The Tollbooth

Down, down, down I fall. The lab spirals past my eyes like a dingy kaleidoscope as I tumble through the air. Expecting to splat horribly on impact, I manage a last prayer to confirm my reservations with God and heaven.

But no. I land instead on a strange, non-splatable surface. Professor Zacchaeus’ caboose! His head and torso are jammed under the tollbooth’s console. (Changing the oil probably.)

My unexpected arrival makes him do three things nearly at once:
1) Scream like a little girl
2) Jerk his head up
3) Bash same on the console’s very solid nether regions

Before he can stagger to his feet, I dash up his spine and onto the console. Heart pounding, I dive behind a knob and take a peek at him.

The prof is on his feet and wobbly, holding his baldhead (now a lovely shade of mauve) and blinking behind his thick glasses at the console.

I hold my breath and pray he doesn’t see me.

Finally, he shakes his head, adjusts his glasses, and goes back to work. Wow! A dedicated guy our Zacchaeus. Nearsighted too. Lucky for me.

Another scream. Another crash of skull on hardware.

My horrified eyes behold Blue Vinny, Cheshire, and Hudson charging onto the console. Zacchaeus (probably by now convinced his tollbooth’s haunted) exits like a terrier faced with a bath.

Where he goes, I don’t notice. I am distracted. Three rats are chasing me, and, telling by their censorable language, not to ask me to dinner.

Together, we take a tour of the control console. Around the knob-and-toggle switch farm, through a garden of pretty buttons, now blooming in a spectacular array of blinky lights and colors; then up and down some keyboard steps. Meanwhile, a large screen fills with data, of which the numbers 1, 9, 2, and 2 feature prominently.

A digital timer, with the words “…to launch” beside it, catches my eye as I scramble past.

“5 seconds,” it says.

“4…”

“3…”

“2…”

“1…”

The lights go out.