Read The Fantastic Family Whipple Online
Authors: Matthew Ward
The Fantastic Family Whipple (40 page)
As the man gazed silently out the window, Arthur stared into his father’s eyes. He never would have dreamt his father capable of such failure—nor that the two of them could possibly have anything—even remotely—in common.
Arthur was just gathering the words to express his profound sympathy when his father collected himself with a sudden sniff, then clapped his hands together and turned back to face him.
“Of course,” Mr. Whipple added, the usual vigor returning to his voice, “this is all the more reason to fight failure with all that is within us. And, despite what happened with Sammy, there’s no denying you did some fantastic detective work before the unfortunate end. No failure there, Son. A bit of an odd tactic, perhaps, stepping in front of
the Execution Squad like that—but overall, truly excellent stuff. Now, I’m afraid we
will
have to rethink that private detective job with Bleader and Leach, given the outcome here—but not to worry, Son. I’m sure it won’t take half so long to find another field you excel in. Now you’ve had a taste of excellence, you’ll be all the more hungry for the next—and we Whipples can’t stay excellent at something too long before we become the very best at it. So, pick your head up, Son. Your first world record could very well happen any day now. I’d say ten years, tops.”
Any trace of the broken man tormented by past regret had now gone, leaving in its place the same purposeful patriarch Arthur had always known.
“Thanks, Father,” said the boy.
“Yep,” said Mr. Whipple with a warm nod. “Now let’s get ourselves dressed and downstairs, so we can help your brothers and sisters with the day’s attempts, shall we? Don’t want to have to see those Goldwins again before we’ve added some new records to the books, now do we?”
“No sir,” said Arthur.
“Right then. I’ll see you in one hour.”
Mr. Whipple turned to leave but stopped just outside the doorway. “Oh—I almost forgot,” he added, reaching down to retrieve something around the corner. “It seems you’ve got a delivery here.”
He held up a square box wrapped in brown paper, about eighteen inches in each dimension, and carried it across the room to Arthur’s bed. “Left by private courier just a few
minutes ago. Quite heavy, really—but no mention of the sender that I can find. Certainly doesn’t look like Bonnie Prince Bobo’s handwriting, this. Another one of those book clubs you’ve signed up for, perhaps?”
“Yeah,” Arthur nodded as he took the package. “Probably.”
“Very well, Son. Enjoy your delivery, whatever it is. And then back to work—understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
For an instant, Arthur thought he caught a further glimpse of regret peeking out from behind the sparkle in his father’s eyes—but it was promptly obscured by a broad, confident smile, just before the man turned and closed the door behind him.
Finding himself alone again, Arthur rose from his bed and placed the parcel on his dressing table. He tore off the paper to reveal a large white box with a removable lid.
Just the right size for a letter bomb, he figured—or perhaps a human head.
But as he could not imagine things getting much worse than they already were, he gripped the edges of the lid and promptly lifted it from the box.
The contents were even more shocking than he had imagined.
It was a birthday cake.
At its center, set off against a backdrop of dark chocolate, white letters spelled out the following:
It then struck the boy that, spaced around the cake’s circumference, sculpted in gold leaf and glaze, were twelve tiny portholes.
Arthur’s heart leapt at the sight.
Sammy was alive.
The Execution Squad would not be pleased.
Scarcely able to believe what he was seeing, Arthur examined the pick that stuck out from the top of the cake. There, he found the following description:
CERTIFIED: WORLD’S TASTIEST
(WITH EXTRA-SPECIAL FILLING)
He then noticed the shiny butcher’s knife tied with a white bow to the inside wall of the box. With ever-growing enthusiasm, Arthur untied the knife and cut into the cake.
After removing a wedge-shaped piece and placing it on the large saucer that had been fastened against the box’s opposite wall, he noticed a vertical streak of gold at the center of the cake. Using the knife point to prise at the slender, metallic object buried at the cake’s core, he soon removed a shiny brass cigar tube.
Hastily cleaning it on his sleeve, he unscrewed the cap and slid out a rolled-up scrap of paper. With trembling hands, he unfurled the tiny scroll.
It was a letter. And it was addressed to him.
His heart raced as he began to read.
Dear Arthur,
Thanks for what you done on the boat, mate. That’s twice in two days you’ve saved me life, I reckon. Brings a tear to me eye when I think about it, it does. Nobody never done nothing like that for old Sammy before. If not for you and that well-placed porthole—as well as them unoficial records for underwater breath-holding and treading water I happen to hold from that time ‘Barracuda’ Barry tried to put the cement shoes on me—I’d be a dead man for sure. Didn’t hurt either, of course, that favorite pasta dish of yours just so happens to make a right good flotation device as well.
Wish I could have delivered this in person—but I can’t take any chances, now I’m a fujitive ghost. Better your family think me dead than a traiter, I’m sorry to say. Hard to blame them for not trusting me, of course, what with all the evidense keeps turning up against me and now them filthy clowns saying I were they’re boss. Not everybody’s as optomistic as you are mate—and I reckon even
you may have your doubts. All I can say is, you’ve got to believe me—I’m innosent as the Queen herself. Somebody’s trying to frame me for things I never done—and Smudge has clearly got it in for me. Sorry for losing it on the boat there for a minute, but if I’d have let him put me away again I’d have never seen the outside of a jail in me life. And that just ain’t something I can live with.
If I’m ever to come out of hiding, I’ve got to clear me name somehow—and your the only one I can trust. I know you already done so much for me, but I’ve got nobody else to turn to. Its down to you to find the real cullprets what done this. And my money’s on them giant and dwarf devils.
Now, I must warn you: I never knew what happened to them two after the boat went under, but I had the strange feeling another one of them big pasta tubes were following me to shore. Didn’t think much of it at the time, as I reckoned them clowns had made it back into Smudge’s police boat, but with the paper this morning saying their ‘presumed drowned,’ I’m afraid we’ve not seen the last of ‘Messrs Overkill and Undercut.’ If their still out there, its only a matter of time before they strike again—and you’ve got to be
ready for them when they do. You’ve got to find out who they are and why there after your family. Its the only way to protect you Whipples and clear me name.
Right then. Afraid I’ll not be able to risk writing you again whilst I’m in hiding but I’ll be thinking of you and saying me prayers all the while. Stay strong, mate. Your all the hope I’ve got in this world.
Until we meet again…
Your Greatful Freind,
Sammy
P.S. Enjoy the birthday cake, mate. With any luck you and me will be sharing your next one together…
Arthur lowered the note and stared out the window. His jaw hung open in disbelief.
He was back on the case—and now, it was more vital than ever. Sammy had entrusted him with his very life—and he would not let him down.
Whatever had caused the Lyon’s Curse to return, he would not stand by and watch it destroy his family. If Overkill and Undercut were still alive somewhere, plotting another attack, it was up to him to stop them. Who knew what rules—or records—he would have to break in the process?
Setting the note on the table, Arthur carved off a sliver of cake and raised it to his lips. It was, without a doubt, the best cake he had ever tasted. Beneath the layers of chocolate ganache, vanilla custard, and hazelnut mousse, he distinguished dark undertones of danger and dread—followed by delicate notes of courage and hope.
It tasted like adventure.
And this was only his first bite.
THE WORLD RECORD ARCHIVES
HIGHEST NUMBER OF SHARED COINCIDENTAL BIRTH DATES IN A SINGLE FAMILY:
14
Held by Charles & Eliza Whipple and twelve of their thirteen children: Henry, Simon, Cordelia, Penelope, Edward, Charlotte, Lenora, Franklin, Abigail, Beatrice, George, and Ivy.
Though Charles and Eliza were no doubt fond of each other before they discovered they shared the same birth date, the prospect of conquering the prestigious coincidental birth date record together can hardly have hindered their decision to wed.
MOST TEETH AT BIRTH FOR A HUMAN BABY:
16
Held by Abel Denton.
Sadly, Abel’s mother was forced to switch her child to bottle-feeding after only seventeen minutes, an effort for which she still bears the scars.
HEAVIEST HUMAN NEWBORN:
22 LBS., 7 OZ.
Held by Roberto Babosa. Birthed by Gabriela Babosa.
RIP Gabriela Babosa.
LONGEST ARMS ON A HUMAN NEWBORN:
19
3
⁄
16
″
Held by Luigi Allampanato.
Baby Luigi’s parents had no choice but to remove the mobile from above his crib after he used his long arms to take one too many mobile rides and wound up tumbling to the floor. Luckily, his arms broke his fall.
FIRST RECORDED HUMAN BORN WITH SEVEN TOES ON A SINGLE FOOT
Held by Antonio Benito Tomás, born October 22, 1908.
Became a legend of Uruguayan
fútbol
when he scored a goal from 106 yards, the Longest Goal Ever Scored.
HAIRIEST HUMAN EVER RECORDED:
78.6% SKIN COVERAGE
Held by Phoolendu Mahankali (a.k.a. the Panther-Man of Pandharpur).
Fortunately for his humble family, little Phoolendu
was able to use his Grazelby sponsorship money to help offset the crushing cost of haircuts. He eventually went on to study medicine but ultimately opted for a position as a lion tamer, because he found putting his head inside a hungry lion’s mouth had fewer devastating side effects than most doctors’ prescriptions.
HAIRIEST LIVING HUMAN:
74.3% SKIN COVERAGE
Held by Nergüi Khünbish (a.k.a. the Monkey-Man of Mongolia).
It has only been a matter of weeks since the Monkey-Man secured the Hairiest Living Human title and gained the respect that such a title affords. Six years ago, in response to a lifetime of taunting from his normally follicled peers, he founded the “Hair Khan Cult,” whose exceptionally hairy members proclaim to be the true descendants of Genghis Khan and the rightful heirs to the Mongolian Empire. They have hatched numerous plots to overthrow the current government, but as the cult consists solely of Nergüi and his cousin Ordu (who bases his claim to exceptional hairiness solely on a slightly longer-than-average mustache), the Mongolian government has thus far remained intact.
MOST NATIONAL STRONGMAN COMPETITIONS WON BY A SINGLE GERMAN:
16
Held by Wilhelm von Kleve.
Competitors at Muskelmannspiele (the German Strongman Games) are tested in dozens of traditional events, including Holstein-cow hoisting, schnitzel shoveling, and beer-barrel balancing.
LONGEST INDOOR HORSE RACE RUN IN A SINGLE FAMILY RESIDENCE:
489 YDS., 2 FT., 9 IN.
Held by Henry and Simon Whipple at the First Annual Neverfall Hall Indoor Classic.
After their parents took stock of the damage, the First Annual Neverfall Hall Indoor Classic also became the Last Annual Neverfall Hall Indoor Classic.
BLOODIEST RHINO POLO MATCH EVER PLAYED:
18 TRAMPLINGS AND 11 GORINGS
Held by the Rhino Polo Intercontinental Cup Final, between Borneo and Zambia, at Unsafe Sports Showdown XXVI.
Though Borneo managed to claim the victory in the end, only three members of the squad were physically capable of hobbling over to the winners’ podium to accept the trophy at the following awards ceremony.
OLDEST PLAYER TO BE EATEN BY CROCODILES IN AN EXTREME CROQUET MATCH:
66 YRS., 284 DAYS
RIP Wailin’ Waylan Martinson.
*
Perhaps making Mr. Martinson’s death even more tragic, extreme croquet officials believe the attack could have been prevented had Mr. Martinson not always insisted on carrying four freshly severed rabbit’s feet from his belt for good luck.
