Ho-Ho-NOOO! (9 page)

“We can and we did.” The boy returned to playing his PSP.

TJ glanced around. “So . . . who’s watching you now?”

“You are,” he said without looking up.

“I’m sorry?”

“You are,” he repeated. “If you want.”

“Me?” she asked.

“Yeah, Number Thuree really likes you . . . and so do we.”

TJ glanced at Number One, who nodded. “Well, thank you. I like you too, Too, but—”

“The money’s really good.”

“Money?” TJ asked.

“We’ll pay you $100 an hour to watch us.”

TJ gasped. “$100?!”

“All right, $150.”

TJ would have liked to gasp again, but it’s hard gasping when you’ve stopped breathing. It took several seconds before she was able to talk. “You would pay me $150 an hour to watch you?”

“Just until Momma gets home,” he said.

“And when would that be?”

“Usually around midnight.”

TJ glanced at her watch. That was three hours from now. And three hours times $150 came to . . . it was time for another gasp. Of course she was already overworked, and of course it would mean missing more family time with Dad, but the total came to $450!

“Are you sure about this?” she asked.

“Sure,” Number Too said. “Just talk to our limo driver. He’ll fill you in. And when Momma gets back, he’ll take you home.”

TJ’s mind spun. Well, not really spun, more like repeated,
$450 . . . $450 . . . $450
 . . . Imagine her father’s face when she gave him $450.

“So, what do you say?” Number Too asked.

What could she say? “Sure. Just let me get out of this costume and call my dad. $450, right?”

“Nah, that’s too hard to remember,” Number Too said as he continued playing his game. “Let’s just round it up to an even $500.”

TIME TRAVEL LOG:

Malibu, California, December 21—supplemental

Begin Transmission

Subject is so busy we barely see her. Luckily this gives us time to practice our comedy. I’m a zelph a minute. May give up my dreams of becoming a professional surfer and become a comedian!

End Transmission

TJ didn’t want to say that Lady Goo-Goo’s children were spoiled . . . but it was the nicest word she could find.

She thought there might be a minor problem when the back of their limo was filled with so many toys she couldn’t see out the window. She knew there was a major problem when the limo pulled up to a mansion the size of Alaska. Actually, only the first floor was that big. The second floor was much smaller . . . about the size of Texas.

Things got even more interesting when they decided not to climb the 982 steps to the front door and took the escalator instead. The inside entry hall (which was only the size of New York—the state, not the city) had a giant fountain bubbling with soda pop.

“Is that . . . root beer?” TJ asked.

Number Too shrugged. “If it’s Wednesday, yeah. We have a different flavor every day of the week.”

Waiting for each of the children was their own electric car (complete with chauffeur) to take them down the long hallway to their playroom. TJ hitched a ride with Number Thuree, and once they arrived, she couldn’t believe her eyes. The playroom was like a Toys ’R’ Us store gone berserk. It’s not that the kids had every toy you could imagine . . . it’s that they had
three
of every toy you could imagine.

And yet, when she looked into the children’s faces, she could see nothing but bored expressions and unhappiness. That is, when she could keep her eyes open long enough to see anything. It had been a long, long day.

“So,” TJ said, fighting back a yawn and glancing at her watch. “It sure is getting late. What time do you guys go to bed?”

“Mwe won’t mow woo mwed,” Number One said as she took off her coat and dropped it on the floor. (Actually, it never quite made it to the floor, since a nearby butler dove and caught it before it hit the ground.)

TJ turned to Number Too. “What did she say?”

“‘We don’t go to bed,’” he said as he took off his Viking vest and another butler made a frantic catch. He continued toward a wall full of TV screens.

TJ followed him. “No bedtime?”

“Nah.” He pointed at the remote on the table and a third butler scrambled to pick it up for him. “Momma loves us too much to make us go to bed.”

TJ glanced at Number Thuree. The poor thing was so tired she could barely walk. This was obviously a new definition of love. But before TJ could say anything, Number One began screaming, “MWAUGH! MWAUGH! MWAUGH!”

They spun around to see the girl staring in horror at a tiny ball of dust in the corner. The first butler dashed over to help. But he was too late. By the time he had snatched up the dust ball, Number One was sobbing and shaking like a leaf.

Number Too snapped at the butlers. “Who’s responsible?”

“The maid,” the first butler answered.

“Tell her she’s fired.”

The butler bowed his head.

“And you are too,” Number Too continued.

“But, sir, why?”

“Because I’m in a bad mood.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you, too,” he yelled at the second butler. “And you.” He pointed at the third. “I’m in a
real
bad mood.”

TJ shook her head in disbelief. And just when the weirdness couldn’t get any weirder . . .

“Sweetie-kins!”

All eyes turned to the door as a mountain of gift-wrapped packages staggered inside. Somewhere underneath the mountain, TJ guessed there was another butler. And directly behind him stood Lady Goo-Goo. She wore a dress made of toothbrushes held together by (what else?) dental floss.

“MOMMA!” All three children ran to her.

“My babies!” Lady Goo-Goo said as she dropped to her knees and gathered them into her arms. But before the children could even snuggle, she pulled away and rose to her feet. “It was so wonderful seeing you,” she said, “but Momma’s very tired.”

“Oh, Momma,” they started to whine.

“Tut-tut-tut.” She held out a finger. “You know the rules, my sweets.”

TJ watched as the kids seemed to wilt before her eyes.

“Yes, Momma,” they mumbled.

“Momma’s got to get her beauty rest,” the woman said.

“Yes, Momma.”

“But see, I bought you all these marvelous presents.” She pointed to the moving mountain of gifts as it finally collapsed in the middle of the room.

“Yes, Momma,” the kids said, barely bothering to look.

Once again, TJ felt a growing sadness. It was so obvious the gifts meant nothing to them.

“Well, good night, my babies,” the woman said as she turned from the room. “Momma loves you oodles and oodles.”

“We love you, too, Momma,” they mumbled as she shut the door and disappeared from their sight.

TJ felt terrible as she observed this. Finally, to break the mood, she walked over to the pile of gifts. “Well, it sure looks like you got a lot of stuff,” she said, trying to sound cheerful. She picked one and added, “I wonder what this could be.”

But none of the children answered. Instead, Number Too slowly drifted toward the wall of televisions. Number One walked back to the corner to make sure the dust ball was completely gone. And Number Thuree? She just kept standing there, staring at the closed door where her mother had been.

Feeling her own heart about to break, TJ cleared her throat and asked, “Well, what do you want to do now?”

“I think you better go home,” Number Too muttered.

“Are you sure?” TJ asked.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Momma’s here. Everything’s good.”

TJ looked back at Number Thuree, who was still staring at the door. “Really?” she said. “You call this good?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, “it’s perfect.” Without a glance at her, Number Too clicked on the televisions. “The chauffeur will pay you and take you home.”

TJ didn’t remember much of the limo ride home . . . just the part where she climbed in and laid her head back on the seat, and then the driver shaking her awake, saying, “Miss, you’re home.”

But she did remember the part about being $500 richer. Who wouldn’t?

She also remembered dragging herself to the front door. This time there were no chain saws to greet her, no bikers, and no snoring fathers—just two goofballs from the 23rd century. And they weren’t exactly waiting up for her. They were stretched out asleep, floating five feet above the top step on opposite sides of the stairway. Tuna wore one of those old-fashioned nightshirts with a long floppy hat, and Herby was in a pair of Winnie the Pooh pajamas with attached feet.

Since she wasn’t in the mood for another lecture about being too focused on money, she tiptoed past the Christmas tree and up the stairs. She tried to squeeze between the guys and would have succeeded, if it weren’t for the

invisible force field she ran into. Suddenly every light in the house began flashing like a disco club. A mirrored ball even lowered from the ceiling and reflected colored lights in all directions.

Herby was the first to wake. “Hey, dude,” he called to Tuna. “Look who finally decided to come home.”

Tuna opened his eyes, spotted TJ, then stretched. “Oh, it’s . . . it’s . . .” He frowned. “What’s her name again?”

Herby laughed. “That’s a good one.”

TJ was not amused. “Come on, guys,” she whispered as she tried to

and

her way through the force field. “I’m really tired.”

“Yeah, celebrating the holiday season can be rough,” Tuna said.

“I’m not celebrating anything,” TJ sighed.

“You can say that again.”

“Another score!” Herby laughed and the boys high-fived. “You’re one funny dude, dude.”

Tuna shrugged. “I do my best.”

“Come on,” TJ whined. “Just let me go to bed.”

“Hey, I’ve got one,” Herby said. “You ready?”

“Let’s hear it,” Tuna said.

Herby gathered himself and took a breath. “Knock, knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“TJ.”

“TJ who?”

“I can’t remember. Can you?”

Tuna stared at him.

Herby grinned.

“You call that a joke?” Tuna asked.

“Guys,” TJ begged.

“Admit it,” Herby argued. “It’s a real crack-up.”

“Guys, I want to go to bed and I want to go NOW!”

“All right, all right,” Herby said. “Don’t get all gur-roid on us.” He opened the Swiss Army Knife and

the force field switched off.

Giving them a withering look, TJ climbed the final step, turned, and started down the hallway.

The boys barely noticed.

“You didn’t think that was funny?” Herby asked Tuna.

“Hardly.”

“Okay, okay, how ’bout this? How many TJs does it take to screw in a lightbulb?”

“I don’t know,” Tuna sighed. “How many TJs does it take to screw in a lightbulb?”

“TJ who?!” Herby clapped his hands and burst out laughing. “Get it? TJ
who
?”

He was still laughing when TJ passed Violet’s bedroom. Her sister’s light was on, so TJ slowed to peek inside.