Beastburg

Bad Advice

2009-03-30T21:24:00.010+01:00

It felt like the middle of the night. Under Bridge Lane was empty as Ben Bear and I slowly walked up to the Jackster plant from the parking garage. Up at the end of the street cars were noisily rushing along the high overpass where Memorial Drive exits to Poultry Bridge. Behind us Poultry Bridge itself obscured half the sky. Hedged in down here the Under Bridge Diner was closed except for a neon sign in the window. Mary Lambkin was probably tucked up in her bed next door to the diner, with just her bedroom light on upstairs, reading her daily mystery novel. There was still a single light on at the back of the office of the Jackster Service Station. I could see it faintly through the window. Probably Wilma Bunny working late, watching TV and waiting around.

The flat concrete face of the Jackster plant loomed above as Ben and I went in through the little side door. High above us the ivy fluttered against the wall. We checked in at the teleportal dock and I looked over to the assembly line where I could see the Bats all launched on their night shift. Their supervisor, Billy Bat, up in his loft, had turned down the orange lights to low. Nobody noticed us. Ben ambled down to his office and I knocked softly on my own office door and tried the handle. It was open. I stepped into the dark. Through the window I could see the moon above Beastburg and the top cabin of the listing Jackster Ferry. The listing was getting worse by the minute. If by now no one across the river had noticed that the ferry was tipped at an angle it was because no one was looking.

"Sybilla?" I said.

"I'm up, Jack," she said and I looked across to her workstation where Sybilla Spider was hanging by a thread above her high rise. Her monitor glowed softly.

"Working late?" I asked.

"Why aren't you at Woody Spit, Jack?"

"One thing after another has kept me in town," I said, "Everyone has been onto me about it. I've got one more thing and then I'm gone."

"Have you talked to Jilly," Sybilla asked me and I could hear concern in her voice.

"She's still singing at the club. I'll call her before taking off. Anything happening here?"

"Jack, I'm a little worried about your plan to stay out at Woody Spit this week. This might not be the best time."

"Why?"

"We've got a lot going on at the plant and you're the public face. We have meetings all week. If you're not around you should get someone to speak for you at the meetings."

"Like who?" I asked. "Condon Duck maybe, or Einstat Chimp?"

"I was thinking Amanda Rabbit. She was in today with Hat and I know she's got a light week."

"No, not Amanda. She doesn't even work here. It wouldn't be appropriate."

"But everyone likes her. Those other guys are hopeless."

"She's great, Sybilla, and I know Jilly wouldn't get jealous or anything but they're known to be best friends and if Amanda stood in for me the Jackster Plant would talk. You may not have the right perspective, being a Spider, but Rabbits are known for an unfortunate tendency to being oversexed. I'm afraid she's too cute."

"I know that, Jack. What do you take me for? What do you think they say about us Spiders? Everyone talks about how in the old days us Spider girls had sex once and then killed our husbands."

"Not any more they don't, Sybilla. That's ancient history."

"No, not any more. Now we just divorce them."

"Like you divorced Harold. Maybe you'd better get Ben Bear to front for me," I said.

"I guess the old lug will have to do," and Sybilla drooped on her thread. "But don't just rusticate, Jack. Call me every morning from Woody Spit, first thing."

"Fine," I said. "That's a promise." Then, taking one more nervous look at the ferry, I left.

Gordon Yorkie

2009-03-10T22:19:00.009Z

From The Caves it took us ten minutes to get down to the plant in my Jackster. Ben Bear crammed himself into the seat next to me. While I drove through the night he was talking all the time on his teleportal. We pulled into the Old Ferry Parking Garage at the bottom of Under Bridge Lane and drove up the ramp and then down two levels to the boat dock. For windows there were oblong breaks in the concrete walls letting in glints of light from Bestburg's skyscrapers across the River Wide. The bulk of the Jackster Ferry began to loom large as we went down, tipped slightly on its side in the water. There were several Animals standing around looking over at the ferry as we pulled into the thrust. The sliding metal connector plate, which ties the ferry to the Parking Garage, was pushed askew on one side, to accommodate the tipping of the boat, and I was afraid we'd hang up the Jackster on it. I parked right there in the entrance, on the docking thrust, and we walked over. Gordon Yorkie, our Old Ferry manager, was standing waiting for us on the ferry writing something on a clipboard. The steep sides of the top level framed him and car ramps went up and down behind him. Small circular portholes were cut into the high grey metal sides.

"Has the inspection been made?" asked Ben Bear, walking up to him.

"I'm just checking everything off," Gordon mumbled through his whiskers. "But I can tell you that we've found nothing to explain the tilt. We're carrying a lot of extra water in the bilge. But we often carry extra water. The ferry's old. And there's twenty more Jacksters on the port side, so she's a bit unbalanced. But, still, that shouldn't make any difference. It's a mystery."

"Where were you headed?" I asked.

"Up river," said Gordon.

This seemed the right moment for me to say something. "Maybe you should go down the coast and have our crew at the West Cleanser dry dock take a look at her. They could run a full test of the stabilisation program on the ship's computer."

Gordon looked doubtful. "If we can get there," he said, "It could get worse. And you know we'll need special permission from the Coast Guard."

"We don't want the press to get wind of this if we can avoid it," said Ben. "A tippy ferry full of Jacksters floating right off Beastburg would look bad in tomorrow's Gazette. or on the TV news. Maybe if you moved those twenty Jacksters to the other side it might fix the problem."

"I don't think so," said Gordon. "This isn't a normal ballast problem. She's listing about fifteen percent. I'm not sure we can take her out like this. If we don't know what causes it we can't know what might make it better or worse. It's a problem."

"Open the door to the bilge and get some passing fish to look around," I suggested, "See if they notice anything strange. Meanwhile, I'll go up to the plant and call a Coast Guard Dolphin into the holding bay. When I send the message I'll say we just want to change the manifest. Then we can negotiate the change of destination in person. The Dolphin can sonar for permission. Those Coast Guard Dolphins are smart. They might even have an idea why we're listing."

"OK," said Gordon, "We'll just hold the fort until we hear from you."

I'd never thought of it before but the wide entrance to the Jackster ferry did look a bit like a fort. A floating metal fortress tilting 15 degrees in the lapping estuary water of the River Wide. I was supposed to be tucked up in Woody Spit by now and here I was on the River Wide. Holding the fort.

Ben's Beer

2009-02-24T22:05:00.008Z

I pulled off River Run and headed steeply up The Caves. Ben Bear lives about half way up in one of the early conversions. This whole warren of The Caves is very old and historically was exclusively lived in by Bears but for half the life of this city it has just been an ordinary, if somewhat high tone, neighbourhood. Animals are drawn to it by the great views of Beastburg Castle and the Wide River. I parked my Jackster where I could and walked in along one of the many paths that cut across the steep hillside. All the caves look very similar on this level and I hadn't been here for a while so I kept my eye out for the names on the wooden postboxes that were standing out in front of each cave.

The lights were on and I knocked on the big round door. Mrs. Bear, Ben's mother, let me in. She was looking old and thin in a shabby pink paisley dressing gown, carrying a glass of water. The whole look of the cave on the inside hasn't changed in fifty years, though it probably looked bang up to date when first decorated. Angular furniture in pale woods and all low to the ground was arranged very neatly and set out from the walls.

"Ben's upstairs, Jack. He'll be pleased to see you," Mrs. Bear said and led me up a wide stairwell. Ben was in the upstairs sitting room, decorated in the same style, watching TV and drinking a beer. He was watching what must be one of the last black and white televisions left in Beastburg. When he saw me he got up and turned off the TV. Mrs. Bear shuffled off somewhere.

"Nice surprise," Ben said. "I thought you were going out to Woody Spit for a spell."

"I'm still on my way," I said. "But I've had an idea for advancing the Hoppermobile and I wanted to tell you about it in person."

"Shoot," he said.

I told him about my experience of waking from a dream at Bridget Beaver's house with the elusive germ of an idea and then happening across another idea, a different idea - the thought that the Hoppermobile could have a separate circular drive wrapping it all around the middle like a donut. This drive could turn it into what we might call a 'Hoverhopper'. It could hover as well as hop. While I talked Ben got up and got a couple of beers from a tiny fridge behind the sofa and gave me one. When I finished explaining how I thought a Hoverhopper could work we sat there in silence for a while drinking our beers and looking out the small window at Beastburg Castle away across the water. Ben didn't react at all to my idea.

After a few minutes Ben broke the silence, and surprised me, by saying, "Who do you think make the best mechanics?"

"When we were racing, in the early days, I thought it was the Weasels," I said, "They were always so fast and accurate."

"But they have that one little problem," said Ben, smiling at me and waggling his beer.

"Yeah," I said. "Always true. But now I'd have to say the Bats are the best. They're not afraid to get their hands dirty."

"I'd agree," said Ben, "They're kind of the intellectuals among mechanics. So clever at thinking their way through the tricky problems."

"Why do you ask?"

"I was thinking," said Ben, "That I'd get Marge Bunny to create a new crew to work on this one. We could take some Bats from the assembly line and bring them down into the pit in R&D. That way we could push this one fast. See if it can fly, as it were."

"Sounds great," I said. "Try to get Billy Bat to go for loaning out some of his crew. I'll leave you to it."

Just then the teleportal rang. That was that. We didn't mention any of this business again.

The Squirrel Monkey

2009-02-17T22:20:00.011Z

By the time Joe Dog was out of the Diving Bell and waiting on the curb for Bonnie Bimbo he was looking fairly sober. He swayed a little but a slight sway is part of Joe's normal, 'cool', persona. His hands were in his pockets, his jacket wasn't too disheveled, and he looked out at the world as if he were ready to engage with it. I was pleased with him. The rain had stopped and the clouds had risen a little. It was going to be a nice night.

I swung my Jackster out onto Orbital Drive and joined an interesting traffic pattern. Everyone on the highway was going a very smooth 40-miles-per-hour in both directions - a car length of space between every car. Personally, I didn't mind the slow down. Nobody was waiting up for me out at Woody Spit and I knew once I crossed the Poultry Bridge and headed down Memorial Drive it would thin out. I hit the radio and they were playing a cut from Fatty Walrus's new album, Ghostie Romance - a song called The Way You Look Tonight. Sultry and elegant.

The city lights, the dark clouds, the rolling sea at my side - everything had a silky quality. All these evenly spaced cars dancing along the coastline, keeping their measured pace, made me wonder if Orbital Drive got its name from way cars are orbiting the city like a constellation of stars whirling about some huge central star.

I noticed that the car next to me was a red Jackster run by a young Squirell Monkey. He had the Jackster with the arm conversion. The guy was sedately pumping the steering wheel back and forth to the rhythm of Fatty Walrus. It was funny seeing somebody driving along and pumping his Jackster to exactly the same rhythm as I was (even though I was doing my pumping with my feet).

Poultry Bridge was coming up and I changed my mind about going straight to Woody Spit. It wasn't that late. Ben Bear would still be up. I could tell him about my idea for adding an active rotary shaft to our prototype Jackster Hopper, the Hoppermobile, and renaming it the Hoverhopper.

To get up to The Caves I needed to change lanes to get into the River Run lane on the Bridge. I nudged the Squirell Monkey next to me and he let go of his steering wheel and gestured me in. He waved me in front of him keeping time to the music and giving me a big grin. He had noticed that we were rolling along together and pumping in time to Fatty Walrus on the radio. I gave him the thumbs up and then scooted in front while he hung back. It felt great. We were in the flow.

Root Stew

2009-02-10T20:33:00.006Z

“Hi Frankie,” I said, when he saw me from over in the dark corner of the bar.

“This is so amazing!” and Frankie looked truly amazed. “Have a drink!”

“I can't, Frankie. I'm driving. I'm on my way out to Woody Spit.”

“Just one!” he said, “Bartender!”

“Fruit juice,” I called out, “Cranberry.”

“Spike it, Joe.”

“No, Really, Joe,” I said. “just the juice.” I sat down next to Frankie Dog and gave him my best comradely smile.

"This is so amazing," Frankie said again, but this time he looked at me hazily.

"I've got to talk to you Frankie. About Bonnie Bimbo."

"I love that woman, Jack!" And now Frankie looked near tears. "What am I going to do if she loses her job? I need to have her near me."

"She's not losing her job," I said to him firmly. "I've talked to Tobias Turtle. He's not firing either of you."

"Me?" Joe said, "He was never going to fire me! It was Bonnie!"

"You both broke the rules, Joe. You broke his 'no hanky-panky' rule. It's in your contract. Plus it looks like you got her pregnant, so everyone is going to know about it. Here's the deal. You can both keep working at the Egret Club but for the next three months you each get your pay docked twenty per cent for breaking your contract."

"That seems pretty harsh, Jack," And Frankie looked like he couldn't decide whether to cry or get mad.

"Your relationship with Bonnie is still on the new side. You don't want to rock the boat, Joe. Even getting drunk like this could get you in trouble with Bonnie. She's been cleaning up her act lately. Right now, while you're drinking, she's been doing aerobics. I just called her. She's OK with the pay cut." I let him look in his drink for a while. Meanwhile, I checked out all the seafaring paraphernalia on the walls. This bottom room just had the small bar and one little alcove, currently occupied by a couple of large Hens. I wondered why they bothered with such a small bar down here. Every level, going down, was smaller than the level above - always a sure sign that a Beastburg eaterie is really old.

Next to where Frankie sat was a hatch built into the wall. I could see a bit of the kitchen through the hole. Someone put a plate of food on the shelf in the hatch and the shelf started floating upwards, until I could see from the moving cable that it was a dumb waiter.

"What was that going up?" I asked the Beaver who was tending bar.

"Root stew," he said.

"It looks good. I'll have some."

It struck me that this Diving Bell pub had been around a very long time. Everything seemed genuinely old. Here I was down an old hole on the edge of Beastburg, near the Ferry Docks, but surrounded by big hotels and only half a mile from all the skyscrapers of the financial district. And yet this dingy establishment had somehow survived down the years, still a home for sad drunks and still cooking up Root Stew. Survived but not prospered. Over the years somehow the throbbing city growing all around it had got to this place and drained the personality out of it. There was deadness in the air and I had an urge to get out fast and drive to Woody Spit. As soon as I had my root stew.

"Here's your root stew," said the Beaver. It smelled pretty good.

"Where is she Jack?" said Joe, coming out of his trance.

"She's probably still at Bunnyhop."

"OK, Jack," and Joe gave me quite a serious look, "I'm going to play this your way. Maybe I'd better have a cup of coffee. A strong cup."

BR142 Jilly Dresses

2009-01-26T21:57:00.005Z

I called Jilly and told her that I'd been delayed getting out to Woody Spit and she sounded relieved.

"Maybe you'd better come straight up here. We're having a crisis with old Tobias Turtle. It looks like Bonnie Bimbo is out and maybe Frankie Dog, too. Frankie might have got her pregnant."

"OK," I said. "I'll be right up."

This time there wasn't any traffic at all. I was pulling into the tiny parking lot behind the Egret Club in less than five minutes. I found Jilly alone upstairs in her dressing room.

"Where is everyone," I said, after I'd kissed her and we'd canoodled a little.

"Bonnie and Frankie went out to a restaurant. It seems the first sign that Bonnie was pregnant was her wanting exotic Dogfood."

"Is it for sure?"

"Not yet," said Jilly, "They've taken the home test but those things are notoriously unreliable for Bitches. Her hormones might just be all over the place."

"So what does it all mean?" I wasn't sure about the big deal of it all. "Are they going to get hitched or something?"

"Tobias says he is going to fire her. He says nobody wants to listen to a wannabe mommy singing torch songs."

"I'll talk to him," I said, "Where is he?"

"Down in his hole," said Jilly. "Thanks, Jack. I really appreciate this. I really need Bonnie here so I can get weekends off."

I took the lift down to the sub-basement and knocked on the office door. Then I waited a long time. I mean a really long time. Finally I could hear him coming. There was some scraping around the door and the peep hole glittered white. Then the door swung inwards. I waited long enough for Tobias to get out of the way and then I went in and sat across the desk from him. I looked at a magazine on a side table while Tobias hoised himself up onto his leather platform. He doesn't like to be looked at when he's in motion. The whole place is a dump down there and I didn't want to be seen looking around at his stuff, either. When he was ready he spoke up.

"Well?" he said.

"I hear you want to fire Bonnie Bimbo."

"So?" he said.

"You don't want to do that," I told him.

After about a minute he replied, "Why not?"

"No one is going to believe that Frankie will be faithful to her. His suits won't be rumpled for the next few weeks but then everyone will start looking to see who he has his eye on. He'll rumple up. Bonnie is going to be a very interesting figure through the whole process."

"I don't care anymore," said Tobias, and he really did look weary. But he must be pushing two hundred now so it might just be signs of early old age. "I'm sick of all the drama and they both know the rules. No hanky panky amongst the staff. I take the whole thing as an insult."

"They do very well and before the current crew you weren't exactly cramming them in. It's healthy now. And Jilly might walk, if you fire Bonnie, and Frankie will definitely walk. Take my advice and swallow this one. It will be better for you."

It took so long for Tobias to gather his thoughts that I went back to reading his magazine, Weekly Showlifters. Finally he poked his head out a little further and I knew the old Turtle was ready to finish this up.

"OK," Tobias said, and now he really did sound weary. "But for three months I'm docking both their wages twenty per cent. They know the rules."

"Fine," I said. "That's fair. I'll give them the word."

"Thanks," said Tobias, pulling in his head, and that was that.

BR143 Tobias's Desk

2009-01-26T21:54:00.000Z

BR110 Jack's Idea

2009-01-19T22:27:00.004Z

I woke up with a start in Bridget Beaver's living room, lying on the sofa, and the several Blue Tits who had been standing around on my stomach while I slept went flying off in a flutter. Bridget Beaver was sitting there next to me.

“Where am I?” I asked, although I knew perfectly well where I was. I just didn't for the moment remember how I got there.

“The Fox family have decamped to a hotel,” said Bridget, “The sun has gone down and you have been napping for over an hour. You must have been exhausted.”

I lay back down and stared at the ceiling. I was in the process of having some sort of realization, maybe starting in my sleep. Unfortunately, I had no idea what it was. I felt it floating in front of me in a sort of haze, a new understanding, a New Idea, and yet I didn't seem to know much about it. It could be anything. However there it was, inside me, and even the ceiling I was looking at looked somehow different.

I tried to search my dreams for a clue, though I had no certain memory of dreaming. Bridget sat very quiet, as if she knew that I was reaching around for something in my mind, with only the sound of her knitting needles and the Blue Tits shuffling about to break the silence. And there was still a bit of rain on the window. But no traffic noises.

I waited for the cloud to clear and for the the New Idea to reveal itself. I now felt sure that it was a New Idea that was in the cloud. I was having a New Idea! I felt that very clearly and a thrill of excitement shot through me. But was the idea? I could feel it's nearness but I still had no idea what department of life it had to do with. But the sense of revelation was absolute, though clouded and hidden, hovering right there in front of me.

Suddenly the word “Hoverhopper” came into my head. My new Jackster car that I have been trying to get to make short hops in traffic... what if I could get it to hover as well as hop? A lot of the 'hopping' problems would be made easier for us to solve. Maybe if we had a second central engine, to be run off the same two-pedal power chain, we could manage the hovering aspect with tiny, instantaneous up and down thrusts.

I closed my eyes and breathed more easily. What a great idea! The Hoverhopper! Everyone at the factory would be happy about it. All the nervous worries about having cars that hop would disappear!

I opened my eyes again. The cloud of the New Idea was still in front of me. The Hoverhopper was all very well but it was just an idea that had happened to come to me as I faced the real metaphoric cloud of some hidden New Idea that I had woken up to. Whatever that New Idea might be it was still there in front of me. Future revelation was a possibility that I was going to have to live with. I knew something and yet I didn't know it.

“I'd better call Jilly,” I said to Bridget as I sat up. “I was supposed to be out at Woody Spit by now.”

Bridget's Birds

2009-01-11T22:12:00.013Z

I walked up the steps rehearsing what I was going to say to Bridget Beaver when she opened the door.

"Hi Bridget, I was just passing by and I got stuck in traffic and thought I'd drop in and get out of the rain." But before I had fully made my plans the door opened and Bridget was standing there.

"Hi Jack," she said to me, "A little bird told me you were in the neighbourhood and I hoped you'd get out of that traffic jam and come up to us for a visit. Come on in and meet my guests."

Without any more ado she turned and led me up the wide stairway to her studio. I just had time to peek into the door to her tidy little living room as I went up. Bridget is so smooth and agile in her movements that it is easy to forget that she is getting on. She was at the top before me and turning to say something to someone in the main part of the studio.

When I got to the top and looked around it took me a moment to orient myself. At the back, near where I was standing at the top of the stairs, was a long tabletop under narrow windows, all of them open, with two sinks built in, one of them more like a bathtub. It looked like dishes were being washed in the other one and I noticed that Bridget was wearing an apron. In the main part of the room, under the high windows, a big table was being used as a dining table and a family of Foxes looked like they were just finishing lunch. On the far wall there was a fireplace with a log fire burning. And on all the walls were large paintings of birds (mostly Blue Tits), some looking like they were still being worked on. All around the edges of the studio were pots of paints and pencil sketches of birds on the floor.

What made it hard to focus, however, were the birds themselves. The room looked like a convention of Blue Tits. All the way from the sink over to the big window at the front the birds were perched everywhere. The only place that they were avoiding was the table with the family of Foxes in the centre.

"Jack, I'd like you to meet Edmund Fox, the great Bird photographer. And this is his wife, Mandy, and the three little Foxes," and Bridget led me over to the table. Edmund didn't stand up and I just nodded to him and murmured something. He looked at me with a glazed expression that I attributed to being surrounded by so many Blue Tits. His wife, Mandy Fox, hardly looked at me. In fact she was gazing out the big window, staring at the rain and humming. The two young boys were playing idly with palm-games and in the gloom of the rainy day their games shown a flickering light on their faces. They didn't look up at me at all. Their plump older sister gave me a bored glance as she worked her way through a bag of Salty Snax.

"The Fox family just drove up from the South Coast," said Bridget, "and they all had a long, tiring trip."

They looked to me as if they hadn't yet got out of the car. For all the world they could still be on their trip wheeling along on their way up from the South Coast.

There was a whistle behind us and Bridget and I turned to see a couple of Bluebirds standing in the window. "Bridget," one of the Bluebirds called out, "A new song just came in on the computer at the Birdbank. We can sing it to you!"

"Lovely," said Bridget. "Come along Jack, and we'll listen."

While Bridget resumed washing the dishes I stood near her and we listened to the wet and dripping Bluebirds singing the new song. It was called "I Can't Give You Anything But Love" and it had an immediately catchy tune. As they sang the rain was clearing behind them and the sky brightened. The whole event (the song, the birds, the weather) made me feel very emotional. It was like an absurd highpoint from some very sweet family film.

Bridget's Alley

2009-01-08T08:22:00.004Z

I pulled out of my parking space and another car instantly took my place. The rain came down, the traffic locked up and I was stuck there on that tight street watching the world go by, umbrellas everywhere and nobody looking very happy. I put the radio on and listened to Fatty Walrus singing a lush version of Georgia. The heat was on in the car and I nodded off for a second. I opened the window a crack and turned off the heat. This was ridiculous.

Looking two stuck cars ahead of me I saw the entrance to Seaman's Alley. Technically, it was a dead end but there was a service entrance to the Orbital Hotel at the back and from there I could get out onto the Drive. When the traffic pulled up to the light I headed into the alley and sped down to the open area at the back. The service entrance on the other end was blocked by a big truck. I was stuck. I pulled in and parked next to three other cars, under the long wooden stairs that goes up to the house where Bridget Beaver has her studio.

I'd never been here on my own but I've visited Bridget with Professor Hat several times. I could go up the steps right now and knock on the door at the top and she'd let me in and I could hang out there until the traffic cleared. Or I could sit here in my car and turn the heat and the radio on and go to sleep. But then maybe Bridget Beaver might come down the steps and see that I was parked in front of her house and wasn't bothering to visit her. She might be offended or hurt. Right this minute I was visible from her windows.

How many times in my life have I found myself in this odd situation? Too many.

Bridget Beaver is a nice enough lady and I admire her work as the chief researcher of the Saverscreen Ghosties phenomenon. That song I was just listening to, Georgia, would not have been on the radio if it wasn't for Bridget's work collecting these strange alien communications and making them seem acceptable to singers and song publishers. But she is an odd combination of intense and scatty and I've never been completely comfortable with her. Also, she always has hangers-on who seem to me to deserve the name the world has given them, Saverscreen Crazies.

The trouble is, I already know what will happen. If I walk up those steps I will establish an independent relationship with Bridget Beaver and begin to accept her and her friends into my life in a new way. If I drop in on her now she will feel licensed to drop in on me. Intimacy is what will happen, unplanned intimacy.

But how can we plan everything? Sometimes folks just get dealt to you like a hand of cards and you just have to do your best with them. The rain was letting up. Maybe I should turn the car around and go back out the alley. Or maybe I should get out of the car and walk up the steps.

I got out of the car.

Mole Brother Books

2009-01-05T19:01:00.012Z

The rain was still pelting down and I was stuck in traffic on one of the little streets below the Theatre District in the old part of Beastburg. I went through a familiar transition from being sorry to leave Jilly and Jazlin behind me to feeling happy to have time to myself. And I faced a day with nothing more onerous than a drive out to Woody Spit. I was really on my own now. If there wasn't a cloud of health concern floating over me I would have said I was positively elated. Plus the pelting rain was a little disturbing.

The traffic wasn't moving and odd city animals were swarming around me on the tiny slips of pavement. Cars honked and my windshield wipers were whipping anxiously back and forth in front of me. Without warning a car parked tight against the curb pulled out just in front of me and I was tempted to honk at him. But then I noticed the sign above the window just behind where he'd been parked. "Mole Brothers Books," the sign said and I remembered the Mufeena Grizzly book I had been reading last night at Ella's. If I wanted to I could zip in and buy myself a copy. I whipped my Jackster into the space and paid for the parking on my teleportal.

Just crossing the pavement to the door got me soaked. The long shop was full of steaming animals hiding out from the rain, many of them standing and watching it pour down out the window. Hiram Mole was at the counter, serving next to an attractive Duck, and he recognized me from years back.

"Mr. Rabbit," he said.

And I said, "Jack."

"Mr. Rabbit," he said again. From time immemorial we always go through this.

"Do you have The Philanthropist Murders by Mufeena Grizzly?"

"I believe we might have it down in the bottom basement," he said, "in the Trash department. I'll lead the way," and he was off like a shot. I followed him down the wide circular staircase, round and round, feeling waves of heat coming up the stairwell from way down in the bottom basement.

Lots of animals hate the lower regions of Bear Brothers but I always feel strangely comforted there. Hiram hurried ahead, weaving past climbing customers, and at the bottom I could see him pulling a ladder across and starting to climb up to the top shelves. His older brother, Vosper, was sitting in a rocking chair by the big coal furnace which dominates the middle of the room, reading. I stopped on the landing to check out the over-sized books arrayed there and noticed a title, "Diseases of the Large Rabbit," and started to pull it from the shelf before thinking better of it. I didn't need to go down that road. The pictures alone would depress me.

"I found it!" called Hiram, and I went down and joined him by his ladder.

"This really is trash," he said, "You won't enjoy it."

"I started it last night," I told him, "and I was getting a lot of pleasure from the mystery of it."

"I really shouldn't tell you," Hiram said, "But the Variegated Fairywren did it," and he gave me his inscrutable Moley smile.

"I'll buy it anyway," I said.

As I got back in my car it struck me that the whole thing was a typical Mole Brothers experience.

BR088 Late For Rehearsal

2009-01-03T14:46:00.002Z

Jilly and Jazlin and I squeezed into the Jackster and were waved off by Don and Ella. I puttered down Frognal and then zipped over to Orbital Drive where we picked up speed, taking advantage of the special speed limit for pedal-powered cars. Tugboat Alley and Liner Row were both full and the sea was choppy. There weren't any boats visible out to sea. Low, dark clouds were banked overhead and at the Ferry Docks it started raining hard. By the time we turned off on Park Street West it felt like a real storm.

I drove down Oxtail and turned into the warren of streets around the Theatre District. Traffic was fanning out from Central Circle and all the tiny streets were clogged. Jilly was getting nervous as she was late for a rehearsal and she knew the whole band was waiting for her to get there. Her creepy boss, Tobias Turtle, always takes an interest in rehearsals and she knew he'd be there. I'd held things up at Ella's, making phone calls. I had to get out of various meetings planned for today at the Jackster Plant and I set up for going to Woody Spit for a couple of days.

Jilly struggled to pack up and put on her cagepack while leaning forward in her seat with the windows steaming up. Jazlin flew around nervously, outside of the cagepack. I found myself getting tense again, not that I was feeling too weird or anything. Not like yesterday. Just tense with the traffic and all the action in the car.

Finally I pullled up in front of the Egret Club. Jazlin Fly hopped into the cagepack and I sealed it as Jilly opened the door. A quick kiss and she was out of the car and striding under the blue awning with the giant plastic Egret on top of it. Looking at her from behind she suddenly looked very sexy and I had a pang of lonliness, even while I watched her going away. Jilly has my favorite walk and everything about her presence looks beautiful to me and painfully familiar. There she was with Jazlin (peeking back at me from the top of the cagepack), my dear little family, walking away from me in the rain under the awning and through the double doors of the Egret Club.

I was on my own.

BR076 Mimi and Amanda

2008-12-31T12:07:00.004Z

I took my cup back down to the kitchen. It was still quiet in the house and I didn't think anyone but me and Ella were up. I always try to be extra careful at Don and Ella's to clean up after myself and not dump on the place. Now this feels especially worth doing, since they have been operating without an au pair since Mimi Lapan left six months ago.

When I stepped into the kitchen I noticed a similar odd sensation to the one that came over me in Hampsterhead tube station the afternoon before. Even though the room was quiet I was suddenly aware of every tiny noise as a seperate experience. I sat down by the kitchen table to concentrate. Was life always like this, full of tiny differentiations that we don't ususally bother to notice? Outside I heard steps and then a key in the lock and the kitchen door was opened. It was Mimi.

“Zhack! Are you all right? I heard you were unwell.”

“I'm fine, Mimi,” I tried to look cheerful.

“You look stiff,” She came over to me.

“I'm fine,” I said again.

“Let me rub your shoulders,” and Mimi stepped behind my chair and started massaging my neck.

“I really don't need this, Mimi,” I said, though it did feel good.

“Hush,” she said. I heard someone coming. The hall door opened and it wasn't Jilly. It was Amanda Rabbit. She must have stayed over at Ella's with Professor Hat.

“Mimi,” said Amanda. “Why are you massaging Jack's neck?”

“Zhack looked so stiff when I came in,” she said, letting go of my shoulders. “I wanted to help him.”

“If you really want to help him,” said Amanda, “You could give him your key to Ella's house. Jilly needs one and Ella said you have the only spare. You haven't worked here for a long time and you surely don't need to let yourself in without knocking anymore.”

“Jilly doesn't need a key here,” Amanda started saying. “I mean I live nearby.”

“Yes she does. This is how you can be helpful to Jack. Give me the key and I'll give it to Jilly.”

Amanda came towards Mimi and held out her hand. She stood quietly waiting for the key.

Mimi took it from a chain around her neck and gave it to her.

“Thanks,” said Amanda, and she smiled a tiny smile of victory.

BR094 Key For Jilly

2008-12-31T12:04:00.001Z

BR091 Jorge Bottlefly In Jail

2008-12-31T11:57:00.001Z

BR070 Ella Watering

2008-12-30T11:49:00.003Z

I slipped out of bed leaving Jilly in dreamland. We hadn't shut the thick curtains in Ella's top room and the sky was showing pink with the dawn. I found some of my old slippers in the closet and pattered downstairs to the living room. All was quiet. Going down to the chilly kitchen I put the kettle on and made myself a pot of tea. I cleaned up all the signs of my activity and took my cup of tea back up to the living room. Through the glass doors into the conservatory I could see Noobie, the little Garden Monkey, sleeping on a branch of a potted tree. I opened the door quietly and took a seat looking out at Ella's beautiful wintry garden. I wanted to think.

What had I been going through emotionally? Or physically, for that matter. My odd, dreamy, overcooked and oversensitive state yesterday. Everything had just seemed normal and then it wasn't. Suddenly I heard something behind me and turned to see Ella Pussycat coming through the door. She picked up a watering can and filled it at a tap. She didn't say anything but she nodded to me and smiled. As she watered the plants along the long window she hummed to herself.

I went back into my reverie. It felt as if there was a new understanding hovering above me, tantalizingly close and ready to be grasped. But what was it? What was the meaning of my odd state, if it had any special meaning?

"I'm glad to see you listening to yourself," said Ella. "Sometimes, Jack, your head is so full of a number of things that you seem to forget where you are."

"I do feel a lot of responsibility on my shoulders," I admitted.

"There are moment," said Ella as she put down her watering can and came and stood close to me, "when you have to let go or your body lets go. Now that your body has let go a little it may be urgent for you to act immediately."

"But how? What should I do?"

"I recommend you go out to Woody Spit, out to the orphanage and hang around with the kids."

"But it isn't the weekend."

"That doesn't matter now, Jack. Cancel everything at the Jackster plant this morning and drive out today and just be with the kids. Climb trees and sail your boat. Play the piano. Milk the cows. Make a little space immediately and then you can listen and hear what it is you are trying to say to yourself. The important thing is not to lose this opportunity."

BR062 Jack's Tidal

2008-12-29T22:15:00.001Z

BR083 Hat's Peace

2008-12-29T19:19:00.001Z

BR047 Cat's Diet

2008-12-29T19:16:00.001Z

BR080 Hat's Drive

2008-12-18T22:33:00.002Z

BR068 Beautiful Mouse

2008-12-18T22:30:00.002Z

BR067 Jazlin Late

2008-11-11T20:46:00.001Z

Moonlight

2008-11-11T20:38:00.008Z

I woke up when Jilly climbed into bed. My light was still on and my gripping detective paperback was beside me on the bed. Jilly put it away on the bedside table and turned off the lamp. Moonlight, from a full moon, streamed in the window. Don and Ella's villa is up the side of a hill and the other houses, all surrounded by trees, sit a little lower down on the hillside. We could see the whole moon looking very full indeed.

"Are you better now?" Jilly asked me.

"How was the meeting?" I asked back.

"Everyone seemed very focussed," Jilly said, putting her arm over my head. "They agreed that all our development projects should remain independent for the moment and be allowed to grow quietly. Hat wants to start up some new studies because he thinks the secret operations can use the cover and that we can afford it financially. Eddie was there and he said the new Jackster is selling really well."

"I guess that all sounds good," I said, not wanting to think about it too hard at the moment.

"That trollop Mimi Lapin dropped by," Jilly said, "Ella had let Amanda and me make scones for tea and Mimi came waltzing in the back door and right into the kitchen like she owned the place."

"She worked here for six months, Jilly, and Ella always lets her ex-au pairs have the run of the place when they leave. Ella says they continue to be her charges because they are always foreigners. She likes to practice her South Continent languages on them."

Jilly wasn't through yet. "'How's zhack?' was the first thing she said when she came through the door. Amanda was great. She said: 'What's it to you.'"

"She can't help being a flirt," I said, "It doesn't mean anything."

"She's a Rabbity bitch. You probably pity her because she's a poor lost soul on her own in a foreign country needing lots of male protection. A poor lost soul wearing skimpy peasant blouses showing off her massive cleavage."

"So," I said quickly, "Did the board talk specifically about any of our development projects?"

Crossing the moonlight we saw Jazlin Fly. She must have come in under the door. We saw her before we heard her buzz.

"I'm back," said Jazlin, "Arthur Pussycat brought me up from Chelseal. We saw a movie about thieving Walruses and he told me lots of stories."

"Did you get anything to eat," asked Jilly.

"I filled up on popcorn," said Jazlin.

"That's mostly just fake butter and salt," I said.

"I'm going down to bed now. I've got my cagepack in the living room. I just thought I'd say Hi."

"Sleep tight, sweetie," said Jilly.

"Sweet dreams," I told her.

"Bye now, Jack and Jilly!" said Jazlin, as she buzzed off. "Don't fight."

BR059 Polar Beggar

2008-11-11T19:52:00.001Z

BR057 Space Travel

2008-11-11T19:45:00.002Z

BR055 Jack and Moon

2008-11-10T21:12:00.000Z

Board Meeting

2008-11-10T21:06:00.001Z

The Jackster board were meeting downstairs but I lay down in my old room on the top floor of the Don and Ella's villa and looked at the ceiling. it looked very restful. I had told everyone I had a headache but really was going through something else. I was feeling kind of overloaded and oversensitive and I wanted to lie still for a while to get my bearings. Mostly, I felt strange. And I did have a little headache.

Jilly brought me a cup of cambric tea and sat with me for a while but I sent her back downstairs. We are not voting members of the board but we get to sit in. I needed her down there. Suddenly I was guilty that I wasn't at the meeting. What would they think of me flaking out like this? We have a lot of business on just now.

I didn't mean to but I fell asleep. When I woke it was dark and I could still hear everyone talking downstairs. I could tell that Don was laughing at his own jokes. I still felt oddly separated from the world so I got up and sat looking out the window, looking up at the rising moon. I got into a train of thought to do with hunger around the world and and that led to the price of fuel and the nature of speed, for travelers, and then about the moon being tidal. Maybe the moon could pull our vehicles, somehow. At certain times of month they could carry sensitized liquid which would add pull when they were going in the right direction. Well, it was an idea!

I felt in my pocket for a pen and then looked around. No pen anywhere.

In the moonlight I could see the lurid cover of a paperback novel on the bedside table. "The Philanthropist Murders," it was called, featuring the detective Mufeena Grizzly. I turned the light on and got back in bed and carefully read the back jacket. This one sounded good.

For the first time all day I felt completely relaxed.

BR053 Mufeena Grizzly

2008-11-10T21:03:00.002Z

BR063 Singing Act

2008-11-10T21:00:00.001Z

Hat's Hat

2008-11-03T21:56:00.002Z

When we got off the train Hat was back to his old self. He was talking and laughing and looking around and his bunnies were hippety hopping around us and the doves flying all over. The other travellers kept their distance. Only little Eenie Bunnie was pulling some luggage behind him, which kept him earthbound.

Underground at Hampsterhead station you have to take the lift. It is too far down for escalators. And I'm afraid the bunnies always get a little sick on the way up. They were talking about this problem quite loudly as we waited and we ended up taking the lift all by ourselves. They started making moaning noises as soon as we shot up the shaft and the white little Bunnies went somewhat green. Professor Hat never stopped talking, even when two of the doves rolled over on the floor and lay down.

"The point is," he was saying, "If we launch a new idea on the world, in an incomplete state - like this one about connecting cars on the highways with invisible Spider thread - everyone will latch onto it. Your competitors will get so involved with trying to copy it that they won't notice all the other things you are up to. You can hide all your secrets behind it"

When the lift came to a stop, with a lurch, the Professor took off his hat.

"Hop in guys," he said and the Doves and Bunnies scrambled in. Then, just as the door opened, the Professor stuck the big top hat on his head and strode out into the station. We flashed our travelcards at the machine and the turnstiles opened but as Hat went through an alarm went off. A Bulldog in uniform stood in front of us.

"You again!" he said as he recognised Hat.

"Sorry again, Officer," said Hat.

"You'd better take it off," the Transit Policeman said, and he held out his hand. The Professor took off the top hat and let the policeman examine it.

Meanwhile I walked to the entrance and looked out on Hampsterhead High Street. As I got accustomed to all the rush hour traffic streaming by I had the strangest experience. I could suddenly hear each car and bus individually, the tires, the engines, the breaks. Each car stood out from the whole as a completely separate event. This must have gone on for about a minute before it faded on me. Then my hearing retreated to the normal whoosh of traffic. I wondered if this was a sign of something going wrong with me.

Hat came out with his hat on.

"Stupid cop," he said, "He just doesn't get it." "I just hope," I replied, "that nobody threw up in your hat."

BR054 Moon Cards

2008-11-03T21:52:00.001Z

BR043 Hat In Thought

2008-10-20T20:48:00.011+01:00

I changed trains to Burrow Hall and sat down next to a old Skunk for a couple of stops and then felt like I needed better air. It wasn't exactly that he smelled really bad but it somehow felt stale and airless all around the old guy. It could have been an old age thing. I walked through the train into the next carriage, which was fairly full, and then I just kept on walking. In the carriage after that I saw Professor Hat sitting all on his own.
Actually, he wasn't on his own, he had his Doves and Bunnies with him and in fact one of the Doves was perched on the rim of his top hat. But Amanda Rabbit wasn't with him. And his whole presence was that of an animal alone. He was deep in thought, with his hand resting on his chin, leaning forward in his seat and staring intently. I didn't even feel comfortable interrupting him be saying hello. Other animals, sitting across for him, were looking at him with great interest.
"Hey, Jack," called Meenie. "What are you doing here?"
"I'd been spotted so I walked right over. Hat looked up and came out of his daze, waving me into the seat next to him.
"Jack," he said as soon as I sat down next to him. "I've just been thinking about your business."
"Really?" I said, "You mean the Jackster plant."
"The Jackster, yes." and he looked like he might go back into his daze for a moment. "The Jackster. What I was thinking about was some way that cars on the highway could be connected the way these individual trains are tied together on this track. What if there were some kind of invisible coupling that could manage the power in individual cars as soon as they were part of a chain? Like when they travel fast down a highway."
"It sounds great," I volunteered, "as long as you could find some way to do it technically. Do you have any ideas for it?"
"I was just thinking as you turned up," and Hat gave me his shy smile, "That I might talk to some Spiders about it."

BR022 Modern Mole

2008-10-20T20:44:00.000+01:00

BR023 Observatory

2008-10-20T20:41:00.001+01:00

BR040 Enjoying Rain

2008-10-16T21:29:00.001+01:00

BR036 Banana Fritters

2008-10-15T21:53:00.004+01:00

I supervised the wrecked racing car being trucked back to the Jackster plant and became the last of our team to leave the Dog Brothers Racetrack. Condon Duck had been whisked away to some celebratory party. I could have ridden back with Ben Bear and his crew but I decided to take the train and go straight home to the studio. I walked outside and up to the public part of the stadium, enjoying the lonely view, and climbed long stairs to the central exit which passed through into a wide circular hallway of concrete. Little bunker-like windows punctuated the outside wall with a good view out over the slightly sad neighbourhood of low-level residential properties around Dog Brothers.

The corridor was empty and quiet but at the front, where it slopes down to the underground train station, I could hear some clattering noises before I came far enough around the curve to see what was making it. Somehow I wasn't surprised when I saw it was Si Rabbit, clearing up from his Banana Fritter stand.

"Hey Si," I called out, nice and loud. "You look like you're the last one."

"Well, if it isn't Jack Rabbit," he called back, "I haven't seen you in a long Turtle!"

"Where's Lucky?" I asked. Lucky was Si's wife, who usually was bent over the stove cooking up the fritters.

"She's home in bed. Not too strong on her pins these days. How long has it been, Jack?"

"Four or five years I guess. I don't get out to the track much any more."

"Too busy with your car factory," and Si nodded knowingly. "I guess you let Condon do the racing."

"It looks that way," I said.

"It must be more like six or seven, I should say," and Si gave me a long stare.

"Well, it's good to see you, Si."

"Condon made a fool of himself today, if you ask me, Jack, spreading himself all over the tarmac like that, right after winning the race."

"Yeah, it was quite a crash. Expensive, too."

"I would have been ashamed of myself, in my younger days, letting my tail lift like that on the finish line. It's like you're too excited for your own good. You've got to whoosh straight through with real style!" and he demonstrated whooshing straight through with both his hands gliding quickly through the air. For a short moment he looked like a much younger Rabbit. In all the years I'd known Si he had never referred to his racing days. I only knew what I did about it from stories told around the track.

"I would have loved to see you in your prime, Si," I said.

"Come back again soon, Jack. Come for a fritter. It's always good to see you," and he turned away from me and began lowering his red and white umbrella with the Banana Fritters sign on it.

BR039 Full Moon

2008-10-14T13:55:00.001+01:00

BR037 Fur Potion

2008-10-14T13:54:00.000+01:00

BR038 Warthog Stiff

2008-10-14T13:46:00.000+01:00

BR034 Smash Up Time

2008-10-13T22:26:00.005+01:00

Prince Bullpup presented the winning trophy to Condon after the race. The Bees won it for Condon, if you ask me, helping with their air power to engineer a tremendous surge at the end. They pushed it so fast that the car would have gone airborne if we hadn't installed baffles at the back to prevent lift. It was probably that mechanism that caused the car to careen slightly after it had crossed the finish line and then go into a complete flip, crashing straight down onto the front end.

For a long moment the crowd held its breath as the other racers sped past the crashed car and the emergency vehicles turned on their sirens. The crowd waited painfully as the smoke cleared around the car and then started cheering as the door opened and Condon leapt out onto the tarmac. With a grand flourish he made a little bow and then the crowd went wild, jumping up and screaming and clapping with joy.

Condon, of course, loved every minute of it and he kept basking in the glory of his expanding legend throughout the trophy ceremony, milking the moment for everything he could get out of it. For Condon the Bees, the car, everything else was momentarily forgotten.

Personally, I couldn't take a lot of pleasure in it, or any. I'd known the car was fast and since it was a prototype I'd been looking forward to getting it back to the Jackster plant and fine tuning the thing. Now it was a wreck, waiting to be shovelled off the track. And the Bees were seriously disheartened. The crash had shook them up badly and the first thing they did when I arranged for the hood to come off was to call for a medic. An ambulance took about a hundred of them to the East Poultry Hospital Burn Unit. The head Bee said he would take the rest of his workers back to the Jackster plant immediately in a taxi. He said he would be making a report right away to the Queen Bee and that I'd probably hear from her in the morning.

I called Jilly, still up in the Beastburg Gazette box, and told her to go home without me. I knew I'd be dealing with the mess for at least another hour.

BR035 Mouse Train

2008-10-13T22:22:00.002+01:00

R988 Poppa's Plea

2008-10-11T20:53:00.003+01:00

Poppa: Waiting tables is beneath you, Peggy. I want to take you away from all this.

Peggy: I just love attending to people's needs in this way.

Poppa: But I want you to attend to my needs!

Peggy: OK, what can I get you?

BR031 Full Moon Songs

2008-10-11T20:44:00.001+01:00

BR 032 End is Nigh

2008-10-11T20:41:00.000+01:00

BR020 Fixed Race

2008-10-11T16:21:00.002+01:00

While I was down on the track waiting for Condon Duck at the pit stop Jilly was up in the press box, or rather in the next-door box that the Beastburg Gazette owns. She had been invited by Condon's sister-in-law, Melba, who is in favour with the great editor, Leo Lion, at the moment. She is on the Celebrity Desk.

Melba was there with her three chicks, nervously trying to keep them quiet in case her emplyer decided to throw them all out. This is something he is entirely capable of. He is well known to have very little patience with any young creatures, including Ducklings. When Leo Lion is at the races he is there to relax and enjoy his luxurious box.

Later on Jilly told me about her conversation with him.

“Who are you rooting for?! Asked Jilly.

“I don't need to root for anybody,” said the great Lion. “I'm a winner in today's race, whatever the outcome.”

“How is that?” asked Jilly.

“I have effectively fixed the race by making sure the results come in before my afternoon paper is put to bed. That's all that matters to me.” And then Leo gave her his Leonine grin.

BR030 Ugly and Cruel

2008-10-11T16:07:00.001+01:00

BR029 Flipping Sides

2008-10-10T22:23:00.001+01:00

BR028 Sunbathing Snakes

2008-10-10T22:22:00.005+01:00

"Sunbathing is in our DNA."

BR027 Snakes

2008-10-10T22:18:00.001+01:00

BR024 Environmental Snail

2008-10-09T20:34:00.000+01:00

BR026 Plumbing Book

2008-10-09T20:30:00.000+01:00

BR015 Apple Blossom

2008-10-09T20:26:00.000+01:00

BR019 Snake Racer

2008-10-08T19:26:00.002+01:00

BR018 Bee Power

2008-10-08T19:17:00.010+01:00

I'd agreed to help Condon Duck who was racing our new engine for the first time at the Dog Brothers Racetrack. We'd had trials that went well but we wanted to check it out under the pressure of a real race.

Condon has always been our best driver but he can't avail himself of pedal power. Lots of the other racers now have adapted our Jackster to give themself an extra edge. They would still use petrol as well, but they'd get that pedal power boost.

Condon's latest model uses an assist of air power, provided by Bees. Unfortunately, the Bees aren't comfortable being in such close proximity to the petrol motor. It made them angry.

I waited at the pit stop as Condon hared around the track, making very good time. Suddenly he lost a bit of speed and his driving became erratic. He was able to pull in and stop his car and we pulled open the front bonnet. The Bees came flowing out, at least all the ones that weren't bumping around hitting their heads on the side of the engine compartment.

"What's that matter boys?" I asked, "Is it the petrol?"

"No, Boss," said the head Bee. "It's the buzzing of the other cars on top of our natural desire to win. It's making us mad. And when we get mad we overheat."

"Come on, guys," Said Condon. "You provide the air power and I'll win the race."

"I think it's the petrol," I told the head Bee.

"It isn't the petrol." said the head Bee, "My bees are obsessed with winning."

"Tell them them to relax," said Condon, "I'll win the race. They just have to provide the air power."

"OK, boss," said the head Bee and he herded his bees back into the car.

BR021 Hairy Spider

2008-10-08T19:11:00.000+01:00

BR017 Portrait Talk

2008-10-07T12:24:00.000+01:00

BR017 Spider School

2008-10-07T12:19:00.000+01:00

BR008 Hungry Fly

2008-10-06T22:50:00.000+01:00

Jilly and I were both fast asleep when I found myself being awoken by a buzzing noise. It was Jazlin. "I'm hungry!" she said.

"Go back to sleep," I told her, "and don't let Jilly wake up. She didn't finish singing at the Egret Club until after midnight."

"I didn't have enough to eat last night," said Jazlin. "You always think Flies live on nothing but we don't."

"Go look for crumbs down in the kitchen."

"Jilly tells me not to. She says it's common."

It's the middle of the night," I said, "No one will see you."

"I want proper Fly food."

Jilly turned over and opened up her eyes. "What's going on?" she said.

"I'm hungry," said Jazlin.

"Why didn't you get up and get her something to eat, Jack?" said Jilly.

"He told me to go eat crumbs," said Jazlin.

"That's terrible," Jilly was half out of bed now, "I'll get you some Fly food. You need to be well fed for your day at school tomorrow!"

"I don't want to go to school tomorrow," said Jazlin, "I want a day off!"

"Why?" I asked.

"Because I'm sick of being the littlest one in my class. I'm probably the littlest one in the whole school!"

So we both got up. Down in the kitchen we talked it all over until Jazlin felt all right about things. Jazlin had her Fly food and we shared a carrot smoothie.

By the time we got back to bed the dawn was showing out the window.

"You'd better take her to school today," said Jilly. "I'm going to need to sleep in."

"Fine," I said.

Br011 Mixed Species

2008-10-06T20:58:00.000+01:00

    Jilly and I spent the afternoon up in Hampsterhead with Don and Ella. Ella Pussycat and Jilly worked out in the garden while Don Owl and I talked politics in the bedroom. He was in his purple dressing gown, propped up in bed and I was sitting by the window. We heard them enter the kitchen downstairs and clatter about making tea. They called to us as they came up the stairs and we all went into the living room together.
    After Ella poured the tea she went to the desk in the corner and brought back a wrapped present, a book, and presented it to Jilly.
    "What is it?" asked Jilly.
    "Open it and see," said Ella.
    "It's not my birthday for another two months," Jilly started unwrapping the package. "I can't think what the occasion could be to warrant such a beautifully wrapped gift."
    "The occasion is, belatedly, to celebrate your adoption of young Jazlin."
    "Oh my," said Jilly, looking at the title of the book, "How To Raise A Fly."
    "Starting a mixed breed family I thought you might appreciate a bit of professional advice!"

BR012 Raising Flies

2008-10-06T20:57:00.002+01:00

Just then Jazlin came flying through the window from the garden.

"Look, Jazlin!" said Jilly, "How To Raise A Fly!"

"What's that?" And little Jazlin flew over to where Jilly was sitting on the sofa.

"It's a book that Ella Pussycat just gave me. It will be full of good advice for me and Jack about how to look after you."

"It seems an unusual subject for a book," said Jazlin.

"That's true," I chipped in. "I hadn't thought of that."

"You'll notice," Don Owl remarked, "that it is quite a large book. There is quite a lot of territory to cover. Of course, a mother Fly wouldn't need all that information. They would understand perfectly how to raise a young fly without the aid of a book. But for Rabbits like yourself it seemed to us a very useful aid."

"Thank you," said Jilly, "Thank you both very much."

"You are most welcome, dear." And Ella came and sat by Jilly on the sofa.

"I've never even heard of anyone else adopting a Fly," buzzed Jazlin.

"That's just what I thought," said Don, "My very words when I first heard about it. Uncharted territory, that's what it is. 'Jack and Jilly will have to find their own way with this one,' is what I told Ella."

"And I said, 'They will certainly have to write the book on this one," said Ella.

"Then how did you..." but Jilly didn't finish her sentence as at that moment she started to leaf through the pages, looking at the book very intently. Then she laughed and held the open book up for me to see. "It's empty!" she exclaimed. "They are all blank pages!"

"Exactly," said Don, "This is the book you will have to write."

"We had it made up by a local bookbinder," said Ella. "Notice the lovely paper."

"I knew it!" Jazlin was buzzing around in circles now. "No fly would ever have anything to do with such a big heavy book. We would just have done one of our little Fly dances and considered you informed!"

BR013 Paper Replacement

2008-10-06T20:54:00.000+01:00

BR009 Solar At Night

2008-10-05T18:47:00.000+01:00

On the Jackster Plant rooftop garden they always fix the solar panels at night.

BR010 Singing Lesson

2008-10-05T18:45:00.001+01:00

BR004 Mole Books

2008-10-04T17:11:00.000+01:00

BR003 Soothsayers

2008-10-04T17:10:00.000+01:00

BR002 Beard Extenders

2008-10-04T16:52:00.000+01:00

BR001 Bugs have Mothers

2008-10-04T16:40:00.000+01:00

B1: Do bugs have mothers?

B2: Bugs is mothers!

B2: HA HA HA

B1: I was asking a serious question