Chapter 6: Magic and Mystery
“What is it this time?” breathed 419.
“Another magic box!”
“Congratulations, you’ve found the fridge.”
Pleakly stared at her with a look of disbelieving defiance.
“But… I ate all the raviolis last night… and they re-appeared!”
“OK, I’m not even going to bother… Jumba?”
Jumba took his head out of a box of a box of jumbo-sized mini-corndogs.
“Can you please tell Pleakly that this is not, as he claims, a magic box!”
“Of cause it is not being.”
“It is being food materialiser!”
“We have those on ship! They are creating food out of proton molecules… er, 419… why are you banging head against wall?”
“Oh my GOODNESS!”
“OK, yo, I get it!”
426 slowly stumbled out of Jumba’s room.
“Well, thanks to my older sister, I got the bottom bunk…”
“And what’s wrong with that?” asked Lilo. “I got the bottom bunk in my room…”
“Y’all don’t understand… Jumba was in the middle.”
“That gotta hurt!”
“So… is there any particular reason you’re all standing around?”
Everyone turned his or her head. 419 was walking down the hall, head down, PDA in hand.
“By the way, Jumba, I found your handheld…”
She looked up and met with the stares of most of her extended family (excepting Jumba, who was at this moment getting more mini-corndogs.)
“Er… OK… where’s Jumba…”
A small gleam appeared in Stitch’s eye. 419 didn’t like the look of it, nor the look 426 was giving her at the moment.
“Um… I’ll just… go now…”
She quickly slipped into the kitchen and double-locked the door.
“Hey, 419... why are you in so much rushing?”
“Can’t talk... must run... er, Jumba, you don’t want to open that door...”
Jumba opened the door.
And through rushed 626, followed closely by Pleakly (trying to catch 626), 426 (trying to catch 419), Lilo (trying to catch Stitch and a ‘northern banshee’, whatever that was), and Nani (trying to catch Lilo).
“Um... that’s why.”
“Get her!” shouted 426.
“Get him!” yelled Lilo.
“Get back here right this instant!” exclaimed Nani.
“Get out of my kitchen!” cried... some guy dressed in white.
“Who are you?”
The chief chef had arrived on the scene to see his kitchen – his beautiful, marvellous, spotless kitchen - being ravaged and ransacked by three dogs, a young girl, a teenager, a hat stand, and a hippo.
“I am the head chef of this hotel. Out! Now!”
“And next time you want a snack, wait for lunch!”
The chef slammed the door behind him and wiped his brow. Sure, it was bad enough when those ‘ducks’ ate all the ice-cream last week, but now what was he to say? That aliens ate all the jumbo mini-corndogs? Or maybe he was finally losing it. Where did he put that resignation form?
Meanwhile, about 2 km away, in an ordinary suburban house, an alarm clock rang. And a hand blindly grouped for the ‘snooze’ button.
Now, most hands are attached to arms, arms to shoulders, shoulders to people, unless said hand, arm, shoulder or person was somehow detached in a painful but no doubt humorous manner. This particular hand, however, was attached to an arm, a shoulder, and a person, and this person was named Sakura.
“Just five more minutes...”
“Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” called a voice from the corridor. Sakura instinctively ducked as two pillows came flying her way.
“C’mon, squirt, up and at’em… It’s only about 8:13...”
“8:13!” The large mess that was her bedding fell in a heap on the floor, as Sakura leaped (or rather, stumbled) out of bed, tripped over her laundry basket and fell at her oniisan’s feet. Only now did she think to check the clock. It read 7:47.
“Well, it got you up, didn’t it? Early to bed, early to rise...”