Full of Beans: Chapters 1–5

I was so burned up by his words that steam just about burst out of my ears. And believe me, it was sweltering outside. Key West in July was stinking hot.

“You say that every time, Beans,” Kermit said, munching on the measly lunch the nickel had bought us: cracker sandwiches.

The shiny automobile rolled down the dirt road, hitting every gaping pothole. It looked strange and out of place, like something from a Hollywood picture.

The underpants in question were long; they hit him just above the knee. They showed off pasty-white, hairy legs. On top, the portly man sported a long-sleeved suit shirt with a bow tie. He finished off the whole ensemble with a fedora.

The underpants in question were long; they hit him just above the knee. They showed off pasty-white, hairy legs. On top, the portly man sported a long-sleeved suit shirt with a bow tie. He finished off the whole ensemble with a fedora.

The underpants in question were long; they hit him just above the knee. They showed off pasty-white, hairy legs. On top, the portly man sported a long-sleeved suit shirt with a bow tie. He finished off the whole ensemble with a fedora.

“I’m Kermit!” Kermit was like the mayor of Key West. Kid would talk to anybody. “This is my brother Beans!”
“How quaint,” he murmured.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Did you just insult us?”

He held out his hand. “I’m Julius Stone, Jr. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Is the rest of the town in a similar state?” he asked.
He waved his hands at the weathered gray wooden houses, set close together, that lined the street.
“What do you mean?” I asked him.
“Are all the houses this decrepit?”

“Take Buddy out. I can’t get any washing done with this one in my hair.” My mother took in laundry for other families in town to help pay the bills.
“Aw, Ma, do we have to?” I asked, eyeing my dangling baby brother with distaste.

The dog had been trailing after us for a while. More of these dogs than ever before were roaming around, and they were thin and gaunt and fearless.

We started walking, and in no time flat, Buddy was fast asleep. The lulling movement, combined with the heat, had knocked him out like a prizefighter’s punch. Worked every time.

“Who died?” Kermit asked.
Johnny Cakes took off his hat and waved it. “Terrible malaria epidemic in Havana. These poor fishermen got caught up in it, I’m afraid,” he said.

“Who died?” Kermit asked.
Johnny Cakes took off his hat and waved it. “Terrible malaria epidemic in Havana. These poor fishermen got caught up in it, I’m afraid,” he said.

Just then, Buddy woke up and whimpered. His hand knocked off the blanket, so I flipped it back over his face.
“Aren’t you being kind of hard on the tyke?” Johnny Cakes asked me.

“It’s one-three-four!” I looked down at the card. “Eaton and White Streets!”
“I was gonna say that, too. You always beat me!” Kermit groused.

“Someday I’ll know more!”
I snickered. “Not likely.”

My stomach was churning. Move to New Jersey? I couldn’t imagine living anywhere but Key West! It was the only home I’d ever known.

“Oooh,” Kermit said, picking up a bollo, then putting it down. He picked up another one, inspecting it.
“Don’t touch every single one of them with your grubby fingers!” Ira said.

“Word is, they’re saying they can beat us,” Ira added with a look.
Pork Chop scoffed.
“Baloney!” he said. Pork Chop had a way with words.

“Hey, fellas!” he trilled.
I groaned. It was Too Bad.
“Want to play marbles?” Too Bad asked, holding up a fabric pouch.

We got down to business the next day. But it turned out that making gum for a lot of people was harder than just making it for yourself. First of all, you couldn’t get much sap out of a single sapodilla tree, so we had to crisscross town, scouring streets for dilly trees.

The man had a walking dairy. He sold milk door-to-door to housewives, straight from a cow. The fella was the smartest peddler in town, in my opinion. He sold something folks needed, and he went right to the customer.

We started peddling. I even made up a little ditty to sing:
Fresh fruit cut-up!
It’s the best!
So tasty and delicious,
You can’t resist!

“Look, Beans!” Kermit said, pointing. “It’s the lunatic!”
Sure enough, Mr. Stone was standing in the center of the throng in his underpants.

Right away, it was clear that he was no kind of salesman. Judging from the shouts, no one was buying whatever he was peddling. They were riled up.

“Well, hello there, Beans, Kermit,” Mr. Gardner said. “What can I do for you?”
I jerked my head at my brother. “He’s got worms again.”
He gave Kermit an appraising look.
“Ah, I see,” he said. “I have just the thing.”

Up the way was a bar where fishermen liked to hang out. Key West was a thirsty town. Nothing could shut down the bars and taverns. Not Prohibition. Not even this Depression.

“Ah, just the young man I wanted to see,” he said, his face illuminated by candlelight.

“That kid’s my best worker,” Winky confided loudly to the man sitting next to him. “He’ll crawl through anything for me. And I do mean anything.”