Jacob Two-Two Meets the Hooded Fang (6 page)

The Slimers also turned out K
EEP OFF THE GRASS
signs by the thousand, giving them away free, and offered special cut-rate to builders who put up apartment buildings where there were A
BSOLUTELY
N
O
P
ETS
A
LLOWED
, not even a tropical fish tank. In a word, anything to torment little people or get them in trouble with big people who did, in fact, love them.

Day by day, Jacob Two-Two’s skin turned gray, like the other prisoners, and there were soon circles under his eyes, for in the hidden children’s prison he never, never saw the sun.

Well, not
exactly
never. For once, tramping through the fog with a work gang, he noticed a thin shaft of sunlight penetrating the gloom in a remote clearing. Another day the guards, also catching a glimpse of the sunlight in the clearing, hastily donned their dark glasses and turned their faces the other way, as if the feeble shaft of sunlight was actually a ray of blinding intensity.

“Hurry,” cried the guards. “Get to the fog workshop and get up some more fog. Hurry, brats!”

Inside the workshop, Jacob Two-Two and the rest of his work gang were set to feeding coal into the fog-making machines. Faster, faster. And once their shift
was done, they were marched past the Fog Control Room. Here, Jacob Two-Two noticed three Slimers hard at work repairing the Control Switch.

“What happened?” asked Jacob Two-Two. “What happened?”

“Some idiot pulled the switch the wrong way and cut the power,” said a Slimer, shivering. “Another ten minutes and the wind might have blown our fog away.”

All three Slimers shook their heads, appalled.

“We might have been exposed to the sun,” said the second Slimer, trembling at the thought.

“A close shave. A very close shave. Now on your way, brat, we shouldn’t be telling you any of this.”

Jacob Two-Two continued on his way, his manner pensive. Suddenly, he turned to Oscar. “Why can’t they stand the sun?” he asked twice.

“Because,” said Oscar, “speaking scientifically, any big person who cannot stand little ones also fears the sun.”

“Or pets,” added Pete.

“Or flowers,” said Oscar.

Or even laughter, thought Jacob Two-Two, remembering The Hooded Fang.

CHAPTER 11

acob Two-Two was not only overworked and hungry most of the time, but he was also in ever-deepening trouble with The Hooded Fang. The Fang, it appeared, had come to detest him more than all the other prisoners.

“That lousy Jacob Two-Two,” complained The Hooded Fang bitterly to his wife one night, “will be the end of me. When I pass, he doesn’t cower, shiver, or even tremble, but instead puts a hand to his mouth to suppress a giggle.”

Mrs. Hooded Fang was outraged. “But hasn’t
he seen all the signs on the prison grounds, saying you’re vile, inhuman, and vicious.”

“The little stinker,” cried The Hooded Fang, “was brought up not to believe everything he reads. Furthermore, I can’t even get him to admit his age. Whenever I ask him how old he is, he says,” and here The Hooded Fang mimicked Jacob Two-Two, “‘Why, I’m two plus two plus two years old.’ Worse news. He won’t answer his cell door
unless I knock two times
.”

“Punish him!”

“But no punishment works.”

“Have you tried making him eat soup with a fork?”

“I’ve tried everything. I must break his spirit, you see, and the only way I can do that is to get him to say anything but two. If only I could get him to say one, three, or even sixteen. Sixteen!” exclaimed The Hooded Fang. “That’s it!” And he leaped up, knocking over his wife, and charging out of his lair and down the two hundred steps to Jacob Two-Two’s cell, remembering to knock two times.

“All right, Jacob Two-Two,” said The Hooded Fang, “if you’re such a clever little fellow, can you tell me how many legs I’ve got?”

“Why, two, of course,” said Jacob Two-Two. “Why, two, of course.”

“Good. First-rate. And now, Jacob Two-Two,” said The Hooded Fang, hard put to conceal a fiendish grin, “can you tell me how many suns there are?”

“Aside from me,” said Jacob Two-Two twice, “my father has two. Daniel and Noah.”

“No, you twerp! Suns.
S-u-n
. Can’t you even spell?”

“I’ll answer that,” said Jacob Two-Two, “I’ll answer that, if you tell me how many times two goes into two?”

“Think I’m an idiot, do you? The answer to that,” said The Hooded Fang, thrusting out his chest, “is one.”

“And that,” said Jacob Two-Two twice, “is how many suns we have.”

“You’re not playing fair! You’re cheating.”

“I am not! I am not!”

“All right, then, smarty-pants. Tell me how many ounces there are in a pound.”

“Why, that’s easy. That’s easy,” said Jacob Two-Two. “There are two times two times two times two ounces in a pound.”

Shaking with rage, counting on his fingers, and then removing his shoes to use his toes as well, The
Hooded Fang had to admit that Jacob Two-Two was right. “Oh, I hate you,” he bellowed. “I could chew you up right here and now.”

“But, Mr. Hooded Fang,” said Jacob Two-Two, “please, you mustn’t be so sad.”

“Mustn’t I?”

“Because,” said Jacob Two-Two, “you, too, can be a two-two.”

“What’s that, you little twerp?”

“How many sides are there to every story?” asked Jacob Two-Two. “How many sides are there to every story?”

“Two.”

“What should every boy learn to stand on?”

“His own two feet.”

“And what will it be when it gets dark?”

“Tonight.”

“And where will you go tonight?”

“To bed.”

“And what will it be when you wake up?”

“Why, tomorrow, of course,” said The Hooded Fang, smiling just a little.

“You see, you see,” exclaimed Jacob Two-Two,
jumping up and down joyously, “it’s easy, it’s easy. You, too, are a two-two now.”

The Hooded Fang’s cheeks flared red. He looked like he was going to explode. “All right, then. I’ve tried everything. And now there’s only one thing to do. Tuesday afternoon at two o’clock,
I’m going to feed you
to not
one, but two hungry sharks. Ho, ho!”

“Oh no,” cried Jacob Two-Two. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” replied The Hooded Fang, “and what’s more, I will personally bring you your last meal.”

CHAPTER 12

irst thing next morning, Jacob Two-Two huddled with Oscar and Pete in a far corner of the prison workshop and told them of The Hooded Fang’s threat.

“What are we going to do?” asked Pete, enormously upset.

“We are going to try to escape,” said Jacob Two-Two. “We are going to try to escape.”

“That’s impossible,” said Pete, and he reminded them of the sign they had all seen on first arriving at the hidden prison–

Mindful of passing guards, whispering, Jacob Two-Two told Pete and Oscar of his desperate plan to liberate all the prisoners … with the help of the intrepid Shapiro, and the fearless O’Toole, the fabled leaders of Child Power. Pete was skeptical and a little frightened. But Oscar said, “As plans go, it does have the merit of being scientific.”

So that night, unobserved in the dining hall, Pete and Oscar helped Jacob Two-Two draft a letter, making two copies of course. It read–

“It’s a fine letter,” said Pete, “but how do we get it delivered? Even if we had stamps, there’s no post office on Slimers’ Isle.”

Oscar had to agree.

“There’s no post office,” said Jacob Two-Two twice, “but there
is
The Hooded Fang.”

“You mean,” asked Pete, astonished, “he’s going to deliver your letter?”

“Maybe,” said Jacob Two-Two, “just maybe,” and behind his back, his fingers were crossed.