Squiggle Read Online Free PDF Page B

another voice. It was the police officer. Squiggle heard a clink and thought it must be handcuffs. “I’m looking for an escaped suspect. I believe he came this way.”
    â€œA suspect?” the tattoo voice said.
    â€œTo be specific,” the officer said, “a gorilla. Considered extremely dangerous.”
    A lot of people murmured in the background that it was true, a huge dangerous gorilla had just run into that exact room. Eight feet tall. A thousand pounds. A tail that could choke you from seventeen feet away.
    â€œAre you telling me,” the tattoo voice said, with a harsh gravelly anger just under the surface, “that an eight-foot gorilla with a tail just ran into my office, and I didn’t notice?”
    Everyone said that, although it was strange, it seemed to be true.
    â€œConsider this,” the tattoo voice said. “Gorillas are among the most peaceful animals on the planet, unless they are cornered by a pack of fools. In that case, the fools will get their arms and legs ripped off.”
    The crowd went suddenly quiet again.
    â€œAnd consider this,” the tattoo voice continued. “Gorillas are apes. Apes don’t have tails. And finally, consider this. Since a little monkey did actually just run into my office, jump to the window and leap outside, I strongly urge the rest of you to jump out of the same window. Or better yet, find a window ten stories higher up, and jump out of that one. But whatever you do, GET OUT OF MY OFFICE!”
    There was a scuffling noise and a few angry voices. Most of the people wanted to run around to the side of the building and continue the chase. “Don’t worry about old crabby here,” someone said. “He’s told us all we need to know!”
    Pretty soon, the office was quiet again.
    Then the gravelly voice said, “What strange little creature has jumped into my garbage can?” Something grabbed the top of the paper bag and pulled it off.
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10
    Squiggle stared up into the wild, tattooed, hideous face of the red-haired man. She was about to spring out between his knees, but paused for an instant and looked at him more closely. He wasn’t snarling at her, anyway. He looked honestly curious. (Who wouldn’t be?)
    â€œEr, please, don’t pickle me!” Squiggle said. Her voice wasn’t very loud, but it got amplified a little in the metal trash can.
    The man cocked his head at her, his hair quivering like watch springs. “Come on out of the garbage,” he said, “and sit on my desk. It’s more comfortable, and I can see you better. And,” he added, “don’t bother running away. The door is closed. And the window has a metal screen. Not that any of those fools noticed the screen.” He chuckled at that, and suddenly his face looked kind. Rather fierce, and scary, and exciting, and kind, all in one. He reached in with a hairy hand, picked Squiggle out of the trash, and set her on the desk in the middle of the Pacific Ocean (on the map) and right under the lamp.
    â€œWhat did you say about tickling?” he said. He leaned forward to hear better.
    â€œPlease, um, Sir,” Squiggle said, “don’t pickle me!”
    â€œDon’t WHAT?”
    Squiggle threw a terrified glance at the glass bottles on the shelves.
    The red-haired man looked up at the glass bottles, and looked back at Squiggle, and then burst into a laugh. His laugh was so loud and sudden, and sounded so much like a buzzard being choked to death, that Squiggle jumped back to the far corner of Siberia (on the map, of course). But the laugh didn’t sound evil. It wasn’t very polite, maybe, but it seemed honest enough. When he was done laughing he wiped his eyes with a fistful of his beard, which looked so wiry that Squiggle thought he might poke out his eye (but he didn’t).
    â€œYou like my collection?” he said. “That’s nothing. I’ve got three rooms in