and Lily-Matisse dropped down, too.
“So you think I look better with a pillowcase on my head?” Lumpkin sneered.
“I was only kidding,” said Leon, anxiously kicking the asphalt.
From inside his olive drab army jacket, Lumpkinremoved a pair of panty hose and pitched them at Leon’s feet.
“He’s throwing down the gauntlet!” P.W. exclaimed.
It was a phrase they all knew from their
Medieval Readers
. A gauntlet was a kind of old-fashioned glove that nobles tossed to the ground when demanding a duel.
News of the challenge spread quickly. Within minutes, a dozen or so classmates circled the two combatants, creating a human wall that screened the makeshift battleground from the teachers’ bench.
It would be wonderful to report that Sir Leon summoned up some untapped power and that he trounced the evil Lord Lumpkin. Sadly, that did not happen. More predictably, Lumpkin dispensed a vicious array of punches, slaps, kicks, dead-arms, and bent-knuckled noogies that left Leon sprawled on the playground blacktop.
It took him a long, painful minute to shake off the daze and stumble away.
“Not so fast,” said Lumpkin.
Something soft smacked Leon in the shoulder blade. Instinct told him to keep moving, but he couldn’t. A powerful hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.
“Put them on,” Lumpkin snarled. “Now!”
“What?” said Leon, pretending not see the “gauntlet” on the ground.
Lumpkin snatched up the panty hose and brandished them threateningly, inches from Leon’s face. “I
said
put them on.”
A couple of onlookers reinforced the command by chanting, “Put, them, on! Put, them, on!”
Leon looked around. There was no way he could break
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