Chapter 2

The next day, late afternoon in Kimberly Mae’s 5th grade class, Mrs. Foster was at work.  “Now Class!” she said, “Can anyone tell me what a fraction is?  Kimberly Mae.  What is a fraction?”

“Fractions are,” she began, “when you break a bone.”  The class started to laugh.

“Not quite,” Mrs. Foster patiently said.  “You are thinking of the word, ‘fracture.’”

“Yes ma’am,” she said.  “I’m sorry.”

“Now class, fractions are part of a whole.”  Mrs. Foster turned to draw a circle on the black board.  “This is a pie,” she began.  Kimberly Mae raised her hand.  “Yes, Kimberly Mae?”

“You said they were part of a hole, not a pie.”

More giggles.

“Kimberly Mae, sometimes I don’t know if you’re kidding or that you need more help studying.  Please try to pay attention,” she said.  The teacher turned her back to write on the board.  “This isn’t a picture of a pie.  It’s called a pie chart.  It represents a whole pie.”

“Sorry, ma’am!”  Kimberly Mae said.  “I don’t get it.”

Kimberly Mae thought to her.  “Why can’t I be smart like the others?”  She fidgeted in her chair.  “I am getting very frisky,” she thought.  The teacher turned her back to the class again.  “I have to do something or I’ll explode.”  She wadded up a piece of paper, took out a straw from her book bag, loaded the wad into her weapon, then blew into the end.  She whispered to herself,

“Spit ball, spit ball in the air,

Where you’ll land, I know not where.

And, furthermore, I do not care.”

That one landed in Cecilia Martin’s hair.  She was a cute girl with pigtails.  Some of the kids giggled, which caused Mrs. Foster to spin around to face the class.  “What’s funny?” she asked.  Her laser eyes were cutting right into the souls of every kid she looked at.  Kimberly Mae could almost hear herself sizzle right there in her seat.  “No giggling in the class!  Now pay attention.  Fractions are important.”

The teacher, again, turned toward the board to write numbers.  Kimberly Mae reloaded her shooter.  This time she aimed it at her brother, Christopher, who was sitting at the other side of the room.  Thoop!  He batted the wad out of the air before it got to him, but that just made it hit the black board where it stuck for a few seconds before dropping to the floor.  Everyone but Mrs. Foster saw it.  No one dared to laugh this time.  Mike Casey, a rather plump kid in the class, put his hand over his mouth so that his cheeks started to bulge and his face turned red.  When he couldn’t hold it in any longer, he tried to disguise his laughter by coughing.  Mrs. Foster took one look at him and said, “Oh, dear boy!  You’re choking!”  She walked over to him and slapped him on the back.  Everyone burst out in laughter.  “Are you okay now, Mike?” she asked.

“Yes Mrs. Foster.  (Cough cough).”

“Now class, this is not funny.  He could have died!”  But that just made everyone laugh the louder.  Then she said, “I think this would be an excellent opportunity to talk about how to handle emergency situations, like choking victims.”

Kimberly Mae thought, “That’s too bad - now I have to wait.”  It was three more minutes before Mrs. Foster turned back to write on the chalkboard again.  This time the spit wad stuck to the side of Mrs. Foster’s desk.  The next one landed right next to it and bounced to the floor.  Mrs. Foster turned to the class and noticed Kimberly Mae’s handiwork.  She said, “Who did this?  Who has been shooting spit wads in this classroom?  Speak up!  Who did it?”

Silence.

“Someone here is being just gosh awful!  If someone doesn’t confess to this right away, we’re going to do busywork for the next hour!  Every one of you is going to do busywork!”

“Wow!” thought Kimberly Mae, “Busywork!  Busywork is enough to scare any fifth grader into righteousness.  They should use that at church!” she thought.  “The preacher should say, ‘All gosh awful boys and girls go to classrooms when they die and the devil makes them do busywork for the rest of eternity!’”

“No one will confess, huh?”  Mrs. Foster continued.  “Okay, get out your math books and turn to page one hundred and nine.”  The children groaned.  “Now, let us see.  Ninety, no, one hundred.  No, one hundred and fifty.  You will do one hundred and fifty math problems.”

                Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrring

“Yay!” the kids shouted.

“Saved by the bell this time, kids.  But be doubly sure not to misbehave again - or else!”

Christopher and Kimberly Mae headed for the door amid the classroom’s rush-hour traffic.  “Last one out’s a Fibble Wibble” Kimberly Mae shouted.

Christopher and Kimberly Mae went out the front door.  “Freedom!”  Kimberly Mae said.  “Freedom, freedom, freedom!  I love it.  And in a few more days, summer vacation!”

“Oh, Kimberly Mae!  Would you stop overreacting?  You do this every day,” Christopher said.  “Hey, where’s Tommy?”

“Mommy took him home early today.  Don’t you remember?  A doctor’s appointment or something like that.”

“He’s lucky.  I never get out of school.”

After a trip in the school bus, the two approached their farmhouse.

Christopher continued, “Kimberly Mae, that was funny what you did in class today.  Those spitballs were purely crazy.  But I would really have enjoyed learning about fractions.  Why don’t you think before you - HEY!”

Christopher’s words were halted by cool water pouring over them.  Tommy’s voice came crying out, “Direct hit!  One bucket and I got you both!  And you didn’t have time to run or nothing!  You’re just a couple of melons, ripe for the picking!”  

Christopher and Kimberly Mae looked up toward the open bedroom window.  There was Tommy in T-shirt.  A small band aid was on his arm where he had recently received an inoculation.  Christopher called back; “You’re going to get it Tommy!  You just wait!”

“Quick, Christopher,” Kimberly Mae said, “get the key out of your shoe.”

He put his finger in his shoe, “It’s not there,” he replied.

“You looking for this?”  Tommy said, dangling that key in front of them from the window.  “I found it in your shoe last night.”

Christopher muttered, “I guess he got us good this time, sis.  And he does have a right to throw water on us on a hot day.  But don’t worry Kimberly Mae, ” Christopher said,  “I got an ace in the hole."  Then he directed his mouth Tommy-ward and shouted,    "Hey!  I got a chocolate bar for you!”

“You mean the one that was in your top drawer?”

“You didn’t eat my chocolate bar too!”

“I left fifty cents in its place!  Anyway, it was pleading with me on its knees!  ‘Tommy,’ it said.  ‘You’ve got to save me from your brother’s breath!’  So I melted it in my mouth where it found a peaceful home in my tummy.”  There was a bucket of spite dripping from each word.

Kimberly Mae said to Christopher, “I wonder if he found out about my soda stashed in my closet.  I'm almost afraid to ask.”  Just then they both heard Mommy’s rickety station wagon coming into the driveway.  “There’s Mommy!  It's good she never leaves him home alone for more than five minutes,” Kimberly Mae said.

Mommy got out of the car and walked toward them.  She was dressed in jeans and a floral shirt.  She was carrying the babies: Zack was in one arm and Erica in the other.  "What are you two doing?  Look at you.  How did you get all wet like that?  You two!  Get inside."

The kids heard a loud “Whoooops” as Tommy ducked his head back through the window.

Christopher had to work the door key.  "Hurry!  Change clothes before Daddy gets home," said Mommy,  "We have a surprise for you."

"Surprise?”  Christopher said.  But Kimberly Mae couldn’t worry about a surprise because she was thinking about how to get back at Tommy.

"Now let's plan our get back," she said to Christopher.  "Sweet and vengeful retaliation for a little brother."

When they got inside, they noticed Tommy had taped handwritten signs on the wall.  "Do not render evil for evil, nor drenching for drenching, but rather blessing," one said.  "When your brother strikes ye on the one cheek turn to him the other also," said another.  "Do good unto those who persecute and dispitefully use you and throw water from a window at you," said a third.

"Those signs sure do take a lot of fightin' spirit out of ya don't they Christopher?”  Kimberly Mae said.

"They sure do, Kimberly Mae.  I think we might just let him sweat up there in his room for a while until he figures out we forgave him.  After all, he did douse us obeyin' all the rules and he did get us good, didn't he?" he said.

"Yeah he did," Kimberly Mae said,  "I couldn't have done it better myself."

“That’s the truth.  I wish I had done that joke.  It was just perfect,” he said.

The sound of a tractor pulling into the nearby barn drew their attention.  “Hey, you hear that?  Daddy’s come in from the fields!”  Kimberly Mae said.             

The front door opened.  There Daddy was in his jeans and blue denim work shirt.  Since he’s a hard working farmer, when he got home he usually felt really worn.  And the worner he felt the sillier he had to be to keep his soul from getting overly worn.  So when he got in the front door and saw the kids in the living room, he took off his shirt.

"Hi kids!  It’s time for a shirt fight!" he declared.  He then threw it at Kimberly Mae.

Kimberly Mae giggled, got up and joined in the fun.  "Shirt fight!”  Kimberly Mae called, as she threw it at Christopher.

"Shirt fight!”  Christopher shouted as he threw it at Tommy.  The kids always enjoyed Daddy’s silly shirt fights.  They were good fun, but too often they got out of hand.  That's what happened this time.  After about only three minutes of shirt fighting, Christopher took one of Erica’s stuffed bears from the sofa and tossed it at his Daddy.

"Fuzzy fight!" he declared.  Soon stuffed animals were flying everywhere.  " Fuzzy fight!"  Daddy said as she zeroed in on Christopher.  Zack and Erica grabbed fuzzies and targeted Daddy.  Both hit him at the same time, one in the chest and on one the arm.  Everyone giggled as the soft animals bounced harmlessly off their victims and onto the floor.

When the fuzzy fight was over, Mommy said, “Hurry kids!  Clean up!  Daddy has a surprise for us."

Kimberly Mae asked,  "What is it?  Can I be the first to see it?"

"No,” Daddy said, “but you can all see it together right now.  I have it in the car."

All the kids stormed the car like it was the last piece of cake at a birthday party.  Paper and plastic wrapping flew everywhere.

"It's the 'Mouse Trap Game'" Tommy said.

"What a great choice!”  Christopher said, "Let's play."

“Let’s do it on the living room rug.”  Kimberly Mae said.

“I’m too impatient to play the game,” Christopher said.  “Let’s just put it together and wind the crank.  We’ll play it when we have more time.”

They put it together and wound the crank.  The little bat hit the metal ball, sending it on its way.  It coursed down the plastic gutter caused the little acrobat to flip and sent the plastic basket to capture the little plastic mouse.

"Wow!  Look at it go!" Tommy said.

"Yeah, real fun!" said Christopher.

"Super cool!" Kimberly Mae said.

They would have played with it all day, but, just then, they heard a loud noise from the kitchen!

“What’s that?” Zack shouted.

“Oh no!” Kimberly Mae and Christopher shouted together.

“Grab the fly swatters!” Daddy called out.  “We’re being raided!”

Chapter 3

Nothing else sounds like, and nothing is so frightful as the sound of a thousand tiny feet scampering in the kitchen.  Daddy shouted, “Quick, everyone!  The Fibble Wibbles are attacking again!  Get the fly swatters!”  And sure enough, Fibble Wibbles were all over the kitchen counters and there were dozens on the floor, scores of them on the refrigerator and in the pantries!

“Quick!"  Daddy said.  “Prod them with the fly swatters!”

 “That never works,” Kimberly Mae said.  “They run fast and hide.”

“Be sure not to hurt them!”  Daddy said, “Or they'll all get hopping mad - and you don’t want that!”

The Fibble Wibbles sprinted from here to there raiding all the candy and junk-food they could carry.  A dozen of them were at the pantry to the right of the stove plundering the chocolate bars and marshmallows.  Others were tossing cake and strawberry jelly out of the fridge and cupboard.

A slender mustached Fibble Wibble with a plume coming from his green hat, was giving the orders.  He called out, loudly:

“Search left and right, both high and low!

That’s the way we Wibbles go.

Find the potato chips and candy.

Some M&Ms will come in handy!”

“Quick!” Daddy said.  “Stop them before they find the M&Ms above the sink!”  Daddy winced as he realized he just made a big mistake.

“Great work!” Mommy said sarcastically.  “Now they know just where to go.”

Now the Fibble Wibbles started to attack the shelf above the kitchen sink where all the M&Ms were.  They had suction cups on their feet and were fa-popping upside down on the ceiling like flies.  Then they went down the wall to the M&Ms and started tossing them down to their friends on the floor.

The chief Fibble Continued:

.              

“Gather tribute, don’t leave a thing!

We need food if we’re to sing!”

Then Tommy called out, “Got one!” as he prodded one of them with his swatter.  It was one of the more tubby Fibble Wibbles who looked like he’d had enough fun for the night anyway.  He left through the wibble-hole the little folk had made at the bottom of the back door.

“It‘s hopeless,” Mommy said.  “As soon as we get one dozen out the door, there are as many working mischief that we didn’t even notice.”

Again, the chief Fibble called out:   

“Now that we’re full, and need no more,

  It’s time for us to hit the door!”

Then, when one slender Fibble Wibble with a shoulder-length mustache blew a tiny bugle, all the Fibble Wibbles headed toward the door. Quicker than you can say “Fibble Wibble,” they were completely gone.  Daddy turned on the backyard lights and looked out the window to see the last of them go into their burrow.

Mommy and Daddy bowed their weary heads.  “How much did they take this time, do you suppose?” Daddy asked no one in particular.

“It looks like they took two bags of chips, six candy bars, five bags of fine donut

gems  . . . ”  Mommy said. “I doubt there’s even a single M&M left.”

“It’s a good thing Fibble Wibbles can’t eat regular people food or we’d starve,” Daddy said.  “Okay, show’s over!” said Daddy.  “Everyone!  Go to bed.  It’s a school night!  Now get!”  Daddy headed toward the front door.  “I’ll be back soon.”.

“But Carl,” Mommy said, “it’s getting late.”

“You know the routine,” Daddy replied.  “If you don’t replace your M&Ms right away, it’s admitting defeat.  The store’s still open.  I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

Kimberly Mae, Christopher and Thomas went into their bedroom and climbed into their cots.

Thump-a thump-a thump-a thump-a went the music.  Thump-a thump-a thump-a thump-a went their beds as it vibrated with the beat.

“No way can I sleep,” Kimberly Mae said out loud.

“Yeah, Daddy and Mommy can’t expect us to stay up here!” Tommy said.

                “Sleep is impossible,” Christopher agreed.  “After every raid they have a big party in the yard.  Their country music is always so loud that no one can sleep.”

The three got up and sneaked outside.   Once there, Kimberly Mae found Mommy and Daddy had come out to look and listen too.

“All right you guys,” Daddy said.  “I know you want to join in the dance.  You can stay.”

“Thanks Daddy,” Tommy said.

                The fat Fibble Wibble had a fiddle in his hands and was busily sawing its strings with his fiddle stick.  The thin Fibble Wibble with the mustache that blew the bugle in the kitchen traded it in for a Jews-Harp.  Others were on an inverted show-box stage using a mushroom as a seat and bottle tops as drums.  Then Mommy, Daddy and the kids heard, “One, two, three, four,” and the Fibble Wibbles all started their next song.  A Fibble Wibble in front of the others started singing,

“Grab your partner, do-si-do

Spin her round first fast then slow.

Circle right, the boys inside

Circle left, girls, meet your guy

“Clap your hands now to the beat

Hop-to-the-center with both your feet

Hop on back to meet your fate

Your best friend has got your date!

“Now don’t leave any thing to chance

Take her back so you can dance