6 Talking with Strangers

Chapter 6 TALKING WITH STRANGERS In the backseat, Coke and Pep sat stunned and silent. On the inside, the twins both knew the right thing to do—come clean and tell their parents what had happened to Aunt Judy in the RV. But they couldn't bring themselves to do it. How do you break the news to your mother that her sister was a psychopath and pyromaniac who tried to kill you? How do you tell her that her sister blew herself up? It's impossible. Besides, every time the twins tried to be honest and tell their parents the truth, they didn't believe it. Coke and Pep kept their mouths shut. What happened to Aunt Judy in the RV would be their secret, at least for the time being. Awkward silence filled the car as the Ferrari

headed west through Arkansas, passing Dagmar State Wildlife Management Area and Wattensaw State Game Area. Unless you were a nature lover, there wasn't a whole lot to look at outside the window. "Hey, let's play the spy game!" Dr. McDonald blurted out enthusiastically. Groans came out of the backseat. "Come on, it'll be fun!" he said. "See if you can find the letters of the alphabet outside the car. I'll start. Look! The A for 'Arkansas' is on that license plate right in front of us." "B," said Mrs. McDonald. "The sign on that building to the right." "C," Dr. McDonald said. "On that billboard. How about one of you kids take a turn?" "We don't want to play, Dad," Pep replied. "You kids are no fun at all," he said. The game ended right there. The twins went back to their private thoughts. As the Ferrari cruised west along I-40, signs started to appear for Little Rock, the state capital.

"I wonder why it's called Little Rock?" asked Dr. McDonald. "They probably have a bunch of little rocks," Pep guessed. "Actually, Little Rock gets its name from a rock formation on the south bank of the Arkansas River," Coke informed the rest of the family. "It was called 'la Petite Roche,' which means 'the little rock' in French. I saw that—" "Shut up!" Pep shouted at her brother. "Nobody cares!" "Don't tell your brother to shut up," Dr. McDonald told Pep. "It's not his fault that he knows a lot of things." "I can't take it anymore!" Pep shouted. She picked up a magazine and whacked Coke on the shoulder with it. "Ow! Knock it off!" At this point, Dr. McDonald made an executive decision. Everyone's nerves suddenly seemed to be on edge. The stress of seeing the RV explode had clearly gotten to Pep.

Everybody needed to calm down a little. "I'm starved," he said as he pulled off the highway at the Little Rock exit and crossed the Arkansas River. One block off the riverbank was a bustling street with a convention center, the Little Rock River Market, and some restaurants. "How about this joint?" Mrs. McDonald said as they approached a place called Flying Fish. Dr. McDonald pulled into the parking lot. Flying Fish, needless to say, specializes in seafood. The family slid into a booth and ordered an assortment of catfish, shrimp, oysters, crab, and gumbo for everyone to share. "You think they have grits?" Coke asked. "I always wanted to try grits." "Grits sound gross," Pep said. "Well, you don't listen to them," Coke told his sister. "You eat them." One wall of the restaurant was an unusual sight—row upon row of wooden plaques, each one with a fish mounted on it. There were more

than three hundred of them, and all of them looked the same. Upon closer examination, it was obvious that the fish were made out of rubber. At the top of the wall was a sign: BILLY BASS ADOPTION CENTER. "What the heck?" Coke asked. "This will be great for Amazing but True!" Mrs. McDonald said as she grabbed her camera. Dr. McDonald explained to the kids that, around the turn of the century, millions of people bought these silly novelty gifts called Big Mouth Billy Bass. The head and the tail of the fish would wiggle back and forth while the fish sang songs like "Don't Worry, Be Happy" and "Take Me to the River." The fish's mouth even moved while it sang.

Don't believe me? YouTube it. Go ahead, I'll wait. Anyway, Big Mouth Billy Bass was really annoying, and when the fad ended, people were stuck with the silly toys. A lot of the fish ended up in the garbage or at garage sales. Some of them, apparently, ended up at Flying Fish Restaurant in Little Rock, Arkansas. "Do you like our little museum?" asked the waitress when she brought the food. "If you donate a Big Mouth Billy Bass to our collection, you get a free catfish basket." Mrs. McDonald took notes for her website. She seemed to have an uncanny knack for