Dave Eggers - The Wild Things

“So why’d you come here?” she asked.

Max cleared his throat and thought of how he would explain it. “Well, I’m an explorer,” he answered, trying to sound professional. “I explore.”

“Oh, so no home or family?”

“No. Well. I mean …” This was a tough question, when Max really thought about it. What had become of his family? It seemed like months since he’d seen them. He tried to explain: “Well, I had a family but I—”

“You ate them?” she blurted, very excited.

“No!” Max gasped.

Katherine quickly backed away from her assumption. “Of course not! Who would do that?”

Max shrugged.

“So what did happen?” she asked.

Max wasn’t sure how to explain what had happened. “I don’t know,” he started. “I did something. I mean, I think I did stuff to make them not like me anymore.”

“So you left,” she said, matter of factly. “That makes sense. Will you go back?”

“No. I can’t,” he said. “I caused permanent damage.”

Katherine nodded gravely. “Permanent damage. Wow, that sounds serious.” Just as quickly, she brightened into a bigger, toothier smile than before. “Well, now you’re our king. Maybe you’ll do a good job here.”

Max really believed he could. “Yeah, I will,” he said.

Just then, a body on top of Katherine shifted and seemed to put extra pressure on her head. She looked pained, her expression changing from a sleepy smile to one of great contortion.

“You okay?” Max said.

“Yeah, I’m used to that kind of thing,” she said. “Well, good night,” Katherine said, though her face was still squashed.

“Night,” someone else said.

The beasts began to bid each other good night, and this turned into a hubbub of talk about the best parts of the rumpus.

Ira laughed. “Remember when we threw you, Judith? You were so beautiful.”

“I’m most beautiful flying through the air, is that what you’re saying? Was I beautiful when my head hit the rock?” She shrieked suddenly. “Hey, who’s tickling?”

Ira got it next. “Yow! I think it’s Carol. Is that you, Carol?”

Carol laughed. “Who, me? I would never—”

Judith snorted. “You haven’t tickled in years, Carol. Is this the influence of the new king? Do we have more tickling to look forward to?”

“I told you, it’s not me!” he said.

Then Judith shrieked again.

“Not there, Carol! I’m feeling vulnerable! No!”

As the rest of the pile calmed down and began to sleep and snore, Max crawled out of the pile-on to find fresh air. He settled on the edge of the fur mountain, putting his head on someone’s leg. The sky was just beginning to change, the world pulsing in the gauzy pink light of dawn. There was debris everywhere, like a landscape after an earthquake, and Max felt very much at home.

Max was still half-asleep, his eyes closed, when he realized he was bouncing. There was a gentle wind on his face, and the air was cool and crisp. He wasn’t in the pile anymore, he figured — that smell had been strong, the air thick with sweaty fur. For a moment he feared he was back on the rolling sea, but when he opened his eyes he saw Carol’s huge yellowed horns on either side of him, and realized he was on Carol’s shoulders, being carried high above the earth.

“I didn’t want to wake you up,” Carol said. “But I’m glad you’re up now. I want to show you something.”

“Okay,” Max said, starting to take everything in. On one side, the sea below was gold and glittering and endless, the sky a loud cobalt blue. All the colors here, on this island, from his perch atop Carol’s shoulders, seemed triply bright and clear, vibrating.

Max reached atop his head. “Where’s my crown?”

“You don’t need the crown today,” Carol explained. “I put it under the fire for you.”

“Oh. Okay, thanks,” Max said. Only after a moment did he realize he didn’t know why his crown was under the fire. But it seemed to make sense to Carol, and he didn’t want to question the custom.

They walked away from the cliff and through the forest, the undergrowth strange and new — ferns of orange, moss of yellow, vines of marbled white.

Max tried to take it all in, but he was exhausted. He couldn’t have slept more than a few hours. And he was dirty. He smelled more of his own bodily secretions than ever before, and now his own smells had been amplified by the far more pungent odors of the beasts. He was not a lover of frequent cleanings of himself, but that morning he really had a hankering for a long hot shower.

“So how’d you get here?” Carol asked.

“Me? I sailed,” Max said.

Carol whistled matter-of-factly. “Wow. You must be an extraordinary sailor.”

“Yeah. But I don’t like sailing much,” Max said, suddenly remembering the boredom of it all, the ceaseless blinding glitter of the sun against the water.

“Yeah, me neither,” Carol said excitedly. “Sailing is so boring! And there’s nothing I hate more than being bored. If boredom was standing there in front of me right now” — he suddenly got louder — “I don’t know if I could restrain myself. I’d probably just eat him!”

They both laughed at this. Max knew exactly what Carol was talking about. Max had wanted to eat or kill so many boring things. Too many to mention.

Along the path, Max noticed a row of trees with holes bored in their trunks. The holes were tidy and round, about beast-height. Those must be Ira’s, he thought.

“You were talking to Katherine last night,” Carol said.

“The girl?” Max said. “Yeah, she’s nice.”

“Yeah, she is. She’s sweet. She’s … she’s uh …” Carol did a fake sort of chuckle. “I bet she told you some things about me.”

“No,” he said, trying to remember. “No, she didn’t say anything.”

“She didn’t? No? Nothing?” Carol let out a big laugh, entertained by this. “That’s fas cinating.”

Max and Carol continued down a winding path.

“Do you guys have parents?” Max asked.

“What do you mean?” Carol said.

“Like a mother and a father?”

Carol gave Max a puzzled look. “Of course we do. Everyone does. I just don’t talk to mine because they’re nuts.”

They passed through some of the most bizarre landscapes Max had ever seen or dreamt. Hills that pulsated like gelatin, rivers that changed direction in midstream, small trees whose trunks, almost translucent, swallowed the sunlight and spun it into something pink and glassine.

“See, Max,” Carol explained, as they left a forest and entered an area of grey-blue sand and tundra, “everything you can see is your kingdom. Everything on this island, pretty much. The trees with the holes in them are Ira’s, of course, and some of the beach is kind of Katherine’s, but otherwise it’s all yours. And then there are parts of the forest where animals will definitely kill you, even though you’re the king. They’re just willful, just don’t listen. But otherwise you’re definitely the supreme ruler, and you can do whatever you want with stuff. And if anyone tells you otherwise, or tries to eat your limbs or face, just come to me and we’ll crush them with rocks or something.”

Max agreed.

They entered a wide flat area, rocky and desolate. Max knew this kind of landscape from Mr. Wisner’s class. He climbed down from Carol’s shoulders to inspect his surroundings.

“See that rock?” Max said, pointing to a shard of curved obsidian. “It used to be lava. And someday it’ll be sand.”

Carol was greatly impressed. “And what will it be after that?”

“I don’t know …” Max said, stalling. “Maybe dust?”