The Stonking Steps

By Will Rogers

SEVEN-YEAR-OLD JUSTIN WALKER is unhappy living
with his narrow-minded Aunty Doris and Uncle Ron. He wants
more than anything to live with his beloved mother. His
unhappiness increases when, just before Christmas, he
overhears his aunt planning to send him to a foster home.

The next day, while out on an errand, Justin discovers a
portal into the world of ING-ONG-UNG. There he meets
Benny the raccoon and his wife Loretta who tell Justin about
THE STONKING STEPS, the fabled staircase to happiness.
Maybe if Justin goes there he will be reunited with his mother!
Benny and Loretta decide to accompany Justin on his journey.
Along the way more friends join them in their quest - Nutmeg
the gingerbread man, Gregory and Norman the horses, Paco
the wooden boy. They all have their own reasons for going to
the Stonking Steps.

On their journey, they encounter the evil Nono who
programs children's mischievous behaviour on his computer,
the greedy Hip who intercepts presents children are supposed
to receive from Santa, and the devious schoolteacher Miss
Bloop who gives impossible homework assignments.

Can they get past the villains to get to the Stonking
Steps and find the happiness they are seeking?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Jan 14, 2004
• ISBN: 9781412215565

Will Rogers

Will Rogers works as a teachers' aid in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. He feels his high-functioning autism gives him a unique perspective on the world. He loves maps, weather statistics, travel and words ending with the letter 'Q'. He recently completed a solo 122 mile hike. Honor Kever has exhibited her photographs and paintings in public galleries across Canada. She tries to have a unique perspective on the world, but as a neurotypical she is challenged in this regard. She likes to hike, garden and tap dance. Visit Will Rogers' website at www.thestonkingsteps.com

Book preview

THE STONKING STEPS

a journey through

ING-ONG-UNG

by Will Rogers

Illustrations by Honor Kever

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Trafford Publishing, Victoria, British Columbia

© Copyright 2003 Will Rogers. All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used ficticiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Edited by Judy McCrosky

Cover illustration and interior drawings by Honor E. Kever

Maps by Will Rogers

Book and cover design by Betsy Rosenwald

National Library of Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Rogers, Will, 1969-

The stonking steps / by Will Rogers ; illustrated by Honor Kever.

ISBN 1-4120-0945-6

ISBN 978-1-4122-1556-5 (ebook)

I. Kever, Honor, 1948-II. Title.

PS8585.O39535S76 2003   jC813’.6   C2003-904180-8

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This book was published on-demand in cooperation with Trafford Publishing.

On-demand publishing is a unique process and service of making a book available for retail sale to the public taking advantage of on-demand manufacturing and Internet marketing. On-demand publishing includes promotions, retail sales, manufacturing, order fulfilment, accounting and collecting royalties on behalf of the author.

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Contents

CHAPTER ONE      The Transient Boy

CHAPTER TWO      Aunty Doris’s Ideas On Raising Justin

CHAPTER THREE      Uncle Ron’s Ideas on Raising Justin

CHAPTER FOUR      Justin at Home in Aspen Grove

CHAPTER FIVE      The Gateway to Ing-Ong-Ung

CHAPTER SIX      Benny and Loretta

CHAPTER SEVEN      Twenty Words Ending With Q

CHAPTER EIGHT      Nutmeg of Cookieapolis

CHAPTER NINE      Our Friends Are Imprisoned

CHAPTER TEN      Nono of No-Noes

CHAPTER ELEVEN      Gregory, Norman, Stephen, and Alexander

CHAPTER TWELVE      Nono Questions Our Friends

CHAPTER THIRTEEN      A Plan

CHAPTER FOURTEEN      The Garage Door Opener

CHAPTER FIFTEEN      Hip the Present Collector

CHAPTER SIXTEEN      Hip’s Castle

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN      Paco

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN      The Poor-Bound Toys

CHAPTER NINETEEN      Justin Sees His Future

CHAPTER TWENTY      Nono and Hip’s Plot

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE      The Voyage Down Canyon de Telly

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO      Arriving in Tellyho

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE      Dekodia

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR      An Evening With the Rabbitts

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE      Enemies On the Trail

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX      Paco the Matador

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN      The Dreaded Teacher

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT      Escape

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE      Laughlin

CHAPTER THIRTY      The Gnittpikkers of Fussen

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE      The Guessing of Names

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO      Nono, Hip, & Miss Bloop On the Warpath

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE      The Stonking Steps—and More

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR      Bob Sledd and Tom Catt

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE      Aunty Doris & Uncle Ron See Justin’s Future

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX      What Our Friends Found in Iceland

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN      The Voyage on Santa’s Sleigh

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT      The Arrival of the Party Guests

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE      Christmas Day in the Morning

CHAPTER FORTY      Afterword

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

ABOUT THE ILLUSTRATOR

For my grandmother, Honor Martin Kever (1918-1999)

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CHAPTER ONE

The Transient Boy

M R. AND MRS. BLOCK WERE NOT HAPPY PEOPLE. Perhaps it had to do with what a doctor had told them several years ago; that they could never have their own babies. Or perhaps they felt other people had more of everything than they did. Anyway, they were the last people you’d expect to be involved in anything fantastic or juvenile or, let’s face it, fun.

Mr. Block was the director of a business called R Block Software Services Ltd. He was a tall, skinny man with thinning hair and greying beard. He rarely laughed or smiled. He worked for ten hours a day. Mrs. Block worked part-time as a real estate agent at Aspen Grove Realty. She was husky and blonde and had a loud voice, which came in handy for shouting at the neighbourhood children when they came into her front yard to get their balls or frisbees.

On the cold, crisp Wednesday afternoon this story begins, Mrs. Block definitely felt like shouting. She had gotten a call from her brother Larry, who lived in Regina, that morning. She didn’t have much to do with Larry and certainly not with his no-good ex-wife, who seemed to think responsibilities were someone else’s job.

Seven years ago, shortly after Rachel and Larry separated, Rachel discovered that she was pregnant. She raised Justin by herself for five years, but she seemed to prefer dates and vacations. No wonder she dumped Justin and even less wonder she just moved to Vancouver.

Larry said he needed to send Justin to live with them. After living with his mother, Justin had gone to live with a relative, and then another relative, and yet another relative, and then with Larry. But now Larry had a busy job and couldn’t take care of Justin in the morning or late afternoon. There was no choice other than Larry’s sister, Doris Block, and her husband Ron.

Mrs. Block explained the whole thing to Mr. Block when he got home from work.

Why should we be responsible for taking in Larry’s kid when we hardly even know Larry and Justin? demanded Mr. Block.

Well, my idiotic brother can’t handle it anymore, said Mrs. Block.

"So-we have to handle it?"

Well, they are a family, you know.

"Yeah, your family."

Look, Larry said he’ll send us money to help pay for Justin’s expenses.

But what about our trip to Costa Rica?

Mrs. Block sighed and shrugged her shoulders. I guess we can’t go.

What did Larry think they were, anyway? Day care workers? Did he ever invite them over to spend Christmas or Thanksgiving with him? Of course not! So why should they be given this responsibility in addition to slaving away at software and real estate businesses? Nevertheless, they told Larry they would take

Justin in, which allowed them to complain and whine, and they were both pretty fond of that.

As of the following Saturday, in addition to Ron and Doris Block, a seven-year-old boy named Justin Walker was now living at 142 16th Street, Aspen Grove, Saskatchewan, Canada.

It was late October, and cold and gloomy outside. Justin’s mother was a thousand miles away. He had enjoyed visiting with her on the odd weekend or holiday, but now he wouldn’t see her again for a long, long time. And now that Justin was in this new place, he would never see his friend James anymore. James was a lot older than Justin-about twenty years old-but he was his best friend. James had worked in the library at Justin’s school in Regina and had read with the kids. Justin and James played together, they went for walks, and James pushed Justin on the swings … and now it was even too cold for swings.

CHAPTER TWO

Aunty Doris’s Ideas On Raising Justin

DON’T LET HIM TRACK IN DIRT, DON’T LET HIM LEAVE the house with his room untidy, don’t let him wrap you around his little finger, don’t let him clutter the house with his things, don’t let him make work for Ron and me, and don’t above all don’t don’t don’t let him grow up like that flibbertygibbet mother of his, and don’t let him … don’t let …. don’t…..

CHAPTER THREE

Uncle Ron’s Ideas on Raising Justin

LET DORIS RAISE THE KID.

CHAPTER FOUR

Justin at Home in Aspen Grove

IT WAS A COLD AND CLOUDY DECEMBER EVENING, ONE week until Christmas. Snowflakes were flying through the air. Justin, bundled in a coat, scarf, and toque, sat on the front porch of his parents’ house. Well, actually, his Aunty Doris’s and Uncle Ron’s house. Justin called them his parents even though they rarely held him or praised him, were usually too busy to read to him, and grounded him if he forgot to do up his jacket on chilly days or make his bed.

Justin looked soberly at the Christmas lights on the roofs across the street and at the Christmas trees glowing through living-room windows. He would not be seeing his mother this Christmas because she was spending the holidays in Cancun. Maybe he wouldn’t see her any Christmas, or any day. But Justin wanted more than anything to live with his mother. She didn’t yell at him or ground him like Aunty Doris and Uncle Ron did.

He wished he were in a story, like the one about the girl who was whisked to that magical land by a tornado, or the one about those kids who went to that place through a wardrobe, or the one about that kid who’d lived with his wicked aunts and then crossed the ocean in a gigantic peach with those friendly giant bugs. Those kids were sure lucky. If Justin was in a story, maybe he’d have some exciting adventures and at the end, he’d get to live with his mom.

The door of the house opened. Justin, come in and fold the laundry I laid out for you, said his aunt. Justin got up from the porch and came inside. Justin, shut the door! You’re letting in cold air! said Aunty Doris, loudly. Jus-stop! Don’t walk on the rug with your boots on! Now we have to wash the floor!

Justin did his task. After that, supper was ready. While he was eating, Aunty Doris said, Justin, get your elbows off the table! Justin, don’t hold your fork like that. Justin, CLOSE YOUR MOUTH WHILE YOU ARE EATING!

Justin remembered that there was to be a Christmas fair at the church the next evening, the nineteenth of December. There would be treats, games, sleigh rides, a riot of fun. So after dinner, he asked his uncle about the festival.

Tomorrow night is the Christmas party with the people I work with, said Uncle Ron.

But can I go to the festival? begged Justin.

No, because we’re going to be together as family and friends, said his uncle, firmly.

Please?

No.

Justin turned to his aunt. Can I go, Aunty?

Justin, your Uncle Ron says no and I don’t want to hear about it anymore.

It’s not fair, pouted Justin. You never let me do anything. His aunt and uncle ignored him. Justin hoped that Santa wouldn’t bring them any presents for not letting him go to the church festival or do anything fun. He begged some more for Aunty Doris and Uncle Ron to let him go to the festival, but it was like trying to get a dog to meow like a cat. If Justin said one more word, Aunty Doris said, he was grounded. His mom would have let him go.

That night, as he lay awake in bed, Justin could hear his aunt’s telephone voice somewhere outside his bedroom door. He made out the words foster home and his own name. Foster home. Foster home. Justin had heard about foster homes.

He froze solid in his cozy bed.

For the remainder of the night, Justin tossed and turned about and groaned, and whenever he fell asleep, he dreamed about foster homes, great clanking doors, and living in the streets.

Now would be a great time for something to happen like in the fantasy books his teachers had read to his class. If things like that ever did happen …

CHAPTER FIVE

The Gateway to Ing-Ong-Ung

‘THE NEXT DAY, TOWARDS EVENING, AUNTY DORIS sent Justin to the confectionary to buy some potato chips for the party guests. Justin started out with his coat undone.

Justin, do up your coat! Aunty Doris scolded. I shouldn’t have to keep telling you that!

Justin did up his coat.

And put on your mitts and hat.

Justin obeyed.

And your scarf.

But it’s not very cold out.

Yes it is, so quit arguing and do as I say.

And Justin had to obey.

And don’t stop anywhere on the way. Go right to the store and come right back.

Off Justin went, wondering what fun a kid could possibly have at a party where there was nothing but a bunch of grownups yacking about things he didn’t care about, like politics, income tax, mortgages, bank accounts, fibble-fibble-foo.

On second thought, maybe he would go to the church festival. Why should he have to do what his aunt and uncle said? They weren’t his parents and they certainly weren’t the mom he loved. After all, the Ten Commandments said, Honor Thy Father and Thy Mother, but they didn’t say, Honor Thy Aunty and Thy Uncle. Definitely not Honor Thy Aunty and Thy Uncle If They Plan to Send Thee to Live With Foster …

Justin trembled. He sighed.

He made up his mind to go to the festival and he didn’t care if he got grounded until Easter. Phooey on Uncle Ron’s party. And phooey, phooey, phooey on Uncle Ron and Aunty Doris.

Justin walked past a vast park scattered with evergreen trees. He decided to cut across the park. He was sure he could get to the church that way. So across the park he started.

He passed the swings, slides, seesaw, and monkey bars, and soon he trotted through a parkland of snow-covered evergreens. They looked so Christmassy. Carols were playing in his head.

Justin expected the park to end at another street which would lead him to the church. But the sound of traffic faded and the evergreens grew thicker. Soon, he found himself in the middle of a silent, brooding wood. There was no sign of life here. The sun was setting, turning the trees reddish brown and the snow orangey pink.

Justin was worried. However, if he kept going straight ahead, he would probably come to some place he recognized. As time passed, the sunset turned to a pale dusk and stars appeared through the treetops. Before long, it was night and a full moon shone over the woods so that he could see his way.

Still, the woods showed no sign of ending. Uncle Ron’s party would have started long ago. Justin would be doomed when he got home. He’d be grounded for sure, probably for the rest of his life.

The night grew colder and the air was crisp. Justin’s cheeks and nose hurt and his fingers and toes were numb. His stomach grumbled, reminding him that it was empty. He was all alone. He should have listened to his aunt and uncle and gone right to the store. He started to cry.

He went a little further, choking on a few sobs, and then he saw lights through the trees. That was good. Lights meant there were probably some people around to help him to get to the church.

He walked towards the lights. Soon, he walked among tall evergreen trees studded with Christmas lights of every colour and hung with big, round ornaments. The lights in these woods of Christmas trees gave a warm, orangey glow. Justin felt much less cold. At the same time, he faintly heard a band playing. So this must be the church festival.

As he