Bubble in the Bathtub Read Online Free PDF

been expelled both from his university and the country of France on suspicion of terrorism and manufacturing weapons of mass destruction. The suspicion stemmed from an experiment in the university’s chemistry lab in which Proctor and another Norwegianstudent had almost blown up the entire university.
    Proctor had explained to the policeman that that had just been one of those things that happens when you’re trying to invent traveling powder for a time machine, which is what they had been working on. And that it really had just been “an ever so teensy-weensy gigantic explosion.” Somehow his explanation didn’t help at all and the policeman ordered Proctor up to his room to pack his bags. Proctor was pretty sure Baron Margarine was behind the expulsion, but he didn’t really have much choice.
    So late one night many years ago, a young man, weighed down by a broken heart, arrived in Oslo and eventually moved into the crooked, secluded house at the end of Cannon Avenue. Mostly because it was cheap, didn’t have a landline, and had actually never been visited by anyone. It was perfect for someone who didn’t want to talk to anyone other than himself anymore, and otherwise just spend his time inventing stuff.
    From her own red house, Lisa looked over at the professor’s blue house and wondered if everything that was happening now might actually be her fault. After all, she’d been the one who had insisted that Doctor Proctor go back to Paris to try to find Juliette Margarine, hadn’t she? Yessirree. She had sent him right into trouble, whatever type of trouble it turned out to be.
    Nilly’s finger shadows across the street finished their dance and took a bow. Then they did their normal good-night signal, two rabbit ears that waved up and down, and then the light went out.
    Lisa sighed.
    She didn’t sleep much that night. She lay there thinking about cellars that were much too dark, Peruvian spiders that were much too hairy, cities that were much too big, and all the things that would surely go wrong.
    MEANWHILE, ACROSS THE street, Nilly had one of the best nights of sleep he’d ever had, dreaminghappily about flying through the air, powered by farts; breaking mysterious codes; rescuing brilliant professors; and all the things that would most definitely—at least
almost
definitely—go right. But most of all, he dreamed that he was dancing the cancan on the stage at the Moulin Rouge in Paris, where an enthusiastic audience and all the dancing girls were clapping to the beat and yelling: “Nil-ly! Nil-ly!”

Trench Coat Clock Shop
    MRS. STROBE’S EYES peered down her unusually long nose, through her unusually thick eyeglass lenses that sat on the very tip of her nose, and focused on the little beings in front of her in the classroom and latched on to the smallest of them all:
    â€œMister Nilly!” Her voice crashed down like a whip.
    â€œMrs. Strobe!” the response came crashing back from the tiny student. “How can I be of service to you on this unusually beautiful Friday morning, a morning whose beauty is exceeded only, my teacher and supplier of intellectual sustenance, by your own magnificent face?”
    As usual, Nilly’s answer irritated Mrs. Strobe. His answers irritated her because they made her feel guilty. And also a tiny bit flattered.
    â€œFirst of all, you can stop whistling that ridiculous tune …,” she began.
    â€œNot so loud, Mrs. Strobe!” Nilly whispered, his eyes wide with shock. “That’s the Marseillaise. Aren’t we studying French history this month? If anyone from their embassy were to hear you call the French national anthem a ridiculous tune, no doubt they would immediately report you to the president, who would declare war on Norway on the spot. French men
love
to go to war, even though they’re not particularly good atit. For example, have you ever heard of the Hundred