My brother Jack is special. He's not like any other brother in the world. One of a kind- that's what he is, Jack is one of a kind.
I don't mind telling you, and Jack doesn't mind me saying, he is a lot smaller than I am. A lot. Sometimes people pick on him for being that way, but more so because of his color. My brother is green, sort of a teal green to be exact. But I think the reason some people pick on him has nothing to do with his height or even his color. Ya' see my brother Jack is a lump of clay. A small cube of teal green clay.
O he has lips and hair and a nose and two eyes, but when you look up close, they're all made of green clay too. When he smiles, and he's always smiling, the thin line of putty below his nose bends down, and when he blinks, well, to be honest, I don't remember him ever blinking. But, whenever he walks, I mean moves, he's sort of sluggish. I guess the reason for that is because Jack doesn't have any legs. He's just a small green cube of clay, and I don't care in the least. I love him no matter what 'cause he's my brother.
Well, anyhow, let me tell you all about Jack and the toy factory. It all happened a long time ago and if my memory serves me correctly it started something like this. . . .
Both of us were so excited because we finally got tickets to visit the old toy factory that recently opened its doors for tourists and other sightseers. We took the subway and got off at Fifth Avenue in the heart of Metropolis. It was a gloomy day, and I was hoping we wouldn't get lost once we left the station. After all Metropolis is kinda big and even bigger for kids.
I didn't have to worry—the old toy factory was right next to the subway exit. It was a big building that was shaped like a medieval castle. The old toy factory even had one of those things that surround it. . .uh, a moat, that's the word. There was a moat that surrounded it. Jack and I stood in the long line outside the old toy factory and waited for it to open. That's when we saw this really big ramp lower across the moat. Everyone there backed up a little until the steel gate raised to allow them to enter. I started to walk across on the wooden ramp, and Jack bounced along beside me.
Inside, I looked around at the rough grey stone walls; some were darker than the others, and the windows—wow—the windows! The windows were made of all different colored glass, almost like the ones you see in churches. But it was different. Instead of pictures of saints or other religious scenes, these windows were designed to depict the old toy factory's most popular toys.
After staring at a yellow Tonka truck on one of the windows, Jack and I moved forward among the hundreds of tourists, still unable to find anybody making toys. I frowned at this, but Jack kept smiling. I'm sure he was saddened by the fact that the factory was void of any toy making, but he smiled. Seems the chill of the old factory and the draftiness had froze his lips into a permanent smile.
"Hey look, "I heard someone shout, "there's an elevator against the wall!"
Immediately, people began to rush toward the wall with the elevator. They pushed and shoved, and many started to shout. It was crazy. Someone knocked me to the ground and, in the rush, another person almost stepped on my brother.
I got up as fast as I could and stood close to Jack as we waited for the elevator door to open. All of a sudden, the lights started to dim. Then, I heard a bell, and some voice from over our heads bellowed: "Elevator to the basement. All aboard."
Then I saw a strange sight and it was unsettling, to say the least. Something had changed when the lights dimmed. All the tourists who rushed to the elevator—the same people who knocked me down and almost crushed my brother—changed. They shrank and were dressed as toy soldiers. Each and every one of them was now wearing a big black fluffy hat—the kind worn by the English guards. These soldiers also wore red jackets with epaulets on their shoulders, golden buttons, black dress pants, and shiny black shoes.
They weren't the only change I noticed—the elevator had shrunken in size. When Jack and I got closer, I saw two small factory workers push many "toy soldier" tourists into the small elevator.
When the bell rang, after the elevator returned empty, the rest of the tourists were pushed inside. Jack entered easily and positioned himself in the back of the car. After the double doors closed, leaving me behind, I shrugged. "O, my goodness," I said, and added: "How do I see the factory? I can't fit in that elevator." I was starting to get frightened. It was the same awful feeling I got whenever I was lost. It was a sensation of complete loneliness, like nobody will find me. Ever.
"Take this," a deep and friendly voice bellowed. I looked to the side of the elevator and below the window designed with pictures of Tonka trucks, I saw an older man with white hair. He was smiling at me and sitting on an old wooden bench attached to a ski lift.
"Here, Jim," he said. I was both surprised and a bit frightened that he already knew my name. "Here, Jim," he repeated pointing to the wooden bench he was on. When he got up, the bench moved forward. There was a metal rod that was attached to the left side of the bench and raised skyward to a pulley high above it.
The old man smiled again and pointed to the bench that was slowly approaching me. "Jim," he said, "use this if you wanna see the factory downstairs. I use it all the time."
As soon as I sat on it, the bench rose higher and began to move forward, then it turned left, passing the tiny elevator until it reached closed double doors.
I must have set off a signal somewhere, because both doors opened, and I entered a dark shaft. The bench stopped moving forward and I could feel myself being lowered into nothingness. Of course, I started to get a bit nervous, that is, until another set of elevator-type double doors opened in front of me, and the bench I was on started to move forward again.
After my eyes refocused, I saw a great and vast room in front of me. It seemed to go on forever. I sat on the bench, which was high above the busy machinery down below. In the middle of the long room, I saw a working conveyor belt, similar to ones on supermarket checkout counters. It was there that I saw a metal chute sporadically empty toy parts onto the belt. When all the parts landed, the belt advanced though an enclosed box. Another chute moved toward the box and emptied more parts. I saw screws and nuts and a few batteries fall into the box until the belt started off again, and the crude formation of a toy was visible.
While I was sitting on the bench (which was like a ski lift), high above the factory floor, I saw the red, white , and blue tourists who were walking alongside the dangerous conveyor belt. In their midst, I saw a tiny green cube struggling to keep up with the crowd.
"Jack!" I shouted, and all the tourists looked up at me.
"Where's my brother?" I asked them. "He was with you all, just a second ago!"
I looked for Jack, but he was nowhere to be found, and I was quickly becoming very worried.
"Jack," I called out again. "Jack, are you there. . .Jack. . .Jack!"
Someone in the crowd shouted back: "What's Jack look like?"
"Well, he's green, small, shaped like a cube, and always smiling," I shouted, "O yeah. I forgot. . .he's made out of clay."
Just then, everyone heard a frail-sounding voice echo from inside one of the metal enclosed boxes on the conveyor belt. Everyone twisted their bodies and remained motionless. The only sounds remaining were the metallic clanging of machine parts and the clicking of ball bearings as they hit each other inside the conveyor-belt pulleys. There wasn't a sound of my brother anywhere. My guess was that someone might have inadvertently bumped Jack on the belt and then he must have gotten trapped in one of the boxes where toy parts were collected.
I felt my chest shake when I tried to breathe, and I froze with fear, unable to speak. I could only turn my head. But, when I did, my eyes fell on three factory workers who were making rubber basketballs.
"Hey," I struggled to speak, "could you guys inflate a cube to make me another brother?" Obviously, I was delirious. Still, I pleaded with the workers.
"Well," one of them said,"we're not supposed to." "He's right," another worker explained,"it's against company policy, and all." "And if we did," the third worker emphasized, "we'd probably lose our jobs."
I was prepared to beg, when a few red, white, and blue tourists approached the scene and began to growl. "Hey, what's it gonna be?" they barked: "One less toy basketball or one less brother?"
The three workers looked at each other in shame and proceeded to cast and inflate a small rubber cube.
I jumped from the "ski lift," which vanished into thin air and walked over to the factory workers to help paint the cube teal green. After we finished, I thanked them all and one worker said he remembered a time when he worked with four brothers instead of three. The others nodded in agreement.
I never went back inside that toy factory. It closed its doors for good a little while after I left it. Now the moat is all dried up, and the pretty windows are covered by large heavy planks of wood. Sometimes, when I reminisce, I like to walk by that old toy factory. Sure, the windows are boarded up like I told you, but there is one spot that a plank doesn't quite hide. So, if you look real hard, and if the sun hits it right, you can still see the part of the yellow Tonka truck and it sometimes looks like the old toy factory is winking at you.
Now make no mistake, I know that my brother is gone. I'm no fool. But I treat the new Jack almost like the old Jack. Kind of proud of him too, come to think of it. He's into basketball which is no surprise and even played in a few big league games. Every time I see him, I can't help but remember the old Jack, my favorite small green cube of clay with a smile that would never go away.
Happy Birthday, Jack
Love,
Jim
