Free The World According to Humphrey by Betty G. Birney Page B

Thomas was in the kitchen listening to the radio and talking on the phone. DeeLee played peekaboo with the baby in the cozy chair.
    No one was watching me, so I carefully opened the lock-that-doesn’t-lock on my cage and made a quick exit.
    Naturally, no one could hear me skittering across the floor as I made my way around the outside of the room, over to the space behind the TV cabinet. Then, with Great Effort, I managed to pull out the plug: one of the most difficult feats of my life.
    The TV went silent. Beautifully, blissfully, silently silent. So silent, I was afraid to move. I waited behind the cabinet, frozen.
    The Thomases stared at the TV screen as the picture slowly went dark.
    “Ty, did you hit that remote?” Mr. Thomas asked.
    “Naw. It’s under the table.”
    “Anthony, go turn that thing on again,” Mr. Thomas said. A.J. jumped up and hit the power button on the TV.
    Nothing happened.
    “It’s broken!” he exclaimed.
    Mrs. Thomas rushed in from the kitchen. “What happened?”
    Mr. Thomas explained that the TV had gone off and they discussed how old it was (five years), whether it had a guarantee (no one knew) and if Mr. Thomas could fix it (he couldn’t).
    “Everything was fine and it went off—just like that. I guess we’d better take it in to get fixed,” Mr. Thomas said.
    “How long will it take?” DeeLee asked in a whiny voice.
    “I don’t know,” her dad replied.
    “How much will it cost?” Mrs. Thomas asked.
    “Oh. Yeah,” her husband said. “I forgot. We’re a little low on funds right now.”
    The baby began to cry. I thought the rest of the family might start crying, too.
    “Well, I get paid next Friday,” Dad said.
    A.J. jumped up and waved his hands. “That’s a whole week away!”
    “I’m going to Grandma’s house. Her TV works,” said Ty.
    “Me, too,” DeeLee chimed in.
    “Grandma’s got her bridge club over there tonight,” Mom said.
    “I know,” said Dad. “Let’s go to a movie.”
    “Do you know how much it costs to go to a movie?” Mom asked. “Besides, we can’t take the baby.”
    “Oh.”
    They whined and bickered for quite a while. They got so loud, I managed to scamper back to my cage, unnoticed. Then I guess I dozed off. Remember, I had hardly had a wink of sleep since I’d arrived. The bickering was a nice, soothing background after all that racket.
    I was only half-asleep when the squabbling changed.
    “But there’s nothing to do,” DeeLee whined.
    Her father chuckled. “Nothing to do! Girl, my brothers and I used to spend weekends at my grandma’s house and she never had a TV. Wouldn’t allow it!”
    “What did you do?” A.J. asked.
    “Oh, we were busy every minute,” he recalled. “We played cards and board games and word games. And we dug in her garden and played tag.” He chuckled again. “A lot of times we just sat on the porch and talked. My grandma . . . she could talk. ”
    “What’d you talk about?” Ty wondered.
    “Oh, she’d tell us stories about her growing up. About ghosts and funny things, like the time her uncle was walking in his sleep and went to church in his pajamas.”
    Mrs. Thomas gasped. “Oh, go on now, Charlie.”
    “I’m just telling you what she told us. He woke up in the middle of the service, looked down and there he was, in his blue-and-white striped pajamas.”
    I let out a squeak of surprise and the kids all giggled.
    Then Mrs. Thomas told a story about a girl in her class who came to school in her slippers by accident one day. “Yes, the fuzzy kind,” she explained with a big smile.
    They talked and talked and Dad got out some cards and they played a game called Crazy Eights and another one called Pig where they put their fingers on their noses and laughed like hyenas. When Beau fussed, they took turns jiggling him on their knees.
    After a while, Mrs. Thomas gasped. “Goodness’ sakes! It’s an hour past your bedtimes.”
    The children all groaned and asked if they could play cards