Emily Jenkins - Toys Go Out: Being the Adventures of a Knowledgeable Stingray, a Toughy Little Buffalo, and Someone Called Plastic

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Emily Jenkins is the author of several books for children and adults, including Toys Go Out, hailed as "ideal bedtime reading" by the Wall Street Journal; Skunkdog; What Happens on Wednesdays; and That New Animal and Five Creatures, each of which received a Boston GlobeHorn Book Honor. Ms. Jenkins lives in Brooklyn, New York.

Visit her at www.emilyjenkins.com.

ABOUT THE ILLUSTRATOR

Paul O. Zelinsky's retelling of the classic fairy tale, Rapunzel, was awarded the 1998 Caldecott Medal. He has also received three Caldecott honors, for Hansel and Gretel, Rumpelstiltskin, and Swamp Angel. Mr. Zelinsky is the creator of two pull-tab books: The Wheels on the Bus and Knick-Knack Paddywack!, a New York Times Best Illustrated Book. His illustrations for Toys Go Out were called "charmingwonderfully detailed" by Kirkus Reviews. He lives in Brooklyn, New York.

Visit him at www.paulozelinsky.com.

CHAPTER ONE

In the Backpack, Where It Is Very Dark

T he backpack is dark and smells like a wet bathing suit. Waking up inside, Lumphy feels cramped and grumped. I wish I had been asked, he moans. If I had been asked, I would have said I wasnt going.

Shhh, says StingRay, though she doesnt like the dark backpack any more than Lumphy. Its not so bad if you dont complain.

We werent told about this trip, snorts Lumphy. We were just packed in the night.

Why dont you shut your buffalo mouth? snaps StingRay. Your buffalo mouth is far too whiny.

There is a small nip on the end of her tail, and StingRay curls it away from Lumphys big square buffalo teeth.

Plastic usually hums when she is feeling nervous. Um tum tumum tum tumtumtiddletee, she trills, to see if it will make the inside of the backpack seem any nicer.

Dont you know the words to that song? asks Lumphy.

There are no words. Its a hum, answers Plastic.

No one says anything for a while, after that.

Does anyone know where were going in here? wonders Lumphy.

Plastic does not.

StingRay doesnt, either.

My stomach is uncomfortable, grumphs the buffalo. I think Im going to be sick.

Buh-buh bump! It feels like the backpack is going down some stairs. Or maybe up some stairs.

Or maybe up something worse than stairs.

StingRay tries to think calming thoughts. She pictures the high bed with the fluffy pillows where she usually sleeps. She pictures the Little Girl with the blue barrette, who scratches where the ears would be if StingRay had ears. But none of these thoughts makes her feel calm.

I hope were not going to the vet, StingRay says, finally.

Whats the vet? asks Lumphy.

The vet is a big human dressed in a white coat who puts animals in a contraption made from rubber bands, in order to see what is wrong with them, answers StingRay, who sometimes says she knows things when she doesnt.

Then he pokes them over and over

with needles the size of carrots,
and makes them drink nasty-tasting medicine,
and puts them in the bumpity washing
machine to fix whatevers broken.

If anyone needs to go to the vet, its the one-eared sheep, says Plastic, remembering the oldest of the Little Girls toys. And Sheeps not even here. No, we cant be going to the vet. We arent broken.

Speak for yourself, snorts Lumphy, who feels even sicker than before at the thought of the bumpity washing machine.

Woosh. Woosh. The backpack begins to swing.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

Or maybe round and round.

I hope were not going to the zoo, moans StingRay.

Theyll put us in cages with no one to talk to. Each one in a separate cage,

and well have to woosh back and forth all day,
and do tricks on giant swings,
with people throwing quarters at our faces,
and teasing.

I dont think were big enough for the zoo, Plastic says hopefully. Im pretty sure theyre only interested in very large animals over there. Im large, says Lumphy.

She means really, really, very large, says StingRay.

At the zoo they have stingrays the size of choo-choo trains;

and plastics the size of swimming pools.
Zoo buffaloes would never fit in a backpack.
They eat backpacks for lunch, those
buffaloes.

Is that true? asks Lumphy, but nobody answers him.

Plunk! The backpack is thrown onto the ground.

Or maybe into a trash can.

Or onto a garbage truck.

We might be going to the dump! cries StingRay.

Well be tossed in a pile of old green beans,

and sour milk cartons,
because the Little Girl doesnt love us
anymore,
and it will be icy cold all the time,
and full of garbage-eating sharks,
and it will smell like throw-up.

I dont think so, soothes Plastic.

Ill be forced to sleep on a slimy bit of used paper baggie, instead of on the big high bed with the fluffy pillows! continues StingRay.

There is a noise outside the backpack. Not a big noise, but a rumbly one. Did you hear that? asks StingRay. I think it is the X-ray machine. The vet is going to X-ray us one by one

and look into our insides with an enormous
magnifying glass,
and then poke us with the giant carrot!

Im sure its not an X-ray, says Plastic calmly, although she isnt sure at all. An X-ray would be squeakier.

Then I think it is a lion, cries StingRay. A lion at the zoo who does not want to be on display with any small creatures like you and me.

A lion who doesnt like sharing her swing set,
and wants all the quarters for herself.
She is roaring because she hasnt had any
lunch yet,
and her favorite food is stingrays.

A lion would be fiercer, says Plastic, a bit uncertainly. It would sound hungrier, I bet.

Maybe it is a giant buffalo, suggests Lumphy.

Maybe it is a dump truck! squeals StingRay. A big orange dump truck tipping out piles of rotten groceries on top of us,

and trapping us with the garbage-eating
sharks
and the throw-up smell!

Wouldnt a dump truck be louder? asks Plastic, though she is starting to think StingRay might have a point. Im sure its not a dump truck.

The backpack thumps down again with a bang. I would like to be warned, moans Lumphy. Sudden bumps make everything worse than it already is.

The Girl doesnt love us and shes trying to get rid of us! cries StingRay in a panic.

The backpack opens. The rumbly noise gets louder, and the light is very brightso bright that StingRay, Plastic, and Lumphy have to squinch up their eyes and take deep breaths before they can see where they are. A pair of warm arms takes them all out of the dark, wet-bathing-suit smell together.