Max Downstairs: Episode 5

The floor gave way under Tilley Tartmore’s feet, Max’s garden stones flying every which way. 

Tilley wobbled on the edge of the stinky, smoky hole, pumping her bony arms like a windmill to keep from falling in.

Arty and Keisha stood there a second, considering. But if a person is about to fall into the Underside, you pretty much have to help her no matter what she plans to do to your resident troll. They pulled her to safety. The three of them ran to Max’s bed and huddled together, trembling.

Keisha wished she still had her mop. She didn’t like confronting situations like this without a weapon.

Arty, being more of a diplomat, wished he had a bucket of troll slop or a chocolate chip cookie to offer whoever was doing all the growling.

“That fissure is very smelly,” Tilley Tartmore said. “A disgrace to the neighborhood.” She didn’t even thank Keisha and Arty for saving her, and she didn’t say how she got into Max’s cellar in the first place.

The crack was six feet long and four feet wide when it stopped growing. The smoke cleared, but the smell intensified.  

“Like that time we had a dead skunk under the porch,” Keisha whispered. “Plus gym socks.”

“Gym socks that fell in a sewer,” Arty said.

The growling got louder.

Something crawled out of the fissure.

Something small and gray and furry. “Mew,” it said.

“Aw,” said Arty. “It’s a kitten.”

“But something’s still growling,” Keisha said.

A huge hand emerged from the crack in Max’s garden. The kitten danced over and hunkered down on it, purring. The hand flicked her away. “Not now, kitty,” said a voice like an earthquake. 

And out crawled . . . another troll. But this one was bigger than Max and Max’s mother put together. He wasn’t green like them—in fact, he was pasty pale, not that healthy-looking. He had on leather pants and a vest, just like Max’s, but they were dirty and ragged. He was barefoot.

The troll stood up, bending almost in half to keep from whacking his head on the ceiling. “You called?” he bellowed.

He looked around, saw Arty and Keisha and Tilley Tartmore cowering on the bed, and growled like a giant rockslide, showing his pointy teeth.  “Where is that little creep?”

The kitten danced over and bit him on the toe.

“Cutie,” said the troll, picking her up.

“That kitten must be an alien too,” Tilley Tartmore whispered.

A few things happened then. A door slammed far, far upstairs, probably in the kitchen. A pack of dogs started howling.

Max peeked out of the entrance to his tunnel. Arty dug an elbow into Keisha’s ribs, but she’d already seen him.

Max put a finger to his lips, telling them to be quiet. 

—Ellen, with story ingredients by the clever Joanna.

Ingredients needed for the next scene: Who is the giant troll, and why is Max hiding from him? Who slammed the door upstairs, and why are the dogs howling? Who (or what) is the kitten?

 Bonus question: How did Tilley Tartmore get into Max’s cellar?

The Recipe: In the comments to THIS EPISODE, give us your best ideas to answer our questions. We’ll collect your answers Tuesday at 11 p.m. (Eastern Daylight Time) and will use as many as we can to write the next scene. If you want to, sign your first name to your idea so we can give you credit.

Come back Thursday to see what we wrote!

If we don’t take your suggestion this time, be sure to keep playing—we need your help to cook up a good story!