15 The Vomit for the Whole Neighborhood

The Vomit for the Whole Neighborhood Soooah," said the beast. "Which lucky person are we going to visit next?" Ebenezer decided to test the beast. He removed a small leather-bound notebook from his jacket pocket. It contained a record of everyone who had been to visit his Wise Tweezer business.

"Three streets away—second left at the roundabout. The house with the orange door," said Ebenezer. "There's a kindly old lady who needs help delivering a letter." The beast made the canoe whoosh faster than it had ever whooshed before, making the whole journey a terrifying affair of near crashes and decapitations. By the time they made it to the kindly old lady's house, Ebenezer felt that all 512 years of his existence had flashed past his eyes. The beast waddled out of the canoe and bashed its tiny fists against the orange door. A few moments later, the kindly old lady opened it, took one look at the beast, and fainted. "Oopsicles," said the beast. "Have I killed her, Ebby-kneesies? That's not a very do-goody thing to do, is it?"

"Step aside," said Ebenezer. "I'll handle this." The beast obediently stepped aside, like the good little doggy it was pretending to be. When Ebenezer got to the kindly old lady's unconscious body, he realized that first aid was one of the many things he knew nothing about. "Not entirely sure what we should do here," he said. He gave the kindly old lady a tap on the shoulder. "Wakey-wakey?" The kindly old lady refused to wakey-wakey. Ebenezer frowned, unsure what he should do next. Then he noticed that the kindly old lady was clinging to a letter. He prized it out of her hands. "This is what she came to me about. She wanted to deliver a birthday card to her

granddaughter in Australia, but she feared that she was too late," said Ebenezer. "I thought a simple solution would be to buy a carrier pigeon from the bird shop and give it firm instructions to go to Australia." "What a fabbywab plan!" said the beast. "Well, it would have been, if I had bought the right type of pigeon," said Ebenezer. "Unfortunately, the one I got ate the letter and pooped it back out on top of the kindly old lady's best hat. She must have written this one to replace it. I really wasn't much help to her." "We can fixxy-wix that," said the beast. It closed its eyes, then hummed and wiggled a bit from side to side before vomiting out a postbox in the hallway, with a mouth that was constantly opening and closing. It looked positively ravenous for letters. "This boxy will

send letters anywhere in the world," said the beast. The kindly old lady sat up and blinked between Ebenezer and the beast. "Terribly sorry. Wasn't expecting to see such a peculiar doggy on my doorstep," she said. She looked at the postbox. "What's that?" "Apparently it sends letters anywhere in the world," said Ebenezer. "I'm not sure I'd trust it, if I were you." The kindly old lady got to her feet and shuffled across the hallway to take a closer look at the postbox. She waited until the mouth was open and popped the letter inside. The postbox made a chewing sound. Then it burped out a delivery slip. The kindly old lady and Ebenezer looked inside and saw that the letter was no longer there.

"Mr. Tweezer, this is extraordinary," said the kindly old lady. "Thank you so much!" "It's in Australia now," said the beast shyly. Unfortunately, the sight of the beast speaking made the kindly old lady faint again. "I love giving old people helpsies!" said the beast. "And you're absolutely suresies that I haven't killed her?"