We all pile into Jill’s flying cat sleigh and fly straight to the treehouse.
We land on Madame Know-It-All’s level.
“You go in first,” I say to Terry, pushing him forward.
“No, I’m scared,” he says, slipping behind me and pushing me toward the tent flap. “You go in first.”
“I’ve got a better idea,” I say. “Let’s make the animals go in first!”
“Good thinking,” says Terry. “Give me a hand with Manny, Andy!”
We’re pushing Manny into the tent, but Jill stops us. “Andy and Terry!” she says. “Stop pushing my goat!”
“But Terry pushed me,” I say.
“Andy pushed me first,” says Terry.
“Two wrongs don’t make a right—and they certainly don’t make a good reason to push goats!” says Jill. “How about we all go in together?”
“I’ve got a better idea,” says Madame Know-It-All, emerging from her tent. “How about I come out since there are so many of you?”
“Madame Know-It-All!” gasps Terry in surprise.
“Yes, it is I, Madame Know-It-All. I know all and see all,” she says. “I believe you have something you wish to ask me?”
“Well, as a matter of fact we do,” says Terry. “Would you—”
I clamp my hand across Terry’s mouth.
“We didn’t come to ask you anything,” I say. “We came to tell you something. We came to tell you to leave.”
“Immediately,” says Jill.
Alice and Albert nod their heads.
“Goo-goo gah-gah,” says the baby.
“Why don’t you ask me to leave?” says Madame Know-It-All. “That would be more polite.”
“No,” I say. “We’re not asking you any more questions ever!”
“Oh,” says Madame Know-It-All with a sly smile. “I see. So you’re telling me there’s nothing more you want to know.”
“That’s correct,” I say. “Nothing.”
“Not even whether you’re going to get this book written on time?”
“I know we’ll get our book written on time,” I say. “We always do—somehow.”
“Very well, then,” says Madame Know-It-All. “What about you, Terry? Wouldn’t you like to know what your eyebrows taste like? I know you’ve often wondered! All you have to do is to ask me.”
“Yes, I have wondered,” says Terry. “Quite often, actually. But I’m not going to ask you.” He shakes his head and then clamps his hands over his mouth just to make sure.
“Suit yourself,” says Madame Know-It-All. “What about you, Jill? Wouldn’t you like to know what my snakes’ names are?”
“No,” says Jill, “because I’ve made up my own names for them—Slidey, Slithery, and Roger.”
“Those are their names!” says Madame Know-It-All, looking surprised. “But wouldn’t you like to know their ssssurnames?”
“Snakes don’t have surnames,” says Jill. “That’s just silly!”
Madame Know-It-All shrugs and turns her attention to the kids.
“What about you, Alice? Wouldn’t you like to know what you’re going to be when you grow up?”
“I already know,” says Alice. “I’m going to be like Jill and live in a house full of animals.”
“And I’m going to be just like Terry and live in a treehouse and draw cool pictures!” says Albert.
“Hey!” I say. “How come nobody wants to be like me when they grow up?”
“Is that a question?” says Madame Know-It-All.
“Not for you, it’s not,” I say.
“All right,” says Madame Know-It-All. “If none of you are going to ask me any questions, then you leave me no choice but to unleash … the Turbanator!”
She pushes the jewel on the front of her turban and dozens of tubes—each with a little turban on the end—spring out of the top.
“Run!” I say.
We run, but it’s no use. The mini-turbans rain down from above and wrap themselves around our heads. We’re all wrapped and trapped—even the kids and all of Jill’s animals.
We try to pull the turbans off, but they won’t budge.
“There’s no use struggling,” says Madame Know-It-All. “The Turbanator is a multibrain-draining machine. Once activated, it will drain your brains into mine. The turbans will not release until your heads are completely empty.”
“Please don’t drain our brains again,” says Terry.
“Oh, but thanks to Jill, they’re filled to the brim with even more facts and information than before,” says Madame Know-It-All. “I simply can’t resist!”
“But why?” pleads Jill. “You already know everything—or so you claim. What more could you possibly want to know? What more could there even be to know?”
“Ah,” sighs Madame Know-It-All. “How little you know about how much there is to know! You see, the more you know, the more you know how much there is that you don’t know. And I’m not going to rest until I know every last thing there is to know in the entire world.”
“Huh?” says Jill.
“It might be simpler if I sing it for you,” says Madame Know-It-All. And so she does.
I WANT TO KNOW EVERYTHING
(as sung by Madame Know-It-All)
I know more than Google,
Yahoo, and Wikipedia,
For I am Madame Know-It-All,
The human encyclopedia!
But don’t tell me that I know enough
Because I know I never will.
The thought of all I still don’t know
Makes me feel rather ill.
I want to know who and what
And why and when and how.
I want to know it all,
And I want to know it now.
I want to know who made the colors
And gave each one a name.
And who the heck made spiders?
Is there someone we can blame?
I want to know why flowers grow,
Why rivers flow and noses blow.
I want to know where rainbows go.
I really, really want to know!
I want to know each word in the world,
And I want to know its meaning.
I want to know how the pyramids were built
And why the Tower of Pisa is leaning.
I want to know why volcanoes erupt
And how mountains rise and fall.
I want to know the price of fish.
I want to know it ALL!
I want to know why rocks are hard
And cookies always crumble.
I want to know why babies laugh
And old men like to grumble.
I want to know hither,
And I want to know thither.
I want to know the difference
Between xylophone and zither.
Who made typewriters?
Who made the moon?
How many black rings
On the tail of a raccoon?
Who’s the fastest? Who’s the tallest?
Who’s the strongest and the best?
Who’s the richest? Who’s the poorest?
Which bird builds the biggest nest?
What’s the widest? What’s the deepest?
Why does the sun set in the west?
Until I know it all,
I will never, ever rest!
