The Magic Mop
Mrs. Marble was getting angry.
“You will rise this instant, Jordan Marble!” she yelled upstairs to her cagey nine-year-old, who had just held her in conversation for a good five minutes while remaining comfortably in bed.
She had come in fifteen minutes earlier to rouse the sleeping angel, who then begged for a little “stretch time” before getting up. Ten minutes later she had called from the bottom of the stairs: “Time to get up now, sweets, there’s lots to do today.”
Which got Jordan wondering about the nation’s time zones. They crossed into a different one yesterday while en route to their new home — had they all aged an extra hour as well, in addition to the time change?
“The time zones are determined by the position of the sun,” Mrs. Marble explained patiently. “They have little or no effect on a person’s age.”
“The sun is very powerful,” Jordan remarked from bed.
“Without the sun,” said Mrs. Marble, “we’d all be dead. But it’s time to get up now.”
“But too much sun isn’t good either, right? There’s a hole in the sky.”
“The ozone layer has been depleted, yes. But I myself was just outside, and my skin didn’t fall off.”
Jordan Marble laughed. “Well thank goodness for that! Did you get a tan, at least?”
“That’s enough now, Jordan. I want you to get up.”
And on it went. Jordan cleverly directed the conversation to the haphazardly-filled house around them. There was still a lot of work to be done in the new home, and everyone had to pitch in.
Everyone, including Jordan.
“What is it you want me to do, again?”
“Mop, Jordan — for starters. One room. That is, after you’ve had your breakfast, which is waiting in the kitchen and must be cold by now.”
“Didn’t you set up the microwave yet?”
Jordan got up and had just changed into jeans, a green Joyride t-shirt and some favorite sneakers, when there came the incessant banter of children approaching out on the street — gathering, it seemed, right outside the window.
Now that was more like it.
A head poke outside revealed four of them scuffing about one story below, unsure whether or not to proceed up the short walk to the front door. They were discussing it (arguing might be a better word), before one of them glanced up and caught sight of Jordan Marble.
“Hey, you live here?” the kid asked, one eye squinting in the sun, which cast a long, severe shadow across the front lawn and into the street.
“Only since yesterday,” Jordan answered.
“What are you doing?” a second one inquired.
“I have to mop.”
“Can we watch?” another chimed in.
“Sure. Wait until after I eat.”
Sneakers squeaked on the hardwood floor of the hallway as fingertips mapped the smooth and sturdy bannister. A favorite song came forth from the lips until the turn for the stairs, when all ceased.
Fixed below on the facing wall of the lower landing were two small rainbow prism shapes. One an elongated diamond, the other spiked like a snowflake. Quivering, delicate spaceships. Both somewhat bloated with color due to the closeness of the wall to the rectangular window high up along the stairway in which the crystals themselves hung on fine strands of clear thread, capturing the rays of the sun and turning them into something extraordinary.
There were five or six crystals in all. The others projected razor-fine rainbow ships across the modest entryway and the lower half of the front door. But it was the two on the landing, and specifically the diamond, which drew Jordan’s touch.
Whistling into the kitchen, Mrs. Marble was setting a place at the table with a bowl and spoon for cereal, the once-hot meal having mysteriously vanished.
Jordan knew better than to ask, and slid into the seat.
“Mom, is it okay if some kids watch me mop? I made friends already.”
“I knew it wouldn’t take you long,” she said. “And you were worried. People like you, Jordan.”
“Well, can they?”
“Do these kids seem well-behaved?”
“Yes.”
“I suppose it’s okay…if you’ll vouch for them.”
“I will.”
“Fine, then. But don’t let your new friends interfere with your work today — we have a lot to do. You can start downstairs in the rumpus room. I want you to mop that beautiful red and white checkered floor. There’s a mop down there that was left behind by the previous owner. Seems like a perfectly good mop, but it’s ours now. Anyway, it’s down there along with a bucket which I already filled for you with some warm, soapy water.”
She paused.
“Mop the floor once, Jordan. Then again with just warm water — no soap. That means you’ll have to change the water, so please be careful. Ai-yi?”
“Ai-yi.”
“And feel free to bring your friends up so I can meet them.”
“Okay. Can we have drinks?”
“After you’re done mopping the floor, both times. Now eat your breakfast.”
Once they were together downstairs in the large empty room, it became clear that the first who spoke outside — the first to look up — was the leader of the pack. Instantly, one of the others was ordered down to count how many squares made up the entire floor. How many red, and how many white. Were the amounts the same?
“I’ve always wanted to know,” the leader said to Jordan. “I’m saving you the trouble of doing it yourself. This way you’ll know too.”
“Know what, how many squares I have to mop?”
Jordan bent down and stuck a hand into the sudsy water.
Still warm.
“That’s a fine-looking mop,” the leader intoned.
“It’s ours now. They left it behind.”
Jordan removed the hand and shook it, spotting the leader, who didn’t melt. Lugged the bucket to the farthest corner of the room before coming back for the mop, by now in the leader’s hands.
“I’ll do it.”
“It’s my job,” said Jordan. “And my mop.”
The leader shrugged, gave it over. The other two watched in silence as Jordan passed by them again.
“Feel free to speak at any time, you were both pretty loud outside.”
Didn’t say boo to the counting kid, who was getting to know the floor. Would mop right over him if necessary.
“I like the mop too,” one of them commented to Jordan’s back.
Upon closer inspection it did appear to be an excellent mop, though clearly not new. There was a gash toward the center of the long gray wooden handle which seemed to have teeth marks, and a slight gouge at the top where it must have accidentally struck a wall.
One hardly noticed the imperfections. What impressed most was the mophead. It was made of brightly-colored strands of rope with even more variety than the prism shapes on the landing. Red, green, yellow, purple, gray, brown, pink, maroon, teal, and orange were some of the colors. Aqua was in there too, and aqua was Jordan’s favorite color.
Once dropped into the bucket the strands seemed to blend and liquefy into a swirling soup of rich, exotic color. Strange, alien hues. Toxic perhaps, but awfully sweet-smelling too.
“Careful, there,” the leader warned.
“It’s only a mop,” Jordan answered, withdrawing it from the water, droplets of bink, yurple, and ray splashing out onto the floor. As the mophead touched down, a bright puddle of alien rainbow soup spread forth.
“Dear God…” someone muttered.
Jordan began to mop. The puddle was soon contained, and then gone. That part of the floor looked clean and shiny.
Then a thin golden cloud appeared above Jordan’s head, and slowly parted to gasps all around.
All five children — once the one who fainted had been revived — gathered not quite below the rim of the looming, open cloud and gazed upward into an abyss.
There were further clouds within the cloud: a swirling contemptuous tunnel which seemed to snake upward indefinitely into a golden, smoky haze.
“I’d like to climb up there,” said the counting kid. Others looked at him, aghast.
“There’s nothing to hold onto,” Jordan said, as all heads turned upward again.
“I just want it to go away,” somebody stated.
“Me too,” said Jordan.
And with that, the entire thing vanished. Nothing above them but the ceiling.
The leader looked at Jordan.
“What’s going on here. Are you the devil? Is your family possessed?”
“It must be the house!” Jordan tried to explain. “Nothing like this has ever happened before.”
“How do we know that? If you were the devil, you’d lie.”
“It’s the mop,” said one of the others. “Obviously. We all saw what it did to the water, and the way it soaked it all up so quick. It’s the mop.”
“Obviously,” the leader echoed. “But what now? There’s nothing left.”
“Why did it go away?” someone asked, still gazing upward.
“Because we wished it away,” Jordan suddenly realized. “Because I wished it away. It’s my job, and it’s our mop.”
“But you said: ‘They left it behind.’” The leader’s eyes bulged wildly. “Who left it behind?”
“The people who lived here before.”
“One old-timer lived here all by himself. He had a jukebox over in that corner that played nothing but Elvis Presley. I never saw any golden clouds, or that mop. I think it’s yours. I think you brought it with you from wherever you came from, and now you’re playing a trick on us to make us look stupid!”
The leader reached for the mop, then halted.
“Do it again. Prove it’s not a trick.”
The others all stood a few steps back as the mophead was once again lowered into the sudsy water. The rainbow soup appeared again and Jordan smiled, feeling vindicated. It wasn’t a trick.
“How do we know that’s not some fancy dye in there?” the leader asked, daring to take a closer look into the bucket.
“Mop, Jordan,” one of the others said.
Jordan mopped another part of the floor with the same result: a shiny finish, a golden cloud.
“Is that some fancy dye up there?” Jordan asked the leader.
“Make a wish, Jordan.”
“Okay. Sure. What should I wish for?”
“I’m hungry,” the leader said. “Wish me some food.”
“What kind of food?”
“Um…wish me some blueberry muffins from that bake shop downtown. I love those.”
“How many do you want?”
“Ten.” The leader looked around and grinned sheepishly. “That’ll be two for each of us.”
“I don’t want any food…” somebody said.
Jordan made the wish. They watched and waited.
Before long a number of sphere-like objects floated downward from the upper reaches of the golden, smoky haze. Descending silently through the swirling tempest, they passed with ease from out of the cloud and gently touched down upon the checkered floor to many squeals and delighted giggles.
After the snack, Jordan started to mop again. It was the only way to bring back the golden cloud and continue wishing.
The mop dropped, and the alien soup spread forth across the floor. All gathered around the puddle now, with some bending down closer, though none daring to touch it. Jordan Marble toiled away in the middle. Soon the puddle was gone, and the golden cloud reappeared. All gazed upward in reverence as it slowly opened.
“What is it…?”
“A miracle,” was one answer.
“A curse,” another.
“What should we wish for now?” Jordan asked.
“I could use something to drink…”
“No,” the leader interjected. “What if there’s a limit on wishes? There usually is, you know. I say we go for the big score now, with the third wish, and see what this baby can really do. I want a million dollars. Here, now.”
“Why is it you,” said the counting kid, “who always gets to decide? I mean you had the last one.”
“Fine — what’s your idea?”
Silence.
The leader looked around at the others. “Anyone else?”
“Be careful,” someone warned. “A million dollars could kill you.”
The leader pondered this. Jordan Marble — whose gig this was after all — waited, holding the mop.
“Good point. The thing might drop a million dollars right on my head. All right, I want a check.”
The leader looked at Jordan. “Would you like it in your name?”
Jordan said nothing, shifted feet.
“How about you?” the leader asked the counting kid, who shook his head.
“All right, then. I want a check for one million dollars made out to me, Hayden P. Lafond. The check should be signed by William Gates of the Microsoft Corporation.”
The leader looked around, grinning.
“He won’t miss a measly old million.”
“Is that it?” Jordan asked.
The leader nodded.
Jordan mopped and then made the wish, felt a little foolish saying it all.
But when the check finally came floating down through the swirling tempest, light as a feather, and slipped effortlessly into the leader’s outstretched mitt, indeed signed by one William Gates of Microsoft…well, things got a little heavy. No one said anything. They stayed within themselves, perhaps trying to catch up with all that had happened, or searching for a reason why.
In any case, things were quiet when Mrs. Marble made her way downstairs to check on Jordan.
Drinks were out of the question — that much Jordan knew. Fortunately the others seemed to know it too and remained silent, if fidgety, in Mrs. Marble’s presence.
“Mom, this is everyone. Everyone, this is my mother.”
“Well, hello, everyone. It seems you’ve been having some fun down here.”
“We haven’t been doing anything!” the leader exclaimed, hand in pocket.
“I didn’t say you were, dear. I simply meant it’s obvious Jordan hasn’t been doing much mopping. What you’ve done so far is fine, sweets, but I think you better step it up. We have a lot to do today, remember? Your friends can stay as long as they don’t interrupt you any further. Capice?”
“Capice.”
“And once you’re done, we’ll see about those drinks. Well…goodbye, everyone!”
“Your mom seems nice,“ someone said after Mrs. Marble left again up the stairs.
“Yeah, she is.”
“What should we wish for now?” someone else asked.
“I don’t know,” Jordan said. “But it’s my turn.”
Mopping the floor between wishes wasn’t a problem: the cloud simply hung there, open and waiting. No sound came down from its swirling midsts, though it was easy to imagine something. None dared stand directly beneath it.
No problem. Except, of course, doing more work between wishes would mean less wishes in the end. Unless Jordan just mopped the floor again. Maybe that would work, unless, the floor had to be dirty…
“I have to mop the floor again anyway,” Jordan said, continuing to work. “Warm water, no soap. Maybe the cloud won’t come at all then. Maybe it’s the soap, some sort of reaction.”
Jordan was just trying to keep busy and think up the next wish. Covering a lot of floor, whistling and watching the strange colors meld, getting used to the scheme by now.
A recurring daydream came to mind, and Jordan laid down the mop. Then to the waiting cloud: “I wish to meet Joyride. Bring Joyride here, now.”
“Oh yeah they’re my favorite, I love them!”
“Yeah, me too!”
“I hate ‘em.”
“They’re okay, I guess…though not really…”
“They’re coming,” Jordan said. “I know it.”
The wait was even longer this time, but in the end it was worth it.
Just when it seemed the cloud might be dry, the three members of Joyride — Colin, Mick, and Stu — came lilting down from the heavens, donned in the sea pirate garb of their latest tour (and cursing up a storm if truth be told.)
Down through the tunnel they gained steadily in size, achieving full stature upon touch down.
“Ay, look ‘ere, Mick ’n’ Stu — some of our fans. Ay kids, what’s news?”
Colin leaned closer to Jordan. “Mate, what’s this all about?”
“I…I…” Jordan couldn’t get the words out. Laughed and looked around at the others, glad they were here.
“I love you guys,” Jordan said to the members of Joyride.
“We love you too, mate. Nice t-shirt, ay. But something’s off ‘ere. We got a big gig in Perth…we hafta go on soon. Perth’s my hometown, ya know. See what I’m sayin’?”
“Be a ruddy shame to miss that one,” Mick commented, trademark toothpick clenched tightly in one corner of his mouth.
“You’d get over it right quick, mate,” Colin replied. Mick shrugged.
“Shut yer yap, anyway.”
“Play a song!” somebody said. “Play ‘Wrong Way.’ Play ‘Danger, Mon!’”
“No instruments,” said Stu.
“Jordan, please do something!”
“I don’t care if they don’t play. I have all the stuff. I just wanted to meet you guys.”
“And you’re Jordan, ay?”
“Jordan Marble, Colin, sir.”
“Jordan Marble, ay, that’s cool. So how’d you get us ‘ere, mate?”
Jordan pointed to the ceiling, at nothing at all, then down at the mop laying on the floor.
“It’s magic. I mop, and then a golden cloud appears. Then we make a wish, and the cloud grants it. My wish was to meet you guys. The others…”
“Can’t you play a song?” the leader cut in. “That would be so great. You guys could do one a capella. How about ‘Mind Wrap’?”
“That’s ‘Mind Warp,’” Mick sneered, eyeing the leader suspiciously.
“How ‘bout wishing us back, Jordan,” said Colin. “We’ve got the gig — we’re pirates, ya know. Got a great big pirate ship up on stage, I wish you could see it. It’s my birthday today, and they’re giving me a cake after the show.”
“Happy birthday,” Jordan said.
“Thanks mate. How old are you, Jordan?”
“I’m nine.”
“Well, you seem pretty hip for nine.”
“Thanks.”
“Can we get on with the bleedin’ transference?!” Mick snorted, kicking at the bucket.
He reached down and picked up the mop, handing it to Jordan. “Let’s go, kid.”
“I have to do a large area…”
“Whot?”
“Nothing.”
Jordan began to mop; not covering much ground, would make up for it before the next wish. The members of Joyride stared transfixed at the floor. When the golden cloud appeared Stu instinctively ducked his head, and some of the kids laughed. It parted with a gentle sigh, and all the power and glory that could be held in a tunnel was revealed.
“Bleedin’…”
Stu looked very afraid, and refused to go up.
“Man, I’d rather stay here,” he said to Colin. “I’ll take a flight back.”
“You’ll miss the gig, mate. We need ya.”
Suddenly Mick grabbed Stu in a headlock and nodded to Jordan.
Jordan made the wish: “Return them to Perth!”
As the three floated upward, Mick released Stu, who was helpless now anyway.
Mick gazed down and toned a few lines in his gravelly off-kilter second voice:
Temptress…
Temptress…
Dance with the devil
get no rest…
Fired off a lick of air guitar, removed one of his studded bracelets and dropped it. It grew in size as he himself was shrinking, clanked to the floor, and all the kids went for it.
They soon realized someone was missing. It was the counting kid, and no one was sure where he had gone. They looked around, and finally found him at the top of the stairs, crouched by the door.
Gently, Jordan removed his hands from his ears.
“Is Joyride gone?”
Jordan nodded.
“They were real.”
“Yes.”
“How can this be happening?”
“I don’t know,” Jordan said. “But I want to do more. Can you handle it?”
“What’s next, ghosts? Dead people?”
“Nothing like that. There’s one thing I want to do, and then we’ll see. You’re free to leave, just please don’t say anything to my mother.”
“I won’t.” The kid smiled. “Because I’m staying.”
Back downstairs Jordan went right to work, covering a huge amount of floor. In no time at all it was more than halfway done. Jordan went on from there, panting and sweating happily.
The others were bored by the time Jordan was ready to wish again, and one unhappy.
“Don’t we even get a say?” the leader complained.
“No. You had two wishes yourself already. No one else seems to care. The rest are mine.”
Jordan looked up at the waiting cloud.
“I’d like a million dollars deposited into my mother Evelyn Marble’s account at First National Credit Union…”
“I don’t believe this!” the leader sounded.
They all watched and waited, but nothing happened. Then the cloud disappeared.
“Must have done it,” somebody said.
“I’d still like a receipt,” said Jordan. There were a few giggles.
“Might as well get back to work…”
“Hold on, now just hold on,” the leader said. “What’s your plan here. I mean what’s your agenda. I think we have a right to know.”
“I’m going to mop,” Jordan said. “And make a couple more wishes. That’s it.”
“A couple more wishes? Are you insane? We have a power here, something so great we could rule the world! I mean us, as a group. What would stop us? What could stop us? We could just wish it away.” The leader laughed maniacally.
“Good point,” someone said.
“I’m not going to waste them,” Jordan said. “Believe me, they’ll be big, really big.”
Trouble was, Jordan couldn’t think of anything big, really big to wish for. Joyride had already been here and left. Jordan’s mother would most likely be pleased. Transferring the Perth stage into the backyard was briefly considered.
“We don’t have all day,” the leader said, foot tapping the floor and arms folded.
“I’m trying…” Jordan held the mop. The golden cloud hung there, waiting.
“Maybe someone else should decide.”
“I’ll do it.” Jordan thought hard.
“Make it fast, then — and make it big.”
“I know! There’s a problem with the ozone layer I want to fix.”
Jordan looked up at the cloud.
“No more ozo — ”
“Wait!” the leader cried. “Don’t you mean no more hole in the ozone?”
“Oh, that’s right.”
Jordan made the wish, then they all went out through the sliding glass doors to the backyard.
Nothing seemed different. The bright sun stared down from high above the house. Birds tittered in the trees. A local mail truck was parked out on the street.
“There’d be no signs right off,” somebody said. “We’d need instruments, data…”
“As far as we know the cloud hasn’t failed us yet,” Jordan said.
“Maybe we should just call it a day,” the leader suggested.
“We could, but I still have to finish. And I have only one more wish. Well three, actually — but the last two are only to get rid of the mop.”
“What?!”
“I can’t have that thing lying around,” Jordan said. “I’d use it all the time.”
“Give it to me!”
“Geez, I don’t know, Hayden.”
“I promise I won’t go crazy with it.”
“I think you would.”
Everyone else agreed, Hayden would.
“I don’t want to give the mop away,” Jordan explained. “I’m not sure anyone should have it. Life’s supposed to be a struggle. That’s what my mother says, anyway. Otherwise there’s nothing to gain. And sometimes you get lucky. Today, we got lucky.”
The leader sighed and nodded.
“What’s your last wish, then.”
“Come back inside, everyone.”
They went back in. Other than a small corner saved for the final two wishes, Jordan had finished the first mopping. The floor stretched out shiny and brilliant before them.
“I don’t see why you have to mop it again,” said the counting kid.
“To get rid of any soapy residue.”
“What residue?”
“Residue,” somebody echoed.
“What’s your last wish?” the leader wanted to know.
“It’s big,” Jordan said. “Really big.”
“Well?”
Jordan laid down the mop, and looked up into the abyss.
“No more war,” was Jordan Marble’s last wish. Looked around at the others, smiling expectantly.
“Uhm…”
They went back outside. Nothing seemed different. As far as anyone knew, gunfire had never been heard on this street.
But elsewhere….
“Would they all just lay down their arms?”
“I don’t see why not,” Jordan said.
“Let’s check the news!”
“We can’t. I have to finish. We’ll check later. C’mon, let’s go back in.”
“Cloud, if you don’t like this next wish, just say so. I want to give the mop to you. But if I do my mother will kill me, so I need a replacement. If you could send one down identical to this one, including the nicks on the handle — only no magic, a regular mop — I’d really appreciate it.”
“Ridiculous.”
“That’s it.”
Soon the new mop came floating down from the tunnel. One of the others held it away from Hayden while Jordan mopped the remaining corner.
Then the final wish, and as the magic mop drifted slowly upward, the leader gave a sob and made a desperate lunge for the trailing mophead, snagged it and held on. Together they rose, mop and child. Ascending the heavens, both began to shrink.
“Hayden!” someone called out. “Hay-den!”
Jordan hoped it was all a dream.
A week or so later Mrs. Marble was watching the news. The unsolved disappearance of a local child had already given way to more pressing and unique global matters. Such a ceasefire was unprecedented.
Jordan, obscured by a door frame, heard the doorbell ring and watched as Mrs. Marble was paid a visit by an employee of the Internal Revenue Service.
“You have a lovely home here,” he said.
THE END