Jacob Two-Two Meets the Hooded Fang (2 page)

Jacob Two-Two clutched his coins as he entered Mr. Cooper’s shop. He saw that the greengrocer was pear-shaped, his brown hair cut short, like a coconut.
His eyes were small as orange seeds, but his ears big as cauliflower leaves. His nose was red and veined as a beet, and his stomach stuck out like a sack of potatoes.

“What do you want?” asked Mr. Cooper.

“I want two pounds of firm, red tomatoes. I want two pounds of firm, red tomatoes.”

Mr. Cooper frowned. He was insulted. For he had no way of knowing that Jacob Two-Two said everything two times, because what with so many people in his house, two parents, two older brothers and two older sisters, nobody ever heard him the first time.

“There’s no need to chew your cabbage twice in here,” said Mr. Cooper.

“But I’m Jacob Two-Two. I’m two plus two plus two years old. And, if you please, I want two pounds of firm, red tomatoes. Two pounds of firm, red tomatoes.”

“You stop making fun of me,” said Mr. Cooper, winking at his other customers, all of them big people, “or I’ll call the police.”

And just then Mr. Cooper did in fact see the
policeman passing on his rounds and summoned him inside.

“What is it, Mr. Cooper?” asked the policeman.

“I’m being mocked,” said Mr. Cooper. All the big people in the shop laughed. “By this one,” the greengrocer added, pointing a finger as long as a carrot at Jacob Two-Two.

The policeman looked down at Jacob Two-Two. “What is it, boy?”

Terrified, Jacob Two-Two replied: “All I want, if you please, is two pounds of firm, red tomatoes. All I want is two pounds of firm, red tomatoes.”

Mr. Cooper stamped his foot. He beat his fist against his forehead. “I demand justice. This exasperating little boy,” he insisted, “must be charged with insulting behavior to a big person.”

The policeman, holding back his laughter, took a step toward Jacob Two-Two. But Jacob Two-Two, his heart thumping, ducked and flew out of the shop.

“Hey,” Mr. Cooper called after him, “come back here. We were only teasing you.”

Jacob Two-Two had already cleared the corner and was racing down the hill and into Richmond Park,
flying past the high iron gates that were shut after dark, like prison bars. He ran and ran, avoiding the pond, which Marfa had warned him was full of crocodiles and snakes. He ran with his head down, keeping a sharp eye out for poisonous snakes, a threat which Noah protected him against for only a penny a week.

Finally, he sank to the grass, out of breath.

Only then did he notice the fog beginning to settle, closing in on him. Shivering just a little, Jacob Two-Two rubbed his eyes.

CHAPTER 3

he very next thing he knew, Jacob Two-Two was double-locked into a gloomy dark cell beneath the towering court house. Suddenly, the cell door clanged open and a fat policeman thrust somebody toward him, saying, “Jacob Two-Two, it is my duty to inform you that you and your visitor are, according to the strict letter of the law, allowed one hour together …
before facing the judge
.”

The visitor who had come tumbling into the cell was quite the scruffiest, skinniest, and most untidy man Jacob Two-Two had ever seen. With tangled gray hair and weepy blue eyes. His shirt collar was frayed, and his
tie soup-stained. His suit was rumpled. His shoes were scuffed, the laces broken. Beaming at Jacob Two-Two, he declared: “Meet your barrister, Louis Loser.”

“Oh, I’m very pleased to meet you, Mr. Loser,” said Jacob Two-Two two times.

“Are you,
really?
” replied Louis Loser, astonished.

“Yes. But what’s a barrister? What’s a barrister?”

“Your protector in court.”

“Oh, but I haven’t got any money, Mr. Loser. I couldn’t afford to pay you.”

“Of course not,” said Louis Loser impatiently. “If you could afford it, you’d pay me to stay home in bed.”

“Do people pay you
not
to protect them in court?” asked Jacob Two-Two twice.

“Only if they can afford it.”

“Oooo,” groaned Jacob Two-Two. “Oooo.”

“You mustn’t worry, my boy. The truth is, I’ve never won a case in my life, and that can’t go on forever,” pleaded Louis Loser, tears rolling down his cheeks, “can it?”

“No,” said Jacob Two-Two, “no.” Adding hopefully, “Maybe this could be your lucky day at last.”

“
Lucky day?
” Louis Loser thrust out his puny chest. “My dear boy,” he said, obviously insulted,
“don’t you realize that you are looking at
the
Louis Loser? When I set out on a picnic, it rains. If I’m invited to a party, I turn up on the wrong night. I can’t sharpen a pencil without breaking it or slice bread evenly.”

“Oh,” said Jacob Two-Two, enormously pleased to discover that he wasn’t the only one. “And what happens when you turn on the television?”

“The picture’s fuzzy. It flips, it flops. Or the screen is buried in snow.”

“Me, too,” said Jacob Two-Two, enthralled, “me, too. I’m so pleased that you are going to protect me in court.”

“Well, thank you!” said Louis Loser, and then he told Jacob Two-Two a story. “Once,” he began, “I very nearly had a lucky day. I went into court with what seemed like an air-tight case. Impossible to lose, even for Louis Loser. My client was out taking the air one evening when three ruffians attacked him. They took his wallet, they stole his watch, and beat him up very badly. Fortunately, a police car just happened to come along, and the ruffians were caught red-handed. In court, they confessed to everything. And my client, I must say, was a most touching sight, bandaged from
head to toe and standing on crutches. All we claimed were damages.”

“Did you win? Did you win?”

“Certainly not.”

“What happened?” asked Jacob Two-Two. “What happened?”

“How was I to know,” said Louis Loser, sniffling, “that my client would turn out to be an internationally famous bank robber, Public Enemy Number One in ten countries. The ruffians who beat and robbed him were each given a ten thousand pound reward for their troubles. My client was sent to prison for life. And the judge booted me out of court, saying only a rotter would stoop to defend such a notorious criminal.”

The policeman banged on the cell door, warning them they had only another five minutes together. A chill ran through Jacob Two-Two as he was suddenly reminded of his own impending trial. “How will you defend me?” asked Jacob Two-Two, terrified. “How will you defend me?”

Louis Loser, deep in thought, paced the cell. “I will not plead extenuating circumstances; neither will I claim a mistrial. It wouldn’t do any good to
ask for a change of venue or challenge the jury’s competence …”

“Then what will you do?” asked Jacob Two-Two. “What will you do, Mr. Loser?”

“I’ve got it!” exclaimed Louis Loser triumphantly. “
I’ll cry
.”

“But that won’t help.”

“Of course not. But, in my cases, nothing does,” said Louis Loser with immense pride. “Come on, my boy. It’s time to go.”

Jacob Two-Two took Louis Loser’s hand. “I have faith in you, Mr. Loser,” he said, his voice wobbly.

Even as tears streamed down his cheeks, Louis Loser beamed. “In that event,” he said, “we can’t lose.”

“How come?” asked Jacob Two-Two, delighted. “How come?”

“Because if you have faith in me, I’m going to plead insanity on your behalf. You’re nuts, my boy. Positively crackers.”

CHAPTER 4

ithin minutes, Jacob Two-Two stood before the judge in the children’s court.

Nowhere among the jeering spectators, many of them customers of the greengrocer, could Jacob Two-Two see Daniel, Noah, Emma, Marfa, or his mother and father. But had he looked a little more carefully, he would have seen two mysterious little people. Midgets, maybe. Wearing beards, dark glasses, and trenchcoats, they were holding notebooks, pens poised.

The children’s judge, Mr. Justice Rough, wore a white powdered wig and a long black gown. “I see
here,” he growled, “that you are charged with insulting behavior, not to another brat – I mean, child – but, good heavens,
to a big person
. This is serious. Extremely serious. If you got away with it, it could only lead to more monstrous crimes, like hiding comics under your pillow or peeing without lifting the seat.” Here Mr. Justice Rough paused and knit his fierce brows. “Once and for all, children must be taught–”

“–THAT BIG PEOPLE ARE NEVER, NEVER WRONG,” all the big people in the court shouted back.

“If they punish you,” Mr. Justice Rough called out, “it’s–”

“–FOR YOUR OWN GOOD,” the big people called back.

“And it hurts them–” Mr. Justice Rough continued.

“–MORE THAN IT HURTS YOU,” the big people replied.

Then the clerk of the court stepped up to Jacob Two-Two. “How do you plead, you little nit?” he asked.

“Oh, what’s the difference,” the foreman of the jury hollered, “he’s guilty.”

“I object,” said Louis Loser in a small voice.

“
You what?
” bellowed Mr. Justice Rough.

“I didn’t say a word,” said Louis Loser, shriveling.

“Now, then,” said Mr. Justice Rough, banging his gavel, demanding silence. “I must remind all of you that we are here to see that this lad gets a fair trial. Jacob Two-Two,” he continued, turning to the accused, “I should warn you that in this court, as in life, little people are considered guilty, unless they can prove themselves innocent, which is just short of impossible.”