Wevwet's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Wevwet had a wooden chair glued to his head, and the glue was a wad of pink gum that would not let go. He was seventy-one years old. He had spent all morning on the porch of his little cabin, fighting the chair. The gum held the seat flat against his gray hair. Every time he pulled the chair, his scalp burned like fire. He braced both hands on the chair legs and yanked. Hair ripped. He yelped and let go. The chair thumped back against his skull. He tried again, slower, and the pain still stopped him cold. He could not pull hard enough to loosen the gum without tearing his hair out. "Stupid gum," he muttered. He didn't even remember sitting under a chair. He only knew it was stuck now, and he wanted it gone. A scaled penguin waddled up the sagging cabin steps. Its feathers looked like green and purple armor. It tilted its head at Wevwet and made a low click. "Don't laugh," Wevwet said. "I've had enough." The penguin pecked at the chair leg, then at Wevwet's sleeve. It tugged him toward the yard. Wevwet followed, because he had no better idea. The penguin stopped under a slender tree. One thin branch held a single orange. Wevwet stared at it. Then he understood. Orange peel had oils. Oils broke down gum. He had learned that scrubbing gum off his boots years ago. He reached up and twisted the orange free. He dug his thumb into the peel and squeezed. Juice and oil ran over his fingers. He rubbed the wet peel into the gum on his head, working it deep. The gum went soft and slick. He pressed the chair legs again. This time he twisted instead of pulling. The gum stretched, thinned, and finally let go with a wet snap. The chair came loose in his hands. His hair stayed on his head. Wevwet held the chair up and laughed out loud. His scalp still stung, but the weight was gone. The penguin clicked and flapped its stubby wings. Then Wevwet felt the gum in his fingers. It had slid off the chair and onto his hand. He shook his hand hard. The gum clung tighter. He grabbed it with his other hand to peel it off, and now both hands stuck together, wrapped in the same pink wad. He pulled his palms apart. They snapped back like a trap. The orange oil was already gone, worked into the chair and his hair. His hands were sealed, fingers laced, in front of him. Wevwet stood in his yard with his hands glued shut and no way to twist the orange for more oil. The penguin watched. Wevwet looked at his trapped hands and swallowed. "Well," he said. "That's worse."