A Whole Nother Story by Dr. Cuthbert Soup Page A

interrupted. “He didn’t say time machine. He said . . . dime machine.”
    “A dime machine?” said Jake skeptically.
    “Yes, you know. Like nickels and dimes.”
    “I see. And just what does a dime machine do?”
    “Well, it uh . . . it counts your dimes for you,” said Mr. Cheeseman.
    “Yes,” said Jough. “I can’t wait until that dime machine is up and working. I’ve got this big jar full of dimes but I have no idea how many are in there.”
    “You will just as soon as that dime machine is finished,” said Maggie.
    “Yes,” said Mr. Cheeseman. “Should be done in a matter of time. I mean, in a matter of . . . weeks. So anyway, we should probably be going soon. It’ll be dark in a couple of hours and we need to find a place to stay for the night.”
    “Well, you can’t leave yet,” said Jibby. “You’ve gotta stay for the entertainment. Look!”
    Jibby pointed up into the sky with his right hand. All eyes followed the bright red handle of the Swiss Army knife to see Dizzy, standing on the crossbar of a telephone pole near the roadside. In his hands he held a long wooden balancing stick and, on his head, Jough’s specially designed balancing earmuffs.
    “It’s Dizzy,” Gerard exclaimed. “He’s gonna walk on the wire.”
    “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” said Mr. Cheeseman to Sammy. “The way your luck is running around here, he’s liable to get electrocuted.”
    “Wouldn’t be the first time,” said Sammy.
    Dizzy took a deep breath and slowly slid his right foot out onto the wire. Following another deep breath, he slid his left foot out behind it. A look of relief washed over his face and soon turned into a smile. He lifted his left foot and placed it in front of his right. With each step, he gained more and more confidence until he was practically strolling across that wire.
    When he reached the opposite side, the group let out a cheer. Mr. Cheeseman and his children rose to their feet to give Dizzy a standing ovation.
    “Wow,” exclaimed Gerard. “Did you see that? I want to be a tightrope walker when I grow up.”
    And the entertainment didn’t stop there. After dinner, Three-Eyed Jake put on a sword-swallowing demonstration that left young Gerard in utter awe, especially when he swallowed two swords at once.
    “I want to be a sword swallower when I grow up,” Gerard declared.
    Hearing this seemed to make Three-Eyed Jake very happy.
    “Let me tell you somethin’, Gerard. Swallow a sword and it’ll change your whole outlook on life. Because once you do, nothing else seems that difficult.”
    While Maggie taught Sammy a series of relaxation and breathing exercises and Three-Eyed Jake gave Gerard a tutorial in the fine art of sword swallowing, Jough and Mr. Cheeseman were being introduced to the fortune teller.
    “Ethan? Jough?” said Jibby. “This is the Amazing Aristotle.”
    “No relation,” said Aristotle, as he did any time he was introduced. “I’m no philosopher. I make no comment on the nature of things. It’s only my job to foresee them before they come to pass.”
    Aristotle was a sturdy man with shiny black eyes, his arms and chest decorated with thick black hair. His bushy eyebrows looked like something you might use to scour a pot. Numerous dark green tattoos hid beneath the jungle of wiry black hair carpeting his forearms.
    “Prepare to be amazed by my incredible psychic powers,” he said in an overly dramatic voice as he sat down at a small folding table cluttered with charts and maps of the night sky. Jough and Ethan sat down opposite him.
    “Okay, now where were we?” asked Aristotle.
    “We were preparing to be amazed,” said Jough, who was not certain exactly how to prepare for such a thing.
    “Right,” said Aristotle. “And amazed you shall be. Psychic ability is a very rare attribute indeed. Now where were we?”
    “Psychic ability is a very rare attribute indeed,” repeated Mr. Cheeseman.
    “You can say that again,”