16 The Noisy Curtains

The Noisy Curtains That is none of your business," said Ebenezer. "It looks like a pair of red velvet curtains," said Miss Fizzlewick. She walked over and inspected them more closely. She felt the soft, plush fabric between her fingers and gave them a sniff. "Why, Mr. Tweezer, these will go perfectly in my office!" she said. She quickly corrected her mistake. "I mean, in the orphanage, of

course. It's a well-known fact that all children love curtains." "Excellent idea," he said. "I'll buy you a set of curtains like these for every room in the house. Let's go down there, immediately, so I can give you the money." But Miss Fizzlewick wasn't done with her search. She bent down to the curtains again and placed her ear to them. "Is there something behind here?" she asked. "I could have sworn that I just heard a noise. It's a sort of grunting, snuffling sound." "The sound is neither a grunt nor a snuffle!" said the beast, in its loud and slithery voice. "It is the sound of a majestic and beautiful being that will expand your definition of life itself!"

Miss Fizzlewick looked to Ebenezer. She wasn't used to having her definition of life expanded. In response, he rolled his eyes. "Stand back as far as you can, Miss Fizzlewick," he said. "Don't shout, don't scream, and don't make any unpleasant noises. This is going to be a bit of a shock." "Mr. Tweezer, there's nothing behind those curtains that I haven't seen a thousand times before," she said. Ebenezer pulled open the curtains. Miss Fizzlewick tried her best not to be shocked, but she still let out a gasp and dropped her mug, which crashed onto the floor and smashed into pieces. She quickly regained her composure and tried to act like it was no big deal.

"Ah yes," she said, looking at the beast. "I think I saw one of these before, when I was in Paris." "You did not," slithered the beast. "Perhaps it was when I was holidaying in Budapest," she said. "I don't think you saw anything like this in Budapest, Paris, or anywhere else in the world except this room, Miss Fizzlewick," said Ebenezer. "Why? Is it a rare creature?" asked Miss Fizzlewick. "I am the last of my kind," boasted the beast. As head of the orphanage, Miss Fizzlewick was used to dealing with children who had lost their families. She said exactly the same

thing to the beast as she said to everyone who came through the orphanage's doors. "You mustn't whine and grumble. Everyone loses someone at some point, and it's very annoying and selfish if you try to make a big deal of it," she said. Then, to soften the blow, she asked, "What happened to the rest of your kind?" The beast looked to its belly and smiled. Miss Fizzlewick didn't understand what it was trying to say, so she replied, "It's good that you're taking it so well. You're very sensible." "What else am I? Aside from sensible," asked the beast. Miss Fizzlewick looked to Ebenezer. He offered no assistance.

"Well, you're gray. You have black eyes. And you're quite large," she said. "I am not large! I am thin, beautiful, and I have recently been exercising!" said the beast. "And that's not what I meant. Tell me what I'm like." "I'm sorry, but I just don't know. We've only just met." This was not what the beast wanted to hear, but Miss Fizzlewick didn't care. "Where do you keep your cleaning equipment?" she asked Ebenezer. "A lady never leaves a mess lying around." "Third floor. Fifth door on the right from the staircase—next to the stationery suite," he replied. "There's no need to go all the way down there," said the beast. It closed its eyes, shut