Nine Doors Read Free Page A

scarier without the apron on.
    I was sure we were toast.
    But then the guy suddenly turned around and went, “No, no. It’s all right, Norma. It’s nothing. I’m coming.” He sounded all sweet as pie again.
    He snatched the apron up off the porch. He went back into the house. Just before he closed the door, he leaned out and shook his fist in our general direction.
    We thought it was the most comical thing we’d ever seen.
    At least we did at the time.
    Later, of course, it wasn’t so funny.

door number two
    I was only joking when I said, “Too bad we didn’t get that on videotape.”
    Lesson Number One: Never joke with Richard.
    The next thing I knew we weren’t playing Nicky Nicky Nine Doors anymore. We were making
Nicky Nicky Nine Doors: The Movie
.
    â€œSeriously,” Richard said. “This could be our big break! Critics love this sort of thing. You know: ‘Fourteen-year-old boysmake ground-breaking documentary.’ I’m not kidding. We could go to all the film festivals. Meet all the big stars. Make a ton of money...”
    I was rolling my eyes, but I was sort of going for it too. I mean, how cool would that be? Making our own movie. Getting famous. Getting rich. I acted reluctant, but I was totally up for it.
    I had to do an errand for my mother. By the time I got back an hour later, Richard had scrounged a video camera and had practically written the script too.
    â€œOkay, this is what we should do,” he said. “We’ll stick to this street. We’ll ring nine doors and videotape what happens. Then afterwards, we’ll go back and explain that we’re making a movie. We’ll interview the people. You know, ask them how they felt when nobody was there. Ask them if they played the same game when they were kids. Whatever...”
    Hearing him describe our so-called “blockbuster” kind of killed my enthusiasm. “I don’t know,” I said. “It sounds a littleboring.
We
might find it funny, but I’m not sure anybody else would.”
    I tried to be as gentle as I could—I didn’t want to hurt his feelings—but I mean, come on. Interviewing people? It sounded like one of those educational films you watch in social studies class.
    Richard was already rooting around in his backpack for the video camera, so I wasn’t expecting him to take my comments very well—but he surprised me. He tapped his finger on his front tooth and nodded. “You’re right,” he said. “It is kind of lame. We need to add something else...get a little excitement in there...”
    He paced back and forth for a while and then sat down on the lawn to think.
    â€œWhoa! Watch it!” I said. I pointed to a crusty brown mound on the grass right next to where he was sitting.
    He put on this appalled-old-lady voice and went, “Ewww! Doggie droppings! How positively vile!”
    The natural thing to do was to move away. It was a hot day. Believe me, you don’twant to be around a pile of “droppings” on a hot day. I took a few steps back—but not Richard. He was down on his knees, staring at the stuff as if he’d just discovered a new life-form or something.
    â€œI got to get this on film!” he said.
    I managed to cough out, “
Why
?”
    Although, frankly, I really didn’t want to know the answer.
    Richard rubbed his chin and smiled. “What can I say? Different things inspire different people. Isaac Newton had the apple. I’ve got...this!” He waved his hand at the pile as if he was introducing the lead singer in his band.
    He turned on the camera and leaned in for the close-up.
    I practically gagged.
    â€œWhat are you
doing
?” I said.
    â€œJust documenting the process, my friend,” he said. “This humble pile of bio-waste has inspired me to undertake...the Flaming Feces project!”
    I went, “I have no idea what you’re talking