Normally it would have been pleasant to have a guest for dinner, but Jacob knew that at any second the pleasantries could turn into real danger. Throughout dinner he was alert and ready to defend themselves at any sign of peril, keeping his hand vigilantly resting on his fork. Fortunately nothing of any consequence occurred, except for Mr. Pitts twice spilling his milk over the tabletop. After a quick and tense meal they stood up to go into the living room and relax with full bellies. Without anyone noticing, Jacob secretly slipped the fork into his pocket, keeping it ready for a quick pull and stab. Warily he walked behind them, eyeing Mr. Pitts until they sat down on their crude wooden chairs that were placed to face a cozy fire blazing in their fireplace. Jacob slipped his hand into his pocket and grasped the fork’s handle, preparing for the worst. He felt the cold metal and clutched it tight, ready to draw it out at a moment’s notice. Uncle Clair had still not recognized Mr. Pitts’ degraded mental condition and continued to be hospitable, the longer this ordeal dragged on, the more uneasy Jacob felt.
“Don’t you two worry about me tonight,” said Mr. Pitts, as he leaned back and patted his stomach with both hands. “I’ve my marvelous wagon to sleep in. Yes indeedeedoo, my commodious abode away from home.”
Without warning or provocation, Mr. Pitts suddenly leapt to his feet and began stomping his foot up and down on the wooden floor. Startled, Jacob flinched and pulled out his fork to defend themselves; he had expected this, Mr. Pitts attacking without provocation. But instead of a lunging attack, the loony continued to stomp his foot as he performed a bizarre jig around the living room. And in utter amazement Jacob watched in shock, while Mr. Pitts continued to prance about thumping his heavy boot so loud that it echoed throughout the entire house. “Uncle Clair’s got to see that he’s crazy now,” he thought, relieved that it would soon come to an end. But Uncle Clair only smiled, and seeming strangely at ease with the peculiar show he leaned comfortably back in his chair.
“STILL HUNGRY EH JACOB?” cried Mr. Pitts, stomping in a circle around Jacob’s chair.
Flustered with their predicament, Jacob determined that he had to expose the madman at any cost. And since Uncle Clair wasn’t seeing it, he decided he should try and engage the loony in direct conversation. After all, he had drawn out the loony’s crazy talk before, and maybe he could do it again. More of that loony babbling would certainly help Uncle Clair to see the real truth; that his friend had gone completely mental.
“NOPE, I JUST USE THIS FOR SCRATCHING!” shouted back Jacob, over the deafening thumps of Mr. Pitts’ boot. He then placed his fork back in his pocket and yelled, “WITH ALL THAT STOCK IN YOUR WAGON HOW DO YOU FIND ROOM TO SLEEP IN IT?”
“STOCK?” hollered Mr. Pitts with a wide grin. He looked up from the floor and came to a sudden stop. “Why I’ve got plenty of room to spread out in. Even though I do rather enjoy the excitement and thrill of wheeling and dealing over gallimaufry, nobody’s wanted to trade with me for years. But about three years ago there was this one hillside township where I peddled my wares to green skinned goblins and took them for quite a miscellany of mishmash.”
“Eureka!” thought Jacob, elated that he had exposed the loony on his very first try. Quickly he turned and looked at his uncle expecting to see a surprised expression, but instead Uncle Clair showed no concern at all over the bizarre remarks.
“What’s the matter with him? Can’t he see it? It’s as plain as day,” worried Jacob. “Mr. Pitts has a hole in his bag of marbles the size of a half dollar. Could it be that Uncle Clair’s too close? Maybe he’s too blinded by their past friendship? And if he’s not able to recognize it, then it’s only up to me to rid us of this loony.” Cunningly he devised another quick plan, and immediately he sprang into action. Reaching his fists into the air he opened his mouth wide, groaned, and made a loud yawn. “Uncle Clair,” he then asked, “shouldn’t we be hitting the hay so we can get an early start tomorrow?”
“Hit the hay?” questioned Uncle Clair, giving Jacob a look of disbelief. “You’ve never wanted to go to bed early before. I suppose if you’re really tired I shouldn’t stop you, but before you go upstairs we’ve got something important that we’d like to discuss with you.”
“That’s right Jacob,” immediately chimed Mr. Pitts, as he sat down in his chair. “Now’s the time to ask me any questions that you might have about being my apprentice.”
“That’s no way to tell him! This should be done gently, easing it in!” exclaimed Uncle Clair, shooting Mr. Pitts a look of disapproval. “All this is new and unexpected, we don’t want to frighten you Jacob.”
“What do you mean new?” questioned Mr. Pitts, sounding as if he was surprised. “Haven’t you told him about our plans yet?”
Jacob felt like he had been kicked in the stomach by two stupid mules at the same time, and before he could stop himself he angrily shouted back, “NO WAY! I’M NOT GOING TO APPRENTICE TO A RUMMAGE PEDDLER! HE’S DERANGED AND A DANGEROUS MANIAC THAT THINKS HE CAN MAGICALLY FLY TO A TOWN WHERE THEY EAT DWARF FOOD!”
“Now don’t get your knickers in a twist Jacob,” responded Mr. Pitts. “Just calm down, it’s not what you think.”
Ignoring the loony Jacob looked at his uncle. “He’s really crazy, and he might even murder us at any time! I didn’t mean to bring him home, honest!”
“Now Jacob just settle down,” reassured Uncle Clair. “You’re not going any place that you don’t approve of. I know that this all seems kind of sudden, but I believe you’re now old enough to understand and choose for yourself. There are things you don’t know about us, things that I haven’t ever told you.”
Frantically Jacob glanced at Mr. Pitts and saw him nodding his head and smiling. He then stared back at Uncle Clair in disbelief. In his mind he began to envision family connections with scores of rummage peddlers throughout the country. “My parents weren’t gypsy peddlers, were they?” he questioned in a tense voice, trying his best to keep his composure.
“No Jacob, that’s not it. However we’re not from any place that you’d be familiar with. I know that this may be difficult for you to understand, and I really don’t know the best way to break it to you, so please try and be a little patient and work with me on this okay, and I promise I’ll do my best to explain all of it.” Uncle Clair leaned forward and reassuringly rested his hand on Jacob’s shoulder, in an obvious attempt to calm him down. “You see Jacob,” continued Uncle Clair, “this is not the only world and not the only life there is. On this world in different planes so to speak, there are five separate dimensions, five different places of existence.” With a sudden jerk Uncle Clair broke from his explanation, removed his hand, and sat straight up. “What happened to your face?” he questioned in a raised voice, looking aghast. Silently he stared at Jacob as if seeing him for the first time that day.
“Oh fiddle sticks,” thought Jacob, “if my face looks like it feels, then I’m in trouble for sure. Now he’s gonna jaw me out for fighting, and just when he was going to explain to me about my past.” The disappointment added to his frustration and he naturally began to think up a good quick excuse. “Maybe,” he brilliantly conceived, “if I told him I bumped heads with Mildew, he’ll put it aside and get on with his explaining and eventually tell me about my parents.”
But Uncle Clair’s’ stern silence and piercing look pricked Jacob’s conscience, and he began to feel guilty even before he had a chance to chaw up a good fib. Regardless of the undesirable consequences, he gave way to his inner most voice, deciding that it would be best to tell Uncle Clair the straight out the truth. “Oh, that,” he finally replied in a quiet tone, looking down at the floor, “I sort of got into a scuffle.”
“A SCUFFLE,” hollered Mr. Pitts, excitedly sitting up straight. “Not a scuffle, a battlement! You should have seen it Clair, you would have been proud! He fuddazzled a much larger opponent a good twenty-five feet!”
Uncle Clair glared at Mr. Pitts and then angrily turned towards Jacob. “Jacob, haven’t I told you before to always avoid trouble? Did anyone else see this kid go flying?”
Astonished Jacob’s mouth fell open. “He must know what happened to me! But how can he? What’s he been hiding from me?” More than anything he wanted to understand what was happening to him, and now he was more determined then ever to draw it all out from his uncle. “What did I do? I mean, how can I do something like that?” he asked, in a pleading voice.
Uncle Clair sat silent for a moment, as his face began to soften and the thin tense wrinkles around the corner folds of his eyes slowly faded. “I suppose,” he said, now sounding calmer, “that explaining this power to you is more important than a scolding. But I’ll not let you off the hook that easy. We’ll discuss your punishment for fighting later.” Glad to have any punishment pushed aside, Jacob began to relax.
“Again, what I was about to say,” continued Uncle Clair, “may seem rather far-fetched, but please bear me out until I finish, and then you can ask me any questions you want.” Jacob returned a silent nod, and Uncle Clair began, “To begin with, we bear a hidden mark that sets us apart from ordinary people. You may not have noticed it yet, but everyone else here in Ridgeway only has one bellybutton. Those that are true enchanters are blessed with the sign of two bellybuttons. You see this power that manifested in you is called enchantment and you are an enchanter. You were born of enchanters, who are rare breed of magical conjurors that come from a place called the Enchanted Realm, in a dimension that is quite different from here. There enchantment was a regular part of our everyday life, and now this heritage of yours is coming alive in you. You’re of the age now when these powers are just beginning to awaken, and in young teenagers we call this type of enchantment, ‘fudazzlement.’ Generally speaking fudazzlements are unbridled enchantments that mysteriously pop out when a young enchanter is brought under great stress. And today was probably your very first fudazzlement. As you mature on into manhood you will eventually learn how to control these new powers, but until then they may seem like unwanted curses.”
“But don’t worry about a few blunderous fudazzlements here and there Jacob,” interrupted Mr. Pitts. “I happen to be an expert with mishaps myself, and despite all the accidents that I’ve had, I’m still able to be proficient at my profession. You’ll learn to do the same in time, so don’t you worry yourself. Just follow my example, and I’ll show you all the ropes.”
“Jacob, I’m sorry to say that that’s not all,” continued Uncle Clair, in a serious tone. “For all of us that are born into the Frost’s blood line have the destiny to become master enchanters, known as great ones, more powerful than all the other enchanters. And throughout all the dimensions there are only two great ones still left alive, you and I. Now Jacob this isn’t good news at all, as there is a regrettable down side to all this that directly affects you. You see young great ones like yourself experience enchanter’s fudazzlements, but in a corrupted sort of way. Because our powers are more powerful than others, they act as a magnet for unsolicited bad luck and dangerous calamities. When my powers first came to me, I was cursed with a great one’s bad luck and it seemed like the whole world was coming to an end. But it didn’t, and eventually the curse left when I grew older and learned how to control my enchantment.”
Dumbfounded Jacob stared at Uncle Clair, hoping somehow that it was nothing but a big joke. Everything sounded too incredible to be true; but then again he couldn’t really reject it, what else would explain his bellybuttons, the mysterious wallop he gave Derrick, and his string of bad luck? But still he puzzled, having second thoughts, “If it really were true, why didn’t Uncle Clair tell me about it before?”
He glanced to the side and saw Mr. Pitts nervously sucking his upper lip into his mouth, and then he turned back to Uncle Clair. “You mean you have a belly like mine? And you’re a magical enchanter?”
Uncle Clair stood up and solemnly lifted his shirt, revealing his bare hairy stomach. “Yes Jacob, I know this is hard to believe, but it runs in the family.”
Wide-eyed and silent Mr. Pitts scooted his chair to the side and then gently poked a finger into one of Uncle Clair’s soft belly-holes. “Do you get much lint in them?” he asked quietly, his face showing an expression of reverent awe.
In a huff Uncle Clair slapped Mr. Pitts’ hand aside and jerked down his shirt.
“But you never did anything magic!” exclaimed Jacob. “How come you never used it?”
“What do you suppose the neighbors would say if they saw me using enchantment or if they saw I had two bellybuttons?” answered Uncle Clair with a question. He seated himself and then glared at Mr. Pitts.
Jacob already knew how others responded to his bellybuttons, and an accidental fudazzlement. The more he thought on it, the angrier he became. “If only I had known! I wouldn’t have made such a big fool of myself in front of my classmates! After all, Uncle Clair’s been mighty careful not to show his stomach and enchantment to anybody! He’s got no excuse for not telling me sooner!” Working himself into a heated rage, he suddenly exploded, “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME BEFORE? WHY DIDN’T YOU TRUST ME?”
“I agree with Jacob,” piped in Mr. Pitts, comfortably leaning back and balancing on only two wobbly chair legs. “He did have the right to know.”
“You both may disagree with my methods,” replied Uncle Clair, giving Mr. Pitts another irate glance, “but I did what I thought was best. You see Jacob the second dimension, the one we are from, was overthrown by an evil tyrant named Lacsar. Your parents died trying to defend our realm and it was their wish that you be protected and kept safe. As great ones you and I are a threat to Lacsar, and he will stop at nothing to hunt us down and kill us. That is why we live here unknown to all others that are from our realm. I have kept this secret from you Jacob for your own protection, and Mr. Pitts here is the only one that knows we are still alive.”
“KABANG!” An abrupt clamor racketed loudly through the room, and Jacob with Uncle Clair both wrenched to the side. Looking down they saw Mr. Pitts stretched out on the flat of his back, red in the face, and resting upon the remains of a crumpled chair.
Slowly Mr. Pitts stood up, holding a piece of the chair in his hand. “I’m all right, I’m all right everybody!” he exclaimed. “Please don’t worry about me. Err—um, but not your chair. I’m terribly sorry about this Clair, I er-um can fix it good as new.”
“Ahh don’t worry about it,” replied Uncle Clair with a grin.
Meekly Mr. Pitts went for another chair, and Uncle Clair continued, “Mr. Pitts is a dimensional sentinel, an overseer of dimensions and one of the best I might add.”
“Yes indeedee that I am,” agreed Mr. Pitts, proudly nodding his head as he sat down on another chair. “Jacob my boy I came here as you have reached the age of apprenticeship and are now eligible to begin your training to become a dimensional sentinel. We sentinels work to protect all dimensions, keeping corrupted scofflaws from spreading their evil from one dimension to another. The very purpose of my visit is to see if you would accept an invitation to be my underling in training and become a dimensional sentinel, not a rummage peddler.”
Bewildered with the sudden offer, Jacob looked up at his uncle’s face to see his reaction. Me, become a dimensional sentinel?” he asked, shocked to see his uncle signaling back with a nod of support.
Mr. Pitts then grunted and both Jacob and Uncle Clair simultaneously turned back to once again stare at him. With his leg folded across his lap, Mr. Pitts was now tugging on his round-toed boot. His hands quivered and the boot slid off his foot with a small “POP!” Smugly he held it up displaying his scuffed footwear, while a musty stench quickly spread through the room. Almost spontaneously Uncle Clair wrinkled his nose and slapped a cupped hand over his face.
“Jacob it’s now time for you to come out of hiding,” muttered Uncle Clair, in a muffled voice, “and time for you to start your new training. You’ll be safe among the sentinels, and I have full confidence in Mr. Pitts.”
“So what do you say Jacob? Will you join with us?” asked Mr. Pitts eagerly, as he held his sock in one hand and rubbed his index finger of his other hand between itchy rash mottled toes.
Jacob hesitated recalling his schoolmates’ reactions to his belly buttons. He knew that any place was better than here, and besides being a dimensional sentinel did sort of sound like fun. It was his chance to start over again, just like he had wanted, and maybe he could even make some new friends as well. “Golly—I guess I could give it a try,” he muffled a reply, holding both of his hands over his nose.
“Now that’s the spirit! You’ll enjoy it!” cried Mr. Pitts with a broad grin. “Er—um—Jacob, do you think I just might be able to borrow that fork of yours for a couple of quick toe scratches?”