“By doing something heroic,” Wacko said. “Like what?”
“What made Saint George such a hero?”
“He slayed a dragon.”
“Right.”
“But there aren’t any more dragons.”
“I just happen to know where one can be found.”
“And you want me to slay it? Wacko, what if I got hurt?”
“There will be no risk to your person.”
“In that case,” Perry Pleaser said, leaping onto his desktop, “lead me to him. I’ll pulverize him! Wait! Are you sure I can’t get hurt, Wacko?”
“Absolutely.”
“And am I really going to be a hero, Wacko?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s not waste another minute. To arms, to arms! Lead me to that dragon!”
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.
“What makes you think that?”
“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?”
CHAPTER 10
win posters were banged onto post office walls all across the country. One, featuring a picture of Jacob Two-Two, read:
WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE
CANADA’S MOST DANGEROUS DESPERADO
JACOB TWO-TWO
$1,000,000 REWARD
Then, at the bottom of the poster, in print so small that you needed a magnifying glass to read it:
Due to a shortage of funds, the government of Canada will pay out this reward at the rate of one dollar a year over a million years.
It was signed:
The Right Honorable Perry Pleaser,
Your lovable, huggable Prime Minister
The other poster, featuring a most unflattering drawing of Dippy, read:
VICIOUS, VILE DRAGON AT LARGE
WANTED BY
PERRY PLEASER, THE DRAGON-SLAYER
Distinguishing characteristics:
He’s left-handed and there is a crescent-shaped mole under his right armpit. If in doubt, take his blood pressure. It should read normal.
CHAPTER 11
anada’s MOST DANGEROUS DESPERADO AND VICIOUS, VILE DRAGON AT LARGE had an absolutely wonderful time their first two weeks on the road. Galloping west, they kept to the wilderness, where they saw deer and m
oose and bears and beavers and hawks. They passed winding rivers and clear lakes and rushing mountain streams and waterfalls. Jacob Two-Two fished for trout and bass and sometimes for the fearsome northern pickerel. Nobody asked him to wash his hands before dinner or told him what time to go to bed or said that it wasn’t good for him to eat a chocolate bar for breakfast. He never had to say things twice, because Dippy listened carefully to everything he said the first time.
The most fun of all was camping together at night under the stars. Jacob Two-Two would set up his tent, gather wood for a fire, and prepare his dinner. Sometimes he would fry a freshly caught fish. Other times he would shop for his food in a neighboring village and then toast hot dogs and marshmallows over the fire until his stomach ached.
Late at night, however, Jacob Two-Two sometimes felt lonely and blue. Happily, it turned out that good old Dippy could sing as fine a baritone as any member of the glee club. Dippy’s favorite song, and Jacob Two-Two’s, too, was “A Bicycle Built for Two.”
As darkness fell, Dippy would wind his huge bulk around the tent to protect it from the wind as well as to keep it warm. Then he would curl his long neck so that he could set his head down alongside the fire. Together they would harmonize, belting out:
“Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do,
I’m half crazy, all for the love of you.
It won’t be a stylish marriage,
I can’t afford a carriage,
But you’ll look sweet, on the seat,
Of a bicycle built for two.”
Dippy’s voice in full flow was very, very loud. When he hit and held a high note, he shattered farm windows three miles away from their camp.
Jacob Two-Two didn’t want to complain, but Dippy, in some respects, was an awkward traveling companion. If he was happy and wagged his tail, he could knock down a stand of trees quicker than a team of lumberjacks. If he sneezed, telephone poles would be blown over one mile out of camp. Once, when they had settled down less than a mile outside of Saskatoon, Dippy farted. “Pardon me,” he said. But the fact is, he created such a thundering in town that storm warnings went up.
There was an even bigger problem: satisfying Dippy’s ten-ton appetite.
For the first few weeks Dippy was content to eat once a day, after dark, chewing his way through a two-acre potato field or an acre of sweet corn. When they moved farther west he would munch through a field of wheat or barley faster than any harvesting machine yet devised by man. He also acquired a taste for apple trees, branches and all, fields of unripe pumpkins, and above all, acres of onions.
As for Jacob Two-Two, he could always slip into a village and buy fresh supplies for himself in a store, but once he found out about the wanted posters, he realized that he had to be careful. Very careful. Jacob Two-Two first saw the posters pinned to a wall in a convenience store that also served as a post office. When nobody was looking, he pulled the posters free and then took them back to camp to show Dippy.
“What are we going to do now?” Jacob Two-Two asked, frightened.
“Don’t ask a prehistoric dunce like me,” Dippy said. “You’re the brains of this outfit.”
Poor outfit, Jacob Two-Two thought.
The truth is, Canada’s MOST DANGEROUS DESPERADO AND VICIOUS, VILE DRAGON AT LARGE were being hotly pursued.
At least once a day a locator airplane wheeled and dipped overhead or a helicopter swooped low over the fields. As soon as they heard an engine in the sky, however, Dippy would lie down, hide Jacob Two-Two under his curling neck, and look for all the world like a huge boulder covered in green moss – or so the most wanted boy and beast in Canada hoped.
CHAPTER 12
eanwhile, there was trouble in the Dragon-Slayer’s camp.
“You promised me I was going to be a hero,” Perry Pleaser whined.
“Don’t worry. They’ll be putting up statues in your honor once we catch them,” Wacko said.
Yes, said the yes men, and yes, said the yes women, too.
“But what if they escape?” Perry Pleaser asked.
“They can’t escape. We’re hot on their trail. All we have to do is follow the ruined fields of potatoes and wheat and onions and we’re bound to catch up with them. Maybe tomorrow.”
But the next morning there was another problem.
“I’ve been reading up on Saint George,” Perry Pleaser said. “If he had a sword, why can’t I have one?”
“Attacking as large a dragon as Dippy with a crummy old sword would be about as effective as pricking your finger with a pin,” Wacko replied.
Perry Pleaser leaped back from him. “Don’t you dare try it, you bully. I have very sensitive skin. And besides, I still think I deserve a sword. So there!”
“Look, Pleaser, Saint George would have given his right arm for the kind of dragon-slaying force you command. Tanks and helicopters and heat-seeking missiles and cannons and bombers. We’re going to blast that dippy Diplodocus to kingdom come!”
“What if we kill Jacob Two-Two in the attack?”
“Then we’ll give him a military funeral. All the trimmings. You’ll look just great weeping over him on TV.”
Yes, said the yes men, and yes, said the yes women, too.
“Couldn’t it make me … unpopular?”
“Think again, Pleaser. Do kids have a vote?”
“No, but their parents do. Why, I have two kids myself.”
“Yeah, and what good are they? Tell me, Pleaser, if you come home from an exhausting trip, what is the first thing they ask you?”
“Did I bring them a present.”
“And if you bundle them into all their winter clothing and boots and scarves, because they just have to play in the snow, what happens five minutes later?”
“They want to come in for a pee.”
“Let’s face it, Pleaser, kids aren’t like you or me. They’re childish. Why, you put two of them in a room and before you know it they’re biting and pinching and scratching each other.”
“Weren’t you ever a child, Wacko?”
“Yes, but things were different then. I was perfect.” “So was I.”
“But I was more perfect than you were,” Wacko said, kicking Perry Pleaser in the shin.
“No, you weren’t,” Pleaser said, kicking him back harder.
“Oh, yes I was too,” Wacko said, pinching him.
“Oh, no you weren’t,” Pleaser insisted, spitting at him.
In an instant they were rolling over and over in the dirt, pinching and scratching and biting. Two generals had to separate them.
“Who started this?” one of the generals asked.
“He did,” Perry Pleaser whined between sobs.
“Liar! You did!”
“Sez who, shorty?”
“Sez me, mutton-head!”
“This has got to stop,” the general pleaded. “You are setting a bad example for the troops. Save your fire for the dragon, gentlemen.”
“Yes,” Wacko said. “And that dreadful Jacob Two-Two, too. Because this is war and he will just have to take his chances.”
CHAPTER 13
our weeks into their hike to the Rocky Mountains of B.C. there was suddenly no more joy for Jacob Two-Two in eating enough toasted hot dogs and marshmallows to make him feel sick to his stomach. What he really longed for now was his mother’s marvelous chili, her incomparable roast chicken, and, he had to admit, her hugs, her kisses, and the stories she read to him before he went to sleep. He also missed horsing around with his father and even the teasing of his two stinky older brothers and two stinky older sisters. His longing led him to take a big risk. He slipped into a small town, found an all-night pizza parlor, and ordered a king-size L’Abbondanza made with tomato sauce, garlic sausage, green peppers, olives, and cheese. Then he took it back to camp to eat. It was too much. He couldn’t finish it. So he offered the other half to Dippy, who gobbled it up, smacking his lips. “Hey,” he said, “this is terrific stuff! How about fetching me some?”
> In spite of the danger, Jacob Two-Two returned to the all-night pizza parlor. “Do you deliver?” he asked.
“Sure, kid, what do you want?”
“Fifty king-size L’Abbondanzas.”
“Holy cow! That will come to three hundred and fifty dollars. You’ll have to pay cash.”
Jacob Two-Two counted out the money and an hour later was out on the road with the delivery man. “Just another mile down the highway,” Jacob Two-Two said. “You see that big green boulder? We stop right there.”
“Funny,” the delivery man said, pulling up, “I’ve come this way maybe a thousand times, but I’ve never seen that green boulder before.”
“It’s always been here,” Jacob Two-Two said, alarmed. “It’s always been here.”
The delivery man unloaded the pizzas. He glanced at the green boulder again and suddenly his hair was standing on end. “My God!” he shouted. “It’s moving! That boulder has red eyes! Out of my way, kid!” And he leaped into his truck, made a quick U-turn, and sped away.
“Dippy,” Jacob Two-Two said, “you were supposed to sit absolutely still, with your head tucked in.”
“I know, I know, but the smell was driving me bananas. I thought he’d never get those pizza pies unloaded.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Jacob Two-Two said.
So they galloped back to camp before Dippy sat down to his feast. “Oh boy, oh boy,” he said. “Yum, yum.”
One minute there were fifty pizzas on tin-foil plates stacked in rows of ten and the next minute – gobble, gobble, gulp, gulp – there were none. “Say,” Dippy said, smacking his lips, “that was great for starters. Now what’s for the main course?”
“What’s for the main course? Gimme a break, Dippy.”
“I’m still hungry.”
“You’re always hungry, Dippy.”
An hour later Dippy wasn’t feeling well. He rolled over on his back, moaning and groaning. “Ooooh,” he wailed, “ooooh, what have I done? My poor, aching stomach.”