THE PECULIAR PEOPLE OF PIFFLE PARK

Chapter .5 (Not Quite A Chapter Yet)

But Sort of a Small Chapter that Doesn’t Count Yet

There was nothing strange looking about Piffle Park. It had wide streets with sidewalks on each side. The trees that lined the roads and yards all bloomed in the spring and dropped their leaves in the fall. Some people lived in houses with wide yards. Others lived in apartments that were in houses with less wide yards. Squirrels bounced from branch to branch and bunnies bumped along the green lawns. Birds chirped and ate worms and made nests and the only real noise in the neighborhood was when lawnmower engines rattled through the air.

Piffle Park was, in a word or two, a peaceful place.

So, if you drove through Piffle Park, you probably wouldn’t notice how really weird things really were there. You’d almost certainly not know that everyone who lived there was, in their own way, a weirdo, freako, stinko doinkyhead.

The weirdest thing about them was that all these weirdo, freako stinko doinkyheads didn’t notice how strange they were either. 

Well, would you?

After all, no one thinks they’re a weirdo, freako, stinko doinkyheads. If you suspect you are one, you’re probably not. But if you think you’re not a doinkyhead at all, then guess what? You almost certainly are. Like you! You, over there who’s thinking that all this doinkyhead talk is, I don’t know, stupid because you are definitely, 100 percent not a doinkyhead. But the thing is, you almost certainly are. YOU MORE THAN ANYONE! Oh yes. You can deny it all you want, but you would fit right in with the people of Piffle Park who, just like you, would never gave it one thought about what doinkyheads they were.

And you know what you could do about it. You could move to Piffle Park. 

Except you can’t. Because homes are never available in Piffle Park. No one ever gives them up to move anywhere. Not even to Grand Garden Heights or Hestertown Village or even that really, really nice town-what’s it called. Oh, you know the one. It’s right on the tip of my tongue–OH YES. Shmuckinghamville! That’s the one. No one from Piffle Park moves there even though it’s really, really nice.

Nope. No one ever moves out of Piffle Park. And that means, no one ever moves in. 

Weird, right? Almost creepy.

Except it’s not. Except, it sort of is.

Real Chapter 1

The Naming Ceremony

One weirdo thing about Piffle Park was the naming ceremony. This was when all the streets changed names, which they did once a year, but only if a kid on the street turned 7 years old. And only if that kid had never named the street before. And, if three kids turned 7 at the same time, then the oldest kid would name the street when they turned 7, the next oldest when they turned 8, and the youngest would have to wait until 9. 

The kids of Piffle Park loved this part of living there. In fact, they went wild for it! Especially the kid on that street who was the Namer that year. 

And this was a very special year because it was Jerry McBerry IV’s first year to rename his street. Jerry was nine years old. He hadn’t named the street when he turned seven or eight because the Li twins had turned seven first, so Hua Li and Jing Li had named his street those two years. Hua Li had first named the street Lilac Lane, after all the lilacs that bloomed on it all spring. Everyone thought that was great. The next year, everyone thought Jing Li was going to name it Red Rose Road after all the roses that bloomed all summer. But, she surprised everyone when she named the street Motorcycle Alley. It turned out that Jing Li loved motorcycles a hundred thousand million times more than she loved roses, or really anything else.

So, Jerry was living at 17 Motorcycle Alley. It was, he thought, a cool name and a cool address.

But now it was Jerry’s turn and the Naming Ceremony was one week away. For months, Jerry had thought about this moment. And, for months, he hadn’t thought of the right name. 

Oh, he’d thought of plenty of them. Underarm Terrace was the first thing he wrote down in his notebook because underarms are funny and stinky and terraces are fancy. Then, of course, he considered Underwear Circle because, well, underwear. He’d crossed both names off and then written and crossed off a bunch more so that his notebook was filled with pages that looked just like this:

Underarm Terrace Underwear circle Walrus Way

Tricycle Terrace Disgusting Drive Delightful Drive

Meet me here boulevard Here street street road

Alley Alley Bowling Alley road Back Road Road ItchY All over AVenue Tinkle time Terrace stinkpot Street Has Anyone Seen My Shoes? Street Dollar Drive

Hundred dollar driVE   MILLION DOLLAR DRIVE     

Three dollars and seventy five cents street

Itchy knee avenue Jerry Lane Berry Lane Strawberry lane

Can’t think of anything road Darnitdarnitdarnit Drive   

AHHHHHHHHH Avenue C’mon Court WhHHYYYYYYY Way

JUST THINK OF SOMETHING STREET

why are you such an idiot, jerry drive

OnE THING ROAD JUST ONE GOOD THING ROAD

CAN SOMEONE ELSE DO THIS? WAY I QUIT COURT

AKLEOIDFD OEIRJEDKFDKFJEOJEWOIDJFIO DFJEIOENFOEWIF DRIVE

NUTS STreet Dagnabbit Street CRIPES COURt

CONFOUND IT COURT DRAT DRIVE CONFOUND IT! COURT

DANG DANG DANGITY DANG DANG DRIVE

It had been weeks of this and Jerry was exhausted. He felt like he had a fever half the time. Other times, he just felt weak. Even at recess, he couldn’t focus and recess was his favorite. Just the other day, he’d tried to play a game of Call It, Catch It, Slap It but he’d had to take a break and Call It, Catch It, Slap It was his favorite game.

That night, he stood looking at himself in the mirror, at his curly, beaming orange hair and his freckles. He had the same look as all the McBerrys. People called them redheads or gingers but his hair was as orange as a sunset over an orange grove surrounded by pumpkin patches. It was the same orange hair he shared with all the men in his family. And, he was close with all of them: his father, Jerry, his grandfather, Jerry, and his great-grandfather, Jerry, who’d just turned 95. 

But now, he just cursed himself and all the Jerrys McBerry. 

He didn’t know what to do. Could he just quit? Could someone else name the ding dong street.

Just as Jerry hit his lowest point, his great-grandfather called him over to the living room. This is where Jerry the First, who also went by Jerry The Elder or Old Man Jerry, spent most of his days in front of a fire talking to his pet parrot Mary and listening to books on tape. 

When Jerry walked in, his great-grandfather was sitting there in a bright slash of sun that was coming through the window. The room felt bright and happy and the fire was keeping it warm. Jerry didn’t even sit down when his great-grandfather started talking. 

“I was nine years old, Jerry, when I knew I needed to change the name of this street,” he said, holding Jerry’s arm and pulling him close.

“I know, Pop-Pop-Pop,” Jerry said. Jerry’s father was Pop, his grandfather was Pop-Pop, and his great-grandfather was Pop-Pop-Pop.

“We were number 31 back then, 31 Full Fanny Lane.” He laughed. “I told my mother that I didn’t like the name and do you know what my mother said?” Pop-Pop-Pop asked.

Jerry knew exactly what his great-grandfather’s mother said. He’d heard the story at least fifty times. But Jerry shook his head and asked, “What did she say?”

“She said, ‘Oh, Jerry. You can just live on the street; you don’t have to marry it.’”

Pop-Pop-Pop laughed and coughed. Jerry laughed too. It was funny every time.

Pop-Pop-Pop continued, “‘But, Mom,’ I said, ‘it’s named after a butt.’ Well, my mother did not like me saying the word ‘butt’. She yelled at me and brought me right up to the bathroom. I had to lick a bar of soap four times, one lick for each letter in the word ‘butt’. That was the first time I learned that your butt had two ‘t’s in it.”

Jerry had heard the story so many times, he could probably have told every bit of it, nearly exactly the way Pop-Pop-Pop said it if he’d wanted to. But, he didn’t want to. He loved hearing his great-grandfather tell the story because he was so happy telling it and because each time it changed a little, just enough, for him to want to hear it again.

Jerry’s pop-pop-pop continued, “But that didn’t stop me, Jerry. I wrote a letter to the town board and asked them to change the name of the street. Well, and you know what, that town board didn’t say anything, not even a peep. So, I went door to door with getting every single adult and child to sign a petition that the name should be changed. There wasn’t a single Full Fanny resident who didn’t sign it.”

“Every single one, Pop-Pop-Pop?” Jerry asked, smiling.

“Ho-ho-ho!” his great-grandfather said, patting Jerry’s hand. “I know you know. But did you know that the board did nothing again. Not a ding-dong word from them about it. So, you know what I did?”

Jerry smiled at his great-grandfather whose eyes suddenly widened. 

“DO YOU?” Pop-Pop-Pop asked.

Jerry knew exactly what his great-grandfather had done but he shook his head anyway. “Tell me, Pop-Pop-Pop. Tell me what you did.”

“That’s a good boy,” Pop-Pop-Pop said, moving his hand from Jerry’s hand and now patting his cheek. “I’ll tell you what I did. I went to every single kid in Piffle Park. All fifty of them and I got them to come with me to the next board meeting. I had them chant ‘Full Fanny Road has got to go’ over and over again. I made a speech pleading with them to change the name. I got five kids to start crying. Well, finally the town board had had it with me.

“I still remember the top board member. He was hard to forget. His name was Bill Board, can you believe it? Bill Board! And he told me they’d change the name to whatever I wanted as long as I could tell them right then what it would be and as long as I’d shut up about it from then on.

“Well, I felt dizzy. I didn’t know what to name the street. All these names went through my head–Pleasant Street, Elm Street, Main Street. All the usual ones. They were all better than Full Fanny Road, but I wanted to name the street something really special. And then, I thought of my very favorite thing in the whole world, something I’d only had once but had never forgotten just how amazing, how special it was.”

Pop-Pop-Pop’s eyes glimmered in the light. “And that’s when I blurted it out.”

“Hot Fudge Sundae Street,” Jerry said, finishing Pop-Pop-Pop’s story.

Jerry’s great-grandfather turned toward him. He looked sad. “And you know what, I was really happy with that street name for a whole year. But then, when I turned ten, I didn’t really like it anymore. And at eleven, I disliked even more and by fifteen, I thought it was just about the dumbest street name you could possibly have except for Full Fanny Road.”

Jerry laughed but then realized Pop-Pop-Pop was serious. “But why, Pop-Pop-Pop? Why?”

“Well, I was only nine years old, just you are now but when I was eleven and then twelve and then thirteen, hot fudge sundaes weren’t as important to me. You see, that’s why I became a member of the Town Board when I turned eighteen. I wanted other kids to have the chance to name the street, but their name would only last a year so they could would always be proud of the name. Do you understand?”

Jerry nodded but he didn’t really understand.

Pop-Pop-Pop seemed to notice. “You see, whatever you name the street should be fun and interesting right now for you. But that thing might not be fun and interesting to you the next year, but you don’t have to worry about it because your street name won’t be around after this year. So, there’s no pressure about it at all. Just have fun with it, like your Pop-Pop-Pop has fun with his naps.”

Jerry understood then. Pop-Pop-Pop had noticed that Jerry had felt stressed out about the decision. Jerry put his arms out and hugged his great-grandfather as tightly as he could. He was about to leave when he had another thought.

“Pop-Pop-Pop,” he said. “What would you name the street now if you could name it?”

Pop-Pop-Pop’s eyes light up. “Oh, that’s very easy,” he said. “I’d name it after what I eat the most now and call it Applesauce Road.” 

Jerry laughed. So did Pop-Pop-Pop. 

But Jerry knew he was just kidding. He knew from the way his great-grandfather had looked at him what the name would be. 

“I’ll just have fun with it,” Jerry said.

“That’s why I changed the law, so that kids like you could have fun,” Pop-Pop-Pop said.

Jerry slept deeply all night, for the first time in a month. He still didn’t know what to name the street, but he knew that whatever it was, Pop-Pop-Pop would be there to give him a hug.

Look for The Peculiar People of Piffle Park in bookstores….reasonably…or not so reasonably…soon.