Peanut Butter and J

It was a sleepy summer afternoon. The kind where light seems almost liquid, like warm golden honey being poured lazily from the sky. In this serene and somnolent setting, Paisley (Peanut) May Macomber of Poppyside, was sitting on her porch chewing a rather large quantity of bubble gum. To Paisley, blowing bubbles was one of the greatest joys of life, and she was therefore doing this with considerable vim and vigor. Napoleon lay beside her, basking in a patch of sunlight, and between bubbles she gave him tickle under his milky chin. She had a knack for bubbles, and had just completed an impressively large one when a noise startled her, causing it to collapse into a rather sticky mess all over her freckled face. The shatterer of that peaceful afternoon, riding a somewhat-dilapidated bicycle, was a boy, an extremely satisfied grin plastered across his face. Paisley couldn’t help grinning back. “So it actually worked?” she asked as she peeled Bubler’s Extra Fruity off her nose. “Of course it worked,” said the boy in mock offense. Discarding the wad of gum, Paisley jumped up from the porch to inspect the bike. It was a freakish bit of mechanics, with wheels obviously not the same size, rusted handle bars, and a multi-coloured quilted seat. She poked at a patch of pink silk sceptically. “C'mon, lets go,” Jayden said having always considered caution to be an unnecessary irritation. “Fine,” she said, tossing a hand full of fiery curls over her shoulder. “But if you die, your aunt better let me say ‘I told you so’ at your funeral.” The huddle of pigeons roosting in a drain gutter scattered in a feathery explosion as the two bikes crashed into the porch. Paisley and Jordan collapsed, panting, as a plump old women placed a jug of lemonade on the wicker table with intense poise and dignity. “You two drink up before you pass out.” “Thank you grandmama,” Paisley choked out. Jayden just gasped, fishlike. “I totally won,” he said after being sufficiently revived by his third glass. “You did not, it was 11 to 8.” Paisleys curls quivered indignantly in the evening breeze. Jayden rolled his eyes, about to protest, when a familiar cry rang echoing down the street. “Jayden. Jaaaaaayden.” Jemima Henson cry was accompanied by her usual chorus of dogs. Jemima Henson, lovingly nicknamed by her nephew as Aunt Jimmy, was Poppyside’s resident eccentric. Some said her beaky nose, sharp tongue, and steely blue eyes were the reason she remained an old maid. Others said it was because her passionate love for her canine companions left her with no affection to spare. But while Aunt Jimmy certainly loved her dogs, (she was known as ‘the crazy dog lady’), but she still managed to make some small room in her heart for her orphaned nephew, who had been in her care since babyhood. With a dramatic sigh, Jayden picked himself up and began wheeling his ragtag bicycle with up the fissured sidewalk. In the dusky twilight, Paisley saw him reach 28 Killkudy’s dilapidated front gate, turn, give her a quick wave, and disappear past the high fence. In the ephemeral coolness of the next morning, Paisley was lying in the freshly mowed grass inspecting the dewdrop thick spiderwebs that laced the rose bushes. As she rolled over to catch a ladybug her bare foot brushed something hard; a well used cat toy. Frowning slightly, she absently wondered where Napoleon was; but the thought was quickly pushed a way by the sight of Jayden rushing through the front gate. “Hey Peanut, have you seen Napoleon?” He panted. “No.” She said, with a touch of apprehension. His eyes widened. “Cool, cool, just wanted to check-” He had whirled around and was about to take off when Paisley jerked him back by the collar of his shirt. “What did you do.” She said, her Mcomber blue eyes laced with steel. “Me?” He whined feebly. “Yeah you. What did you do to my grandma’s cat.” “Um right right well yeah I… I might have…” his voiced dropped to a whisper “accidentally locked him into the Cave.” It was her turn to look panicked. “Grandma’s going to kill us.” “You mean if Aunt Jimmy doesn’t get to us first.” Augusta Oriana Madison Macomber was the supreme leader of the large and often chaotic Macomber clan. Although she was a small woman, going on eighty-five, this remained the truth, and every one of the Macomber’s knew it. For the most part, she was the epitome of all that a grandmother should be, but she did have a famously fearsome temper, and people generally did everything possible to keep from setting it off. Everyone that is except Jemima Henson. The feud between Aunt Jimsy and Augusta Macomber was a heated as it was long. Mrs. Macomber, who hated dogs, not only constantly complained about ‘the incessant barking’, but also lived in mortal fear of what they might do to her darling Napoleon if they ever managed to catch him. Aunt Jimsy in turn, tolerated cats as a general thing, but despised Napoleon, partially in retaliation, and partially because the mere sight of him sent her dogs into near hysteria. “That cat,” she often muttered, “is over rated.” After years of open warfare, the two ladies had finally reached a compromise. Aunt Jimsy agreed to keep her dogs in a contained area at night (aptly dubbed the Cave), which at least limited their chances for mauling cats, and Mrs. Macomber agreed not to allow Napoleon out of the house without supervision, keeping him out of the dog’s field of vision. Despite this, the resulting neutrality was a tense and precarious one, and everyone in neighborhood was waiting with bated breath for some bomb to shatter it. “What. Did. You. Do.” Paisley’s face had shifted rapidly from white to red. “Look, it was a total accident, okay? I was trying to put that extra strength lock I invented onto the gate, but my screw driver slipped and jammed it. And then I thought I heard something mewing inside.” “And there’s absolutely no way of getting it open?” Paisley voice was at a dangerous pitch. “Um its extra strength duh. You’re not supposed to be able get it open.” Jayden snapped back. Silence ensued. “So. What now?” Jayden asked dully. “We could climb over.” Jayden shook his head. “The walls are like ten feet high. They have to be or Chomper would jump out.” “We could use a ladder.” His eyes brightened for a moment then flicked out. “Too risky. Aunty might see us from the kitchen window.” “Well, there has to be SOME way of getting in, otherwise Napoleon wouldn’t be there right now.” Jayden frowned “Yeah but...” suddenly he looked up, his face rapidly regaining its color. “I have a plan.” Half an hour later Paisley was standing outside of Jayden’s run down ‘work shop’. The sagging makeshift shelves overflowed with amputated machine parts. In the middle of the floor, Jayden sat cross-legged, fiddling with an impossibly tiny screw. Paisley scratched at a mosquito bite on her leg. “So what’s the plan again?” “I told you already,” said Jayden, sticking his tongue out in concentration. “I fix up this bird cage, then we climb up the tree, lower it down, Napoleon climbs into it, we pull him up, and escape into the night, never to be heard from again.” She rolled her eyes. “We have to be careful though, if we do it to early, Aunty might see us. And if we do it she’ll notice the lock, and then we’ll really be in trouble.” He stood up, brushing sawdust off his shorts. “There.” He lifted the newly repaired cage up for inspection. Eyebrows arched, Paisley looked at the flimsy wire skeptically. “Um J? Are you sure that’s not going to collapse as soon as Napoleon steps inside? He’s sort of on the heavy side.” (Mrs. Macomber’s habit of feeding treats to her precious meant that this was a generous understatement). Jayden brushed her concerns and the remaining sawdust away with equal carelessness. “It’ll be fine, just wait and see,” Several hours later, precariously perched on one of the giant walnut tree’s branches, Paisley was desperately wishing she shared his confidence. The plan, which had made perfect sense that morning, now seemed about as sturdy as the branch under her feet. But there was no turning back, and they both knew it. So she waited as Jaden scrambled up the rugged trunk, the cage clamped tightly in one hand. “Did you grab the food?” He whispered. She handed him the can of tuna. “Ready?” “Ready.” “All right, three, two, one-” faced screwed in concentration, he slowly began to lower the contraption into the Cage. Paisley heard a soft thud as it hit the dusty ground. Both of them stood still as stone, waiting. Suddenly, through the increasing inkiness, Paisley saw Jayden’s eyes light up. “Is it working?” she hissed. “He’s climbing in,” he whispered back, “This is the tricky part-”. He froze for a moment; then slowly, inch by cautious inch he began to pull the rope. Paisley held her breath. One second passed. Then two. Paisley held her breath. Napoleon was so close now that she could hear his faint meowing. Craning her neck at a painfully unnatural angle, she tried to see over the fence, and had just caught glimpse of snowy fur, when it happened. The gate to the Cave clanged loudly, but louder still was Aunt Jimsy piercing cry. “JAAAAAAAAYDEN. What did you do to this door?” Paisley nearly screamed out loud before catching herself on the nearest branch. Metal bars screeched. Napoleon joined them. Jayden heaved desperately. Suddenly, Paisley found her lap full of hissing cat. Jayden’s hoarsely screams of “GO GO GO!!!” in her ear, she tried to scramble down the tree, but only succeeded in losing both her shoes. “What’s going on in there Jayden?” Aunt Jimsy rarely lowered her voice for anything, and the combination of this and the barking quartet accompanying it was not doing wonders for Napoleon’s state of mind. Paisley had just managed to wriggle down to the lowest branch on the tree when she felt a vicious s***h on her wrist. Suppressing a scream, she tried to regain her balance, but it was too late. She hit the ground with a dull thud. As she sat up shakily she saw Jayden just catch Napoleon’s ornate collar before hauling him into the oversized basket on his bike. “Come ON Paisley,” he gasped. Wincing, she eased herself on to her bike and willed herself to pedal. “For once I have to agree with Aunty,” Jayden said as they sped down the street, “That Cat IS overrated.”