The Age Altertron by Mark Dunn Read Free Book Online Page B

that her daughter Lucinda
had run away from home. For this reason, she had spent part of the morning standing on her front porch
calling, “COME HOME, LUCINDA, MY LITTLE GIRL! YOU WILL NEVER HAVE TO EAT RAISIN AND CARROT SALAD EVER
AGAIN. YOU ARE RIGHT! IT TASTED JUST LIKE RABBIT FOOD!” This last part was said just as Mrs. Edwards
strolled by with her dog. It was a very awkward moment for both women who were already on delicate terms with one another after
the head-bumping incident.
“Petey is on the phone,” Aunt Mildred said.
“Who is on the phone? Who ?” barked Mr. Dean, who had not heard
the first part of the one-sentence report. Like a good newspaperman, Mr. Dean
needed to know the “who,” the “what,” the “when,” the “where,” and the “why”
of everything newsworthy that happened in the town.
Mr. Dean’s raised voice drew the curious Professor’s head back into the room.
Aunt Mildred turned to Mr. and Mrs. Ragsdale and said, “Your missing boy Petey
is on the telephone!”
With that, the Ragsdales dashed out of the den and down the hall to the kitchen.
Mr. Ragsdale yanked up the phone receiver resting on the kitchen counter, and
Mrs. Ragsdale leaned in to listen alongside her husband.
“Where is your extension?” asked the Professor of Aunt Mildred as all the adults
in the den went scurrying down the hallway to join the Ragsdales in the kitchen.
“There is one upstairs in my nephew Mitch’s bedroom,” said Aunt Mildred pointing
to the staircase behind her and smiling because she could be helpful to the
Professor.
“Thank you,” said the Professor with a nod of the head. With his now more youthful
legs, he was able to take the stairs two at a time.
In the den, Rodney and Wayne sat alone on the sofa thinking that they had been
forgotten in everyone’s mad rush to find out if it really was Petey Ragsdale
on the phone and from where on earth he might be calling.
“HEY!” yelled Wayne. “SOMEBODY! ANYBODY!”
In an instant, the normally absent-minded Principal Kelsey, who had shown up
at the McCall front door concerned about how his school children would be affected
by this most recent calamity, swept into the room and scooped Baby Rodney and
Baby Wayne into his arms. With a grunt, he said, “You might be eighteen-monthsold,
but you’re still just as heavy as two sacks of potatoes!” Carrying the boys,
one under each arm as if they were, indeed, potatoes, the school principal conveyed
them to the kitchen, which was now just as crowded as the den had been, and
for want of any better place, set them down in their old high chairs.
“Petey? Petey is that really you on the phone?” asked Mr. Ragsdale into the
telephone receiver.
“Yes, Dad. It’s me: Petey.”
“Well, I’ll have to admit that it certainly sounds like you. But how
can I be sure that it really is you?”
“I have a metal plate in my head and the little toe on my left foot doesn’t
have a toenail.”
“But everyone knows that , son. Tell me something that only Petey and
his mother and father would know.”
“I know!” offered Wayne from his high chair. “Ask him what he had for lunch
at school yesterday.”
Mr. Ragsdale nodded. “Petey, son, tell me what your mother put into your Hopalong
Cassidy lunch carrier yesterday.”
“I don’t have a Hopalong Cassidy lunch carrier, Dad. I have a Roy Rogers lunch
carrier.”
“Yes, yes, you’re right! A Roy Rogers lunch carrier. Now tell me what your mother
made you for lunch.”
“A round meat sandwich and a yellow monkey fruit and some root juice.”
“Oh, that’s right!” exclaimed Petey’s mother. “I packed him a bologna sandwich
and a banana and a bottle of root beer. It’s Petey! Only Petey would have said
it just that way without any ‘ b ’s!” Mr. Ragsdale held the phone receiver
out for his wife to speak into. “Where are you, honey? Tell us where you’re
calling from.”
“I don’t