When I am grown-up and I am taking care of someone younger than me because their bossy aunt will not let them be on their own, I will definitely cook them din ner. It is only fair. But Mathilda did not cook us dinner. It was getting really late and Wanda and I were hungry. We asked Mathilda what was for dinner. She shrugged and said, "I don't know.
What is for dinner?" "But you should know, " said Wanda. "You're looking after us. " Mathilda looked vague and said, "We could order a pizza. " "What do you mean?" I asked. "What's a pizza? What are you going to order it to do?" Wanda laughed. "Cook dinner, " she said. And Mathilda laughed too. I had a definite feeling I was missing some thing here. "What's so funny?" I asked, really annoyed, as it is not nice when people laugh at what you say and you don't know why. "A pizza is something you eat, " said Wanda. "You can get someone to cook you one in a pizza shop and they bring it to you on a bike. " Now it was my turn to laugh. "Don't be stupid, " I said. "Why would anyone want to cook us something and bring it here on a bike?"
"I don't know, " said Wanda, "but they do. Mom and I used to order lots of pizzas before we moved here. I miss that, " she said, sound ing a bit sad, then she perked up and said, "Pizzas are really yummy. " So Mathilda called up the pizza place, and sure enough, about half an hour later the doorbell rang. As Wanda and I rushed to get the door we heard a loud yell and some thuds. When we opened the door there was no one there--except Ned and Jed, of course. And three boxes scattered down the path. And a bike racing away down Spookie Lane. "Drat, " said Mathilda--at least that's what I thought she said, although Wanda told me later that it was something much more rude.
Mathilda ran out and gathered up the boxes. "Ned, Jed, " she yelled, "you idiots! That was our dinner. " I don't know why Wanda said pizzas were yummy, because they weren't--although Wanda said that pizzas were not usually mashed up into cold gooey sludge with bits of grit in them. When people are taking care of you they usually do all the cleaning up and stuff like that, although obviously you have to be polite and offer to help (and hope that they say, "That's all right, you go off and play"). But we never got as far as the offering-to-help part because Mathilda didn't do any of the cleaning-up. We had eaten our pizza/sludge in the big room at the front of the house because Mathilda and Wanda both said that is what you did--you ate pizza and watched TV.
Well, there isn't a TV at Spookie House because Aunt Tabby does not approve of them, so I lit the fire that good old Nurse Watkins had laid in the grate. Oops--did I just say "good old Nurse Watkins"? Wanda and I picked up all the empty pizza/sludge boxes, plus the empty root beer glasses and all of Mathilda's candy wrappers-- as she chewed a lot of licorice and dropped the wrappers anywhere. While we struggled out of the door with our arms full, Mathilda sat by the fire, flicking through one of the magazines she had brought with her. She unwrapped another piece of candy. "Want one?" she asked, holding the bag out dreamily, still reading her magazine. I don't like licorice and neither does Wanda. We shook our heads and staggered out with all the yucky stuff. "Missed one, " Mathilda called out as we went. "Missed what?" I asked. "Candy wrapper. Over there. " "Pick it up yourself, " muttered Wanda. When I am almost grown-up I will most definitely not sit hogging the fire, reading dumb magazines and stuffing my face with licorice while someone else cleans up my soggy pizza box. Okay, so I don't like licorice anyway, but that is not the point. I would not even behave like that with Swedish Fish.
Although there are lots of kitchens in the base ment of Spookie House, the one we always use now is the third-kitchen-on-the-left-just past-the-boiler-room, as Brenda says it is foolish to keep using different kitchens like we used to before she and Barry and Wanda came to live with us.
But it is a long walk along the basement corridor to get there, and by the time we did our arms were aching. I should have realized we were in for trouble when we saw Ned and Jed leaning against the door. The third-kitchen-on-the-left-just-past the-boiler-room looked like something had exploded in it. The kitchen was full of a huge cloud of flour and there was food everywhere. "Duck!" yelled Wanda suddenly. "Where?" I asked, wondering how a duck could possibly cause so much mess. And then an egg hit me on the back of my head and ran down my neck and I dropped the pizza stuff.