Bibi did not see the package on the front step, because she went straight to her back yard, shed her clothing and climbed into the hot tub. This was fortunate, because at precisely eight o'clock in the evening the package exploded.
Well, not exactly. It would be more accurate to say that something inside the package exploded, releasing a truly disgusting odor and sending little bits of glop in all directions.
Roderick was sitting on his porch with Grandpa, when he heard a phud and smelled something really gross. At first, he thought Grandpa had farted -- on most evenings after dinner, Grandpa likes to let loose a few good ones -- but soon he realized that this smell was far worse than Grandpa's Greatest Fart Ever. (For the record, that was two years ago, at the Annual Charity Dinner in Beauneville Hall, after a dinner of liver and onions washed down with two bottles of stout. Grandpa let one loose during the Keynote Speech, and cleared the hall. The Speaker cut short his remarks, to much applause).
No, this smell was far worse than a Grandpa Fart. Roderick ran to the Ericson's, where he met Megan Cupcake, who had rushed over from her house. A small crowd gathered, including Amanda Dennis, who furiously scribbled notes. Bibi, who had heard the explosion and smelled the smell, leapt from the hot tub and ran to the front yard without pausing to don her clothing; dripping wet in the stark bucko, her skin was rosy pink from the hot tub.
"Is it a stink bomb?" whispered someone in the crowd.
"A hate crime!" someone muttered. Amanda could hardly contain herself. A story!
Mr. Ericson stepped out on the porch, gingerly avoiding the little balls of glop that littered the porch. He saw the mess around the carton, looked at the crowd and laughed out loud, then stepped inside and yelled something up the stairs in Swedish.
Someone offered Bibi a blanket, which she wrapped around herself -- more out of cold than modesty. Roderick approached her and introduced her to Megan. Amanda scribbled another note.
"Was it a bomb?" asked Roderick.
Bibi laughed. "A bomb? No! Ees ze surstromming, ze...how you say...ze sour feesh! From ze grandmama! You like ze surstromming, ya?"
Roderick did not know whether or not he liked surstromming. He was thinking that if it had anything to do with Bibi vizout ze clothes it would be OK, but on the other hand, he would prefer to avoid ze sour fish.
Bibi continued. "In Sveden, ve like ze herring zat is...how you say in Eenglish...peekled! Ze herring eet ees vermented in ze can, and sometimes eet explode from ze gas!". Roderick made a mental note to look up surstromming in Wikipedia, the repository of all knowledge, and also to remember that Swedes are kind of odd.
Turning to Megan, Bibi asked: "You like ze sauna, ya?"
Megan looked at Roderick. "I don't know...". Roderick nodded to reassure Megan. He thought to himself that the opportunity to spend time with Bibi and Megan vizout ze clothes was not to be missed.
They went downstairs to the sauna. Bibi shed her blanket, Megan -- bubbly, buxom and uncomplicated -- shed her clothes, and Roderick did the same. They entered the sweltering heat of the sauna; Bibi and Megan sat on the bench on one side, and Roderick sat on the other side. He hadn't seen Megan in the alltogether before this, and he was impressed, to say the least.
Meanwhile, Molly banged away on the Bloom's Bosendorfer. She played through the Diabelli, using the Maestro's tempi, and it worked. Midway through the twenty-fifth variation, she thought of his hand on her upper thigh.
Across town, in a dark spot near the Mill Pond, a brief encounter took place in the back seat of a two-tone 1957 Chevrolet Bel Air. The teens of Beauneville are not sexually active, except for Mary Bloom, who is insatiable. And her partners.
