The Ears of Louis Read Online Free PDF Page A

each) might do for Christmas presents for his father.
    The old man looked carefully over his shoulder toward the house. “You can have your pick of the lot for less than they’re marked,” he whispered, although there was no one but him and Louis to hear. “She just went inside to catch one of those giveaway shows on TV. She doesn’t like to miss one.”
    A window in the house opened and a fat lady leaned out.
    â€œDon’t you go giving things away now, Poppa,” she called. “We’re out to make some money, not to play Santa Claus.”
    â€œYes, Agnes,” the old man shouted. He busied himself with rearranging items. When the window slammed down, he said to Louis, “That Agnes, she’s a tiger. She sleeps with her eyes open.”
    Louis imagined the fat woman stretched out on a bed, hands clasped on her chest, staring up at the ceiling all night long. She must be awful tired when it was time to get up.
    â€œTry hefting these,” the old man said, pointing to a set of junior bar bells lying on the ground. “Guaranteed to make you the strongest kid on the block.”
    Louis tried to pick up the bar bells. He got them as far as his knees. They were heavy, junior or not.
    â€œA little effort every day and first thing you know you’ll have them up in the air,” the old man gave encouragement.
    â€œHow much are they?” Louis asked.
    â€œHow much you got?” he said.
    â€œMy allowance,” Louis said. If he bought the bar bells, he wouldn’t have enough for a roll of Scotch tape. On the other hand, if his muscles got bigger, he could knock their blocks off and he wouldn’t need the Scotch tape. He took the quarter out of his pocket.
    â€œAgnes will have a conniption when she finds out I let ’em go that cheap,” the old man said, pocketing the quarter. “They’re yours.”
    Louis tried lifting them again. No luck.
    â€œHow am I going to get them home?” he said.
    â€œGood thought. Good thought. You got your head on all right, sonny.” The old man pondered. “I could let you have the loan of that.” He pointed to a battered red wagon. Louis had its twin at home. “If you promise to bring it back.”
    Louis promised and together he and the old man loaded the bar bells into the wagon.
    â€œWooo-eee,” the old man said when they’d finished. “Time was when I could’ve tossed those things in the air like they was made of spun sugar. I’m out of shape. In my prime, Charles Atlas had to watch out.”
    â€œWho’s Charles Atlas?” Louis asked.
    â€œOnly the strongest man in the world,” the old man said. “He had muscles like iron bands, like it says in the poem. Nobody messed around with old Charlie. Not if they was smart, they didn’t.”
    When Louis got home with his prize, he pulled the wagon right up to the kitchen door. He eased it through and into the dining room, then to the foot of the stairs.
    â€œWhat’s that?” his father asked.
    â€œI bought it at a garage sale for a quarter,”. Louis said. “It’s to make your muscles big like Charles Atlas and then you can punch people who make fun of you.”
    Instead of saying “You shouldn’t spend your money on junk,” the way he usually did after one of Louis’ purchases, his father examined the bar bells.
    â€œI can get them up to my knees,” Louis said. “But if I practice I’ll get better every day.”
    â€œI wouldn’t be surprised,” his father said. He carried them upstairs and put them on the floor by Louis’ bed. When he’d left, Louis untied his amulet and took it over to the window to examine it more carefully.
    The face was very long and thin, the ears very large. Larger even than mine, Louis thought. The crown on the head made them look worse. Louis wondered how he’d look wearing a crown. Like some kind