Emily Jenkins - Toy Dance Party

“Honey?” her mom calls up the stairs. “Shay’s dad is on the phone. He wants to know if we’d all like to go over there for the afternoon.”

Honey drops her bubble wrap, grabs her box of Barbie dolls and clothes, and runs downstairs. “Taking the silent Barbies again,” mutters StingRay.

There is a sudden movement on the floor.

The cardboard box is rocking from side to side.

It is actually hopping and jerking across the carpet like a fish out of water. And it is making a noise.

Grunk! Gru-GRUNK!

Grunk! Gru-GRUNK!

The thing that’s wrapped in bubble wrap wants to get out.

Plastic and Lumphy leap onto the high bed and cuddle up to StingRay.

Grunk! Gru-GRUNK! goes the cardboard box.

It scoots across the floor, rocking and jerking.

Grunk! Gru-GRUNK!

They can hear Styrofoam peanuts crunching and the bubbles of the bubble wrap popping.

Pippity-pop, gru-GRUNK!

Pippity-pop, gru-GRUNK!

Finally, a voice like a bugle yells from inside the box. “I got my head out. The head is out, people!”

The toys look at one another.

The voice continues: “Anyone here with hands or teeth? Hands or teeth, anyone?”

Lumphy has teeth. But he doesn’t mention them. He is not feeling very tough and brave, somehow.

StingRay can do a lot with her flippers; they are almost like hands—but she doesn’t mention them, either.

The bugle voice comes again. “The kid left me tied up in here.”

Silence.

Plastic is relieved that she doesn’t have any hands or teeth like the cardboard box is asking for.

“I don’t think they’re supposed to do that, are they?” the voice goes on. “They usually take you out and play with you, right?”

The one-eared sheep rolls across the carpet and sniffs the box. “Did you say something about teeth?” she asks, dimly.

“Teeth! Yeah. Anyone with teeth?”

“I don’t hear very well,” explains Sheep. “It’s my ear, you see. I lost it.”

“I can’t see your missing ear. I can’t see jack!” yells the thing in the box.

“I have teeth,” Sheep tells it. “Once, I went outside and there was actual grass and I chewed it when Honey wasn’t looking. I even got some clover, I think. Actual grass, can you believe it?”

“Fantastic!” yells the thing in the box.

Sheep pokes her nose into the bubble wrap. She begins to chew on the tape that surrounds whatever is inside.

The thing in the box holds still.

Lumphy, StingRay, and Plastic watch from the bed as Sheep chews, rhythmically.

She chews for a long time.

The thing in the box doesn’t speak.

When she is done, the one-eared sheep burps. “Tape is sweet,” she says to herself. “I wouldn’t have thought it.”

Sheep is not curious about what is in the box because she has forgotten why she began chewing. Fatigued by her efforts, she rolls away under the bed and is asleep almost before she gets there.

The toy mice are hiding and nowhere to be found. The box is still.

Lumphy is looking for his courage. He whispers to himself, “I am a toughy little buffalo. A toughy buffalo. A toughy. A buffy. A tough-a-buff.”

“You’re a what?” StingRay asks him.

“A tough-a-buff.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’m tough and brave. And I’m going down to see what’s in the box. Are you coming with me?”

“I was going anyway,” StingRay lies. “I was waiting for Sheep to be finished.”

But while they’ve been discussing, up on the high bed, the plump mouse Bonkers has scooted over to the box. “It was nice to Sheep, right?” he calls to Lumphy. “So I’m going to say hello!”

“Okay,” calls Lumphy, still on the bed. “You go for it.”

Bonkers creeps to the top of the box. “Sheep is finished with your tape, I think! You can come out now.”

The cardboard box gives a tremendous whump!

And then

Grunk! Gru-GRUNK!

Grunk! Gru-GRUNK!

Out from the crunching, popping bubble wrap emerges

a large

gray

rubber

hollow

toothy

garbage-eating

fearsome fiend of the briny deep

great

white

shark.

Ahhhhhhhh!

Plastic bounces at top speed out of Honey’s room and down the stairs. Lumphy and StingRay leap off the foot of the bed and follow. Hardly even caring if the people are home (although they are not; they have gone to Shay’s), the toys run to the kitchen—

Rumpa lumpa, rumpa lumpa.

Frrrrrr, frrrrrr.

Boing, boing, boing!

Around through the pantry,

eeeeerrrrrrr—

and down another flight of stairs.

Rumpa lumpa, rumpa lumpa.

Fwap! Gobble-a gobble-a.

Fwap! Gobble-a gobble-a.

Boing, boing, boing!

Bonk!

Into the basement, where the shark will not find them.

. . . . .

StingRay has never been in the basement before. Plastic was there once, when Honey’s mother repaired her with industrial-strength tape, and Lumphy (who gets dirty a lot) comes down often to visit Frank, the washing machine.

StingRay is almost more scared of the dusty, spidery corners of the basement than she is of the garbage-eating shark.

But not quite. The three toys skitter across the cold floor and leap into a laundry basket filled with dad-clothes. They hide under a pair of pajamas and listen for the Grunk! Gru-GRUNK!

But the basement is quiet.

And still quiet.

Until Frank talks.

“Lumphy!” he cries. “I haven’t seen you all week.”

“Hi, Frank.” Lumphy peeks his head out. Still no shark.

“Don’t be shy, little buffalo,” says Frank. “I can see your friends under there, and I’ve guessed your plan.”

“You have?” asks Lumphy. Because he has no plan.

“It’s a party, right?” Frank says gleefully. “That’s why you brought your little pals.”

Lumphy is so surprised he doesn’t answer.

“My first-ever party,” Frank continues. “I can’t believe you thought to surprise me. Is there gonna be cake?”

“Rarrrahh,” says the Dryer, a dusty brown contraption next to Frank.

“Oh, don’t be such a spoilsport,” Frank snaps at her. “It is too a party. Lumphy, you shouldn’t have. A party all for me?”

The Dryer grunts.

“It could be for you, too,” concedes Frank. “But I thought you said you didn’t think it was a party.”

“Roorgaah.”

“Fine. Don’t be logical. Lumphy!” Frank calls. “How do we start? I’ve never been to a party before.”

Lumphy is going to explain that they are escaping from a shark, not arriving at a party at all, when Frank interrupts: “Me and the Dryer—we’re both just thrilled.”

Lumphy can’t bear to tell them the truth. “We were trying to get a real cake,” he fibs. “But we could only get an imaginary one. It’s right there in front of you. Chocolate peanut-butter mocha vanilla banana flavor, with frosting roses.”

Plastic catches on. “It’s a party!” she yells, bouncing out of the laundry basket and hopping onto Frank’s lid. “Happy party, everybody!”

“That’s Plastic,” explains Lumphy. “And this is StingRay.”

StingRay, still hidden under dad-pajamas, sticks one flipper out and waves.

“Party!” yells Plastic. “Party, party, party!”

“You can come out, StingRay,” says Frank. And then, about the Dryer, “I know she’s not much to look at, but she doesn’t bite.”

“Hrmph,” says the Dryer, offended.

“A joke, a joke,” Frank tells her. “You know I think you’re beautiful.”