J e r r y s p I n e L l I

Thud thud shush shush 
“Oh, Mailman!” 
He looks up. She smiles. “Come on in,” she 
says, and he goes in. And what a wonderful sur-
prise: It’s hot chocolate time! There’s his old 
Winnie the Pooh mug from when he was little. 
She pours in the hot chocolate all foamy and 
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steaming, and then comes the best part, the Cool 
Whip. She scoops some on but not enough, 
never enough, because it’s his mother now and 
she’s playing the game, she’s waiting for him to 
say “More!” so he says it and she piles on more, 
and he has to practically sink his whole face into 
the Cool Whip to get down to the hot chocolate, 
and it’s heaven it’s a car . . . 
He has sleepwalked onto a street and into a 
parked car. 
He trundles on. He thinks he’s in an alley but 
he’s in the middle of a street. He hears a squawk. 
The hiccuping siren. He sees a flashing light— 
red, blue. He’s glad they’re still out looking for 
her. He thinks they will find her first. 
The rain is coming down harder now, he can 
hear it, the sound is so much louder. He squints. 
He tries to see the rain in the streetlight, but he 
cannot seem to focus. He holds out his hand. He 
tries to look at it, but his hand will not stay still. 
He looks up. Nothing falls on his face. The rain 
has stopped. The snow has stopped. If not the 
rain, what is that noise? 
It’s himself. His teeth. They’re chattering, 
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rattling worse than Clunker Nine, shaking like 
his hand, like his whole body, the lucky stone 
dancing in his mouth. 
Zinkoff is cold. 
Pretending is warm. 
He pretends he’s his dad. With every step 
he says, “Piece a cake . . . piece a cake . . .” He 
lurches into another car. He punches himself to 
stay awake. He stomps. He can’t feel his toes. 
Who took his toes? He sings: “Somebody took 
my toes . . .” He sings: “Claudiaaaah . . . oh 
Claudiaaaah . . .” He must stay awake, must stay 
awake, must find her, no more waiting. He spells 
his favorite word, he calls it out loud to the 
chitterchattering night: “T-I-N-T-I-N-N-A-B-U-
L-A-T-I-O-N.” He sings it: “T-I-N-T-I-N-N-A-
B-U-L-A-T-I-O-N.” He hears Claudia calling. 
She’s on Halftank Hill, she’s on his sled, on his 
back, and they’re sailing down the hill and she’s 
screaming, screaming, she’s Polly, sitting on his 
dad’s shoulders screaming “Go Donald! Go 
Donald!” And he goes, he blazes like the wind 
down the sidewalk racing the cars, beating them 
to the end of the block. “And the Z shall be first!” 
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declares Mr. Yalowitz. “And the Z shall be last!” 
declares Mrs. Biswell and the Waiting Man winks 
in the window and says, “Pass me a snicker-
doodle.” Yellow button, yellow button, what do 
you say? “Get off my team,” says the yellow but-
ton. One thousand congratulations. Gimme a T! 
Gimme an I! Gimme an N! . . . Whaddayagot? 
Candles! Get yer candles here! Genu-wine ear-
wax candles, two thousand one hundred and 
sixty congratulations apiece! Two thousand one 
hundred and sixty . . . two thousand one hun-
dred . . . All aboard! Allll aboard! Next stop Jabip 
Jabip Jabip good morning young citizens good 
morning good morning heaven help heaven help 
help . . . 
The lights are blinding him. The lights are 
rumbling. He knows that he must turn away, he 
must get to the alley, he must find Claudia, but 
he cannot get away from the lights, he cannot 
move, and a whistle is screaming and a voice is 
saying, “Hold on, son, I gotcha . . .”