It was a Thursday afternoon. Mom was at the kitchen table writing something down.
"Mom?" Calvin shouted. "When are you going to the store?"
"I don't know. Maybe tomorrow. What do you need?"
Calvin walked in with two pillows tied onto either end of him and a football helmet on his head.
"We seem to be out of gun powder," he explained. "The Great Flying Calvin can not fly out of a cannon without gun powder."
Mom didn't quite know how to respond, so she said what she said when she didn't know what to say: "Go to your room."
"Why?"
"Just go."
"But I didn't do it yet!" protested Calvin.
"Just go!" Mom said, a little louder.
"Jeez…," Calvin muttered, and he went upstairs to his room.
Hobbes was waiting for him. "I told you it wouldn't work."
"Oh hush, you always get me in trouble."
Calvin removed his crash outfit and got up on the bed, lying down on the pillow.
"If only I had something interesting to do," he sighed. "This place is so boring. I'm not allowed to do anything I want. I'm limited to the walls of the front yard to the backyard. Mom and Dad are just so boring. Their idea of fun is going to some banquet dinner where Dad dresses up in a top hat and tails like the guy on the Monopoly box, and Mom dresses like some woman who just got married."
Hobbes nodded in agreement. "What we need is a hobby. Something that will keep us busy."
"Like what? Mom won't let us keep bugs in the house anymore."
"That was your fault by the way," Hobbes muttered.
"Is it my fault that the dung beetles made their way into the mixing bowl?"
"Maybe we could build something?"
Calvin lit up.
"Now you're talking. What should we build?"
"How about a birdhouse?"
"Are you kidding? That is so sissy like."
Hobbes looked around the room for inspiration. He spotted comic books scattered all around the bedroom.
"Okay, what about a bookcase for your comic books?"
"There ya go. Come on. Let's go get some wood and tools."
"Are you sure your dad will let us use them?"
His question was answered when they entered the garage. Dad was trying to fix his bike.
"Dad? Can I use your tools?"
"No," Dad said, not looking up.
"But I wanna build a bookcase."
"What for? You don't have any books."
"It's for my comic books."
Dad snorted. "Those aren't books. They're garbage."
"You're just saying that because you were never a kid yourself."
"Of course I was. I used to go camping with my parents loads of times. We'd read novels of great writers, and then I'd…"
"I didn't notice anything in there about TV or comics," interrupted Calvin.
"Right. I was always outside having fun, unlike you."
"Hey! I go outside a lot. But come on Dad. Didn't you ever watch that Batman show or the read Superman comics?"
"Those would have been a waste of time. I had far too many outdoor activities."
"What about whenever it rained?"
"That's when I did other fun things like play Monopoly or…"
"That's great, Dad," Calvin interrupted again. "Come on, Hobbes. Let's go leave Mr. Doldrums to his excuses." He picked up his stuffed tiger and left.
"It was fun! Believe you me! It was! It was!" Dad shouted.
They sat back down on the bed again.
"Your dad is pretty darn dull," Hobbes said, putting the comic books into a pile.
"I'll say. What're we gonna do now? We have nothing to do."
"I have an idea."
"What?"
"We could go down to Brown's General Store just down the road."
"What for? That's not a hobby!"
"I know, but I've got a real hankering for some Gummy Worms."
"All right," Calvin sighed. "At least we're allowed to walk that far."
"Whoopee! Let's go!"
Hobbes scurried out the door with Calvin following.
Brown's General Store is the best place in the world for Calvin and Hobbes. They get their supply of water balloons there, and they enjoy reading magazines and eating candy while they're there. It's only a block away, so his parents don't mind him walking down there.
Once there, Calvin and Hobbes wandered up and down the aisles. Hobbes finally came across the candy aisle. He scanned it, looking for Gummy Worms. He walked with his head sideways, going up and down, muttering.
Calvin was bored. He casually looked over at the other aisle. Something caught his eye at the far end.
"Hey, there's some neat stuff over here!"
Hobbes walked over with the Gummy Worms in hand.
"There's some potential hobby stuff over here," he commented.
"What is there?"
"There are jigsaw puzzles, molding clay, Do-It-Yourself Airplane models…," he said, looking them over.
Calvin's eyes went wide. "Wait a minute! Models! That's what we can do! We could make the world's largest model collection! What kinds are there?"
Hobbes squinted his eyes and looked some more.
"Uh, let's see here."
He muttered incoherently. He stopped when he spotted one.
"Ooh, this one looks nice," he said.
"Which one? Let me see!"
Hobbes pulled down the box. Upon further inspection, they saw that it read DO IT YOURSELF: F-4 PHANTOM JET on the top. There was a picture of a Phantom Jet on a plastic stand.
Calvin was very impressed.
They looked at each other and grinned.
"This is it, buddy!" said Calvin excitedly. "This is it. This is the model for us to build."
"Let's go ring it up," said Hobbes.
They ran to the check-out counter. Calvin placed the model and Gummy Worms on the scanner. A male clerk scanned the items and put them in a plastic bag.
"That will be $6.70," he said in a lifeless tone.
Calvin took out some money and put it on the counter.
The clerk put it in the cash register and took out a few coins. He handed them to Calvin.
"Your change is 30 cents. Have a nice day."
Calvin pulled out a calculator.
"Hold on there," he said. "Let's see. I've seen my dad use this thing before. Let's see… Hey! 6.70 plus 7 equals $7.70! Fork over the cash, you thief!"
"Try subtracting the numbers," the clerk said.
Calvin looked a little unsure.
"Uh, never mind. I'll take your word for it. Good day."
Calvin took the sack in one hand and his stuffed tiger in the other. As he walked past the security guard, he whispered something to him. The guard nodded, and Calvin left, shoulders slumped.
Once they were in their bedroom again, Calvin took the box out of the bag.
"Okay, Hobbes. Let's get started on our new hobby," he said.
Hobbes slurped up the last Gummy Worm. "Right," he said.
Calvin opened the box.
"Wow!" he gasped. "Look at all these little pieces."
He took out to squares that held the pieces on. He handed one to Hobbes.
"Here. You can put these pieces together. I'll do these. Then we'll stick them together. Got it?"
Hobbes reached into the box and pulled out a fold sheet of paper. He unfolded it diagonally, then vertically, then diagonally, then vertically and then he repeated that process about five more times. The unfolded paper covered him up like a blanket.
"Should we read the instructions?" he asked.
"Oh, stop being such a sissy," Calvin snorted. "It'll be easy."
Hobbes yanked the instruction off of his person. "Are you sure? Don't you remember the last time we didn't read the instructions for something?"
"Hey, that was a perfect model of Elvis Presley!"
"Yeah, but it was supposed to be a skateboard."
"Oh, come on. That was then. This is now. We've learned from our mistakes."
"But you're still not using the instructions!" Hobbes said.
"Yeah. The lesson was that skateboards stink."
"Ah, true."
"Now let's get started."
Three hours later, Calvin and Hobbes were sitting in a pile of plastic pieces.
Calvin was trying to piece together a wheel strut when it suddenly snapped.
"Nuts. This wheel strut snapped," he said, clearly frustrated. "Why do they make these things so small?"
"So that they'll fit in the house?" Hobbes guessed.
Calvin tossed the broken piece into the trash with the rest of the broken pieces.
"Oh well. I guess that was an optional piece."
Hobbes was struggling with another piece.
"My wheel won't fit in the wheel well."
"Here, let me try."
Hobbes handed him the pieces. Calvin struggled with them.
"Sometimes you just have to—"SNAP! "—Darn it!"
"This plane is in for some rough landings," Hobbes sighed. "Now come on. Let's use the instructions before we break it too much."
"Okay, fine, ya big sissy," Calvin grumbled. "We'll use the instructions."
"Thank you."
Hobbes picked up the instructions. Unfortunately, it tipped over and covered them up.
"Jeez!" said Calvin. "All this for one little plane that's the size of my foot?"
"Hey, these instructions are in three different languages!" Hobbes said.
"Excuse me?" Calvin cried.
"See, it starts in English, but then it goes into French and Spanish. Heck, you'd have to be tri-lingual just to read these directions."
"Aw, man!" Calvin whined.
"It's hard to believe that these models are for ages six and up," Hobbes said.
Calvin crawled out from under the instructions.
"That does it! We tried your sissy method. Come on. Let's just work on it on our own. I'll get the glue."
Hobbes quickly folded up the instructions and put them back in the box.
Calvin got the glue out of the box. He opened it, but he dropped it on the floor. Glue got all around him on the hardwood floor.
"Whoops!" he said.
"What a mess!" commented Hobbes, hopping onto the bed and away from it.
"Don't sweat it," Calvin said, waving his hand. "It'll just sink into the floor. No one will notice."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm positive," said Calvin, getting agitated. "Stop being such a sissy."
"Fine," Hobbes replied, rolling his eyes.
Soon, it had been two more hours.
The finished model was with Hobbes on the bed.
Calvin was noticeably angry.
"Look at this stupid model," he complained. "It looks awful! Nothing fit right, the instructions were incomprehensible, the decals ripped, the paint slopped and the glue got everywhere. Our plane doesn't look anything like the picture on the box. We could never have gotten it like this! Look how good they did this!"
He handed Hobbes the box.
"How'd they paint eyebrows on a pilot that's less than an inch tall?"
"I think that's a real jet overlaid on a plastic stand," Hobbes said, looking at it closely.
Calvin slapped his forehead. "What a complete debacle. Six bucks down the drain. What a terrible afternoon. What a waste of time. What a dumb hobby."
He snatched the box away from Hobbes and hurled it out the window. Then he threw the crude model into the trash can.
Then a thought danced across his mind and a grin spread across his face.
"Of course," he went on, "with this for practice, I'll bet we could do a grand job on another model!"
"Let's get one of those clipper ships with all the riggings!" said Hobbes, jumping off of the bed.
"Yeah! Let's get going down there! We can still make before they close. Come on!"
Hobbes ran out the door for the store.
Calvin attempted to turn and run after him, but he couldn't. Something wouldn't let his feet lift up.
"What th—? What just happened?"
He struggled to lift his feet, but he found that he couldn't.
"HOBBES!" he yelled. "Help! I'm stuck!"
Hobbes ran back into the room. He carefully looked Calvin over.
"How exactly are you stuck?" he asked.
"I can't lift my feet! My own personal gravity must have increased!"
"That or maybe you're glued to the floor. Remember that massive glue spill? The one you refused to clean up? Now who's a sissy?"
"That's right, Hobbes. Just add insult to injury."
Before they could continue, they heard a familiar voice from downstairs.
"Calvin! Time for dinner!"
"Oh, great. Mom's gonna go into conniptions when she gets up here."
"What do we do now?"
"Try pulling me up. Maybe you're strong enough to lift me."
"All right!" Hobbes said, flexing his muscles. "Mr. Muscle to the rescue."
Hobbes reached down and pulled on Calvin as hard as he could. It took several tugs, but finally, Calvin popped up!
"You did it, Hobbes! I'm unstuck!"
"Well, you are," said Hobbes.
Calvin looked down and saw that his shoes were still stuck to the floor.
"Aw, man," he sighed.
"Calvin, get down here!" Mom shouted. "NOW!"
"Be right there!" Calvin called.
"Get on down there," Hobbes said. "I'll try to pry your shoes off of the floor."
"Okay. Try as hard as you can."
He scurried downstairs.
Hobbes turned his attention to the shoes…
Calvin skidded into the kitchen and jumped to the table.
"What kept you so long?" asked Mom.
"Uh, Hobbes and I were working on a model airplane."
"Really?" Dad asked. "How's it coming?"
"It was a complete waste of time and money. It was awful."
"Yes, well, struggling builds character."
Mom looked down at Calvin's shoeless feet.
"Calvin, where are your shoes? Your socks smell terrible."
"They're in my room."
"Why aren't you wearing them?" asked Dad.
"I, uh, needed to let my feet breath."
"Well, go put them on."
"Why? My socks aren't that smelly."
"Yes, they are. Now go get them."
"But—"
"GO PUT THEM ON!"
"Right! Going!"
Calvin jumped from the table and ran back upstairs.
Hobbes was having no luck at all. He was currently trying to pry the shoes off the floor with a ruler.
Calvin ran in.
"Quick! We need those shoes on my feet! Fast!"
"I'm trying! These shoes are on here pretty good."
"Read the glue bottle. Maybe it has a glue remover suggestion on it."
Hobbes grabbed the glue container and read it.
"It says to add a splash of water to make the glue dissolve."
"That's easy enough!" Calvin said. "I'll get some."
Calvin ran to the bathroom, filled up a cup from the sink, and poured it around the shoes.
Hobbes attempted to pull them off again, but they were still stuck.
"Not enough water!" he said.
Calvin ran back and came back and poured a little more.
Hobbes tried again, but still nothing.
Calvin wound up pouring about fifty cups of water on the shoes, but they still didn't come off.
On cup fifty, Calvin slowly poured the water around the shoes. Hobbes gave a good yank, and still nothing.
"This isn't working," Calvin said at last. "What else does it say?"
Hobbes looked at the bottle again.
"It says that water will not work with a hardwood floor."
Calvin collapsed in the puddle on the floor.
"Perfect. Now we're in for it."
"What do you mean 'we'?"
"CALVIN!" Mom shouted.
A pair of footsteps was coming up to the room.
"Uh oh!" Calvin cried. He jumped into his shoes.
Mom and Dad barged in.
"Calvin, what are you doing up here?" Mom demanded.
"Why is there water all over your floor?" demanded Dad.
Calvin, who was facing away from them, said, "I dropped a cup?"
"Turn around and face us," Mom ordered.
Calvin turned his head around.
"All the way around," Dad added.
Calvin strained to turn his body around, but his shoes were keeping him from doing it.
"What is wrong with you?" asked Mom.
"I, er, hurt myself," he said pathetically. "…ow."
"Enough's enough," said Dad. "Get over here."
Calvin got out of his shoes and walked over towards them.
"Let's see your shoes," said Dad.
Calvin slowly turned his head towards his shoes and walked towards them as slowly as he could. Then he slowly bent over and attempted to pick them up. He tugged and slipped and slipped and tugged.
Dad rolled his eyes. He walked over and attempted to help. He soon realized what had happened.
"They're glued to the floor!" he yelled.
"See? I've been busy building a plane and character."
"Not funny, Calvin. Unless we get these things off, you're grounded."
"I've tried everything. Their little solution won't work on my floor type! I keep telling you, I want shag carpeting in here!"
Dad slapped his forehead and stopped trying. "Let's call the glue company," he said.
Later that day, Mom came to Calvin, who was waiting in his bedroom.
"Okay, the glue company said that they make a remover for the glue, but it'll take two weeks for delivery. You'll have to wear your boots everywhere."
"COOL!" said Calvin excitedly.
"This is supposed to be a punishment," Mom said. "You don't want to have something worse, do you?"
Calvin immediately changed his tone. "WHAT? I REFUSE! GET ME AN ATTORNEY! GET ME AN ATTORNEY NAMED MURRAY! I DON'T WANT TO HAVE THOSE HIDEOUS THINGS TRYING TO DEVOUR MY FEET!"
"Hey, I spent fifty bucks for those. Now get in bed right now."
She slammed the door as she left.
Calvin sighed and looked down at Hobbes, who was busy putting flowers in the stuck shoes.
"Well, Hobbes, this has been a rough day. We lost six dollars, and I got in trouble for a sever shortage of foot-filled shoes. However, we've proven today that we don't need hobbies. We just need to use our own creativity. We'll find something to do."
Hobbes crawled up on the bed. "And we're agreed that we shall never play Monopoly or read long novels, even if we live to be forty."
"You got that right! So I'd say we deserve Tube Socks of Bravery today."
"Hear, hear!"