Me and Mister P. Read online

  It seemed to take forever, but

  step by step,

  the HUGE animal

  limped its way up and eventually

  Arthur got it to the door of his bedroom and pushed it in.

  Phew!

  The polar bear’s massive body filled every spare inch of the room, and there was hardly any space for Arthur to move. Arthur bit his lip and frowned. This actually wasn’t funny—he had a real live polar bear in his room and no way to escape. He must be CRAZY! He squeezed around the edge of the bear, crawled onto his bed, and put the battered old suitcase on his pillow.

  “Is this yours?” he asked.

  The bear blinked three times.

  “Is your name Mister P.?”

  The bear blinked again.

  “Well, my name is Arthur—Arthur Mallows—in case you’re interested.” Arthur thought it was better to be friendly before attempting to remove the fishhook, especially looking at the length of Mister P.’s claws. “Now, we just have to make your paw better and then you can go wherever it is you want to go.”

  Mister P. hung his head. Arthur wondered where the polar bear was going. He did seem to be a long, long way from the Arctic. Still, that was hardly Arthur’s problem.

  “OK,” said Arthur, sounding braver than he felt, “show me your paw.” Arthur pointed at Mister P.’s paw and held out his hand.

  Mister P. looked questioningly at Arthur and lifted up his foot.

  “That’s it,” said Arthur. He was pleased that the fishhook wasn’t the kind with nasty barbs on it. He started to tug gently at the hook and Mister P. gave a low growl. Arthur stopped and took a shaky breath.

  “It’s going to hurt a little, I’m afraid. And it’s no good growling at me. I’m only trying to help. Close your eyes—Mom always says it’s better if you don’t look.”

  Mister P. laid his snout on Arthur’s lap and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. This time, Arthur decided speed was the best policy, and he whipped the hook out as fast as he could.

  “There! Gone!” He held the hook in the air.

  Mister P. opened his eyes, examined his paw, then pulled back his lips in what Arthur hoped was a grin.

  “OK. Good. Well, it was nice meeting you. If you’d like to follow me back down, I’ll let you out.”

  Arthur started to maneuver his way off his bed, but Mister P. splayed himself flat on the floor, completely blocking the bedroom door.

  Arthur swallowed.

  “You have to move, Mister P. You can’t stay in here. Don’t you have somewhere else you need to be?”

  The bear didn’t move.

  “It’s not that I’m being unfriendly,” said Arthur. “But you don’t know my family . . .”

  The bear lifted his head in the air and sniffed toward his suitcase.

  Arthur looked at the bag. Maybe it would give him a clue about where the bear had come from, or where he was going. He turned the suitcase over and spotted a small luggage label.

  29 Ellis Street? But that was Arthur’s address. Why would a polar bear have a suitcase with Arthur’s address on it? Now Arthur was very curious. He undid the clips and lifted the lid just a crack. The smell was overpowering. It made his eyes water and he wrinkled up his nose as he tried not to breathe.

  Slowly he opened the case and clapped his hand over his mouth.

  “YUCK!” Arthur thought he might be sick. “Did you know you have a dead fish in your suitcase?”

  Mister P. smacked his lips together.

  “Oh no, no, no, no! You can’t eat it! Not in here—in fact, not anywhere. I mean, it has to be rotten. We need to get rid of this thing before Mom and Dad get wind of it. It’ll stink the whole house up.”

  Holding his nose with one hand and gripping the slimy tail of the fish in the other, Arthur shuffled beside his bed, trying not to get any stinky-fish-drips on his covers. He opened his window, held the fish at arm’s length, and was about to lob it out into the yard when Mister P. lunged, sending Arthur’s bedside light crashing to the floor. The bear grabbed the fish out of Arthur’s hand, clamped it in its jaws, and started to devour it.

  Arthur heard Dad’s footsteps pounding up the stairs.

  “What are you doing in there?” said Dad. “Aren’t you going to come down and apologize?”

  Arthur watched his door handle turning back and forth as Dad tried to get in, but Mister P.’s big backside was wedged right up against the door and the door wouldn’t budge—not even a tiny bit.

  “Everything’s fine, Dad—I’ll be down soon.”

  Mister P. was busy licking every last scrap of fish from the carpet, and Arthur stared in amazement at the bear’s long blue tongue.

  “And what is that terrible smell? Is it coming from your room?”

  Even though Mister P. had finished every last morsel of fish and was now busy licking up lumps of green fluff from the carpet, the smell was as strong as ever. Arthur couldn’t think straight at all.

  Dad hammered on the door again. “Let me in. I know you’re up to something.”

  “I can’t,” said Arthur. “The door’s jammed.”

  “Well, un-jam it then.” Dad grunted and heaved against the door with his shoulder. “OK, young man. If you’re not going to let me in, then we’ll have to do this another way.”

  Arthur wondered what Dad could possibly do. He found out a few minutes later when there was a clatter, and a long metal ladder clanked against the wall outside his bedroom window. Arthur looked around in a panic. He needed to hide Mister P.

  He flung his blanket over the bear and did his best to cover him up, but the blanket wasn’t nearly big enough, with

  Mister P.’s big behind clearly visible at one end and his nose at the other.

  Clunk, clunk, clunk,

  went Dad’s feet on the rungs of the ladder.

  Mister P. grumbled quietly and then gave a rasping

  cough. Arthur hoped the bear wasn’t about to cough up all the rotten fish he’d just eaten.

  Clunk, clunk, clunk.

  First the top of Dad’s head appeared. And next Dad’s whole face filled the open window. Arthur waved and smiled and pretended to read a book. Dad frowned and peered in. He looked—and then looked again.

  “WHAT is that?” said Dad, pointing at the furry nose sticking out from under a mountain of blankets.

  Before Arthur had time to answer, Mister P. lifted his head off the ground, made another strange sound in his throat, and then coughed violently. A ball of fishy carpet fluff flew through the open window, just missing Dad’s face.

  Dad lurched backwards, pulling the ladder away from the wall. He reached for the window ledge, trying to regain his balance, but it was too late. The ladder swayed from side to side and then started to tip. Dad shrieked and desperately tried to cling on.

  Quick as a flash, Mister P. pounced and hooked his claws through Dad’s belt, just as the ladder went clattering to the ground. Dad was left hanging in midair, arms spiralling, legs dangling.

  “Aaaaaahhhhhhhh!”

  he screamed.

  “Grrrrrr,”

  Mister P. growled, showing his big white teeth. Dad’s eyes opened wide.

  “Lizzie!” he called to Mom. “Help me! Quick!”

  Mom rushed into the garden. “Oh my goodness, oh my goodness,” she cried, as she struggled to get the ladder back into position.

  From somewhere downstairs, Arthur could hear the sound of Liam panicking. This was getting way out of control.

  Mom steadied the ladder against the wall. Mister P. carefully released Dad and watched as he clambered shakily down. Dad sat on the ground, mumbling incoherently and pointing up at the window.

  “What are you talking about, Richard?” said Mom, examining Dad’s head as if he must have hit it. “What do you mean, Arthur has a bear in his bedroom?”

  “Can’t you see it?” gasped Dad. “Up there!”

  Mom looked up at the window, clapped her hand over her mouth, and sat down next to Dad.

  “I tried to tell you earlier,” shouted Arthur. “But you didn’t believe me.”

  “Are you all right, Arthur?” shouted Mom. “Don’t panic. I’ll call the police.”

  “I’m not panicking,” said Arthur. “And don’t call the police. Mister P. won’t hurt anyone. He’s nice . . . and he just saved Dad’s life, remember?”

  “But he’s a BEAR, for goodness’ sake. And how do you know his name?”

  Arthur held up Mister P.’s suitcase. “It’s on his suitcase.”

  There was a long silence.

  “I think I need some water,” said Dad. “I’m feeling a little faint.”

  Dad didn’t look good at all. He’d gone a kind of grayish color. Mom looked from Arthur to Dad as if trying to decide who was in more trouble. Arthur decided to take control.

  “You help Dad. Mister P. and I will be down in a minute.”

  “And you’re quite sure you’re not in ANY danger?”

  Arthur looked at Mister P., who was sitting quietly beside him. He’d never seen a more un-dangerous–looking polar bear in his whole life.

  “Relax,” Arthur shouted down to Mom. “We’re cool.”

  Mom didn’t look the slightest bit relaxed as she hooked her arm through Dad’s and supported him as he walked unsteadily back to the house. Arthur flopped down on his bed—he was feeling a little light-headed himself. He hoped Dad was OK. It must have been a shock falling off a ladder and being rescued by a polar bear. Arthur’s eyes drifted back to the address label on Mister P.’s suitcase.

  “I wonder what you’re doing at my house, Mister P. Why are you here?”

  Mister P. touched Arthur gently with his enormous paw.

  “You want to be friends, don’t you? I think you’d like to stay.” r />
  Mister P. blinked three times.

  Arthur pet his paw and then shook it up and down.

  “This is how us humans shake hands—it’s what you do when you meet someone for the first time. If I introduce you to Mom and Dad and they see you’re a polite polar bear, they might let you stay—just for tonight. I’m not making any promises. It’s not that Mom and Dad are unfriendly, but you have to understand that we’re not used to having bears around here.”

  Poor Mister P. looked tired and confused. Was Arthur’s house his last hope? Arthur certainly hoped he could make Mom and Dad understand.

  Chapter 3

  Brrrrmmmmmm!

  “Watch out, he’s coming down!” shouted Arthur.

  It had taken a little while for Arthur to get Mister P. into a position where they could both get out of the bedroom. Now Mister P. stuck out his front legs and slid down the steep stairs on his tummy like a polar bear on a snow slope.

  Brrrrmmmmmm!

  When he reached the bottom, he skidded across the wooden floor and stopped just before his nose hit the front door.

  Mom and Dad peeked around the kitchen doorway, their faces stiff and serious. There was a moment of silence as Mister P. got to his feet and gave himself a shake. Even Arthur had to admit, he was HUGE.

  “This is Mister P.,” said Arthur. “Mister P., this is Mom and Dad.”

  Mister P. held out his paw like Arthur had taught him, but Mom and Dad shrank back behind the doorway.

  “He’s trying to shake hands,” said Arthur.

  Dad swallowed hard and Mom gave a little wave. Liam was moaning quietly in the far corner of the kitchen.

  Mister P. cocked his head on one side to listen.

  “That’s my brother, Liam,” said Arthur. “Don’t worry—it might take a little while for them to get used to you.”

  Mister P. took a step toward the kitchen.

  “You’re not coming in here,” said Dad, squaring up to Mister P. with his arms outstretched.

  Mister P. twitched his nose and sat down.

  “Mister P.’s suitcase has our address on it. I don’t think he has anywhere else to go, so I’m wondering if we could let him stay. Just for tonight.” Arthur passed the suitcase to Mom and Dad and pointed at the label.

  “Did you write this, Arthur?” said Mom, examining it.

  “No, I didn’t. I promise. And we need to take care of him, because he’s tired and he’s hurt.

  “Pleeeease.”

  “Hurt?” said Mom, little lines of anxiety appearing on her face.

  “He can hardly walk.” Arthur pointed at Mister P.’s foot.

  Mister P. held his bad paw in the air and moaned quietly. For a polar bear, he was a pretty good actor.

  Mom’s face softened. “Oh, you poor bear,” she said. “What do you think, Richard? He does seem to be very polite. Maybe he could stay tonight, and then we’ll call animal control in the morning. I doubt there’ll be anyone there at this time on a Sunday anyway.”

  Dad covered his face with his hands. “Well, if he’s going to stay, he’ll have to go in the garage. I’m not sure Liam can cope with having a bear in the house.”

  “We could put Liam in the garage instead,” said Arthur.

  As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Arthur wished he could grab them back. He didn’t mean to be horrible about his brother—not really. He knew it upset Mom and Dad, and if he was going to negotiate for Mister P. to stay, he needed Mom and Dad in a good mood, not a bad mood.

  “I’m sorry,” said Arthur. “I guess you’re right. Mister P. can go in the garage. It’s just that it’s dirty and full of cobwebs, and I’m not sure he’ll like it very much.”

  “Well, if you’re that worried, you’ll just have to clean it up,” said Dad.

  “But it’s not my garage,” said Arthur grumpily.

  “But it is your bear,” said Dad. “So that makes it your problem.”

  It’s my family that’s the problem, thought Arthur to himself, then immediately felt guilty. It seemed as though there was no option but to get to work on the garage.

  Arthur filled a bucket with soapy water and put it down in front of Mister P.

  “You bring that,” he said, “and I’ll get the broom.”

  Mister P. picked up the bucket in his teeth and made a show of limping toward the garage door behind Arthur. Arthur could feel Mom and Dad watching and he hoped they were feeling sorry for him.

  He opened the back door of the garage—the one that led from the yard—and turned on the light. It was even worse than he thought. There were cobwebs and dust everywhere and the windows were covered in a mossy green grime. He didn’t think Dad had cleaned it EVER.

  “Don’t worry,” said Arthur, scratching Mister P. behind the ears. “We’ll make it cozy. You can help me clean the windows. You do the outside and I’ll do the inside.”

  He handed Mister P. a cloth, and Mister P. plunged it into the bubbles and started scrubbing away at the grubby glass. Soon, Arthur and Mister P. could see each other clearly through the window. Mister P. pressed his face hard against the glass, squishing his nose and baring his teeth. Arthur did the same back. One look at Arthur’s little teeth and Mister P. started rolling around on the grass. Arthur was pretty certain he was laughing.

  “Come on, stop messing around, we’re not finished yet,” said Arthur. “You need to get back in here and help me get rid of all these cobwebs.”

  As Mister P. plodded into the garage, it was clear he wasn’t so keen on the cobwebs. He grimaced as they stuck to his fur and got caught around his claws.

  Then, suddenly, he froze. His fur stood up on end and he snarled. Right in front of his nose was an enormous, black, long-legged . . .

  The spider stayed still as Mister P. moved closer and closer. Then the spider scuttled straight at Mister P.’s nose. Mister P. leapt backward, turned a circle, and was out of the garage and down to the end of the yard before Arthur had time to say a word. It was hard to believe a polar bear could be such a coward.

  Arthur scooped the spider into the cup of his hand. “Sorry, friend, but you’re going to have to leave. I’ll never get that silly bear back into the garage if he thinks you’re here.”

  He carried the spider into the yard and tipped it over the fence. Mister P. covered his eyes with his paws.

  Arthur shook his head and returned to the garage. He swept the floor and then looked around. The garage was clean and spider-free, but it didn’t look very comfortable. He bit his lip and wondered what would make a polar bear feel at home. A rug, maybe? Some pillows? A friend, so he didn’t get lonely?

  Arthur ran upstairs to see what he could find. He grabbed a blanket from the top of his closet and his spare pillow. Then he pulled out his old cuddly toy from under the bed—his very special, favorite, scruffy old monkey, the one that he’d pretended he had lost, so that no one would think he was silly. Bingo would make the perfect friend for Mister P.

  Arthur tucked Bingo under one arm and the blanket and pillow under the other and carried them down to the garage. He spread the blanket on the floor and put the pillow at one end with Bingo sitting against it.

  “Come and see,

  Mister P.,”

  called Arthur.

  Mister P. was nervous about returning to the garage and checked every corner for spiders before settling himself down on the blanket. Arthur tucked Bingo into the crook of Mister P.’s leg, and within minutes the bear was snoring VERY loudly!

  Arthur sat and watched. He heard a faint humming sound, and turned to see Liam shuffling in through the doorway. Liam stood with his back to the wall and stared at Mister P. for a long time. “You can say hello to him if you like, Liam. He won’t hurt you.”

  Liam took a step toward the bear. Mister P. opened one eye, and Liam sprinted out of the garage before Arthur could stop him.

  Arthur sighed and sat down next to Mister P. He leaned against his warm, furry body. “Don’t worry about my brother,” he said. “You don’t need to pay any attention to him.”

  Mister P. grumbled quietly.