A Duck In Her Pond » animals

A Munny

Blond Duck — Mon, 26 Mar 2007 02:22:00 +0000

“What is it?” she asked, turning it over in her hands.

“It’s a rabbit,” the younger girl said. “Well, at least it’s supposed to be a rabbit. That’s what the artist said.”

“It looks like a mouse,” the woman said, fingering it’s large floppy ears. “It’s cute though.”

“Well, she said it was a rabbit,” the younger girl said. “She called the set ‘reproducing rabbits’, because she’s constantly making more to sell.”

“It’s the long tail that makes it look like the mouse,” the woman said. “It’s cute though. It’s sweet.”

She set down the critter and the two went outside to enjoy the cool weather. The creature sighed and her ears drooped.

“Hello,” a voice said, and she turned to see a furry hedgehog staring at her.

“Hello,” the critter said. “Who are you?”

“I’m Hairy,” Hairy said. “I’m the Mayor of the Land of the Flowered Bed. I came to welcome you and let you know that we’ll be happy to show you around any time. We have a spa, with some resident ducks.”

“Thank you,” the creature smiled. “That’s quite nice of you.”

“What’s your name?” Hairy asked.

“I don’t have a name,” the critter sighed, looking down. “I’m just a Munny.”

“A Munny?” Hairy said carefully, trying not to insult her. “I’m afraid you’re the first Munny I’ve met! Tell me about yourself.”

“I was made by a local artist,” the Munny said, “And supposedly, we’re bunnies. But our long tails and floppy ears look more like mice. So we became Munnys–combinations of mice and bunnies.”

“Fascinating!” Hairy said, smiling. “Well, I’m sure we can come up with a name for you. Have you ever wanted a name?”

The Munny nodded shyly. “Well, what is it?” Hairy asked.

“I’ve always adored the name Mattie,” the Munny said. “I also like Rose, Violet and Millie.”

“Do you want one of those for a name?” Hairy asked.

“No,” the Munny sighed, her ears drooping. “They just don’t sound right. A name has to sound right, the way you say it and such. You know?”

“I know,” Hairy said. “What about Matilda?”

“No,” the Munny sighed.

“Mary?”

“No.”

“Margaret?”

“No,” the Munny shook her head.

“Mandy?” Hairy suggested.

“No,” the Munny said, frustrated. “Oh this is pointless! This will never work. I’ll just keep being a dumb nameless Munny forever.” They sat in silence for a few moments, the Munny sniffling.

“I know!” Hairy cried excitedly. “What about Mazzy the Munny?”

“That’s perfect,” the Munny beamed. “That’s perfect! I’m Mazzy! I’m Mazzy! I’m Mazzy the Munny!”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mazzy the Munny,” Hairy smiled. “I’m glad to have met you.”

“I’m so excited!” Mazzy cried. “I have a name! I must go tell my family! Thank you so much!” She jumped off the table and gave Hairy a hug. “I will come visit your land soon! It sounds lovely.”

“You’re welcome anytime,” Hairy promised, as Mazzy was already dialing the phone in excitement. He looked forward to seeing Mazzy around the Land of the Flowered Bed.

A Munny

The Second Act

Blond Duck — Fri, 02 Mar 2007 02:46:00 +0000

They had spent days preparing. Cookies had swathed himself in black and gone around talking to himself, then scribbling down on a piece of paper, then talking to himself again. Every few hours, he would let out a blood-curdling wail and tear the papers into shreds, throwing himself down on the ground as the floating bits settled around him. Then he would stand up and start it all over again.

Pumble on the other hand, glued himself to the T.V. He ordered in three extra-large pizzas and latched onto the remote like it was his own child. If the seals tried to watch animal planet, he snarled at them and threw empty pizza boxes at their heads. “I’m trying to create, people!” he would shout, cheese stuck to his chin. “I can’t create if you pester me! Back off! Just back off!”

So, Hairy and the seals had spent the past few days living in the spa with the ducks. The ducks had been thrilled for the company. The only person that usually came to visit them was the skunk. The skunk hadn’t been around in a few days, because he had been working in his clover garden. He did enjoy the sunny weather.

“What do you think the plays will be?” the first duck asked Hairy.

“Do you think they will be awful?” the second duck asked conspiratorially.

“I’m sure they’ll be nice,” the third duck whispered hopefully. The seals nodded in agreement and began to swim laps in the bathtub.

“I’m not sure,” Hairy said. He was ready for the plays to begin. He wanted to return to his normal routine. “I’m sure that Cookies will do a drama and Pumble will do a comedy. It suits their personalities.”

“I hope they both do comedies,” said the first duck.

“I hope they do mystery-dramas,” said the second duck.

“Will there be popcorn?” the third duck ventured.

Just then, Cookies strode into the spa arrogantly. “We are ready for you,” he sniffed, beckoning to them with his feathers. He strode on his heel and strode toward the stage. The seals dried themselves by rolling on a towel back and forth. The ducks carefully dried their feet on a rug and toddled into the make-shift theater.

Cookies and Pumble had strung a blanket across the closet. They had folded blankets to create seating. Hairy and the seals sat on one blanket, and the ducks sat behind them.

“I can’t wait to see what they’ve done,” the first duck said.

“I wonder what the costumes will be like,” the second duck wondered.

“Are there refreshments anywhere?” the third duck asked hopefully.

The lights awkwardly flicked on and off. Cookies’s voice boomed from behind the curtain.

“Good evening. There will be no photography or food or drink. Please respect the actors. There will be a brief intermission between acts, then the judging will occur. Our first act is the wonderful, the fabulous, the terrific, the stupendous, the handsome, the darling–”

“Get on with it!” Pumble hissed audibly.

“Owlroifico!” Cookies finished. Hairy and the seals applauded politely. The ducks stomped their feet and flapped their wings.

The curtain swung open, and Cookies dramatically stepped forward. He had pulled on one of the girl’s black turtleneck, and was hobbling forward in a pair of black shoes.

The seals looked at Hairy in concern. The ducks quaked alarmingly.

“He looks ridiculous!” the first duck said.

“He must be confused!” the second duck said.

“I think he looks dramatic,” the third duck argued.

“I was born in a large barn,” Cookies cried, falling to his knees. “I fought my way through the egg, cracking it’s gentle shell.” Cookies burst from the floor, making cracking noises. “I am born! I am alive! I am, I am Owlorifico!”

“Oh Lord,” Hairy said, clapping his hand to his head. The seals buried their heads in the towel. For the next hour, Cookies flopped and bellowed on stage as he told his life story.

“Now, as the grandest performer in the land, I beseech thee judges,” Cookies said, falling to his knees again. “Choose wisely. Choose the true performer of the theatre.”

With that, he backed out slowly and the curtain fell. Hairy and the seals clapped uncertainly. The ducks stomped their feet.

“Our next performer is Pumble!” Cookies yelled, as Pumble strode on stage.

“Some introduction!” Pumble called over his shoulder. “You went on for three hours about yourself!” Pumble turned and faced his audience. His face was a mask of concentration.

“What is he doing?” the first duck asked.

“Did he forget his lines?” the second duck questioned.

“I think he’s going too-” the third duck started. Pumble opened his mouth and belched. He belched again, and again. Soon he started tapping his foot as he belched.

“He’s belching Jingle Bells!” Hairy said, half in horror and half in a amusement. The seals clapped in delight and barked along.

After his song, Pumble bowed and walked off without another word. Hairy and the seals bowed their heads and whispered for several minutes. Nodding, Hairy raised his head. “We made a decision!” he cried. Cookies and Pumbles came running from the stage.

“We thought about this long and hard,” Hairy said. The seals nodded. “We decided that there was not a single winner.”

“Oh not this crap,” Pumble grumbled. “You’re both so good–”

“Well you were,” Hairy said. “We decided Cookies wins the prize for dramatic actor. Pumble, you win the prize for comedian!”

“I’m a true thespian!” Cookies cried, clutching his chest dramatically.

“I like comedy,” Pumble said. “At least everyone knows how funny I am!”

The seals applauded happily and jumped up and down.

“Wonderful!” the first duck cried.

“Fabulous!” the second duck yelled.

“I’m so proud of both of you!” the third duck smiled.

And with that, the animals set off to the Cafe for a celebration. After all, it wasn’t every day you had a thespian and comedian in your midst!

The Second Act

The theatre, the theatre, what’s happened to the theatre?

Blond Duck — Sun, 25 Feb 2007 04:39:00 +0000

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” Cookies bellowed, sweeping his imaginary top hat in front of him. “Boys and Girls! I present to you, the one, the only, Owlorfico!” Cookies disappeared behind the blanket he had hung between the spa doorway.

The seals applauded enthusiastically. Hairy applauded politely. Pumble clapped once and yawned.

“I delayed snacktime for this?” he muttered. “Be polite,” Hairy admonished. “He’s worked hard on this all weekend.”

The blanket rose, and Cookies strode dramatically into the room. He looked beyond his audience, squinting into the horizon.

“Hawk, who goes there?” he yelled in a loud voice. “But it is a raven. For if a rose had any other name, it would be as sweet. Out, out damned spot! Be gone from my sight for eternity. Boil, boil, toil and trouble. If thoust were to simply whisper, nay utter they name, it would forever linger on my lips, sweeter than the ripest peach–”

“What is this?” Pumble asked in horror. “He’s gone and mixed up half a dozen Shakespearean plays.”

“Shhhh,” Hairy hushed him, as he tried to figure out what the devil Cookies was doing.

“To be or not to be!” Cookies bellowed in an attempt at a deep baritone. “O Romeo, Romeo, where for art thy Romeo? This above all, to thy own self be true! The lady doth protest too much, me thinks. All the world is a stage, the men and women merely players. The fool doth think he wise, but a wise man know himself to be a fool.”

Cookies than staggered dramatically across the stage, holding a broken doll and speaking lovingly to it. “It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say goodnight until it be the morrow.”

With that, Cookies bowed his head and the curtain fell.

Uncertainly, the seals clapped their flippers. Politely, Hairy clapped. Pumble looked at the stage in confusion.

“What the devil kind of play was that?” he yelled. “I have no idea what it was.”

Huffily, Cookies strode through the closed curtain, throwing his cloak to the side dramatically.

“That was true theatre!” he bellowed.

“That was crap!”

“That was true theatre and culture!” Cookies retorted. “You wouldn’t know culture if it bit you in the face.”

“That was a mish-mash of quotes!”

“That was the brilliance of Shakespeare!” Cookies flung his arms out dramatically. “So sorry it wasn’t printed on the side of a cereal box for your understanding.”

“I could do a better play than that!” Pumble bragged. “I could do better than a bunch of quotes.”

“You want to bet on that?” Cookies said angrily.

“Yea, I do!” Pumble said. “Winner is declared a true actor! An authentic member of the theatre!”

“You’re on!” Cookies said, narrowing his eyes. “Hairy and the seals will judge.”

“Fine!” Pumble snapped, stalking off the other direction.

“Fine!” Cookies said, not to be outdone. He stalked off the other direction.

Hairy and the seals remained in their seats, looking at each other. Hairy sighed. “The theatre, the theatre,” he said, shaking his head. “What’s happening to the theatre?”

The theatre, the theatre, what’s happened to the theatre?

Valentine’s Day Part 2

Blond Duck — Thu, 15 Feb 2007 02:44:00 +0000

Continued from part 1

“It’s very simple,” Cookies said. “First, you need a cloak. You can’t be mysterious without a cloak. You need a single flower. Roses are too overdone, perhaps a daisy. Daises are sweet and innocent. Then, you need to arrive about fifteen minutes early and sit in a public spot. That way, she can see you and know you’ve shown up. Where are you supposed to meet?”

“At the patio doors in the moonlight,” Pumble answered.

“How romantic,” Hairy sighed. The seals sighed as well, blinking dreamy black eyes. Cookies rolled his eyes.

“You three make me want to gag,” he muttered. “Well, what you must do is go to the patio doors at 11:45 and sit in the direct moonlight. She can’t miss you there.”

“Are you nervous?” the first duck asked.

“What do you think she’ll look like?” the second duck asked.

“I’d be terrified,” the third duck confessed.

“I’m not scared,” Pumble said, trying to put a jovial tone in his voice. “It’ll be great fun! I’m sure I’ll have a great story out of it.” He suddenly had a thought and narrowed his eyes. “Unless one of you jokers wrote this note and is setting me up.”

“We would never write a note!” the first duck protested.

“It’s not our thing!” the second duck explained.

“It would be very mean,” the third duck whispered. Pumble looked at Cookies and Hairy.

“Don’t look at us,” Hairy said. “We’ve been with you the entire day. And the seals delivered the note.”

“True,” Pumble said. He stretched and pulled himself out of the now cool hot tub. “I say we celebrate my midnight rendezvous with a snack!” he said cheerfully. “Who’s up for honey and biscuits?”

After the people had come home and gone to bed, the hours crept by. Pumble watched the time carefully, feeling as though midnight would never get there. Finally, at 11:37, he wrapped himself in a sweatshirt for a cloak and crept out of the bedroom, careful to open the door so it didn’t squeak. The boy slept lightly, and Pumble couldn’t risk getting caught.

Carefully, Pumble crept down the hallway. He heard noise behind him and turned sharply. He could only see a dark outline in the black that surrounded him. “Who are you?” he hissed. “Identify yourself!”

“Good Lord, it’s us,” Cookies disgusted voice whispered. “Don’t be so dramatic. Who did you think it would be? A robber?”

“We want to come support you!” Hairy said sweetly. The seals yipped quietly in agreement.

“What about the ducks?” Pumble asked. “They stayed behind to act as an alarm,” Hairy said. “Good,” Pumble nodded. “Let’s go.”

They crept carefully into the living room and around the kitchen cabinet. The seals kept giggling in excitement and clapping their flippers lightly. “Shush!” Hairy would say gently. “We have to be quiet on a rendezvous.”

“You stay here,” Pumble said. “I’m going to go stand in the moonlight.”

“Be sure you have your cloak!” Cookies advised.

“Have fun!” Hairy said cheerfully. The seals gurgled and wished him well. Pumble crept silently into the kitchen and plopped down on the vinyl floor. It was 11:47.

At 11:52, Pumble began to play with his cloak. First he made it into a hat, then into a loin cloth. At a indignant hiss from Cookies, he fixed his cloak and sat sulking on the floor.

At 11:56, Pumble began to play with the daisy. He balanced it on his nose and tried to balance it on the stinger. It fell and he tripped on it, falling and squishing it with his belly. He got up and hastily tried to reattach some of the petals. Hairy smacked his forehead and Cookies began to beat his head into the wall.

At 11:59, Pumble stood anxiously holding his tattered daisy in his crooked cloak, growing nervous. What if she didn’t show up? What if she didn’t come? What if she wasn’t a she? What if this was all a cruel joke? He felt the adrenaline course through his veins. What if—

“Hello, Valentine,” a sweet low voice said. He could hear Hairy and Cookies gasp and the seals giggle. “Happy Valentine’s day!” the shadowy figure said. A small hand held out a Valentine.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” Pumble said, holding out the tattered flower. He stuttered, “I’m sorry, I accidentally fell–”

“It’s beautiful!” the figure exclaimed. She pressed it to her nose. “Thank you so much for meeting me. It was nice of you. See, I’ve admired you for months.”

“Months?” Pumble said, confused. “I don’t believe I’ve ever met you before.”

“I stopped by a long time ago,” the figure reassured him. “We never actually met, but I saw you through a window.”

“I must admit, I’m quite flattered,” Pumble said. “I’ve never had a secret admirer or a midnight rendezvous before. I was actually nervous.”

“Told you,” Cookies muttered to Hairy softly.

“I was nervous too,” the figure admitted. “But, I figured there was no harm in trying. So, happy Valentine’s Day.” The figure turned to leave.

“Wait!” Pumble said, rushing towards her. “I haven’t seen your face!”

The figure turned and slowly walked back into the light. Pumble gasped. “You!” he cried. “I can’t believe it!”

“It was nice to see you,” the Ladybug said softly. “I must go now. I have to get back home before it gets too cold. Thank you for being my Valentine.”

“When will you come back?” Pumble said, taking another step forward. “I’d like to see you again.”

“Soon,” the Ladybug smiled. “Soon. I will return to you, Valentine.”

With a smile and a wave, she gently flew out the patio doors into the midnight. Pumble heard her faint whisper in the cool wind that blew by his ear, “Maybe you’ll have a story for me next time…”

Pumble stood grinning dumbly at the doors as Cookies and Hairy rushed forward. “Who was that?” they cried. “We didn’t recognize her at all.”

“Was she nice?” Hairy asked.

“Was she pretty?” Cookies demanded. The seals barked and whined, wiggling their tales.

“Yes, yes and yes,” Pumble said dreamily. Cookies stared at him in frustration. “Who was she?” he cried.

Pumble smiled serenely. “She was my Valentine.”

Valentine’s Day Part 2

Valentine’s Day

Blond Duck — Tue, 13 Feb 2007 03:14:00 +0000

Love had filled the air. The seals nuzzled everyone and stared up at them with adoring eyes, Cookies had become a bit nicer and Hairy had taken to watching movies on Lifetime in the middle of the day and crying.

“It’s just so romantic!” he would blubber, blowing his nose on the Kleenex. “So romantic!”

Even Pumble had gotten into the romance of it all, as he sat in the spa feeding himself chocolate covered strawberries. “You know,” he told the ducks as they floated in the bathtub, “I had a girl once.”

“Be serious!” they cried, leaning in for the juicy gossip. Pumble nodded, pleased at the response, and paused dramatically.

“Her name was Petunia,” he said romantically. “Petunia the Bee. But you see, it was never meant to be.” He giggled at the rhyme.

“What happened?” the third duck cried.

“Well, her mother was the Queen Bee of another hive. She was in line to the throne, and had been bethrothed since eggs to this loser.” Pumble narrowed his eyes. “We dated all through bee school, but it was to no use. Her mother wouldn’t let me marry her. She kept her locked up in the very top part of the hive. One night, I begged her to elope with me and presented her with the finest honey in the land. But she was too scared of her mother’s wrath, and turned me away.” Pumble looked at the anxious faces watching him and felt pleased as a storyteller.

“Well that’s horrible!” one of the ducks cried. “So that’s it? Just this tragic ending?”

“Well, she got to be queen and I got to come here,” Pumble said, grinning. “Honestly, why would I want to sit around a palace and have to solve problems when I could eat chocolate strawberries in a bathtub. I do believe I got the better end of the deal.”

“So what are you doing for Valentine’s Day then?” the second duck asked. “I’m going to–” Pumble stopped as one of the seals delivered and envelope to him. “What the devil is this?” he asked as he tore it open. He pulled out a red card and opened it, reading it in shock.

“What is it?” the first duck asked.

“What’s going on?” the second duck asked.

“Is it Petunia?” the third duck asked eagerly.

“It’s a secret admirer!” Pumble said in amazement. “My admirer wants to meet me on Wednesday for a midnight rendezvous!”

“A midnight rendezvous?” Cookies exclaimed, eavesdropping from the doorway. “Why that’s romantic! This woman is in love with you! Only women in love crave midnight rendezvous.”

“What if she just likes him?” Hairy asked practically. “Perhaps she gets off work at midnight.”

“As what?” Cookies asked scornfully. “A bar maid?”

“I suppose I should pick her some flowers,” Pumble said thoughtfully. He wasn’t quite sure what to think of a secret admirer. He’d never had one. “I could brush my teeth to.”

“That’s a brilliant idea,” Cookies snorted.

“What exactly does a secret admirer do?” one of the ducks asked. Cookie laughed at him and said, “You poor silly duck.” Pumble was glad he hadn’t asked.

“A secret admirer is someone that sends you secret notes and gifts because they care about you,” Cookies said. “You always know someone’s in the distance, watching and pining for you.”

“That’s so romantic!” Hairy cried as he blew his nose. He felt all weepy. The seals nuzzled up to him and barked happily. “I love you too!” Hairy squealed, petting their soft heads. “I love everybody!” He buried his face into their squirming body and cried tears of joy.

“What is wrong with him?” Ccookies said in disgust. “Get ahold of yourself man.”

“He’s just feeling the love,” Pumble smiled. “Just like me.”

“It’s just so wonderful!” Hairy cried. “Everyone’s so happy! I just feel all squishy inside.”

Cookies rolled his eyes.

“We must get you ready for your secret rendezvous!” Cookies said, checking his watch. “There isn’t much time!”

“What should we do?” the ducks asked. “What do you do for a rendezvous?”

“It’s very simple,” Cookies began………

To be continued

Valentine’s Day

The Smell

Blond Duck — Fri, 09 Feb 2007 03:20:00 +0000

“What is THAT?” Cookies bellowed, retching in disgust. The seals gagged and choked as they crawled on their bellies to the window, desperate for a fresh breath of air. Pumble lay on the ground wheezing.

“This is it,” he wheezed. “This is the end. The end of the honey jar. I can smell the cold hand of death coming to wrap his bony fingers around my neck.”

“First of all,” Cookies choked out. “Your neck is too fat for anyone to wrap their fingers around, even death. Second of all, that smell isn’t death, it’s putrid. It’s inhuman. It’s more disturbing then fat women wearing pleather mini skirts.”

“Quit being mean,” Hairy grunted as he pulled and jerked on the window. “You’re just cranky because of the smell.”

“I’m cranky because I can’t breathe!” Cookies bellowed. “You’d be cranky too if the air in your lungs was green and rotting!”

“I can see the light,” Pumble cried. “It’s coming towards me! I can see castles of honey and biscuits!”

Hairy jerked the window open as the seals gasped for air. They lay on the floor, sucking in deep breaths of fresh air. The stench slowly seeped from the room. Cookies quit bellowing and Hairy felt the burn in his sinuses cease.

“The tunnel is closing!” Pumble cried. “The castles of honey are fading! It’s–it’s gone!” He sat up beaming. “Hooray!” he cried. “Guess what? I’m not dying anymore!”

“I’m so thrilled,” Cookies said sarcastically.

“Oh hush,” Hairy said as Pumble pouted. “What do ya’ll think the smell was?”

“Pumble farted!” Cookies announced immediately.

“The seals didn’t throw away their raw fish!” Pumble retaliated. The seals barked in disagreement, crossing their flippers over their bodies.

“Now, now, there has to be a reason for the smell,” Hairy said. Suddenly, his eyes grew wide. “I know what it is!” he cried. “A skunk?”

“A skunk?” the others cried in shock. “Where?” Pumble leaped to the top of the pillows while the seals dove under the bed to look for him eagerly.

“Well think about it,” Hairy said logically. “What else smells that bad?”

“Pumble’s farts,” Cookies replied promptly.

“Oh stop it,” Hairy said in exasperation.

“But wouldn’t the smell have gotten worse when you opened the window, if it was a skunk?” Pumble said thoughtfully.

“That’s a good point!” Hairy said. His eyes grew wide. “That means the skunk is in the Land of the Flowered Bed.”

“That’s all we need,” Cookies rolled his eyes. “We already have three ducks in the bathroom. Of course we need a skunk as well.”

“When are the ducks leaving?” Pumble asked. “They tend to hog the hot tub.”

“Don’t stand there arguing!” Hairy cried. “We have to find the skunk.”

“Oh, right,” Pumble said. “The skunk.” The animals looked under the bed, and found no skunk. They looked in the spa- no skunk. They looked in the refridgerator and under every nook and cranny–no skunk. The seals were sniffing frantically to locate the smell. The others were confused.

“How can it smell so bad and not come from a source?” Hairy asked. “That makes no sense.”

Suddenly, the seals began barking and hopping up and down. They pointed their noses to a pair of socks. Hairy went over to sniff the socks and turned green within three feet of them. “That’s it all right,” he gagged. “It’s nauseating. It’s completely awful!”

“We have to get rid of it!” Cookies demanded. “Pumble, get rid of the socks.”

“No way,” Pumble said. “I want to be able to eat again. My hands will fall off.”

“I’m not doing it!” Hairy cried. “I found it!” As the three argued, the seals rolled their eyes and used their tails to kick the socks in the toilet. One of the ducks flushed, and the seal barked in appreciation. The three interrupted their arguing.

“Well then,” Cookies said. “That’s done. Onto the next adventure of the day.”

Later that evening, I opened the screen door to take out the trash and froze once again. There on my patio stood a tiny skunk.

“Hello,” he beamed up at me. “I heard there was a skunk in the Land of the Flowered Bed. I came to join him.”

I stared at him in amazement and shook my head. “Here we go again,” I muttered.

The Smell

Sunning

Blond Duck — Mon, 05 Feb 2007 22:15:00 +0000

The sun was shining, the sky was a bright blue and a cool breeze blew through the air. As I went on one of my daily walks, enjoying the warm sun on my face, I heard a familiar voice.

“Hello, Lady!” A small voice greeted me. I turned to see Ernie the Earthworm laying in the shade of a leaf that had been propped up on some thick grass. His little acorn hat shaded his eyes so all I could see was his glowing pink body.

“Hello, Ernie,” I greeted him. “What are you doing today?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Ernie asked, tipping his hat up so he could narrow his eyes at me. “I’m sunning myself.”

“But you’re in the shade,” I said.

“Well then, I’m shading myself.” Ernie retorted, relaxing under his leaf.

“You never struck me as the sunbathing type,” I said. “Aren’t you worried about getting sunburned?”

“I’m more afraid of the birds,” he said, creeping closer to the edge of his leaf. “If I lay in the sun too long, they think I’m a scrap of ham.”

“Do birds eat ham?” I asked, looking confused. “I would think worms would be tastier than ham.”

“Shhh!” Ernie whispered, looking around carefully. “Don’t give them any ideas. I’ve managed to convince them I’m an Earthworm God. So they don’t mess with me.”

“Is that why you needed your hat?” I asked, trying not to smile. Every time he turned his tiny pink head, his hat spun around like a top.

“Of course not,” Ernie snapped, acting as though I was dumb. “I need it so I won’t get freckles.”

I just stared at him. “I have sensitive skin, you know,” Ernie said defensively. “People pay money for this shade of pink.”

“I’m sure they do,” I said, trying not to laugh.

“Lady, where is my hat?” Ernie demanded, trying to see if I was holding it in my hand. “You promised me a spring hat.”

“It’s not spring yet,” I said.

“What do you call this?” Ernie said, looking up at the great blue sky.

“Gorgeous weather,” I said.

“Gorgeous weather is the definition of spring,” Ernie said triumphantly. “Give me my hat!”

“I don’t have it,” I said. “You’ll have to wait.”

Ernie scrunched up his face and his thin pink body began to tremble. The next thing I knew, he was throwing himself all over the ground wailing. “Gimme gimme gimme gimme!” he screamed.

The birds perched above my head didn’t miss this new action.

“Is it a worm?” one pondered.

“No it’s a ham,” another said. “Dummie!”

“You’re all wrong!” the third bird said. “It’s a french fry!”

“It’s pink, stupid!” the first bird said.

“Duh,” the third bird said. “It’s pink for Valentine’s Day. Isn’t it romantic?”

“It’s not romantic because it’s a worm!” the second worm argued. “Only cockroaches are romantic. Now that’s elegant cuisine right there.”

While the birds argued over dining choices, I bent down and whispered to Ernie, “They think you’re a pink french fry.”

Ernie quit flopping and sniffled. “I might as well be,” he sobbed. “You don’t even care about me enough to make me a spring hat.” He began to wail again. Rolling my eyes, I took his pre-existing hat and tied some flowers and tiny clovers to the top of it. I bent down and handed it to Ernie.

“How’s that?” I asked. Ernie stopped wailing and eyeballed his new hat. “Marvelous!” he cried happily. He put it on his head, causing the flowers to flop over in different directions.

“Don’t I look darling?” he beamed up at me. Once again, I couldn’t break his wormy little heart.

“Darling,” I said, trying not to laugh. And with that, Ernie the earthworm returned to his sunning, the birds continued to argue regarding the romance of worms, and I took a few more minutes in the glorious sunshine. After all, it was a wonderful day for sun.

Sunning

Just Duckie

Blond Duck — Thu, 01 Feb 2007 03:23:00 +0000

After a long day at work, I came home and fixed dinner. As I was cleaning up the kitchen, lost in my own thoughts, I opened up the back patio door. I raised my head and froze, still holding the trash sack in my hand. In front of me stood several white ducks, peering at me curiously.

“Excuse me!” one duck called. “Can you help us find something?”

“Sure, I suppose,” I said, dumbfounded.

“Wonderful!” the duck exclaimed. “Do you know where The Pond is?”

“The pond?” I echoed.

“No,” the duck said, shaking his bill. “The Pond.”

“I’m not quite sure what you mean by The Pond,” I said, setting down the trash sack.

The ducks sighed, obviously vexed by my lack of knowledge. “You know,” another duck said. “The Pond. The Pond where you, the Blonde Duck, resides.”

“Oh!” I cried, immediately understanding. “The Pond!” The ducks nodded enthusiastically. “Well, you’re in the Pond.”

The ducks looked at me, looked at the yard, and looked back at me. “Excuse me?” one duck said. “This is THE Pond?”

“Well, it’s not all of the Pond,” I huffed. “There’s more inside.” The ducks sighed in relief and waddled after me through the house. I gave them a tour. While they enjoyed the Land of the Flowered Bed and the garage where Henry the Lizard lay sleeping, they kept quacking to themselves and gnashing their beaks. We returned to the patio, where they perched on the patio table.

“Well, what did you think?” I asked. The ducks conferred then looked at me.

“We don’t like it,” one duck said. “It’s dull,” the second duck said. “I like the Land of the Flowered Bed,” the third duck ventured. I smiled and thanked him. He grinned back at me and asked for some tuna.

As I prepared a dish of tuna for the ducks, they discussed their grievances with me.

“The ponds in your pond were quite white and warm,” the first duck said. “Or small and metal,” the second duck said, nodding enthusiastically. “A bit too yuppie for me,” the third duck confessed through loud smacks. “I would feel like I was in a spa.”

“Again with the spa,” I muttered. As they had traveled all the day to see the Pond, I felt obligated to appease them. “So what would you like to see?” The ducks muttered among each other, than turned to me over their plates of tuna.

“We would like a pond within the Pond,” the first duck said. “An outdoor pond, not a big indoor pond,” the second duck clarified. “With flowers and frogs!” the third duck said enthusiastically, finishing his tuna. “Some cattails too, if you please.”

“You want a pond in the backyard?” I asked. The ducks nodded. “We can do that,” I said. The ducks quacked happily. “We would also like a slide,” the first duck said. “And a cabana bar with fish juice,” the second duck said. “Isn’t that a bit yuppie?” the third duck asked anxiously. He was shushed by the other two ducks. Three sets of bright eyes looked up at me expectantly.

“I’ll see what we can do,” I said, trying not to smile.

“Until then, you can find us in the Spa at the Land of the Flowered Bed,” the first duck said, toddling off.

“I hear they serve smores,” the second duck said, waddling quickly behind.

“Thank you for the tuna,” the third duck said shyly, using his beak to throw away his plate. “When do we get our pond?”

“Soon,” I promised. He smiled and waddled away quickly around the corner. I began to clean up the half chewed plates of tuna.

“Blonde Duck?” the third duck asked. I turned to look at him. “It’s a very nice Pond,” he grinned. I grinned back and finished cleaning up, humming to myself. Here at The Pond, things are just ducky.

Just Duckie

Swimming

Blond Duck — Fri, 26 Jan 2007 15:36:00 +0000

The animals in the Land of the Flowered Bed were thrilled. It had finally stopped raining, and sunshine was pouring through the open blinds. Frost was beginning to melt off the leaves, and tufts of green were peeking through. For a few days, at least, a taste of spring was here. It was time to celebrate!

Cookies decided to fix smores and toasted mice, while Pumble set about laying out. He placed a pillow under the window and plopped down on it, his big tummy raising up and down as he snored.

As mayor, Hairy surveyed the scene, smiling. Then he noticed the seals weren’t around. He checked under the bed and in the pillows, and they were no where to be found. Suddenly, he heard the sound of water running. Alarmed, he found the seals barking happily and filling up the bathtub with water.

“What are you doing?” Hairy shouted. “You can’t get all wet! You’ll get us discovered!” The seals barked happily and slid into the water on their bellies, splashing happily in the tub. Hairy clapped his hand over his head as Cookies ran in.

“What are they doing?” Cookies said, confused. “They’re going swimming,” Hairy replied, gesturing to the seals, who were now doing backstrokes. “They said it was such a nice day, they wanted to go swimming.”

“They won’t dry,” Cookies said, gesturing at the clock with his tongs. “I know,” Hairy said. Cookies looked around the bathroom, tapping his feathered chin with his tongs. “You know, this place would be a perfect spa.”

“A spa?” Hairy asked in disbelief. “A spa?” Pumble woke out of a dead sleep. “Where? Do they have a chef?”

“Actually, yes,” Cookies said, preening. “I am the chef of La Bathroom, the most elegant spa in the Land of the Flowered Bed. We offer freshly baked smores and toasted mice, and will cook anything you like. We have an Olympic sized swimming pool and a hot tub. Discriminating guests will enjoy the masseuse table, where they will be wrapped in white fluffy towels and rubbed down with lotion.”

“That sounds wonderful!”Pumble said, now fully awake. “Who do I talk to?”

“Our concierge!” Cookies said with a broad smile. “You, sir, tell the man how much it costs!” Hairy looked at Cookies in confusion, down where his wing was pointing, and back at Cookies.

“Me?” he squeaked. “Yes you,” Cookies muttered with impatience. “Get on with it!”

“Um,” Hairy stuttered. “We require reservations five minutes in advance, and payments are made in-”

“Cookies,” Cookies supplied. “Freshly baked ones.”

“Sign me up!” Pumble said, running into the spa. He filled up the sink with hot water and climbed in, sighing with relief. “What a lovely spa,” he sighed. The seals splashed about happily, barking and having diving contests with the soap. Cookies brought out fresh smores for everyone, and Hairy later gave the seals massages, where they both fell asleep on the toilet wrapped in a towel. The animals were so relaxed they barely moved when the people came home.

“What a lovely spa,” Pumble mumbled sleepily. He had spent the day eating smores and sitting in the hot tub, which had to be refilled seven times. Lazily, he draped one lotion covered arm over his cookie covered eyes. “Hairy,” he said thoughtfully. “What if you gave me a honey oil treatment tommorow? Or perhaps you could dip me in chocolate? What if we filled the bathtub full of whipped cream, and swam in it? Would you be interested in giving me a chocolate massage?”

His plump ears were met with silence. “Hairy?” he asked. “Hairy?” He looked up to see Hairy and Cookies running down the hallway in terror at that thought. Only the seals were left, who were grinning up at him. “Would you give me a chocolate massage?” he asked the seals. The seals barked and crossed their arms in reply. “Only if we swim in purred salmon and chocolate?” Pumble said, removing his arm from his eyes. He thought a moment, then placed his arm back. “It could work,” he said thoughtfully. “It could work. I do loovvveeee chocolate. Even if it’s got some salmon in it.” The seals licked their lips happily in reply.

Swimming

A Crime in the Land of the Flowered Bed

Blond Duck — Sat, 20 Jan 2007 04:14:00 +0000

Time: 8:08 a.m. January 17, 2007

Location: The Land of the Flowered Bed, on the bed

It was a horrible scene. The seals had buried themselves in the pillows to avoid looking at it, and Pumble was so upset he made a beeline for the ice cream. Cookies and Hairy were left standing at the disaster.

“Well,” Hairy said. “I suppose one of us should check it’s tags.”

“The horror!” Cookies clutched his chest. “Oh the humanity! Who could have done this? Only a monster!”

Hearing the shrieks, the seals trembled more and dove only deeper under the pillows.

“You’re scaring them,” Hairy scolded, as he grimly surveyed the scene.

“They should be scared,” Cookies said ominously. “I’m scared. And nothing scares me.” The seals’ tails completely disappeared. Hairy made a face at him.

“I’m back,” Pumble announced, strolling back in with a ring of chocolate syrup around his mouth. He saw the sight and grimaced. “Haven’t you cleaned that up yet? It’s making me nauseous just looking at it.”

Hairy stepped forward and carefully reached under the victim and checked his tags. After carefully reading them, he carefully relaxed.

“It’s a false alarm!” he cried happily.

“What do you mean it’s a false alarm?” Cookies said in shock. “Could it be? No one has been murdered? We are safe in our beds at night? We can relax in the knowlege that–”

“YES!” Hairy cried happily. “We’re safe! There’s not a killer on the loose!”

Barking excitedly, the seals emerged from the pillows.

“Well, then whatever is it?” Pumble demanded.

“Yes, what is it?” Cookies asked anxiously.

Hairy looked at each of them dramatically, then grinned. “It’s wool and cashmere!”

“Wool and cashmere!” they all cried excitedly.

“So they didn’t skin stuffed animals!” Pumble cried. “It’s just a boring ordinary sweater! It’s not worthy of investigation!”

“We’re safe!” Cookies cried. “They’re shearing sheep instead! How glorious! I always knew there had to be another explanation. I was never convinced that a stuffed animal killer was on the loose. Besides, why would he skin the animals and turn their hides into sweaters? That’s utterly ridiculous.”

“That’s why you woke us up with the blood curdling shriek, ‘Murder, Murder!” Pumble mimicked.

“Ok, ok,” Hairy said, rolling his eyes. “The important thing is that it is a sweater, and that it is made from wool, not from skins. It was just a product of our over-active imaginations.”

After they sat around and congratulated each other, they sat still, rather bored.

“Well, there went all the excitement,” Pumble muttered. “I’m going to go see what’s in the kitchen!”

As the seals played quietly on the floor, Hairy read a magazine on the bed while Cookies perfected his soliloquy. Suddenly, Pumble came racing in the room.

“Guys, you’ll never believe it!” he cried dramatically. “Someone stole all the crackers! They’re gone! My precious wheat crackers–they’re GONE!” Hairy grabbed his magnifying glass and Cookies hurried behind him with his special detective hat. The seals followed, barking excitedly. The next adventure had begun.

A Crime in the Land of the Flowered Bed