Chapter 4: Washing the Tiger
The three friends were given rooms on the fourth floor, the last before the attic. They were small, plain rooms, but cozy compared to what they had lived in before. And the rooms were set right next to each other, close enough for visiting.
Eugene sat on the bed in Maniac’s room, legs crossed, as he told about his day’s work.
“After cleaning the whole attic, one piece of furniture at a time, we had to do the halls in this part of the house. Then the bedrooms, bathrooms, library…huh, half the house had to be cleaned as if for eating off of. And we still have to do the other half tomorrow!”
“They certainly are strict people,” Leaflow agreed, lounging on the floor with his back against the bed, “though the old master is not a bad fellow at all. But he wanted things ‘kept simple’ so he got simple out in the back garden.”
“I hope you aren’t going to make a fool out of me after getting you hired,” Eugene retorted acidly, an image of an overgrown garden full of weeds appearing in his head.
“Oh, don’t worry so much,” Maniac put in, leaning back on a chair against the wall, so that only two of its legs were on the floor. With a wave of a hand he put aside their worries, “these people aren’t cruel at all! Just look at the jacket they bought me.”
“Or rather, you bought yourself with their money,” Leaflow inserted, gazing at their companion’s mismatched clothes. Eugene looked at them closely for the first time and saw the battle that had been fought between Maniac and the cook written out clearly before him. Maniac’s vest was black leather with chains and his boots were those of a biker, but underneath the vest he was wearing a very proper white shirt, and his pants were grade ‘A’ butler type. He had a plastic flower stuck daintily in his vest’s pocket, but the opposite arm boasted a spiked wrist-guard.
“You are both travesties,” Eugene decided eventually, “neither one thing or the other. I hope I don’t look that crazy.”
“Don’t worry,” Leaflow told him, “you look like any other page boy…as long as no one sees your right arm and thinks that you’re Captain Hook.”
The conversation became a string of mocking insults for a little while, before the topic of the money they were earning daily came up. Maniac nudged Leaflow with the tip of his boot, “so, what are you going to do with your first paycheck? I’m going to get something decent to eat in town, a grand feast.”
“As long as they have plain bread and cheese here, I’m happy,” the cloaked man returned, as that was all he had asked for at lunch time, “I’m going to save my money until I can get my car out of pawn.”
“I didn’t know you had a car,” Eugene leaned over the edge of the bed to look him in the face. Which was a futile effort, as there was no face to be seen.
“Yes, I bought it soon after coming here. It reminded me of one I had back home and have owned since I was a whippersnapper like you, so I could not resist,” Leaflow told him, waving a hand in the air with a helpless gesture, “but purchasing it used up the last of my dough and I soon had a speeding ticket to pay for. A rather large speeding ticket. So I pawned the car to a shifty fellow in town for one thousand, five hundred dollars. I have to raise that, plus one hundred, to get it back.”
“Sixteen hundred, huh,” Eugene rested his chin on his hand, “one day, Leaflow, I’ll ask you for your story and the reason why you won’t give up that cloak. But not today.”
He added hastily, when he saw the other man’s expression.
Leaflow only replied, “I could ask the same of you. Both of you, in fact.”
“Oh, I’m easy,” said Maniac, “my name says it all.”
Eugene didn’t give a reply, but he thought about the note he had been given saying that his agent had run away with both the money and the ‘thingy.’ Getting those items back was his ultimate goal. But as he thought about it, a small doubt crept into his mind. Was that really all he wanted out of life?
—
After lunchtime the next day Eugene was thoroughly sick of cleaning things. The house had been gone over with a fine-haired toothbrush, every little thing put in its place. But he still had one task left to do. With a gargantuan sigh he stood up from the servant’s table, going over to pick up a bucket of warm, soapy water from the closet nearby. It had a scrub brush floating in it and he also picked up a small push broom from the same closet. Then he began to march out of the kitchen door.
Maniac and Leaflow were leaning against the lintel laying wagers on who could flick toothpicks into the garbage can from across the room. As Eugene started to edge past Maniac put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him, “now what are doing in such a huff?”
Shaking free, the young man continued out into the hall, “washing the tiger.”
“What’s that, some sort of martial arts move?” Leaflow asked, as they both followed after their friend curiously.
“No, it’s just what it sounds like,” Eugene told them, tightly. “Miss Amedele has a pet tiger and it has to be cleaned before the party. Apparently she doesn’t think that it will do a good enough job itself. Oh, and she rarely visits it. The tiger is only for show.”
Leaflow walked in the rear, whirling his hands around in bewildering circles, “soap on, soap off.”
They all went out of the mansion and turned to the right, walking around to the opposite side of the house from the wavy roses. Here there was a large, enclosed pen of green grass and faux cement rocks, with a shed set in one side of it. The shed could be entered from either the pen or the outside, with sliding doors.
“Hold on a minute,” Maniac said, “are we really coming out here to wash a tiger?”
“Yes!” Eugene snapped, “do you think I would make something like that up?”
“I was hoping you had,” Maniac frowned, his whole ugly face distorting, “tigers are not an easy game.”
While they were talking Leaflow had gone over and slid the door open just a crack. Now he beckoned them over and pointed inside. Eugene put his eye to the opening to see a dim, cushion-strewn interior. Most of the pillows were ripped or torn in some way, except for the largest cushion at the back. On it a large, orange and black striped shape lay, tail flicking lazily. He seemed to be asleep despite this movement, though it is always difficult to tell for certain with a cat. His ears were pricked expectantly and that was all they could see.
“Oh man,” Eugene slid the door shut again and turned his back to it, face pale, “I didn’t realize how big a tiger really is.”
“Big enough to eat you in one bite, that’s for sure,” Maniac nodded his head in approval, seeming perversely pleased at his reaction.
“Does he have a name?” Leaflow inquired, pushing Eugene out of the way to look in the door again.
“Waffle,” Eugene said, still looking as if he had seen a ghost inside.
Calling the name softly, Leaflow walked into the door. Eugene rotated around the post to watch him, his one hand held out to slam the door if things started to go wrong.
“Now Waffle,” the cloaked one spoke in his deepest, most commanding voice, which must have had some charm to it, for Eugene began to feel irrationally calmer and the tiger looked up expectantly.
“We’re not going to eat you, despite what your name suggests. Miss Amedele, your mistress, has only sent us to prepare you for the party.”
The creature lashed its tail once and sat up. Leaflow continued to advance until he could put out a hand and rest it on the tiger’s head. The beast let out a low growl, making Eugene wince, but it did not make a move to harm the man.
“See, he’s just a kitten at heart,” Leaflow commented in his normal tone, stroking it under the jaw. At that moment Waffle made a sudden move, flicking his hand down and biting on to it with an unexpected ‘Clomp!’
Eugene jumped straight into the air with shock. Maniac reached down and picked up an unused fence post from the ground, preparing to run in with it held like a lance. Leaflow stood as still as a cornstalk, before holding up his free hand to still his friends, “wait a minute.”
Using his commanding voice again, he said, “Waffle, let go of me. I did not mean to insult you, saying that you are a kitten. Really, you are a wild, ferocious beast, but I don’t think that you will hurt us.”
As if by magic the tiger let go of his hand, which he moved quickly away to stick in a pocket of his cloak. Taking a chain and collar down off of the wall, he fastened them around Waffle’s neck. They walked toward the door, tiger following the cloaked being docilely. Eugene stepped out of the way, while Maniac grinned broadly, “wonderful! I’ve never seen anything like it. Is he tame?”
“Oh no,” Leaflow shook his head, stopping out on the grassy lawn, “and that is why you’re the one who is going to hold his head and stroke it while we work.”
Grumbling, Maniac did as he was told, gingerly scratching it behind the ears with one hand while the other had a lock on its lower jaw.
“Here,” Eugene pushed the broom and bucket toward Leaflow, “you can wash him, since you seem to know what you are doing. Besides, I only have one hand.”
“Naughty boy, it was your task,” Leaflow picked up the cleaning tools, “but you can hang on to the chain so that he doesn’t get away; that only takes one hand.”
Reluctantly, the thief picked up the very end of the chain, holding it tightly in his one good hand.
There was a little dust on Waffle’s fur from the old cushions, though it was not very thick. A cat normally cleans itself well enough for any party, but the Rubles were particular about such things. The tiger was a show piece at the estate, so it needed cleaned like everything else.
Leaflow had just started sponging the tiger’s head, working around Maniac’s grip, when Miss Amedele herself came strolling around the side of the mansion toward them. She was a vaguely pudgy, fair-faced and fair-haired girl, with little resemblance to her elder brother. This morning she was dressed in designer jeans with embroidered hearts on the back, a frilly pink blouse and a hat which looked like it came from a Victorian painting.
“Oh, Waffle!” She trilled, bouncing over to rub his ears and scratch his jaw. Maniac stepped back, releasing his hold with only a small show of reluctance. Amedele patted and petted the big cat while it rumbled smugly and rubbed against her, “you’re such a wuffling little Waffle! My cute little kitty-poo. Be good now and let the big men scrub you all up for the party!”
Leaflow had backed away too, though Eugene still held the chain clamped in his hand. Amedele gave the tiger one last pat, thanked them for working on him, and breezed away. Leaflow glanced reprovingly at the big cat, “her ‘cute little kitty-poo.’ And you bit at me for saying you were a kitten.”
Waffle growled, crouching down.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
“Now don’t get him riled up!” Maniac said, stepping back as if to clamp the tiger’s jaw again. Leaflow picked up the push broom and bucket, stepping forward as well. It was just then that Eugene began to feel the tension on the line, coming back to him from where his charge was leaning against the collar.
“Um, guys–”
Before he could speak, Waffle sprang. In one leap he had sent Maniac staggering and covered a dozen feet of lawn grass, dragging Eugene after him.
“Help!” The thief yelped and squalled as the tiger began to run, towing him behind it despite all of his efforts to the contrary. Waffle bounded easily, like a cat following a friend, making for the back garden. Eugene came after him with legs flying, still gripping the chain in his one hand as if he would never let go. Without dropping the broom or bucket, Leaflow took off after them, soapy water sloshing out all over his cloak as he ran. They soon disappeared behind the mansion, while Maniac stood behind shaking his head in frustration, “oh, this whole idea was wonderful. Why didn’t Leaflow leave it in the pen to wash it?”
In a surprisingly short amount of time Waffle came back into view around the other side of the mansion, still dragging his load after him. He came on like a tiger-striped locomotive, Leaflow still running behind with broom outstretched as if to scrub it while they ran. Eugene had given up holding the chain by now and came trotting after, panting while he rubbed his hand against his opposite sleeve. Maniac tried to catch the dragging chain as it went passed, but his fingers had just brushed it when it was yanked away by another bound of the big cat.
Which put Maniac right in the way of the oncoming cloaked one. They slammed together and fell in a tangle, before fighting apart and taking off after the tiger again.
Now it was around the side of the mansion again, heading for the back garden. By the time the three adventurers reached the garden Waffle was nowhere to be seen. They called for it, hunted in the shrubbery, beat about the bushes and made Leaflow talk in his deepest voice in an attempt to get the tiger out. All with no success. By the end of their search they were all hot, irritable and scratched from the bushes. Eugene’s hand was burned from the chain being hauled out of it, while the other two had been soaked with soapy water from their collision.
“What a mess,” Maniac was still shaking his head, face set into a worried frown, “it could be lurking anywhere now, just waiting to jump out and murder us!”
“He probably wouldn’t do that,” Leaflow commented, hands both stuck in his pockets, “besides, I wouldn’t think that you would be afraid of a beast like that.”
“I’m not afraid,” Maniac returned, “Just concerned for the safety and togetherness of my separate limbs! I’ve hunted tigers before, in the Banhavgarh jungles of India. They are no joke when they become man-eaters. See this scar?”
He pointed to a white line across one arm, just below the shoulder, “It was at least an inch deep and five across, originally. And had three companions of slightly lesser standing. That’s what comes of wrestling tigers!”
Eugene had looked up briefly, but now put his head in his hand as if to block out the world, “what am I going to do? What are we going to do! You two have ruined our positions. What will I tell Miss Amedele, or the boss, when there is no tiger to show off tonight?”
“Now look here–” Maniac began threateningly. Then a voice calling from the house for the butler and the servant boy cut him off. They had work to do back at the house, preparing for the evening.
“We’ll just have to keep quiet and hope that they don’t notice for now,” Eugene said, upon which Leaflow offered to stay outside and search for the missing beast further.
“He could not have gone far. The estate is fenced all of the way around.”
Hurrying up to the house, Eugene spent the rest of the afternoon helping the maids with decorations and putting extra lengthening leaves in the table. When evening began to approach he went up to his room to brush his hair again, wash his face and wish that he had some brighter, better clothes to wear. But he was only a serving boy, not a guest, so his vanity did not need to be pandered to.
He was polishing his boots (which had disappointingly stiff soles) when Maniac came strolling in to his room and moved over to peer out of the window.
“What’s up, Maniac?” Eugene asked, knowing that the man had not come simply to peer out of his window, which looked out on the same things as the window in the room next to it did.
“Hmm,” Maniac did not say anything for a space of time, just tilted his head back and forth, peering out of the glass. Finally he spoke, “I can’t spot either of them. Have you, ah, seen Leaflow around since earlier today?”
“No,” Eugene set his boots down on the floor with a thump, “do you think…?”
“Well, he did go looking for that tiger. And we never found out how badly bitten his hand was. Tigers can crush bone with a single bite, easily. And a man with one hand against a feral tiger…You can probably imagine it better than me,” Maniac looked pointedly at the young man’s hook.
Seeing in a flash the image of their friend being torn to pieces by the animal, cloak laying in shreds across the yard and bones nibbled on, Eugene stood up, “I forgot all about his being bitten. He didn’t seem to have been hurt, much.”
“That’s true, he would have made some noise if it had crushed the hand,” his companion nodded thoughtfully, “a man can’t help screaming in pain, then.”
“You don’t have to be so graphic,” Eugene started yanking his boots on, “besides, I didn’t make a sound when I lost this,” He held up the metal hook to glint in the evening light coming through the window. “But even if he wasn’t injured then, that tiger could…well, hurt a whole person just as easily.”
He went quickly to the door, pulling it open and stepping out into the hall. Maniac followed, popping his knuckles in his fists. They were just starting to descend the servant’s staircase when footsteps came tripping up toward them and Sara’s face came into view.
“Oh, there you two are,” she gestured for them to follow her, turning around on the stairs, “the guests will be here any moment. You have to get to your places. Butler, go wait at the door for the first knock or ring. Greet them extra nicely; it will probably be the mayor and his wife. Eugene, hurry down and help Clandesty lay out the punch bowls and appetizers.”
The two men exchanged helpless glances. Now it was too late to go looking for Leaflow; the party was about to begin. And until it was over, late in the night most likely, there would be no time for them to go looking for him. He would have to be left to Waffle’s mercy.
It was not long, as Sara had intimated, before the guests began to arrive. The mayor was a tall, thickset man with a greasy beard and dark eyes. His wife was what must, for politeness’ sake, be called full-figured. Her dress was silk, fitting in pale blue tightness around every pudgy curve. The fur at her neck was obviously made of synthetic material with silver plastic sparkles in it. They walked arm-in-arm up to the door, where the mayor knocked loudly. The large door swung open inward, displaying the butler standing politely to one side. He bowed his metal-studded face and ushered them in. “Welcome! Mr. Ruble is waiting for you.”
“Uh, thank you,” the mayor was slightly put out by the unexpected leather jacket and wild hair, but he took it with the true, modern broad-mindedness. Laughing at his own hesitation, he strode past with his wife in tow. The door shut, Maniac leaning against the wall next to it to wait for the next set of guests to arrive.
Meanwhile Eugene was standing with a tray in one hand, full of little wineglasses with red liquid in them. His other arm was crooked daintily, white cloth draped over it and hook turned so that the point was genteelly facing the floor. He offered the drinks to the mayor, who took one with the joke, “I almost thought that it was a masquerade ball, coming in here. Are you supposed to be a pirate?”
“No, I’m just missing a hand,” Eugene retorted bluntly, face set in strained lines.
“Oh!” The mayor apologized while explaining that he had thought it was fake. Soon other guests were arriving and being let in, before meeting Mr. Ruble and being given a drink by the serving boy. They mingled, chatted about news, the weather or clothes and tried to be intelligent or ‘edgy’ with what they said. Mostly, they followed the trends in conversation so well that the answers could have come from a box in the supermarket to save the trouble of thinking them up. They especially tried to avoid saying anything that would mock anyone except for their own type of people. That they did vindictively, as long as they could make it seem like a joke.
Eugene stayed mostly out of the way, moving silently through the crowd dispensing the drinks or bringing in more snacks from the kitchen. The maids helped him, exchanging little witticisms with him whenever they would not be overheard. After the general mingling stage there was a dinner-eating stage, before the host suggested a walk in the garden, with the last of the sunset to watch. This was agreed to and Maniac was stationed at the back door to let them out into it, while Eugene was given a basket of flashlights to carry in case darkness fell while everyone was still out there. Hanging it from his hook, he marched out at the rear of the guests.
“Be careful out there,” Maniac whispered as he went past, peering around the door into the dusk that was falling. Eugene nodded. A tiger could be behind any bush.
The sun was angled down over the horizon to the point where its beams were red and the sky was golden. High up on the tree’s leaves orange light sparkled, but in the garden beds everything was tinted in rich, somber hues. The guests walked across the slick, gray patio with its red umbrellas and shiny lawn chairs, before stepping down a few lines of bricks on to the graveled walkway. There was no weeds in the walks, not even one along the edge, nor was there any moss in the bricks. Eugene heaved a sigh of relief, glad that some work had been done in the place, until he saw the garden itself. It was mostly flowers and herbs, with a few cacti in pots and demurely caged tomatoes, nothing overtly useful. At one time they had been growing lushly in their beds, overhanging the sides and blooming in profusion. Not now.
Now every plant was trimmed back from the edges, thinned so that there was an exact space around each one before the next began. The flowers were in strict rows, each one with a single blossom left on it. The vines had been laid out straightly as well, though their blooms were left mostly intact, along one side at least. The tomatoes grew in their cages like a child’s drawing of a conifer tree, trunk straight and branches sticking out of each side at regular intervals. Even the benches in the garden had been straightened out, so that they were exactly parallel with the paths.
Eugene slapped his hand to his forehead. Leaflow had kept things simple alright. He had simplified things down to a severe formula. It looked like a factory for growing plants, not a pleasure garden.
“What a very…uh, orderly garden,” the mayor’s wife commented, while Mr. Ruble stood in the center of it gazing around in surprise. At her words he tightened his face into a mask of host’s pleasure and said, “thank you. I have a new gardener who is quite…intense about his ideas.”
“Oh, this is terrible,” Amedele murmured, standing near Eugene, “how could anyone do this to us at such a time?”
The thief could have given her some choice words to describe the cloaked man, but as she wasn’t speaking to him and Leaflow just might have been eaten by her tiger, he forbore.
She soon moved on to show one of the young, rich men of the group how to use the benches properly, while the guests spread out in the garden or patio according to their tastes. The mayor was explaining a new city policy to one of his acquaintances, while his wife insisted on being shown around the garden by Mr. Ruble. Twilight was falling now and they had just reached the far end when there was a rustling in the bushes near them.
A large, orange and black striped shape hurtled out of the surrounding shrubbery and leap onto the path, so near the mayor’s wife that he brushed against her. She screamed, staggering back and falling against her host. The tiger turned at the noise, whipping his tail about in surprise. A low growl came from his throat and all of the guests let out a concerted gasp of fear. Eugene groaned and dropped his basket of lights to the ground.
Before he could move a figure threw open the back door and darted down the patio steps with a wild war cry, hurling itself across the garden toward the tiger. It was Maniac, a glass pitcher in his hands.
“Don’t worry!” he shouted as he came, “I’ll catch the brute!”
With another cry he flung himself on the cat, who gave a joyful yowl and began wrestling with him. They rolled over and over on the gravel path, while Mrs. Mayor fainted into the host’s arms and her husband began to yelp for someone to call the police. At that moment a faceless cloaked man with glowing eyes stepped out of the shrubbery in the tiger’s wake, holding a chain and collar which gleamed in the last light. It was a complete mess.
“Waffle!” Miss Amedele appeared beside the tiger, scolding him like a mother, “what are you doing running around wild like this? Stop playing with the butler this instant!”
The tiger looked up from rubbing his huge head on Maniac’s chest and rumbled in his friendly way, leaping off of the butler to greet his mistress. He frisked around her with ears pricked eagerly, demanding attention. She patted him, crooning soft nothings such as, “you poor Waffle! Did the big, mean man hurt you? You didn’t mean to scare Mrs. Lafain, did you now?”
Leaflow had the tactical sense to disappear from the scene once again, leaving Maniac and Eugene to be glared at by Mr. Ruble and ordered to take the tiger back to its pen. This might have been impossible except for the fact that the leash and collar had been left behind by the phantasmic cloaked one, and the fact that Amedele helped them with the task. Waffle obeyed her like a teacher’s pet, flashing smug glances at the two men as often as possible.
Luckily, Maniac had not been harmed beyond a few bruises during the tussle; Waffle had only been playing with him. The glass pitcher, on the other hand, was broken. But no one noticed that in the excitement of the scene.
When they reached the tiger’s pen they found Leaflow there ahead of them, holding the shed door open. Waffle was bedded down by Miss Amedele, who then gave the three men a short scolding before tripping off to rejoin the party.
“Well, at least we all lived through it,” Maniac sighed, wiping off his forehead with the back of a hand, “though that was the most excitement I have had in quite a while. I almost wish it had gone on.”
“Where have you been this whole time?” Eugene asked the gardener, his anxiety turning to frustration now that he saw their friend unharmed and as calm as ever.
“Oh, here and there,” Leaflow shrugged, “I hunted the tiger for a bit, then realized that it would be easier to trap him with some meat than tramp all around the estate calling like a lost chicken. It was a long time before he showed up, so I had a nap waiting. But when I caught at his chain he slipped loose of the collar and ran amok until he found his mistress.”
“All this time we’ve been worried about you, thinking your hand had been bitten off and you would get eaten,” Eugene flung his arms out wide, “and you were taking a nap!”
“That is very kind of you to worry about me,” Leaflow told him with a touch of irony, “but Waffle’s teeth barely scratched my hand. He was communicating an idea, not trying to hurt me.”
“Communicating an idea!” Eugene began heading back toward the mansion, still muttering and waving his hands about in exasperation. Sometimes he wondered why he was trying to help these two nincompoops at all.