CHAPTER 9
acob Two-Two once asked his father why he belonged to a glee club. “Well,” his father said, “if I’m out of town, in a hotel, and you’re not there, nor Mummy nor Daniel nor Noah nor Emma nor Marfa, it helps me to sing. You ought to try it, too, Jacob Two-Two, if ever you’re feeling lonely and blue.”
The glee club that Jacob Two-Two’s father belonged to met once a month to gather around a piano and drink beer and sing the good old stuff: “My Darling Clementine;” “Down by the Old Mill Stream;” “A Bicycle Built for Two;” “Home on the Range.” Songs like that. Once every summer they also got together at the cottage by the lake for the Annual Glee Club Big-Time Poker Game. This time out Jacob Two-Two’s father won everybody else’s money. In fact, he won $742 and went to bed very happy.
When Jacob Two-Two’s father awoke the next morning, however, the money was gone. That wasn’t very serious. But Jacob Two-Two was also gone. And that was very, very serious indeed.
Jacob Two-Two left a note. It read:
Dere Mumy and Dady,
Dippy will not be used for targit practiz. I’m taking him wher he wil be safe. Do not wory. I will be back in time to begin schul.
Sincerely yurz, Jacob Two-Two
P.S. Dady, I.O.U. 742 dollirs,
less one weke’s allowince,
2 dollirs.
“Oh, my God,” Jacob Two-Two’s mother said. “What will we do?”
Marfa had already begun to cry. So had Emma. Daniel and Noah turned pale. And even as the family stood there, grieving, the cottage filled with an incredible noise. It shook and shuddered. Something was happening outside. Everyone ran out to look.
“Freeze, everybody!” a voice called through a loudspeaker.
“Hands up! We suffer from itchy trigger fingers. Har, har, har!”
A helicopter was whirring overhead. A minisubmarine surfaced on the lake, its missile launcher pointed right at the cottage. There were tanks everywhere. The cottage was surrounded by soldiers carrying sub machine guns. “Is it safe now?” a trembly little voice asked.
“Yes, Mr. Prime Minister, it’s quite safe.”
So Perry Pleaser squirted forward. “In the name of the people of Canada, I demand that you surrender your dragon to me at once.”
“It’s not a dragon,” Jacob Two-Two’s mother said. “It’s a Diplodocus,” Jacob Two-Two’s father said. “His name is Dippy,” Marfa said.
“And he’s not here,” Emma said. “He ran away with Jacob Two-Two.”
The family was held prisoner and then a search was made to establish what Jacob Two-Two had taken with him. The following items were discovered to be missing:
6 cans salmon
6 cans tuna
1 can opener
1 loaf sliced rye bread
1 pound homemade chopped chicken livers
1 box brownies
Various items of clothing
1 glee club songbook, in case he was feeling blue
1 flashlight
1 Swiss Army knife
1 frying pan
Noah’s nylon tent, sleeping bag, and backpack
1 map of Canada
The army intelligence group pondered the list, scratching their heads. Finally one of them said, “Looks like the little fella was planning to set out on a trip.”
“Good thinking, Bailey, but where to?”
The intelligence officers studied the list again. “Possibly, just possibly, somewhere in Canada,” Bailey said.
“Well,” he said, “after you’ve been in intelligence for twenty years, you get to trust your hunches.”
Now the feared Bulldog Burke, chief of army intelligence, was brought in to question Jacob Two-Two’s father. “We’re going to start him right in on the infamous Smoked Meat Torture. Known as the Salt Beef Buster in England and the Pastrami Punch in the United States.”
The other officers turned pale, filled with pity. But it was too late. The squad car that had been dispatched earlier to one of Montreal’s finest delicatessens had already returned with the cruel instruments of torture.
It was, by this time, long past the lunch hour for poor Jacob Two-Two’s father. His stomach was rumbling as he was tied into a chair and set down before the kitchen table, where he was joined by Bulldog Burke and his staff. The goodies were brought in, all of them placed just out of reach of Jacob Two-Two’s father. A steaming platter of juicy, tender smoked meat, its wonderful aroma maddening to men, women, and children everywhere. Heaps of crisp French fried potatoes. Pickles. Hot dogs. Rye bread. Everybody dug in, except for Jacob Two-Two’s father.
“Isn’t it delish?”
“The best I’ve ever eaten!”
“Have as much as you want. Stuff yourselves, men.”
Bulldog Burke watched as beads of sweat broke out on the forehead of Jacob Two-Two’s father. “Ready to answer our questions now?” he asked, shoving the fragrant platter closer.
“I was ready to answer your questions long ago. After all, Jacob is our son. We all want to find him.”
“A likely story. Read him the facts as we know them, Bailey.”
“According to our information, you smuggled this deadly dragon into the country out of Kenya. But we are assured by our esteemed colleague, Professor Kilowatt, that he stands two stories high and weighs ten tons. How did you sneak him into the country, man? Come clean.”
“I brought Dippy into this country in a cigar box.”
“In a cigar box?”
“Yes.”
“Take us for fools, do you?”
“I’m telling you the truth.”
Turning to the other officers, Bulldog Burke said, “Tell the prime minister this is one tough nut we’re stuck with here. But, by George, we’ll break him yet, or my name isn’t Bulldog Burke. Now, who would like another helping of juicy, tender smoked meat?”