Read Online The Fantastic Family Whipple by Matthew Ward - Free Book Online
Authors: Matthew Ward
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Arthur Whipple was one of them.
It is suspected that some leaplings’ families have tried to soften the blow by celebrating their luckless child’s birthday on the twenty-eighth of February or the first of March in non-leap years, but unfortunately for Arthur, the thought had never occurred to the Whipples. And so he became accustomed to celebrating the day of his birth rather infrequently. It didn’t help matters that, besides Arthur, every person in the Whipple family shared the same birthday—on the very day which, by all good sense, should have been his own.
Every non-leap year, at the end of February, Arthur would get the thrilling sense that his birthday was coming very soon. But every non-leap year, to his dismay, the first of March would arrive instead—and with it, the Whipple Family Birthday Extravaganza.
It certainly wasn’t all bad, though. On that day, Mr. and Mrs. Whipple always let Arthur have an extra piece of cake to make up for his lack of birthday parties. Indeed, Arthur very much enjoyed his family’s enormous yearly celebration—but celebrating someone else’s birthday, however fun it may be, is never quite the same as celebrating one’s own.
Unfortunately, leap years did not seem entirely his own either. Though the boy finally got his own party on his actual birthday, everyone was so preoccupied with planning the next day’s festivities, Arthur’s party tended to be a bit rushed. He tried not to notice. Truly, he was happy just to have a party at all. Arthur was turning twelve years old, and this was only his third birthday party.
Arthur’s party had been relegated to the study, which was virtually the only room in Neverfall Hall not bustling with preparations for the ensuing extravaganza. On the table in front of him was one last unopened present. He had just finished unwrapping the World’s Quietest Noisemaker, which had been a gift from his parents, and before that, the Tiniest Model Train Set on the Planet, which conveniently came with its own microscope, so that the train’s owner might actually see what he was playing with.
Seated around the table were Arthur’s parents and siblings, as well as Uncle Mervyn, while Mrs. Waite, the housekeeper, and Wilhelm, the butler, stood dutifully behind their employers. It was a meager gathering, but one could hardly expect such important friends of the Whipples to attend two parties in two days at the same location—and so the foreign dignitaries and millionaires and movie stars had only been invited to the family’s Birthday Extravaganza, leaving the guest list for Arthur’s party terribly short.
Arthur picked up his last unopened gift. It was wrappedin brown paper and tied with a leather cord. Sticking out from beneath the bow was a small card. It read:
To Arthur. May this bring you luck in times of need. Your devoted uncle, Mervyn.
The boy was intrigued by the inscription, but he hesitated for a moment. It would be another four years before he would get to open another birthday present….
His youngest bother, George, checked his watch.
“Arthur, dear,” prodded Mrs. Whipple, “we’ve still got a dozen records to break tonight if we’re to make the championships eligibility requirement by the end of the extravaganza tomorrow—not to mention the additional preparations and inspections to be done in light of the French Toast Fiasco. If we wish to silence our critics, we must take time to ensure there are no further incidents. So, do you think we might hurry it up just a bit?”
“Oh—sorry, Mother,” said Arthur.
He slid his finger along one side of the package and peeled back the paper. After revealing a well-worn cigar box, Arthur flipped open the lid.
There, in the middle of the box, sat a single domino tile with three white dots on one end and four on the other.
Uncle Mervyn grinned. “During my brief foray into record breaking—when I was just a few years older than you are now—this domino was in the lineup
It is suspected that some leaplings’ families have tried to soften the blow by celebrating their luckless child’s birthday on the twenty-eighth of February or the first of March in non-leap years, but unfortunately for Arthur, the thought had never occurred to the Whipples. And so he became accustomed to celebrating the day of his birth rather infrequently. It didn’t help matters that, besides Arthur, every person in the Whipple family shared the same birthday—on the very day which, by all good sense, should have been his own.
Every non-leap year, at the end of February, Arthur would get the thrilling sense that his birthday was coming very soon. But every non-leap year, to his dismay, the first of March would arrive instead—and with it, the Whipple Family Birthday Extravaganza.
It certainly wasn’t all bad, though. On that day, Mr. and Mrs. Whipple always let Arthur have an extra piece of cake to make up for his lack of birthday parties. Indeed, Arthur very much enjoyed his family’s enormous yearly celebration—but celebrating someone else’s birthday, however fun it may be, is never quite the same as celebrating one’s own.
Unfortunately, leap years did not seem entirely his own either. Though the boy finally got his own party on his actual birthday, everyone was so preoccupied with planning the next day’s festivities, Arthur’s party tended to be a bit rushed. He tried not to notice. Truly, he was happy just to have a party at all. Arthur was turning twelve years old, and this was only his third birthday party.
Arthur’s party had been relegated to the study, which was virtually the only room in Neverfall Hall not bustling with preparations for the ensuing extravaganza. On the table in front of him was one last unopened present. He had just finished unwrapping the World’s Quietest Noisemaker, which had been a gift from his parents, and before that, the Tiniest Model Train Set on the Planet, which conveniently came with its own microscope, so that the train’s owner might actually see what he was playing with.
Seated around the table were Arthur’s parents and siblings, as well as Uncle Mervyn, while Mrs. Waite, the housekeeper, and Wilhelm, the butler, stood dutifully behind their employers. It was a meager gathering, but one could hardly expect such important friends of the Whipples to attend two parties in two days at the same location—and so the foreign dignitaries and millionaires and movie stars had only been invited to the family’s Birthday Extravaganza, leaving the guest list for Arthur’s party terribly short.
Arthur picked up his last unopened gift. It was wrappedin brown paper and tied with a leather cord. Sticking out from beneath the bow was a small card. It read:
To Arthur. May this bring you luck in times of need. Your devoted uncle, Mervyn.
The boy was intrigued by the inscription, but he hesitated for a moment. It would be another four years before he would get to open another birthday present….
His youngest bother, George, checked his watch.
“Arthur, dear,” prodded Mrs. Whipple, “we’ve still got a dozen records to break tonight if we’re to make the championships eligibility requirement by the end of the extravaganza tomorrow—not to mention the additional preparations and inspections to be done in light of the French Toast Fiasco. If we wish to silence our critics, we must take time to ensure there are no further incidents. So, do you think we might hurry it up just a bit?”
“Oh—sorry, Mother,” said Arthur.
He slid his finger along one side of the package and peeled back the paper. After revealing a well-worn cigar box, Arthur flipped open the lid.
There, in the middle of the box, sat a single domino tile with three white dots on one end and four on the other.
Uncle Mervyn grinned. “During my brief foray into record breaking—when I was just a few years older than you are now—this domino was in the lineup
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