Hippomobile! (3 page)

 

 

 

 

NOW, WHERE WERE WE
? Oh, yeah, Grandma Ida was just calling after us to be back in time for lunch. We shoved our way out the screen door
¹
with
The Handy Cyclopedia of Things Worth Knowing
. We were so excited about reaching Old Tom Wood, and our legs were spinning so fast, that we got to the corner of the square in record time, even in spite of the strong wind. Because the day we're talking about was blowy and gusty and gritty and dusty, like lots of our summer days are. If you ever feel like you wanna turn your teeth brown, all you gotta do around here is smile into the wind.

Pops had nailed some slats to the tree to make it easier for us to climb up. He always likes the chance of doing something with his hands aside from just gripping a steering wheel all day long. What Pops does is he drives a big rig. He says it's a big rig for big pig because he moves pork. There's even a cartoon picture of a big smiling pig on the side of his truck. It's wearing a red-and-white checkered bib and sitting up at a dinner table, holding a fork and a knife. We always found that picture a bit unusual.

Now at the bottom of Old Tom Wood, we argued some about who was gonna climb up first. At our age being first is a big deal, and it ain't for nothing that kids often push and shove and butt in line. Except that day we were arguing about who
didn't
wanna go first because one of us had on a skirt and didn't want her brother looking up and seeing her underwear.

“Who'd wanna look up and see your gross underwear, anyway?”

“My underwear ain't gross, Jimmy James. At least it ain't half as gross as your socks are.”

“My socks ain't gross.”

“I'm gonna tell Mom you ain't been changing them every day like you're supposed to.”

“My socks ain't gross.”

“Is that all you can say?”

“Maybe they are gross, but they ain't half as gross as the way you pick your ear with your finger and then pull it back out and observe it like you was observing a rare bug.”

“At least I pick mine. Have you seen the inside of your ears lately?”

We'll spare you other gross details and just say we got over our differences and eventually made it up Old Tom Wood and sat down on our favorite big knotty branch that we always sat on.

First we got situated and pulled off a couple leafs that were full of brown holes and flicked away some ants that were already crawling on us. Then we stuck our heads together and looked at
The Handy Cyclopedia of Things Worth Knowing
that we were holding there on our laps. The cover wasn't nothing special. It just had the title on it in swirly letters and the name of the guy who wrote it, who must've been real smart to know all that stuff. And there was a date wrote at the bottom, but it was part rubbed off and just said 18-something.

Now, that's old, all right, but age ain't what made the book so special. What made it so special is when you opened it up and saw how the book had so many pages in it and how on each one of them pages there really was something worth knowing, just like the title promised.

For example, you could find in that book a list of the tallest structures in the world and tips on how to shave and twenty common French phrases and ways to yank out a loose tooth.
²
You could learn about live sponges and how if they get chopped up, they can stick themselves back together again just like new. Or you could learn curious facts about hair, like how on the average head there are about one thousand hairs to the square inch,
³
and how four hairs can hold up a one-pound weight, and how a whole head of hair could hold up an entire audience of two hundred people! Now, be honest, did you ever think you could ever know something like that? And then right after the hairy section, there was a poem by William Shakespeare you could read if you felt like it.
⁴

And we ain't even said nothing about the chapter called “Weird Analogies in Nature.” That's where you could discover that the English walnut is almost the exact representation of the human brain, and that black cherries resemble human eyes, and that pumpkins sometimes grow mammoth and end up looking like a person. And right after that chapter came ten whole pages of riddles!
⁵

We kept flipping back and forth and eventually flipped to a part in the book called “500 Useful Phrases for Eloquent Diction.” Now, when a book tells you that diction is how you talk, and eloquent is when your talk sounds good and proper, then chances are that ain't gonna be something you're gonna wanna read all too close, especially in the middle of summer. But for some reason, we didn't turn the page, and instead we ran our fingers down the long list of words and tried to enunciate the useful phrases we found there.

But whole bunches of them phrases didn't even sound English to us at all, and we finally agreed that them words just didn't exist no more.
⁶
We were on the verge of turning to the chapter called “The Mysteries of Hypnotism,”
⁷
when we spotted a few phrases that did seem kinda useful and eloquent, even to us. Maybe we secretly thought we could impress Mom, or maybe it was just that the heat was affecting our brains. But for whatever reason, we made a promise that we'd try and make use of them in our speech as much as possible, at least for the next hour or so. And here's the ones we chose:

 

Dogged determination.
That means that you never give up when you want something.

Dramatic and sensational.
That's when something is a real big deal.

Rare and exquisite.
You can say that for something that ain't common and ordinary and ugly.

Robust and rugged
is when something is tough and don't get wore out.

 

But pretty soon we didn't find useful and eloquent diction all that dramatic and sensational, and our dogged determination to expand our list of phrases wasn't especially robust and rugged, especially when there were the rare and exquisite mysteries of hypnotism to be discovered.

And so pay attention right close because here's what happened next. We turned to page 237, expecting to learn how to rotate our eyes and wiggle our fingers just right so we could put our grandmas and grandpas into a trance, but instead what happened was that an old envelope that looked rare and exquisite fell out of the book and smack into our laps.

We couldn't tell at first if it was anything dramatic and sensational, thinking it might just contain an old grocery list for milk, bread, eggs, and some airtights.
⁸
But we had dogged determination to find out.

The envelope had a message stamped across it that said
RETURN TO SENDER. ADDRESS UNKNOWN
. We pulled the letter out and saw how it was old and yellow and brittle and not robust and rugged at all. We unfolded it and flattened it out as best we could, but alls we saw was a tangle of small squiggles that we figured must've been words of some sort, but not any words we could make any sense out of. The only thing we knew was that it had to be some rare and exquisite letter of some kind, and that the whole thing was right dramatic and sensational, indeed.

We must've stared at the piece of paper for longer than a summer sunset. And even then, with all the dogged determination we could muster up, we weren't able to decipher one word in it. Until suddenly we could. Right there smack-dab in the middle of that paper. And we knew right off what it meant, and we also knew right off that it really was dramatic and sensational.

The one word we finally deciphered was

 

Hippomobile

 

 

 

 

NOW, SINCE THIS STORY OF
ours is mainly gonna be about the hippomobile, this is probably the best time to tell you what it is and what it ain't.

We weren't but pint-size little kids who couldn't even snap up our shirts right the day we learned about the hippomobile. It was a day we reckon we won't be forgetting anytime soon.

Grandpa Homer and Grandpa Virgil told us all about it. These grandpas are the town elders—they're well over ninety—and they're the biggest linguisters
¹
Wymore has ever known. Our other grandmas and grandpas will sometimes turn down their hearing aids or even pull them straight out of their ears when they see those two coming because they know they're in for a gale of wind.
²
Sometimes what Grandpa Homer and Grandpa Virgil say is the truth you can chisel in stone. Other times they beat the truth like a blacksmith pounding hot metal.

You ain't never gonna see the one without the other. The reason for that isn't because they're twins like us, but because Grandpa Homer doesn't see no more and so Grandpa Virgil's got to guide him all around town. He makes sure Grandpa Homer doesn't bump into none of the old jalopies rusting away on the square, and he also makes sure no one runs him down in their golf cart.

Grandpa Homer and Grandpa Virgil used to be the town barbers back before we were born. They cut all the men's hair in town until all them heads went bald and put Grandpa Homer and Grandpa Virgil clean out of business, except for the occasional kid haircut. They still liked to spend time in their barbershop, however, and that's where we were the day we learned about the hippomobile. Since we were young and in kindergarten at the time, we were doing little-kid stuff like wearing barber capes around our necks and flying around on push brooms like superheroes.

Grandpa Homer and Grandpa Virgil were loosening up their vocal cords because on top of talking all the time, they sang in their very own barbershop duet.
³
They even had funny-looking hats to sing in that were made out of straw and flat on top and had a wide red ribbon going all around them and a wide brim to match.

At some point that day, Grandpa Homer and Grandpa Virgil mentioned something about the hippomobile, and we laughed ourselves silly at the sound of the word. They asked us if our Mom and Pops hadn't never told us nothing about it before. And when we said no, they shook their heads like their best milk cow had just kicked the bucket and told us to climb up in them barber chairs right quick because it was time we learned a thing or two about our heritage. We did as we were told, and we didn't have to wait long for the learning.

Grandpa Homer started doing the telling. “It all began more'n one hundred years back,” he said. “In the poorhouse that used to be located, I believe, four blocks down Maple Street. Ain't that right, Virgil?”

“I believe it is, Homer. I do, indeed.”

“Thank you, Virgil,” Grandpa Homer said. “And back in them days, four blocks down Maple was considered way out in the boonies.”

Boonies or no boonies, we hadn't ever heard of a poorhouse before, and so we asked what one was. We found out that a poorhouse is just like it sounds like it's gonna be. It's a house full of poor people who didn't have no house to live in and no job to do and no money, neither. And while they lived there, they had to do things like plant food on a little farm they had or chop wood or do just about anything they could find to do for anyone else in town so as to make a little spare change.

“It warn't no bed of roses” was how Grandpa Homer summed it up.

And Grandpa Virgil said, “You can sure as heck say that again, Homer.”

Later on Grandpa Homer
would
say it again, too. But for now he continued with where he was in his story. “And it was in the Maple Street poorhouse that a young man by the name of Gottfried Schuh once lived. He was fresh off the boat from a place called Germany—”

“Hey,” we said. “There ain't no boats around here.”

We might've still been young at the time, but that didn't mean we were green behind the ears. We knew a boat when we saw one, and we knew we ain't ever saw one in Wymore and most likely never would. Unless it was a boat that could float on dust.

“Them kids have got you there, Homer,” said Grandpa Virgil.

Grandpa Homer said, “Well, Gottfried must've got off the boat somewheres, because there warn't no airplanes back then, and he couldn't have walked here from Germany. So let's just say that at some point he got off a boat and sooner or later ended up in the town of Wymore without a penny in his pants. How's that sound?”

We thought it sounded much better, and Grandpa Virgil said, “I does like the sound of that, Homer. I really does.”

“Well, then,” Grandpa Homer said. “And since Gottfried Schuh didn't have any money and wasn't yet proficient in our American language, he landed in the poorhouse and labored taking care of other folks' animals and cut wood and fixed whatever anyone happened to need fixing. He did a fine job of everything he put his hands to, and eventually he caught the attention of a party of Wymore fellows set to travel to Alaska to dig for gold.”