11 The Comic and the Cushion

The Comic and the Cushion Ebenezer and Bethany returned to the house two hours later, each carrying a sack on their back. Bethany's sack contained comics about unruly children, pranksters, and mischievous goblins who enjoyed ruining princesses' parties, while Ebenezer's was filled to the brim with ones about superheroes and cowboys.

They dragged their sacks into the front room and began to read. Neither of them talked, because they had done quite enough of that already. Occasionally one of them would chortle or gasp at what they were reading, and the other one would say, "Shhh!" As Ebenezer read, he felt his eyes begin to tire. The words and pictures turned blurry, and he had to fetch the gentleman's monocle that he hadn't worn ever since it had gone out of fashion over a hundred years ago. "Hahaha! You look ridiculous," said Bethany, when she spotted him squinting through it.

"I thought you were trying to be good," said Ebenezer. "I am. Aren't good people supposed to be honest? I'm telling the truth—that thing makes you look ridiculous!" "You might be right," he said, as he caught sight of his reflection. "But I won't be wearing it for long. My eyes will be strong again once I have the potion." Ebenezer went into the kitchen and made Bethany a large dinner—one that would fatten her up nicely for the beast. He fried a slab of red meat in one pan and boiled a small bucket of potatoes in another. "Dinnertime!" he shouted, once it was ready. Bethany stomped to the kitchen table, carrying a goblin comic under her arm. She

held the comic open with one hand and forked potatoes into her mouth with the other. "That looks interesting," said Ebenezer. The front cover of the comic was a picture of a bright green goblin with orange boots and pointed yellow teeth. "You can't have it," said Bethany. "It's mine." "I know it is. I bought it for you. And I don't want it now anyway—I'll just borrow it after you're done with it." "No." "No?" "Yes. No." "What do you mean no?" "I mean—no." "But I bought them for you!"

"Yes, and I said thank you—which was very unlike me—and now all the ones in the sack are mine." "You didn't actually say the words 'thank' and 'you.' And do you mean that you're not going to let me read any of them?" "That's right. I don't like sharing." "Well, in that case, you're not allowed to read while you're eating dinner." Bethany shrugged and closed her comic. She started forking potatoes into her mouth at a rapid pace. "If I lend you one of my comics, will you get me a pet?" she asked, between forkfuls. "Bethany, I will never, ever get you a pet. Stop asking me about it." "But why? Don't you want to know what it's like to have one?"

"I already know exactly what it's like," he answered, looking a little uncomfortable. "A few centuries ago I had a charming Cheshire cat called Lord Tibbles. Unfortunately, things did not end well." "What happened?" she asked, leaning forward with interest. "Was he a scratchy cat? The scratchy ones are my favorite." "No, no, no—Lord Tibbles was a perfect gentleman. He was kind and he was fluffy, right up until the day the beast decided to eat him." Bethany's mouth curled into an expression of appalled horror, but Ebenezer wasn't finished yet. He thought it might be a novel sensation to tell her the whole truth about his relationship with the beast—besides, it wasn't