Chase and I say goodbye to Clemmy down on Fourth Avenue. Somehow she’s managed to hitch a lift to Los Angeles in a US Air Force Blackbird spy plane flying via Cuba.
‘Be careful, boys!’ She waves from the taxi. ‘I’d send you an aerial photograph of Havana, but then I’d have to kill you! Say hi to Isobel.’
We watch as the taxi bullies its way out into the traffic. It concerns me where exactly Clemmy’s going to put her suitcase on a Blackbird spy plane.
‘On a number of occasions, Chase,’ I say, ‘to fill in a quiet weekend, I’ve looked at the online cross-sectional blueprints of the Blackbird. No luggage rack or glove box that I could see.’
‘Oh, they’ll whack it in somewhere.’ Chase seems sure about this. ‘You know, it’s like going on holidays. Everything just fits in the end. Now let’s go up to the roof garden and work out how we’re going to rescue Isobel.’
From twenty stories up, the city of New York looks like it would weigh down the earth with its hundreds of skyscrapers.
‘What’s our plan, Chase?’ I watch Amy playing with a baseball we found. ‘Isobel’s room is extremely high security.’
‘We keep it simple.’ Chase talks slowly. ‘We walk in. We walk out with Isobel. If we sneak around, people will get suspicious.’
‘Yes, but if we don’t sneak around,’ I say, ‘we’ll get caught. The staff watched us like hawks.’
Chase nods. ‘But would they notice two boy scouts doing their good deed for the day? I think not. So we’ll adapt our school shirts and carry some flowers or something. Two scouts go in. Three go out. Easy.’
I’m confused. ‘Where do we get the third boy scout from, Chase?’
Chase crosses his eyes. ‘It’ll be Isobel, George. My sister. Are you with me?’
‘Oh yes, I am now,’ I say. ‘I was somewhat confused because, historically, scouts are always boys and clearly Isobel’s—’
Chase holds up a finger. ‘Your next job, with your amazing memory, is to accurately construct our scout uniforms, okay?’
‘Absolutely no problem with the shirts,’ I say. ‘Or the scarves, sock tabs, or merit badges. But the woggle will be tricky, Chase. And if we’re just pretending to do good deeds, that’s against international scout law. Meaning, if we’re caught telling lies, that’d be the end of our scouting days, Chase, forever.’
‘I can live with that.’ Chase pokes me. ‘Just get a wriggle on and get those woggles made!’
We stand, just as I see Amy drop the baseball, which rolls down a gutter, speeds up, then flies over the edge. Uh-oh.
‘Hmm,’ says Chase. ‘I think we’d better disappear.’
We quickly turn our school shirts into uniforms of the Ninth Tapley New York Scout Troop. I then convert a floral tea towel into scarves and glue merit badges on our shirts for everything from Safe Mousetrap Setting to Removing Racoons from Chimneys.
‘Where are the woggles for the scarves?’ Chase asks, as we drink tea (Tea-Making is another merit badge I have).
I show Chase. The woggles are braided from white drinking straws. From a distance, they look great, but close up they look more like cold spaghetti.
‘We’ll need something for our good deed,’ Chase says. ‘Perhaps we should take some of those flowers or some fruit from the kitchen? What about that box of cigars in the lounge?’
The flowers have wilted, the bananas are soft, and cigars would be a dead giveaway because I would think the International Scouting Movement is a nonsmoking organisation, with the obvious exception of campfires (as long as they were lit under the supervision of a person with a Campfire Safety merit badge, a Level One or Two Certificate in Fire Extinguisher Handling, and reasonable eyesight).
‘Give me thirty minutes,’ I say. ‘I’ve got an idea. Or two, actually.’
I’ve quickly made up a pair of rather entertaining little booklets. One I’ve filled with hilarious GPNPGRJs (George Parker No Parental Guidance Required Jokes). The other contains a selection of toe-tapping bush tunes and catchy sea songs from yesteryear that appeal to people of all ages who appreciate skill-based lyrics coupled with rhythms that even the non-musical can enjoy.
‘Which do you want, Chase?’ I hold up the booklets. ‘The George Parker Very Hilarious Joke Book? Or the George Parker Cheerful Sing-Along Songster Companion? Both will undoubtedly prove useful, educational, and entertaining.’
Chase seems amused, although he hasn’t looked at either book.
‘Give me an example,’ he says, ‘of a hilarious George Parker joke.’
Easy. All my jokes are pressure-tested on my chums down at the Tapley Chess Club, and it’s no exaggeration to say that if you can get a chuckle from the chaps at the Chargers, then normal people will probably be two, three, or four times as amused. So, here goes with a George Parker Hilarious Joke.
I clear my throat. Oh boy, this one’s an absolute killer!
‘Chase, what do you call a boomerang that won’t come back?’
‘A stick,’ says Chase.
‘Well, it could be that, I suppose,’ I say. ‘But my punch line is an aerodynamic boo-boo made with an inappropriately shaped projectile resulting in an annoying aeronautical afternoon for all concerned.’ I can’t help but laugh even if it is my own joke, with side-splitting George Parker aero-spatial engineering modifications to keep it fresh. ‘See? Hilarious.’
Chase is laughing so much he’s crying.
‘Oh, yes, hilarious, Georgie-boy.’ Chase holds his ribs. ‘You might possibly be the best kid in the world.’
That’s doubtful.
Chase wipes his eyes and takes a steadying breath.
‘Okay. We go in five. I estimate we’ll be back in three hours, ready to leave the country with Isobel. Take this.’ Chase hands me a wad of money. ‘We might have to buy our way out.’
‘Why wouldn’t they just let us out of the hospital the way we came in?’ I ask. ‘We’re scouts performing a social service, not criminals breaking the law.’
‘I wouldn’t bet on it.’ Chase tightens his woggle. ‘We have to be prepared for any emergency. That’s a scout thing.’
Speaking of emergencies, I think as I take the money, I wouldn’t mind purchasing a packet of peppermints, as peppermint naturally soothes the inner workings of a person’s bowels. This is a fun medical fact not widely enough known or appreciated, especially by those who suffer from, let’s say, certain challenges downstairs.
‘Right, Georgie-boy.’ Chase gives me a three-fingered salute. ‘Let’s hit the road to freedom and France!’