Toy Dance Party: being the further adventures of a bossy-boots stingray, a courageous buffalo, and a hopeful round someone called Plastic

CHAPTER FOUR

Concerning That Plump Mouse Bonkers, the Vacuum Cleaner, and a Friendship Between Fish

Honey’s parents are on a cleaning spree. They are taking it very seriously. StingRay and Lumphy are in Honey’s armchair, watching the people as they bustle from room to room. Plastic has been shoved into the toy box.

The adults wipe mildew from the ceiling of the bathroom and pull the books off the shelves to get the dust in the back. The mom takes bag after bag of outgrown clothes to a charity shop, and the dad finds the leftover sack of garbage under the high bed.

“Honey?” the dad calls.

“What?” Honey is downstairs in the kitchen.

“Why do you have garbage under your bed?”

“I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Oh. I thought I smelled something,” says Honey, coming into the room.

Honey knows her toys play when she’s not around. After all, they are never exactly where she left them when she returns from school, and last week when she got home from Shay’s, the garbage-eating shark was lounging on the carpet with the bubble wrap packaging chewed to bits. But her toys have never done anything like hide trash under the bed.

Lumphy examines her face. Honey is wondering.

“Sorry,” she tells her dad as he holds out the bag.

“But why is it in here?” he persists.

She shrugs.

“I can’t believe we left the garbage there,” whispers Lumphy to StingRay. “It’s been a lot of days!”

“I thought you took care of it,” StingRay whispers back.

“I thought you took care of it,” says Lumphy.

The dad clucks his tongue. “There’s a ton of junk under here. Will you go get the vacuum cleaner?”

Honey bends and looks under the bed. Several necklaces, crumpled strings of toilet paper, some sky blue ribbon, a plastic tiara, some white lace, and a lacy royal blue sock—StingRay’s stash of DaisySparkle costumes is down there. She pulls everything out and spreads it over the patchwork quilt.

Honey sorts through the sparkly things for a minute. Then she picks up—not StingRay, but the shark. The new shark she didn’t even look at when it first arrived; the new shark she’s hardly even played with. Honey takes that shark and wraps her in lace and sky blue ribbon.

StingRay’s lace and sky blue ribbon.

Honey winds a silver necklace four times around the bit of the shark that is most like a neck.

StingRay’s silver necklace.

Honey announces, “Dad, I thought of a name for my shark.”

“How nice.” The dad is pulling bits of LEGO, scraps of paper, and several books out from under the bed.

“Don’t you want to hear what it is?”

“Sure. But I asked you to go get the vacuum.”

“Her name is DaisySparkle.”

StingRay’s favorite name. From StingRay’s favorite movie.

“Great.” The dad pulls his head out from under the bed and examines the DaisySparkle shark in her finery. “She looks fancy, doesn’t she?”

“She’s going to a fiesta,” says Honey.

“Can it be a vacuuming fiesta?” asks the dad.

“Okay,” Honey agrees. She runs down the hall with the shark, trailing a pretty piece of sky blue ribbon.

StingRay, immobile on the easy chair, cries without tears.

. . . . .

Rroooooooooooooma rooma.

The vacuum makes a very, very large noise.

Rroooooooooooooma rooma.

Lumphy huddles closer to StingRay and puts his buffalo paws over his eyes.

Rroooooooooooooma rooma.

“Tell me when it’s over,” he says.

“What, are you scared you’ll be sucked into the vacuum cleaner?” StingRay is cranky, watching Honey do her chores with DaisySparkle shark tucked under one arm.

“Stranger things have happened,” says Lumphy.

“You’re way too big to get sucked into the vacuum,” snaps StingRay. “Get over it. Haven’t you seen the people vacuum, like, a million times?”

Lumphy does not answer. His eyes are squeezed shut.

“Well, haven’t you?” presses StingRay.

“Mrwwfflfe mide,” Lumphy mumbles into his paws.

“What? You can speak up. They won’t hear you with all that noise.”

“I always hide.”

“I thought you were tough and brave.” StingRay is in no mood for this. “Don’t fall apart on me now.”

The dad is making Honey do a very thorough vacuuming job. She cleans under the bed. He pulls the shoes out of the closet and has her get the corners. He moves the toy box and she vacuums the dust underneath.

And.

A mouse.

She vacuums a mouse.

A toy mouse that was underneath.

Bonkers has been sucked up into the vacuum cleaner with no more sound than a slight bumple wumple.

Lumphy and StingRay see it all from their place on the easy chair. But they cannot move. They cannot call out. Bonkers is somewhere deep inside that loud machine.

“She didn’t even notice,” whispers StingRay, shocked.

Rroooooooooooooma rooma.

Finally, Honey switches off the vacuum. Her dad puts it back in the hall closet. Honey grabs the box of silent Barbies and—still holding DaisySparkle—trots downstairs.

Like nothing bad has even happened.

. . . . .

In the middle of the night, when the people have finally all gone to bed, StingRay, Lumphy, Plastic, and the remaining toy mice launch a rescue operation, down the hall to the vacuum cleaner closet.

“Hold up!” yells DaisySparkle, launching herself after them.

“Oh, you needn’t trouble yourself,” says StingRay. She is still mad about the princess costumes and the attention from Honey.

“Excuse me, but members of the Chewing Society of North America look out for their own,” answers DaisySparkle.

“We’ll manage without your help.” StingRay is polite, but barely. “We got along before you came here, after all.”

DaisySparkle ignores her and thumps along after them. Lumphy and StingRay pry open the closet door and drag the vacuum out. There is a small plastic door in its side. Lumphy unlatches it, and—thank goodness—inside is a puffy gray vacuum bag.

Only, it doesn’t have a hole at the top. It has, in fact, no discernible opening at all.

“Take that bag thing out,” urges Plastic.

Lumphy leans over, grabbing the bag in his paws. He joggles it side to side, and finally pulls it out of the vacuum cleaner and into the hall. The bag is larger than he is, and the hole where it connects to the hose is a tiny round aperture, not much bigger than Bonkers. Lumphy calls down. “Can you hear me?”

There is a very quiet squeaking.

“Alive!” cries Rocky.

“We’re here to help you!” calls Lumphy. “Can you see the hole at the back? Climb up to it.”

The squeaking becomes muffled. As if Bonkers has his mouth full of dust.

“Can you move yourself at all?”

There is a slight wiggle in a bottom corner of the bag.

“He should never have been under the toy box during vacuuming,” says Brownie to her fellow mice. “He should have hid in the bookcase with the rest of us.”

“Is he climbing out?” wonders Millie. “Can he do it?”

“He’s got dirt on top of him,” says Lumphy. “I don’t think he can get to the opening.”

“Let me shake it.” StingRay holds out a flipper. “Maybe he’ll fall out.”

Lumphy isn’t sure. “Won’t we get dust all over the hall? How will we clean it up?”

StingRay gives him a serious look. “If we don’t get Bonkers out, you know where he’s gonna end up, don’t you?”

No.

“In the dump, that’s where!” cries StingRay. “He’ll be tossed in a pile of old sour-milk cartons

and no one will love him anymore

and it will smell like throw-up.”

Lumphy hands StingRay the vacuum cleaner bag. She turns it so the hole is pointing at the floor and shakes as hard as she can.

Nothing comes out.

StingRay rears onto her tail and jumps up and down.

More nothing comes out.

“You’re doing some good bouncing,” says Plastic, kindly.

“But he’s still in there,” says Lumphy.

“I know.” StingRay drops the bag, dispirited.

There is a silence. Then DaisySparkle announces, “I’m gonna try.”

“You?” StingRay shakes her head.

“Yeah, me,” says DaisySparkle. She hurls herself onto the vacuum cleaner bag. Grunk! Gru-GRUNK!

She chews the part of the bag where they can see Bonkers wiggling.

Grunk! Gru-GRUNK!

She spits out dust and baby powder.

Grunk! Gru-GRUNK!

She chews some more.

Spits.

And now there is a nice-sized hole for Bonkers. “Show yourself, mousie!” calls the shark.

First pink dusty nose, then plump, dirty white mouse, then long softy tail emerges from the vacuum bag. Bonkers shakes himself, scattering dust—and smiles. “The Chewing Society of North America!” he yells, jubilant, hugging the shark as best he can without any visible arms or legs. “The Chewing Society of North America performed a heroic rescue!”

DaisySparkle pats him with a fin.

Bonkers shakes himself again and runs over to Millie, Brownie, and Rocky. “Hey, did you guys know I was chewing from the inside, too?” he tells them, thrilled. “I was! I chewed the inside and the shark chewed the outside and together we did teamwork!”

“Hooray!” yell the mice.

“You guys should try it,” says Bonkers. “I bet you could chew as well as me if you practiced. I chewed myself out of that bag, almost. I really almost did!”

StingRay and Lumphy try to pick up clumps of dirt and chewed vacuum cleaner bag off the hall floor, but it is impossible. “Thanks a lot for the mess,” StingRay huffs at DaisySparkle.

Eventually, Lumphy trots down to the kitchen and brings up the whisk broom and a dustpan. They clean as best they can, then shove the vacuum bag back into the machine and hope the people don’t notice the hole.

. . . . .

In the morning, when Honey and her family are getting ready for school and work, the mother calls down the stairs, “You know what? I think we’ve got a mouse living in the hall closet!”

“Really?” Honey and her dad come to see.

The mom is holding the chewed-up vacuum cleaner bag. “There are shreds of it all over,” she says.

“Hm,” says the dad. “Well, if we see any more evidence, we’ll have to trap it and put it outside.”

“It chewed a big hole,” says Honey. “That was a hungry mouse.”

As soon as the people are gone for the day, Bonkers runs to the center of the bedroom and wiggles all around. “Did you hear, did you hear?” he cries. “They said it was a mouse that chewed the big hole. They said it was a mouse, and they thought it was a mouse, and it was!” He hops up and down in glee. “It was a mouse. It was me! It was me!”

. . . . .

A week or so later, while StingRay and Lumphy are playing Uncle Wiggily, DaisySparkle scoots herself over and nudges StingRay with her nose. “Hey,” she says.

“Hello there,” StingRay says, drawing a card and moving her Uncle Wiggily rabbit four spaces, as if she’s awfully busy.

“Did I tell you I’ve been chewing the Barbies?” DaisySparkle asks, casually.

“No!” StingRay is so surprised she turns to face the shark.

“Oh, yeah,” says DaisySparkle. “You know how Honey keeps putting me in stupid outfits and making me play with those dumb things? Well, as soon as she goes out of the room, I go to town. At first I just did a few small nibbles, but a couple days ago I chewed the leg of one of them. I made some serious dents in it, too.”

“You shouldn’t do that,” says StingRay.

“I didn’t break them. I just chewed one on its left leg.” The shark coughs. “And.”

“And what?”

“Yesterday I got the arm of the other one. I nearly bit off its hand.”

“What if they can feel it?” wonders Lumphy from the other side of the Uncle Wiggily board.

“Nah. They never talk. It’s no different from chewing a table leg.”

“They might talk amongst themselves,” Lumphy says. “Like when they’re alone in the Barbie box. We don’t know for sure, just ’cause we’ve never heard them.”

DaisySparkle shrugs her top fin. “If you’re worried about it, I’ll stop. But really, if you hung out with those Barbies as much as I have, you’d know they don’t feel the smallest bite. And let me tell you, chewing them is very satisfying.”

StingRay is secretly pleased. She doesn’t want anyone hurt, but really, she hates those Barbies, too. “You don’t like playing dress-up with them?” she asks.

The shark shakes her head. “Hardly. It’s like playing with a table leg.”

“But you’re Princess DaisySparkle,” says StingRay. “Honey puts you in all those special blue outfits.”

The shark snorts. “I don’t want to wear clothes. I like to go natural.”

“You do?”

“And if you like my name, take it,” says the shark. “Blech.”

StingRay can’t believe what she is hearing. “You don’t want to be DaisySparkle?”

“Can’t stand it,” says the shark. “Call me Spark, if you don’t mind.”

“Okay,” says StingRay, absorbing the new information. “Spark, would you like to play Uncle Wiggily with us?”

“You betcha!” says Spark, looking at the board game. “Hand me a rabbit, bison! I’m gonna wiggle my Wiggily!”

Maybe it’s because DaisySparkle changed her name, or maybe it’s because she chewed the silent Barbies—but from that day on, she and StingRay are friends.