Chapter 6

It was real—at least most of it. I didn’t feel too well. I thought about the bumpy glue on the model airplane wing. My whole life was getting bumpy like that, and I was feeling dissatisfied. I like things neat. This situation wasn’t neat at all. I decided that I was going to do something about it. Up till now, things had just been happening—not even happening to me—just happening in front of me. I wanted to know what was going on. I wanted to make some things happen.

First I made some frozen orange juice and toasted a frozen blueberry muffin. While the muffin was in the toaster, I got a pencil and paper. I ate my muffin and wrote:

I studied my list. Except for the animal program about lizards, which was only weird because of the other things, all the items on my list were not normal things to happen in my life. They had all happened in two days. They all had to do with lizards, and/or the Chicken Man.

Now, what was I going to do about it? What would Walter Cronkite or Mr. Hatch, the Science teacher do about it? I thought that, probably, they would double check all the information. I started double checking. I got the TV section and checked the listings for the whole week. Nothing that sounded like the lizard band was listed anywhere. There was nothing at all listed at the time period when I had seen the lizard band. The animal program was listed, and it was about lizards. That was okay. Then I called Information in Hogboro and got the number of the TV station, WLIZ—it’s funny that I never noticed those call letters before. I wondered if I should add them to my list. I decided not to, because it had those letters before this whole business got started. I dialed the TV station. A lady answered.

“I’d like to ask some questions about the programs on your station last night,” I said.

“Please hold on,” the lady said.

Then a man’s voice said, “May I help you?”

“Did you have a program with lizards late last night?”

“‘Animals of the World’ featured lizards—it was broadcast at seven-thirty.”

“Was there another program, a music program, with lizards late at night—after the late movie?”

“Our last program was the late movie, Invasion of the Pod People. After that there were some public service messages, a moment of inspiration, and we went off the air.”

“Off the air?”

“Yes, turned off the lights, locked the doors, went home—off the air.”

“One other question. Does Roger Mudd ever have a lizard on his shoulder when he does the news?”

Click—buzz, the man had hung up on me. I can’t say I blamed him. He probably thought I was a nut. Anyway, I had found out that the TV station wasn’t broadcasting the lizard band—but I had seen them. There were several possibilities. One, I was crazy, or I had imagined the lizards. But, as I said, I don’t go in for imagining things, and it hadn’t been six months since I took all those psychological tests. Besides, I didn’t feel crazy. Two, the lizards were getting into the TV station after it closed, turning everything on, and putting out their own program. That sounded a little farfetched, but lizards who can play clarinets and saxophones might be capable of anything. Three, the lizard program was coming from someplace other than the TV station, and our TV set was picking up their show. I couldn’t think of any more possibilities. I went over the three again. One, was I crazy? I went into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. I looked as sane as anybody in the world; I was sure I wasn’t crazy. That left possibilities two and three. Either the lizards were broadcasting from the TV station, or they were broadcasting from some other TV station. I would have to get more information before I decided.

Next was the Chicken Man. Was he connected to all the lizard stuff, or was that just a coincidence? I looked at his card. “By Appointment—City Bus Terminal—Hgbro,” it said. I didn’t know how to make an appointment with him. Maybe I could just run into him at the bus terminal and make an appointment then. I’d have to go into Hogboro again. That would also give me a chance to double check the album cover in the store window. I felt good about all the progress I was making. I got ready to go to Hogboro.

I didn’t forget to mail another phony letter to Mom and Dad. I was glad that Leslie wasn’t around, what with the lizard and Chicken Man mystery going on. She would probably have gotten hysterical. She doesn’t like lizards and snakes and things like that. Probably, she would have started screaming for her mommy, and calling the police, and generally making it impossible to get to the bottom of things. I had an investigation on my hands, and I certainly didn’t need my crazy sister to make it harder. You can be sure that Walter Cronkite doesn’t have to put up with things like that.

On the bus, I thought about what I would do in the city. I was going to look for the Chicken Man, examine the record album cover, and in general keep a sharp eye out for lizards of all kinds. I had my magnifying glass and my notebook. I was going to get the facts. I felt like Walter Cronkite working on a big news story. I got out my notebook and made a couple of notes. “Lizard,” I wrote, and “Chicken.”

I was the first one off the bus when it stopped in the terminal. I had a lot to do, and it was already ten in the morning. I looked around for the Chicken Man. I didn’t see him. I set off for the empty store with the lizard album cover.

The crowds of people in the street didn’t bother me as much as they had the day before. I wasn’t so much carried along by the moving crowd, as moving through it. I found I could shift around slow-moving people and never break my pace. I had more time to look around, and I wasn’t as nervous. I had a chance to look at the people. They all looked straight ahead. It seemed to me that a person walking toward me was going to crash right into me. Then, at the last minute, we’d just miss each other. It was like a game. All the men had suits and hats on, and the women clicked along on little high-heeled shoes. Everybody had this real serious expression, like they were very important and busy. They all had a tendency to walk in a straight line, and in my rubber-soled sneakers, I could weave in and out and around and pass everybody. It was fun. I felt like a little sports car moving through a lot of trucks.

When I got into the older neighborhood where there weren’t so many pedestrians, I slowed down. It was pretty much the same as the day before, except the sun was shining, and I saw something I had never seen before—a horse and wagon! It was this real old wagon with tires off an old truck or something—wooden spokes—and it was piled up with broken chairs and old bedsprings and bundles of old clothes. There was an old guy driving it, and the horse looked old too. He was gray and sort of scuffed-looking and he had a hat! The horse had a hat, with holes cut out for his ears! I didn’t know that anybody used a horse and wagon anymore.

When I got to the empty store the album cover was gone! There were some marks on the inside of the window where the Scotch tape had been, but no album cover! The door still had the padlock on it. The trees and weeds were still waving outside the back windows. The same dead flies were still lying on the windowsill, but the album cover was gone.

I heard a rumbling sound behind me and turned to see a giant green lizard—about nine feet long! His mouth was open, and he had rows of little sharp-looking teeth, and a red tongue. “This is it,” I thought. “Either I’m going to die or go nuts.” The lizard was moving down the street a little above eye level. He was roaring—making a noise like a bus. Above his head was printing, and underneath him. He was printed too! Explore the Wonders of the Natural World, it said above the printed lizard. Visit the Hogboro Zoo, it said underneath him. Take the Special Zoo Bus, it said under that. It was an advertising poster. I only thought the lizard was real for maybe a quarter of a second. I was already telling myself that I knew it all along. But my mouth was very dry. The bus with the lizard poster moved away.