Episode I
Mr. Wipple Gets A Job
Mr. Wipple nervously wiped his brow as he stood on his aunt Clara's doorstep. He had run out of things to do. He was a nervous man, and had been forced to move from job to job ever since he had run out from a presentation he gave on modual physics as a young student, shattering a glass door behind him. He was considered a great engineering genius when he attended Harvard, but after he ran out of the presentation Mr. Wipple disapeared so entirely, that Harvard didn't even know where to send the bill for the shattered door. Now he was desperate to find a job that would let him feel calm and let him slowly learn to be unafraid of the world. As he stood, shifting his weight uneasily from one foot to another, he both wished that his Aunt Clara would be out-- for certainly she would give him a scolding look that would be more than he could bear-- and prayed that she would be able to find him a job. She was good at things like that."Alfred Wipple, what on Earth are you doing here? I thought that you were answering telephones in Wisconson." Miss Clara Tungston was a short, stout woman with blue beady eyes that almost disappeared into her apple-coloured cheeks and didn't not a cowardly bone in her body. Needless to say, her nephew was speechless before her demands.
"I see that you haven't changed a bit, and that your job is lost." Mr. Wipple nodded sheepishly."And that you have come to see what I can do for you." Aunt Clara said again, and was answered with another nod.
"Well, whatever I can do, I will do it, so long as you keep out of the way in the meantime." Aunt Clara finished, and with that, took her Mr. Wipple's hand, and shook it, although it was shaking pretty noticeably already.
In three weeks, Aunt Clara called Mr. Wipple. "Alfred Wipple, I have done what I can for you, and you must go to interview for a job on Tuesday."
"What job am I to interview for?" Mr. Wipple asked
"That doesn't signify, only see that you arrive at the place on time and properly dressed." She gave him the address, and amidst Mr. Wipple's promises that he would be there on time, she let him go to worry about Tuesday.
Mr. Wipple, for all his worries, was better than his word, and arrived five minutes early for his interview in front of a rather comfortable-looking, rambling house that had bluebells planted in the front, and was guarded by a fence of bushy fir trees. All the windows in the house were shut and it seemed completely dark and quiet. Poor Mr. Wipple rung out his sweaty hands on his tie and approached the door, hoping that somehow he could have come at the wrong time and whoever it was, wasn't at home. Praying this, he reached his hand up to touch the doorbell.
"Mr. Wipple, what a pleasure it is to see you. I'm Anne Carbury" A tall, slender woman had opened the door before he had even touched the doorbell. "Come in please." She motioned with a graceful hand.
The inside of the house was completely dark. Not one of the lights was turned on, and all the windows were covered with thick, dark drapes. Once the woman had shut the door behind her, she took up a small flashlight and turned it on. The light from the flashlight was very weak, but he could see that the inside was very much like outside-- comfortable and rather large.
"Shouldn't you turn on the lights," Mr. Whipple suggested sheepishly.
"Your aunt didn't tell you?" Mrs. Carbury, exclaimed "why, Mr. Whipple, my children are allergic to bright light. Their skin can't handle any light brighter than dusk. Will that be a problem?"
"No."
"Very well, here are the children." Mrs. Carbury showed Mr. Whipple into a large, friendly living-room. Three children, two boys and a girl, were using some couch cushions and a quilt to make a tent. Mrs. Carbury pulled"
"Children, this is Mr. Whipple, he will be your teacher. Mr Wipple, these are my children Alex, Caleb and Sibyl. You all are going to all be on your best behavior, yes?" Before the children could answer, the sound of an old-fashoned phone rang from her pocket.
"Oh, that will be David. I got to run, but I'll be back in about ten minutes."
"What are we supposed to do with a teacher?" Caleb, stood up out of the tent. "We already know our lessons."
"But he's not a teacher," Sibyl replied, nodding at him, "He's a knight, aren't you Mr. Whipple?"
"Y-yes," Mr. Whipple smiled tightly and bowed, "quite at your service."
"We'll see if he is," David said confidently, "lets show him the Ramermam and see if he can fight it."
"The Ramermam?" the children walked slowly towards Mr. Whipple.
"He won't even be able to see it!" Caleb pointed out, as Mr. Whipple found his back against the wall.
"He will, come, Mr. Whipple." Sibyl pushed gently at his leg and led him toward some stairs leading down to the basement.
