Charlie Bumpers vs. the Perfect Little Turkey (7 page)

“Sit on the bed, you guys,” Matt said.

“And girl,” the Squid said.

We sat on his bed. This was unbelievable! He never invited either of us into his room, especially not me.

“It’s time for Operation Perfect Little Turkey,” he said.

“What’s that?” the Squid asked.

“I hate to admit this, Mabel, but Chip is giving Charlie a really hard time. As his brother and sister, we are the only ones allowed to do that. It’s time for us to protect him.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I mean we have to make sure that Chip stops bugging you and that you don’t keep getting blamed for stuff you didn’t do. Mom and Dad are too busy to notice what’s really going on, so we’ll have to take the law into our own hands.”

That sounded pretty interesting.

“Chip doesn’t listen,” the Squid announced, nodding her head. “He’s not a perfect turkey. He’s a turkey
butt.
”

That was about as bad a word as the Squid would ever say.

“Right, Mabel,” Matt said, and he turned back to me. “We are ever vigilant in protecting the rights of the falsely accused, which means you, Charlie. Mabel and I have to keep an eye on Chip to make sure he does not continue to be a turkey butt.”

“He’s driving me crazy,” I said. “He almost killed everyone with the rocket, and I think he’s going to eat all of Gams’s rolls. I’m afraid I won’t get any.”

“The rolls are not a problem,” Matt said. “When they’re passed around the table to us, we’ll each take
some extras and keep them in our laps. Then we can share them with each other if one of us comes up empty-handed.”

“Okay,” the Squid said. She was excited about being included in a plan with her big brothers.

“What are our other objectives?” Matt asked. He was beginning to sound like Buck Meson!

“Well,” I said, thinking about what else Chip might do. “I just hope I get some whipped cream on my pumpkin pie. Remember last summer when we were making strawberry shortcake and Chip used up the whole can of whipped cream?”

“That was
him?
” Matt asked. “What a sneak!”

“Yeah!” I said. “He squirted the whole can on his strawberries.”

“Not today,” Matt said. “You’ll have as much whipped cream as you want.”

“Can I have some?” the Squid asked.

“All the Bumpers children will have whipped cream,” Matt announced. “When it’s time for dessert, we have to be the first up to clear the table
before anyone else gets in the kitchen. Follow my lead. Do you understand?”

We both nodded.

“What else?” Matt asked.

“Well,” I went on, “the only other thing I’m really worried about is getting to watch the Buck Meson special when it comes on.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Matt said. “Even though it’s a dumb show, I’ll make sure you get to see it. Anything else?”

I thought of one more problem.

“What if I have to eat Mrs. Gritzbach’s brussels sprouts?”

“You’re on your own with that, Charlie,” Matt said. “I can’t stand them either.”

“Neither can I,” the Squid said.

“Charlie,” Matt said, “just remember the first rule in dealing with younger relatives: ‘Don’t let them bug you.’”

“It’s hard,” I said.

“You can do it,” he said. “You’re smart.”

Wow. Matt had never told me
that
before.

“Though not as smart as me,” he added, grinning.

Just then we heard Dad calling up the stairs. “Matt! Charlie! Mabel! Down here right now!”

“Let’s go, Team Bumpers,” said Matt. “Our mission is to help our bozo brother.”

“Thanks, guys,” I said.

“Guy and
girl,
” the Squid corrected me. “They both begin with
g
but they are not the same.”

We piled back down the stairs and headed for the Thanksgiving table.

Mom had labeled each of the Squid’s toilet-roll turkeys with the name of the person who was supposed to sit at each place and arranged them on the table. I walked around until I found mine. Mrs. Gritzbach was on one side of me.

Guess whose toilet-roll turkey was on the other side?

Right. Chip, the Perfect Little Turkey himself. While everyone else was busy finding their seats, I saw Matt reach into the basket of rolls. He handed a couple to the Squid and kept some for himself.
When they sat at their places, they slipped the rolls into their laps. Holy moly! They were really doing it!

The Squid looked like she had a secret she really wanted to tell and could hardly wait. Matt had a smirk on his face.

“I’m so glad I’m next to you,” Mrs. Gritzbach said to me as she unfolded her napkin. “You can help me serve.”

That’s when I noticed what was right in front of her.

The brussels sprouts.

I hoped she would let me serve myself. Then I could serve myself nothing.

Mom and Aunt Sarah came in from the kitchen and Aunt Sarah set Tilly in the high chair next to her. Ginger settled down under the table, which is where she likes to be in case anyone drops something by accident.

“Let’s give thanks,” Mom said.

We all held hands and bowed our heads. It was quiet for a moment, which was amazing, since
there were fifteen of us. Even Ginger was quiet. I wondered what dogs are thankful for.

My dad began to name some things he was thankful for. He’s usually funny, but this time he didn’t make any jokes or wisecracks. I could tell everyone was really listening. While Dad was talking, I thought about Mrs. Burke’s assignment. I wished I had just written something simple about families in the first place. Like listing all my relatives—a mom and dad and brother and sister and grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins.

Okay, maybe not my cousin.

“Let’s eat!” Uncle Ron said.

Dad carved the turkey. Pops placed a couple of slices on the plates and passed them to Mom, who loaded on potatoes and dressing and cranberry relish and other stuff. Then Mom handed the plates over to Mrs. Gritzbach, who spooned on some brussels sprouts.

In a little while, I could tell that the next plate would stop at my place. It had been around the table
gathering food, including the cranberry relish, which I did not like, and my dad’s mashed potato casserole, which I did. When the plate passed by Matt and the Squid, I saw them each reach down, pick up a roll off their laps, and slip it on my plate.

It came to me before it reached Mrs. Gritzbach, and I quickly put it down in front of me.
Good,
I thought.
No room for brussels sprouts.

“I seem to have missed you, Charlie,” Mrs. Gritzbach said, and she dumped five brussels sprouts on my already crowded plate.

That was more brussels sprouts than I’d eaten in my entire nine years of life.

“Please start the rolls around, Matt,” Mom said. He and the Squid each took one, then passed the basket. When it reached Aunt Sarah, she said, “Wow! These rolls are disappearing fast!”

“Well,” Gams said, “the cook takes it as a compliment. I guess I just didn’t make enough.”

When the basket came around the table, Chip took the last roll. That figured.

But I didn’t care. I already had two on my plate, thanks to Matt and the Squid.

As we ate, Aunt Sarah started to tell about how when she was little, Mom, her older sister, had convinced her she could dye her hair with green food coloring and that it would wash out right away.

Except it didn’t.

Gams laughed and said they’d had to cut all of Aunt Sarah’s hair off.

“You looked like an alien!” Pops said. “Even your scalp was green.”

“You were so mean!” Aunt Sarah said to Mom.

“Because you were a horrible little sister!” Mom was smiling when she said it, so I knew she was teasing.

“Not as horrible as Ron,” Dad said.

Uncle Ron laughed out loud. “What are you talking about, dude? You were the meanest big brother of all time! Remember the time you got me stuck up on the roof?”

I had heard all of those stories before, but I loved
hearing them again. Everybody was laughing and enjoying the food, and saying how good everything tasted.

The turkey and the mashed potatoes and the rolls were stupific. Spectabulous. I even ate a little of the cranberry relish and one of the sprouts, just to be polite. It was not stupific. Or spectabulous. It was horrible. And as the rest of the food on my plate disappeared, the other four brussels sprouts became more and more noticeable.

I was trying to figure out a way to get rid of the sprouts without hurting Mrs. Gritzbach’s feelings when I felt something brush against my foot. Ginger was crawling around under the table, looking to see if anyone had dropped anything.

I wondered if dogs liked brussels sprouts.

When no one was looking, I slipped one off my plate and held it under the table. Right away, I could feel Ginger’s muzzle in my hand. She took the brussels sprout!

One more down! Three to go!

I slid another one under the table. I felt Ginger’s mouth on my hand again and the sprout disappeared. She was going to eat all of them!

The next time, the brussels sprout slipped out of my hand. I looked down and saw all the brussels sprouts on the floor. Ginger hadn’t eaten any of them!

“Hey,” Chip said, peering under the table. “Charlie dropped his brussels sprouts.”

Mom gave me a look.

“I just spilled a couple,” I said. “I’ll get them.”

I grabbed my napkin and knelt down on the floor. I put the squishy sprouts in the napkin and crawled out from under the table.

I took the disgusting vegetables and dumped them into the kitchen wastebasket. Then I went back to my seat and sat down. Mrs. Gritzbach picked up
the serving spoon. “Here, Charlie,” she said. “There are still a few left.”

“I don’t … I mean, I …”

She was about to put the last three sprouts on my plate when Mrs. Walcott spoke up.

“Excuse me,” she said. “I’d like de rest of de brussels sprouts. Dem taste so good.” She held her plate out across the table. “If Charlie don’ mind?”

“No,” I said. “It’s alright.”

While Mrs. Gritzbach was ladling the sprouts on her plate, Mrs. Walcott gave me a wink.

When the main meal was almost over, Matt suddenly jumped up from the table. “Everybody stay where you are!” he announced. “The Bumpers children will clear the table.”

Mom smiled. Dad said, “Miracles do happen!”

I wasn’t sure exactly what Matt had in mind, but I started clearing away the plates.

When I took Mrs. Walcott’s plate, I saw all the brussels sprouts were still there.

I guess when you get to be older, you can eat whatever you want.

When I went into the kitchen with my third load of plates and platters, Matt was standing by the counter shaking the can of whipped cream.

“Charlie, Mabel,” he said. “Come here, quick.”

I walked over to Matt and the Squid followed close behind me. Matt leaned his head back, stuck the nozzle in his mouth, and squirted whipped cream right into his mouth. He wiped his lips and grinned. “Okay, Charlie,” he said. “Open your mouth and tilt back your head! Hurry!”

Matt stuck the nozzle of whipped cream in my mouth and pushed the button. Before I could swallow, it filled my mouth and ran down my chin.

“That’s enough!” I said. Except it sounded like
“Aghghh egughh!”

“My turn!” the Squid squealed.

Matt handed me the can. “Time to share with your sister.”

I grabbed a dish towel and wiped the whipped cream off my face and my nice dress shirt.

The Squid opened her mouth, tilted back her head, and closed her eyes. “I’m ready, Charlie!” she said, sticking out her tongue.

I pressed down the nozzle.

The whipped cream shot out of the can and into the Squid’s mouth.

I have always said that the Squid has a big mouth, but actually, it’s very small—it didn’t hold very much. She started to laugh and whipped cream sprayed out of her mouth.

“It tickles!” she said. Except it sounded like
“Ight gighhhhawz.”

We passed the can around again.

“What’s going on?” Mom said from behind us.

We turned and looked.

She was standing in the doorway. And she was not happy.

All of us still had mouthfuls of whipped cream.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” she said.

Trick question! No good answer!

The Squid swallowed, then spoke up. “Last time Chip hogged all the whipped cream, so this time we wanted to make sure
we
got some.”

“Whose idea was this?”

The Squid and I looked at each other. We weren’t going to tell on Matt. We were Team Bumpers.

“Mine,” Matt said.

Mom shook her head. “You three are not helping.”

“Actually, we did clear the table,” Matt observed.

“Well, finish the job, and please try to behave yourselves for a little while longer.”

We carried the dessert plates and forks to the dining room and Mom brought out the pies and the
can of whipped cream. Dad went into the kitchen and brought out coffee for the grown-ups. Matt, the Squid, and I sat down while Mom cut slices of pie for everyone.

“We’re not sure how much whipped cream we have,” she said, glaring at us. “So the Bumpers children have graciously volunteered not to have any.”

We all just nodded. Uncle Ron turned to my dad and said, “Hey, Jimmy, remember when we used to squirt whipped cream in each other’s mouths?”

“That was a riot,” Dad said. “Have you kids ever tried that?”

“Once,” Matt said.

Mom glared at both Dad and Uncle Ron.

“Dat sound like fun,” Mrs. Walcott announced.

“Can I try it?” Chip asked.

“Not today,” Aunt Sarah said.

I smiled to myself and ate my pie with no whipped cream.