Mr. Oddley's Toy Shop
By S.J. Armato
Copyright © S.J. Armato, 2011
Book cover and interior design by Tina Ann Armato
This book is dedicated to Ben, Jess, Mandy,
and my grandson Austin. You are all
a great source of joy and pride in
my life, and I love you dearly.
Any similarities found between the
manufactured events and characters in this
book and actual events and real people
is impossible. I made the story up!
Prologue
One could say he was a curious man. And he was certain he had seen a purple light pulsing further up the mountain side, further than he would normally have ventured so late in the day. But he had followed the trail in spite of that, hoping to satisfy his need to know. And then the mysterious light had vanished. Perhaps it was an atmospheric illusion? Perhaps it had been another hiker’s flashlight? Whatever it was, in an hour or so the sun would be setting, and it would be prudent to leave. This mystery would remain unsolved.
But you see, he hated mysteries. He loved the mountains, loved exploring caves, loved challenges, but he hated not knowing. Hated questions gone unanswered. He looked to the darkening twilight sky. Perhaps he could spare a few more minutes. It wasn’t as if he was inexperienced. He was quite adept at “mountain rummaging,” as he liked to call it. For he did more than merely climb mountains; he studied them, inside and out, and had done so for many years.
And he had... wait, there it was again. That pulsing purple light. Through his binoculars he could see a small crevice about 100 feet up. That was where the light was emanating from. He had to see what it was. As I said, he was a curious man.
He climbed until he reached the spot and peered through the opening, just large enough for him to crawl through... so he did. This crawl space led into a cave the size of a school gymnasium. A stone table stood in the middle of this room, and on that table rested a wooden box that had been tipped open. That was where the light was coming from.
As he approached the box he saw a dead raccoon lying on the ground. Bits of purple flecks glinting off its paws. He paused for a moment, a bit shaken, then continued toward the light.
Chapter 1
The doorbell rang. And it rang and it rang and it rang. A weary Maggie Golden wrapped her pillow around her ears to block out the sound. But the ringing wrangled its way through. Wrangled all the way to a switch in her brain, and flipped it on. And in doing so, wrangled her right out of a nice deep sleep. She looked at the clock on her night stand. Seven am and today is Saturday, she silently fumed. What kind of nut would be at the door this early on the weekend? And why isn’t Mom answering? Where is she anyway?
Then she heard the sound of running water. Great, Mom is in the shower. So, no help from her. She’d have to answer the doorbell herself. And whoever it was better have a good reason for waking her up. Goodness gripes, it wasn’t a school day, and she needed to catch up on her beauty sleep. She needed to recharge. She needed to... alright already... what she really needed was to stop that darn bell from ringing!
She drooped her way down the stairs and swung the door open, ready to give Mr. or Ms. busy finger a piece of her mind. And there... stood Tim. Flabbergasted, she slammed the door shut and stood transfixed and furious. Then she opened it again, ready to tell him off... and there... stood Molly. Maggie rubbed her eyes, slammed the door again, counted to 10, and this time when she opened it, there stood Bernie, Molly’s dog, looking up at her, happily wagging his tail. And off to the side were both her buddies. “Okay, I give up,” she mumbled, waved the three of them in, and led them up to her room.
“Why (yawn) are you guys here so early?” asked a foggy Maggie as she plopped face-first onto her bed.
Neither Molly nor Tim answered. But Tim with an ear-to-ear grin reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of beans. “Beans?” said a blank faced Maggie. “That’s why you’re here? To show me beans?”
“These are j-j-jumping beans,” explained Tim.
“Oh, well, of course. Silly me,” answered Maggie. “Now go away and let me sleep.” She got up and gestured grandly toward the door.
“No, no, you don’t understand,” interjected Molly. “Watch this.” She picked up a single bean and set it on the bed. “Jump,” she commanded. And the bean leaped a good foot into the air and fell back onto the bed.
Maggie looked impressed, and you could practically hear the wheels and gears turning in her head as she tried to figure out how Molly had done that trick.
“Now, watch this,” said Molly, as she held a finger, parallel to the bed, several inches over the bean, and commanded, “Jump over my finger.” It immediately did so, sailing up and over Molly’s little high-jump bar. Maggie no longer appeared sleepy. This bouncy little bean had roused her curiosity.
Maggie was about to speak but Molly cut her off. “Just one more,” she said. “Give me a glass.” She then positioned it about three feet away from the bean. And with a smile on her face she said, “Jump into the glass.” It jumped! Went sailing toward the glass... until it was intercepted by a food-seeking Bernie missile who gobbled it down.
Molly and Tim looked annoyed, but Maggie looked thrilled. “That’s incredible. Where did you get them?”
“At Oddley’s Toy Shop,” said Tim.
“What?” asked a stunned Maggie. “That creepy old store? That place is filled with so many dusty boxes of junk you can’t even walk through without falling over something. Last time I was in there was when you were looking for old issues of Burp-Man comics, and a box of them fell on my head. Mr. Oddley yelled and chased us out.”
“B-b-burp-Man is cool,” answered Tim, somewhat defensively. “Just give him a can of soda and...”
“Sure Tim, he’s my hero too,” Maggie interrupted, as she winked at Molly. “Now tell me more about the beans you got at Oddley’s.”
“Oh, Maggie, it’s not just the beans, it’s... look at this,” said Molly, as she pulled a slinky from her pocket and handed it to Maggie, who took it and looked right back at Molly. “Now what?” she said.
“Now, hold the slinky in your left hand and hold your right hand out next to it.” Maggie did as instructed.
“Now, wiggle your left hand.” Maggie once again complied, and as she did so the slinky uncoiled itself and arched itself over to Maggie’s right hand.
“It does stairs too,” said Tim. “And not j-j-just down. It climbs up the stairs.”
Maggie looked confused. Pleased, but confused. “And you got this from Oddley’s too?”
“That’s right,” said Molly.
“But that dumpy old...”
“Yes, Maggie, we know,” said Tim. “But something’s changed. The place is still a d-d-dump but the toys are, well, you saw for yourself. All the toys in the shop are like these. They work really, really well. It’s kind of like they do what you’d expect them to do, only better.”
“But, how?” asked Maggie.
“Don’t know,” answered Molly. “But you have to come and take a look for yourself.”
“Sure, but it’s 7:15 in the morning. The shop probably doesn’t open until...”
“The shop opens at 9 am sharp,” said Molly and Tim in unison. Well, almost in unison. Tim started off saying t-the so they were slightly out of sync. And it was sort of like an echo. Pretty cool effect, actually. Both kids smiled.
(Tim was stuttering a bit less these days. He was seeing a Speech Pathologist at school and that was helping a lot. And he had also become more comfortable with himself lately. That also helped a lot. Anyway, back to the story).
“Nine am, that’s almost two hours from n
ow! Can I at least have some breakfast first?” asked Maggie.
“Sure,” said Molly. “You can eat it on the way. A slice of toast and a bottle of water should do you.”
“What? Hey, what’s the rush? I don’t underst...”
“You will,” said Molly, as she plowed over Maggie’s sentence. “Now hurry up and get ready. Tim and I will get your breakfast together and wait for you downstairs. Hurry!”
Maggie had been thinking of apple pancakes for breakfast, or maybe a cheese omelet, or maybe... hey, stop it, she told herself. Today you’re getting stale bread and dirty water. The same as prisoners get in cheesy movies. Okay, okay, hopefully her meal would be minus the stale and the dirt.
So obediently, Maggie rushed to get ready, then positively flew down the stairs where she found her Mom talking with her friends. They were showing her the jumping beans. Mom was impressed and kept repeating, “Wow, that’s incredible. Wow, that’s incredible. Wow, that’s incredible.” In her amazement, Mom had gotten stuck.
Tim and Molly handed Maggie a slice of dry toast and a bottle of water. She protested, saying “Hey, a bit of jelly would be nice,” so Tim grabbed a pickle from the fridge, folded the toast around it, and whisked her out the door.
“Bye kids,” said Mom. This had better be worth it, thought a hungry Maggie as she crunched down on her pickled toast. It simultaneously shattered and squished in her mouth. Yum!
Chapter 2
The three rode their bicycles into town, with Bernie running beside them, mouth open, tongue hanging to one side, and ears pressed flat against the side of his head. There was a look of joy on his face. Bernie loved to run. Loved to feel the wind on his face. Loved being with his humans.
“It’s true,” said Molly to Maggie, as they peddled and huffed side by side. “We have to beat the lines.”
“Give me a break,” said Maggie. She just could not imagine a line of people waiting to get into Oddley’s.
But, when they got to Memory Lane and Chance Street, the corner where Oddley’s was located, she became a believer. It was true after all. There were maybe 100 kids standing in line, waiting for the shop to open. This eyesore of a store, the subject of numerous jokes and jeers, and on one occasion, the focus of a petition to have the building condemned, was drawing crowds unheard of in this sleepy little town. It was more than amazing. It was odd.
It was 8 am with still an hour to go before the shop opened. The kids chained their wheels to a nearby street light and joined the line. Bernie stayed to guard the bikes, and maybe catch up on sleep.
“I hope they have more boomerangs,” said kid one. “They fly like airplanes.”
“Forget those stupid things. I hope they have more Yo-Yos,” said kid two. “Now they fly like airplanes.”
“You’re both wacky,” said kid three. “I hope they have, uh, let me think. Oh, yeah, right... airplanes, because they do fly like, uh, airplanes.”
“Now look here,” said kid one. “You make a very good but also extremely snotty argument. Is there any need to be so sarcastic?” Kid two nodded in agreement.
“Oh, I’m sorry guys,” said kid three. “I just can’t stand this waiting in line. And I really have to pee.”
“A Giant Jug-O-Juice drink will do that,” laughed kid two. Then he and kid one started poking kid three in the ribs. Kid three was hopping up and down and looked miserable.
“What is happening here people?” Maggie asked aloud. “This is nuts. Everyone is freaking out over some silly toys.”
Those around her grew silent and looked extremely annoyed.
Tim put a finger to his lips. “Shhh, Maggie. Keep your voice down.”
“Yeah,” agreed Molly. “Don’t upset these guys. Yesterday someone kept saying bad things about the shop and was booted off the line and given a black eye as a parting gift.”
“Don’t upset them? Don’t upset them? Has everyone gone crazy?” Then as Maggie looked around and saw a dozen angry eyes glaring at her, she relented. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll be quiet.” And apparently that was good enough for the eyes, because they rejoined their heads, and let their mouths go back to their own private conversations. Talk about dodging a bullet, thought Maggie.
Then the chanting started. A kind of looping fan, or mob, chant you’d hear at a rally...
“Oddley,
the magic man,
no one makes toys
better than...
Oddley,
the magic man,
no one makes toys
better than...”
On and on it went, with everyone pumping their fists high into the sky, and keeping time to their mantra. It was actually kind of scary. The crowd looked possessed.
Finally, the door opened. But just a crack. Just enough for an eyeball to peer through, and for half a mouth to be seen. The eyeball scanned the crowd and the half a mouth spoke. “9 o’clock and not a minute sooner. Not done yet. Too much to do. Oh, dear.” And with that the door slammed shut. The frustrated crowd booed. Mind you, no one left, they merely booed. Then after a couple of minutes the chanting started up again.
Maggie turned to her friends and asked “Was that Mr. Oddley peeking through the door?” They said it must have been because no one else works at the shop.
“He’s kind of... strange, isn’t he?”
“Oddly enough, yes,” giggled Molly.
Then at a quarter to nine, the chanting began to subside, being replaced by an electric anticipation that took over the crowd. Each person was lost in thoughts of all the fantastic toys waiting inside.
And precisely at 9 am, the front door swung open, and there stood Oscar Oddley. “Ten at a time,” he said. “And just fifteen minutes each. By my watch.”
The crowd grumbled but, of course, it made sense. The store could barely contain ten people. There was no way everyone could fit into the tiny shop.
As Maggie surveyed the long line ahead of her, she figured it would be more than two hours before she and her friends would be allowed in.
Like clockwork, every fifteen minutes, Mr. Oddley would let ten more kids in through the front door, as the previous ten, wearing huge smiles and carrying toys, were let out through the back door.
But about thirty minutes into the wait, kid number three had had it. What with his full bladder and the constant poking, he burst from the line and ran down the street sobbing.
“Poor kid,” said Tim.
“Yeah, really,” agreed Maggie.
“I thought it was kind of funny,” giggled Molly. And they all started laughing.
Then kid one spoke. “Hi, my name’s Adam, and this here is Brett. And the kid running down the block is Chris. But don’t worry about him, he’s okay. The three of us are brothers. We’re allowed to make each other’s lives miserable. It’s an unwritten rule, I think.”
“Hey, did you happen to notice our names start with A, B, and C? We also have two sisters named Deanna and Ellie... adding a D and an E. Our parents both teach English and we think at one point they were aiming for the whole alphabet. But it looks like they’ve decided to stop at E. So, when we get a cat, we’re gonna name him...”
“Felix, right?” jumped in Molly.
“No, actually, I was thinking Carl,” answered boy one, now known as Adam. “Don’t want to keep that creepy alphabet thing going. Enough is enough!”
So that was how Adam and Brett met Maggie, Molly, and Tim. And a short time later Chris returned, looking a lot more comfortable. The six of them chatted away as if they’d known each other forever. And after fifteen more minutes had passed, it was finally their turn to enter the shop. These six new best buddies plus four other kids walked up the steps and squeezed through the front door, which was being held only partially open. Mr. Oddley stood inside, and as soon as the last kid entered he slammed the door shut and clicked his hand-held timer. A nervous giggly Maggie looked around the room and felt like she had just swallowed a dozen butterflies.
Chapter 3
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br /> It took a moment for everyone’s eyes to adjust to the shop’s dim lighting. And when they did, they noticed that all the junk, all the dusty boxes of old comics, and all the used toys were gone; replaced by tables that were lined up along the perimeter of the room. These tables were piled high with neatly stacked toys. There were, perhaps, a dozen to choose from. Today’s menu, if you will... which is exactly what a sign above the tables read: Today’s Menu. The place was neat, clean, and you could see and smell that a fresh coat of paint had very recently been applied to the ceiling and walls. And at the far end of this space, in what had once been a storage area for more old junk, was a completely carpeted room: floor, walls, and ceiling, with a sign above its entrance that read:
The Tryout Room
Must Wear a Safety Helmet
(Look in Bin)
The kids were frozen in place as they scanned their surroundings, took it all in and tried to process it and, of course, gazed at the beckoning toys. But then Mr. Oddley broke their trance. “Only 12 minutes left. Hurry, hurry.” And with that the kids went into overdrive.
Maggie was drawn to a box of flying disks because they were purple, her favorite color, and frankly you just don’t see too many purple flying things. She picked one up and gave it a gentle tentative spin back into its box. It spun toward the bin, hovered momentarily, and flew right back into her hand. She gasped in amazement and half ran toward the Tryout Room. “No running please,” said Mr. Oddley. Maggie noticed that he was standing with a cane. The left side of his body looked weak and his left hand looked a bit disfigured. Strange, she thought, that she had been in the shop several times and had never noticed.
“Sure, Mr. Oddley,” she replied and then walked really, really fast the rest of the way. But before entering she stopped to put on a helmet. Adam was already in the room trying out a boomerang. It was flying a figure eight as Adam traced out the same pattern in the air with his finger.
“Hey, he said,” throw the disk and I’ll try to hit it with my boomerang. Maggie nodded, flung it across the room, and Adam threw his boomerang. The disk stopped short of the wall then flew back toward Maggie, with the boomerang in hot pursuit. Maggie screamed, crumbled into a ball to protect herself and both the flying toys hit hard against her helmet. When she looked up Adam was staring at her, wide eyed and open mouthed. “You okay?” he managed to ask. “Yeah,” she answered, “and now we know why we need safety helmets in here.”