"The Phantom Tollbooth"

Earlier this school year, my brother Reuben and I had to read "The Phantom Tollbooth" by Norton Juster. It is basically an awesome book of plays on words. After reading it, our assignment was to write an additional chapter for it. Thus...

More adventures in “The Phantom Tollbooth”
By Johan

As Milo, Tock and the Humbug continued their journey, they were soon shocked to find a man without a head walking along the road in front of them. Milo immediately slowed down and stopped a little ways ahead of him.

“Who’s there?” The man asked as he ran into the back of the car, causing it to lurch forward slightly.

“Our names are Milo, Tock and the Humbug.” Milo replied. “What is your name?”

“My name is Headless, but I am called Heedless, because I never pay attention to where I’m going,” he said, as he rammed into the back of the car again.

“Where are you going?” asked Milo, “we can take you if it is along this road.”

“Thank you,” replied Headless as he hopped into the car, his foot landing on the accelerator. “It is just a mile down this road at the Face It Clock Factory.”

They took off with a lurch. Milo managed to get Headless off the accelerator, and drove along slowly in the overstuffed car. Milo wondered to himself what a headless man would want with clocks. A headless man couldn’t see anyway, could he? Maybe he wanted a face?

Soon they arrived at the clock factory. They could see many headless men milling around. As they got out of the car, Headless tripped over Milo, causing them both to hit the ground.

“Ouch!” exclaimed Milo, as he and Headless rubbed their bruises.

“Are you OK? What on earth is going on over there?” asked the Humbug, not stopping to let them answer his first question.

Soon they discovered the cause of the excitement. The Face It Clock Company was sponsoring a race for headless men, and the first prize was a genuine head.

The race was about to begin. The contestants were scattered all over the racetrack, and none of the contestants could see where the others were, or that there were hurdles scattered over the track.

The contestants were numbered in a peculiar fashion. Instead of 1, 2,3, etc., they were numbered A1, A2…A9, B1, B2… etc. They quickly got Headless a number, “B4”, and brought him to the racetrack.

The crowd of spectators hushed as the CEO of Face It Clock Factory, Grandfather Clock, slowly went up to the podium. Without warning, his alarm suddenly went off, signaling the contestants that the race had begun.

What happened next is hard to describe. The contestants ran at their full speed in no particular direction, running into each other and the hurdles and falling in little heaps here and there, making a big mess. The announcer was having a lot of trouble telling who was in the lead, because the racers kept changing directions, worried that they were going the wrong direction.

“Look!” cried the Humbug, “B4 is ahead!”

“WHAT!” Yelled a bystander in Tock’s ear, not able to find the Humbug’s insect ear. “How can he be a head if he is only a body?”

Right then, the announcer announced, “B4 is currently behind.”

“WAIT,” added the announcer, “‘hind’ is not a number. B4 is in the rear.”

“Oh my,” said Tock. “This is giving me a headache.”

Immediately, those that were in the front of the group that were going the right way (most of them were going the wrong way) tripped over a hurdle and fell in a stack of writhing, headless bodies. Somehow Headless missed them and crossed the finish line seven feet from the hurdle.

“Hooray!” cheered the crowd.

The announcer proclaimed, “B4 is our winner. He is not a head, he has not a head, but he now wins a head. Congratulations!”

But Headless wasn’t paying attention. Not knowing he was the winner, he had turned and started running in the opposite direction down the racetrack and had tripped over a hurdle.

After they had caught Headless (Tock caught him by biting his pants, forcing him to stop), Grandfather Clock presented Headless with his new head, which was fitted on immediately.

As he went home, Headless, proudly wearing his new head and now renamed “Heady”, sang a new song of his own making which is reproduced here:

“I got a head!
Who cares the color, it may be red!
If pink:
Who cares, I can think!
Is it orange, I wonder?
It’s better than lavender.
If it is yellow—
Well, I feel like a real fellow!
If it is dreary and gray—
Oh, joy, I’ll remember today!
If it be blue,
(What color is it? I haven’t a clue—)”

Here he left off singing, realizing that he was colorblind and couldn’t think of any other colors.

~ ~ ~ ~

Milo and his friends hopped back in the car and headed off down the road. Tock’s headache had gotten worse, and his ears and teeth also hurt.

“I wish I didn’t have a head,” he murmured.