Puppet Wrangler Page 8

  BITSIE

  Hello, Starfish! Hello, Rock! Hello, Barnacle!

  So who wants to go swimming in the cybersea with me?

  NOBODY ANSWERS HIM. BITSIE LOOKS

  CONFUSED.

  BITSIE (to himself, sadly)

  How come nobody wants to play with me?

  Hmmm. Maybe they’re just shy.

  BITSIE TURNS BACK TO THE STARFISH,

  ROCK AND BARNACLE.

  BITSIE (sweetly, so as not to scare them)

  You don’t have to be shy of me.

  I’m not the itsiest-Bitsiest mean. I’m just plain Bitsie!

  Ha-Ha! Now do you wantto go swimming with me?

  JUST THEN BYTESIE ARRIVES IN HIS BATHING SUIT.

  HE LOOKS AT BITSIE QUIZZICALLY AS HE TALKS TO

  THE ROCK, THE STARFISH AND THE BARNACLE

  BYTESIE

  Hi, Bitsie!

  BITSIE TURNS AND CLAPS HIS HANDS IN

  DELIGHT WHEN HE SEES HIS BITSIEST

  BESTIEST FRIEND ARRIVE.

  BITSIE

  Bytesie! I’m so happy to see you!

  I want you to meet my new friends!

  BITSIE POINTS TO EACH OF THE THREE

  OBJECTS IN TURN.

  BITSIE

  This is Starfish. This is Rock. And this is Barnacle.

  BYTESIE LOOKS SURPRISED.

  BITSIE (CONT.)

  They’re going to play with us today!

  BYTESIE DOESN’T WANT TO HURT HIS

  FRIEND’S FEELINGS, BUT HE KNOWS STARFISH,

  ROCKS AND BARNACLES CAN’T PLAY.

  BYTESIE:

  There’s something very important I have to tell you,

  Bitsie…

  BITSIE TURNS HIS WORRIED FACE

  TOWARD BYTESIE…

  26

  I WAS JUST TRYING TO HELP.

  See what I mean? Can you get over how drippy that script is? And they were all like that. Even the nastiest Bitsie ’n’ Bytesie episode made Teletubbies look like I Saw What You Did Last Summer.

  So you can imagine how hard it was for Bitsie to act like he was that sugar-pie space alien all day long. It must have been an awful strain on him, pretending to be someone that nice.

  It would be like Bess trying to impersonate Snow White or something. How long do you think she could pull that off for? How long do you think before the seven dwarfs would be paying the wicked stepmother to come get her?45 Bitsie was having a harder and harder time pulling the act off too. At least once a day, his eyeball would get “stuck” or his arm would get bent in some weird direction. No one could ever figure out how it happened. That’s because they always checked his mecs or his rods for the problem. They never checked his brain.

  They never noticed that it happened every time Bitsie had to say, “You’re my Bitsiest bestiest friend.” And every time Ram said, “C’mon, Cyberpals! Group hug!” And every time Bitsie had to act like he didn’t understand something your average newborn chimpanzee would have gotten right away.

  “No, Bitsie. When I said ‘hop to it,’ I didn’t mean hop! Ha-ha-ha. I meant hurry!”

  How humiliating was that?

  So I’d take Bitsie to the mall. Make him feel better. Give him something to look forward to. I didn’t feel bad about it.

  I figured even if the shopping trips were costing a lot of taxi vouchers and all my emergency money, they were worth it.

  They made Bitsie happier so

  1. he didn’t “break down” as much so

  2. it wasn’t as hard on Zola and

  3. we didn’t go into overtime as often.

  It was a win-win solution. I told myself I was actually saving Kathleen money!

  Unfortunately, I was also giving Bitsie ideas.

  45 How long before Doc was prescribing the dwarfs tranquilizers? How long before Sleepy was having nightmares? How long before Happy had that smile wiped off his face? How long before even Dopey knew that Snow White wasn’t as sweet as she was cracked up to be? This is almost too much fun.

  27

  IT WAS BOUND TO COME TO THIS.

  Like I said, he started off being good. He was quiet, polite and really, really grateful. After that first time we went to the mall, in fact, Bitsie actually said thank you! It was very touching. Like seeing someone who’s lost a leg walk for the first time. (And it was probably about as hard for him to do.)

  But little by little, Bitsie started getting bolder. He whispered a bit too loudly. He did stupid things just to embarrass me—like screaming “Hey, Handsome!” in my voice at guys who really weren’t handsome, or making loud wet farting noises whenever I bent over to try on shoes.46

  He also shoplifted. Or at least he thought he shoplifted.

  That’s because I didn’t tell him that the ketchup cups at Hamburger Heaven are free. I figured if he was happy taking them, he’d keep his four-fingered paws off the electronic equipment. I’d talk about whether it was right or wrong with him later.

  All that was bad enough, of course, but then Bitsie ran away.

  I didn’t even notice at first. I’d taken my knapsack off and was sitting on a bench, resting. I was beat. There was a soap opera star at the mall and Bitsie had made me stand in line forever, waiting to get close enough to see the top of her head. (As if I cared about Schuyler Dawn Delano and her bouffy hair.)

  Anyway, I’d been sitting there awhile when the old lady next to me got up and shuffled over to the escalator. I wouldn’t have thought anything of it except she said, “Bye, dear. Nice talking to you.” It seemed weird. I hadn’t said a thing.

  A moment later, it hit me.

  That wasn’t the old lady talking. It was Bitsie! He was playing another one of his stupid jokes!

  By then, it was too late. I looked around and after a moment of pure terror saw the old lady at the top of the escalator. Bitsie was poking out of her Favorite Footsies shoe bag, waving and making faces at me, like “ha-ha, fooled ya.” He didn’t even seem to care if anyone saw him.

  I have to admit that I always ended up laughing at Bitsie’s fake farts and bad pick-up lines. It was embarrassing of course, but that’s what made it so funny too.

  This was different. This was way too risky.

  I wanted to kill Bitsie, but I couldn’t even get my hands on him. All the hard-core Unbridled Passion fans who’d stuck around to get Schuyler autograph were clogging the escalator. I tried fighting my way past them, but they were really tough. I guess you have to be to get those autographs.

  By the time I made it up the escalator, I was lucky just to catch a glimpse of the old lady’s mauve coat disappearing into The Underwear Drawer.47

  I ran into the store just as the salesclerk was showing her into the dressing room. I didn’t know what to do. For a second I thought about sliding under the door of the old lady’s cubicle, stealing the shoe bag and making a run for it. I’d have to hope she’d taken her clothes off and was too embarrassed to come after me.

  It was risky, especially since if she was anything like my grandmother, she was past the point of caring. Grammie was perfectly normal and then she hit seventy and decided public skinny-dipping was absolutely a-okay. If someone took her new Favorite Footsies, she wouldn’t think twice about engaging in a little nude wrestling to get them back.

  She would, in fact, consider it the responsible thing to do.

  That scared me. I decided to wait until the old lady came out before I did anything.

  It took forever. I wandered around the store, pretending I was going to buy something. The saleslady was immediately suspicious. I obviously didn’t need a bra. I was too young (and not stupid enough) for most of the underpants there. (It was like Wedgie City. I mean, who wears that stuff?)

  The only other underwear there, I was too young for too. You know, the senior citizen gear. The bloomers. The girdles. The giant bras that look like two white bicycle helmets welded together. I figured that was what the old lady was trying on.

  I hoped it was, anyway. It’s stupid,
I know, but the idea of her trying on a thong really bothered me. As if that was any of my business.

  Finally, finally, finally, when I was sure the salesclerk was going to have me arrested just on suspicion of being weird, the old lady came out of the dressing room. By that time I had a plan all ready. I was going to walk up to the counter and stand behind her like I wanted to buy something. Then I was going to pretend to trip, land on the shoe bag and, in the confusion, stuff Bitsie under my shirt. I hadn’t figured out how I’d explain the big squirming lump or the yellow legs dangling below, but it was the best plan I could come up with.

  I was so nervous that as soon as I saw the old lady coming out of the dressing room, I grabbed the nearest thing to me and beetled up to the counter. It turned out to be a pointy, leopard skin bra with this feathery stuff around the cups.

  Normally, that would have embarrassed me, but right then it didn’t matter. I had to move fast.

  I was standing behind the old lady and was getting all ready for my big “accident” when she suddenly slapped her hand to her mouth and said, “Oh dear, oh dear! My shoes!” She’d forgotten the Favorite Footsies bag. She raced off back into the dressing room. (Okay, “raced” probably is a bit of an exaggeration, but she sure could shuffle when she had to.)

  Now what was I going to do? The saleslady didn’t give me time to think.

  She said, “I’ll ring that in for you while we’re waiting.”

  Something else I hadn’t planned on. Actually having to buy the thing! Bitsie needed that glow-in-the-dark dog collar more than I needed a 38D leopard skin bra. But I didn’t want to make the saleslady anymore suspicious than she already was. I didn’t want her to remember my face if anything I had to do in the next few minutes would result in criminal charges being laid against me.

  So I just bought it.

  “That will be $42.87.”

  I nearly died. I had no idea it was made of real leopard skin. It was going to cost me pretty much all the emergency money I had left.

  I was fishing around in the bottom of my knapsack for the twelve cents I still needed when the old lady came back from the dressing room. I slapped the pennies on the counter and got ready to trip.

  I was still struggling with whether I should throw my arms out like this was a major fall or just sort of casually stumble over the bag, when the old lady squawked.

  I’m not saying that to be mean. She really did squawk.

  Can you blame her? It must have been a terrible surprise, expecting to see a nice sensible pair of shoes in your bag and instead seeing Bitsie’s blank eyes staring up at you.

  “Good heavens!” she went. “What is this? Someone put a …put a…goblin in my shoe bag!”

  I could hardly trip on it now.

  The saleslady started saying it was probably some sort of special offer. You know, one free “goblin” with every pair of orthopedic oxfords. That brought some color back to the old lady’s face, and she started talking about what a clever shopper she was to have picked up such an “interesting” free gift.

  She was warming up to Bitsie, I could tell. What if she took him back to the suburbs with her? Or mailed him off to her grandson in Pugwash Junction? Or got two dollars for him at the church rummage sale? Or let Bitsie talk her into selling her house and buying that state-of-the-art barbecue system he wanted?

  That last thought really scared me. Who knew what Bitsie was capable of? I had to do something! And right away too.

  My mind was blank. No brilliant ideas. Not even any lame ones. I could only think of one thing.

  I had to tell the truth.

  I said, “Oh, no. It’s not a free gift. It’s mine. That’s why I followed you up here. You were sitting next to me on the bench and then…”

  Well, that’s where the truth ended.48 I babbled something about accidentally putting “my new toy” in her bag because I was too busy thinking about what I could get my sick mother for a going-away present since she had to spend the next seven to twelve weeks in a hospital that was very far away from our home, in a whole other country actually, and she might never see me again because there was always the chance the surgery would leave her blind.

  I think the old lady gave me Bitsie back just so I’d shut up. Who knows? Anyway, it worked. She handed him to me and I ran.

  I had about eight seconds of relief before I heard the saleslady scream.

  “Stop! Stop!! Somebody stop that girl!”

  46 He had a number of variations on this. Sometimes he’d follow the fart with a big sigh like “Ooooh, that felt good!” Sometimes he’d have me go, “Anyone else feel a draft? Har-har! ” like I’m the type that would just let one rip in public and have a big laugh about it. Then other times he’d say, “Oh. Sorry, must be the sauerkraut I ate” or “I knew those sardines I had for lunch were bad” or something else equally disgusting so that even though people around me couldn’t smell anything, they started to believe that they did. And there was nothing I could do about it. If I looked embarrassed, people thought, And you should be! Passing wind in public like that! If I tried to look like I didn’t do it, they all gave me that who-are-you-kidding look. That’s the thing about farting. The more you try and deny it, the more everyone figures you did it. Nobody ever thinks to blame it on the puppet in your knapsack.

  47 “Intimate Apparel for all your needs – and desires.”

  48 Just as well, all things considered. If I told the truth I’d be writing this from the loony bin.

  28

  IT COULD HAVE BEEN WORSE.

  My heart was pounding. I couldn’t let them catch me! I had to get Bitsie back to the studio—no matter what. I slung him under my arm like a football and picked up speed.

  I ran to the left. Eight large Schuyler Dawn Delano fans formed a human wall and blocked my way.

  I darted right. The saleslady was coming straight for me, all red in the face and screaming, “Hey, you! Stop! Stop!”

  I swung around, hoping I could bolt down the escalator. No such luck. The old lady had read my mind. She’d wedged herself like a cork in the opening to the escalator. She was bent over with her hands on her knees, getting ready to charge. She was sweating and panting, but I knew she could still take me down easily.

  I hesitated for a moment. But that was all she needed. The old lady pounced, slid across the floor and grabbed me by the ankle. “I got the girl!” she screamed. People in the crowd went crazy. It was as if Canada had just won the ten-thousand-meter relay or something. What could I do? I quit trying to drag her off with me and just gave up.

  The saleslady did a few high fives with shoppers, then hobbled over to us on her broken slingbacks. “Good work, Mrs. Mancini,” she said—then turned to me.

  I figured I was done for. But the saleslady just smiled, handed me a bag and said, “You forgot your bra, dear.”

  29

  HE DESERVED IT.

  Bitsie was sitting on a toilet in the mall’s public washroom. He was wearing my leopard skin bra and laughing his head off.

  I was not laughing.

  I was standing against the cubicle door with my arms folded, glaring at him. I had never been so angry in my life.

  He was giving a detailed and extremely “humorous”49 account of the chase scene. Like this was just some funny little prank that he’d rigged up for our amusement.

  I let him have his fun for a while—and then I ripped into him. I told him he was thoughtless and selfish and just plain stupid. I asked him what he thought would have happened if I hadn’t tracked that old lady down. What would have happened if she’d taken him back to her little retirement home and put him in her shoe closet, miles and miles and miles away from the studio? What would have happened if she’d opened her bag and looked at Bitsie and actually had a heart attack?

  “Oh, lighten up,” he said. “It didn’t happen, did it?”

  Can you believe it?!

  I went wiggy. I mean, even Mel would have been proud.

  I said, “What i
s the matter with you? Don’t you realize you could have gotten lost, and the whole production would have had to shut down?”

  He shrugged and said, “They’d just make a new puppet.

  It’s not like they don’t have the molds or anything.”

  “And who would pay for that?” I was practically screaming by this time.

  “I dunno.” Like, who cares?

  I told him I’d have to pay for it. Once I got out of jail, that is. But even that didn’t seem to faze him. Bitsie kept on looking at me like I couldn’t take a joke or something.

  That’s when I knew I didn’t have any other choice. I said, “I’m never taking you to the mall. Ever. Again.”

  Now that fazed him.

  Suddenly, he was so, soooo sorry. He realized what a stupid thing he’d done. He was ashamed. Embarrassed.

  But reformed! A different puppet. He’d learned from his mistakes. He would never do anything like that again. Ever.

  He promised.

  Like I was going to fall for that.

  I said, “I know you’ll never do it again. Because you’ll never have the chance. I repeat, I am never, ever taking you to the mall again.”

  Bitsie was shocked. How mean could I be? He started begging for mercy. He told me this sad, sad story about how horrible it was to be in that little cubicle with a naked lady.

  He’d never seen anything like it before, even on the Health Channel. The whole time he was cowering in the corner, ter rified. The shock was such that he could feel all his powers of speech and movement draining away from him. Numbing him. Reducing him to a simple foam-head.

  The whole experience was awful, he said. Awful!

  Oh, cry me a river. Like having to watch an old lady put on a girdle is the worst thing that’s ever happened to anybody. Bitsie had absolutely no appreciation for what other people go through. He wasn’t getting any sympathy from me. I just looked at him like “So what?”

  But that didn’t stop him. He had one more thing to try.

  He stood up and stretched his hands out toward me. I knew he was going for that “sad but dignified” look, but he missed it by a mile. (It might have helped if he’d taken off that stupid leopard skin bra.)