“My monkey likes your boy,” the shopkeeper gestured at Ernest.
“Where did you get the monkey?” piped in Jacob.
“I found him alone in the alley and we took to one another right away, just like with your brother. What’s his name?” asked the shopkeeper.
“Ernest,” answered Jacob.
“After Ernest Hemingway,” said Abigail.
“And The Importance of Being Earnest,” added their father.
“He’ll have a happier life than either of those Ernests and many more adventures. As will you all,” predicted the shopkeeper.
Once the mother returned with the car, the family and the baskets were loaded in. When they edged out of the alley, they all were startled by the brightness of the day and the ordinariness of Kensington Market, which hadn’t felt at all ordinary half an hour before.
“Red light up ahead,” their father pointed out to their mother as they drove along College Street.
“It’s half a block away, Brian,” said their mother.
“Just trying to be helpful,” said their father. “I’ll bet we could never find that place again,” he speculated. “It’s green now.”
“I see the light.”
Abigail caught Jacob’s eye, and then they both turned to look out of their respective windows.
“At least we have our baskets,” said Ernest.
Chapter Two
Apper Dapper Apper Do!
The first laundry adventure happened by accident, which is how these things usually begin. Jacob’s hockey practice had been cancelled because of rain, so the family had a little open time on their hands. The parents were in the kitchen making out a grocery list, and Ernest had blasted through the kitchen so many times on his horse Brownie, plastic wheels roaring like a spaceship taking off, that the mother had said, “Brian!” and the father had said, “Everybody upstairs, go get dressed! Right now!” Being ordered to get dressed without help from their parents was something that happened only on the weekends when the children were too noisy or bickered too much. It was a punishment that would sometimes keep the children busy for hours in the era before the thirteen baskets. The parents still used it with the added: “And make your beds too!”
Each person in the family had his own basket, though for some reason all the clothes were still kept in the parents’ bedroom. The rest of the baskets were full of sheets and towels and miscellaneous stuff that no one knew what to do with. Ernest by now had crawled inside one of these miscellaneous baskets and had tied an old apron around his neck like a superhero cape.
“Apper dapper apper do!” Ernest was shouting as he attempted to bury himself under the miscellaneous stuff in the basket.
“Ernest, stop yelling. You’re going to make everybody crazy,” Jacob said as he peered into the basket. “Hey, do you want me to bury you?”
“Yeah,” shouted Ernest. “Apper dapper apper do!”
“Why are you saying that?”
“The monkey told me to. I need to say it, you need to say it. Apper dapper apper do! Jacob, get inside the basket too!”
Jacob clambered into the basket with Ernest, and it felt really good. It was fun jumping around in the laundry, and it was especially fun shouting “Apper dapper apper do!”
Abigail had been in her room painting her fingernails, but the noise was too much for her. As she entered her parents’ bedroom she saw Jacob and Ernest jumping up and down in a basket, shouting “Apper dapper apper do!” All of a sudden the basket tipped over and the boys fell quiet. She rushed to see if they were all right, but all she could see were aprons and more aprons spilling out of the basket. Her brothers must be buried deeper inside. She started to crawl into the basket, calling, “Jacob, Ernest!” She could hear her brothers, calling to her from a great distance, saying “Apper dapper apper do!” Suddenly, she felt as if she were falling, and then she tumbled out of the bottom of the basket directly onto Jacob. Jacob let out a bloodcurdling scream and distracted all three of them momentarily from the fact that they were no longer in their parents’ bedroom.
They were in a field of soft, wild grass on a prairie. They knew it had to be a prairie because the sky was so big. It looked a lot like Kansas from The Wizard of Oz, except for the fact it was in colour, not in black and white.
“We’re not in Toronto anymore, Jacob,” Ernest said.
“Oh my . . .” Abigail didn’t know what to say.
“Now, I don’t think we should be frightened. We’ve read a lot of books about things like this happening and most of these stories come out pretty well,” said Jacob, more trying to convince himself than the others.
“I’ve read more books than you have, Jacob.” Abigail now knew what to say. “I think I should be in charge.”
“You’re always in charge.” Jacob took a deep breath and was about to remind Abigail about the last pirate game that had ended so poorly when Ernest yelled.
“Look.”
The children both turned abruptly. Ernest pointed at an old farmhouse with a wraparound porch which sat not thirty feet from where the children had landed. As soon as they saw the farmhouse, they knew it was from another time. They were silent.
A boy of about twelve came out the front door and stood on the porch step. He was wearing a white Stetson hat and looked to be chewing a toothpick. After a minute or so, another younger boy came out. He seemed about eight years old, and he too was wearing a Stetson hat.
“Shore is still,” said the younger boy.
“Yup,” said the other one.
Abigail and Jacob recognized the accent. They were in Texas.
“Nothin’ to see or hear for miles,” commented the younger one.
“Nope,” said the other one.
The boys were looking directly at our children, who were, in turn, looking at one another.
“We’re invisible,” announced Ernest.
“Invisible?” said Jacob, slightly choking on the word. “Is that all right?”
“I don’t think we have much choice in the matter,” Abigail pointed out. “Shh!”
“If they can’t see us, they probably can’t hear us either,” said Ernest.
“No, I want to hear what they’re saying,” said Abigail.
“We’ll bring ’em over to the southeast pasture. I think they’re safer from coyotes there,” the older boy was saying.
“Coyotes?” gasped Jacob, choking and blanching.
“I know what to do with coyotes,” said Ernest.
“No, you don’t!” cried Jacob.
“Aline!” called one of the boys on the porch.
“SHH!” hissed Abigail.
“He doesn’t know a thing about coyotes,” said Jacob.
“Stop it!” ordered Abigail.
“Aline!” called the other boy.
“Just a minute,” came a girl’s voice from inside the house.
“Mema