The Amazing Flying Hoosengoosen Couch – Middle Grade

Part 1 - The Unwanted Gift

“I think there’s been a mistake,” Walter’s mom said, “I didn’t order anything. Certainly nothing that size.” Walter and his dog Lloyd crowded into the doorway next to her. It had been a dull afternoon, and any distraction was welcome. On the porch stood two delivery men looking out of breath and a bit upset. Behind them was a large, strange-looking package sloppily wrapped in brown paper and lashed with great tangles of twine. A small envelope was fixed to its front with a mass of tape the size of a dinner plate.

“Well,” the man in front said, holding a clipboard out to her, “if you don’t sign for this thing right now, we’ll leave it at the curb. We don’t want it in our truck for another second. It makes strange noises. And I swear, as we carried it up your steps, it poked me!”

“Me too,” the other man said. “Twice.”

This was interesting. Walter couldn’t recall the last time they’d gotten a package this large, much less one accused of causing bodily harm. He edged out into the cold for a better look as his mom furrowed her brow and leaned over to study the label, squinting to make it out through layers of tape.

“Ugh,” she said. It was more of a grunt and not a happy one. Walter stepped around her to look for himself, and Lloyd followed, sniffing the package. The label was addressed to “Mildred Hoosengoosen Price and Family,” and the sender’s address was:

“Dr. Froehdrich Hoosengoosen 

The Hoosengoosen Institute for Advanced Studies

Cambridge, MA 02114”

Walter’s great-uncle Froehdrich was a famous scientist and inventor. He had even won the Noble Prize, which, as Walter understood it, was an award given to scientists who had discovered truly amazing and noble things. When you won it, they made you famous and gave you a medal and boatloads of money. Great-Uncle Froehdrich regularly sent Walter stuff: minerals, little machines, and old notebooks full of his notes, diagrams, and poems. Everything he had sent before had been much smaller. What could be inside? Maybe it was a laser or a fusion reactor.

“It’s enormous!” his mom said. “We’re not accepting it, whatever it is. Uncle Froederich is very nice, but he has no sense,” she added, tossing her head. “Remember that stuffed crocodile he sent you last summer, Walter? A stuffed crocodile!” 

“It was a green iguana, actually,” Walter noted. He had perched it on top of his bookshelf, peeking out from between two plastic plants, but the next day, his mom had been cleaning his room, looked up, and screamed so loud that Mrs. Morganbrewster across the street had called the police. The iguana was now hibernating in a box in the basement. “Great-Uncle Froehdrich didn’t kill it,” Walter continued. “It died of old age. It was over twenty, which is quite old for a green…”

“I don’t care,” his mom said shortly. “It was a large, dead, stuffed reptile, and it was disgusting. Not to mention the rest of the junk he sends you; we can’t fit any more of it in your room, and we’re running out of space in the basement. We certainly don’t have room for this thing.”

“Send it back if you want,” the delivery man said, waving the outstretched clipboard, “but you’ll have to arrange a separate pickup tomorrow. We have other deliveries to make. Sign, please.” He waved the clipboard again. He meant business.

She sighed and signed. The deliverymen tipped their hats and shot off to their truck, plainly eager to escape. In the meantime, she craned her neck, studying the package this way and that. She reached out, poked it cautiously, and then shot a look across the street to see if Mrs. Morganbrewster was watching from her front window. She was. It seemed like Mrs. Morganbrewster spent all day and night just sitting in that spot watching their house, her lips pursed in disapproval. Walter’s mom smiled thinly, waved, and returned her attention to the package. She frowned, kicked some leaves off the porch, and then rubbed her arms. Neither she nor Walter had put on their coats.

The package made some noises. “Urrrrrrk,” it went. “Kerclunk.”

She leaned back and put a hand on her chest.

“Oh, for goodness sake,” she said. “We better get this thing inside. For now.” At that moment, Walter’s dad came whistling up the walk. Walter’s parents were teachers, and his dad supervised science club meetings after school. She beckoned him up the stairs and explained what was happening while throwing glances across the street. After several false starts and pauses to turn the package various ways, the three lifted, shoved, and kicked the package through the door and down the hall into the living room.

They then stood breathless, staring at it. Lloyd ventured over to sniff it more thoroughly, and the package made another sound.

“Whirrrrrr,” it went.

“That isn’t good. We better see what it is,” Walter’s mom said. “God knows, it could be dangerous.” She went to the kitchen and returned with some scissors.