Danger on the Platypus Archipelago, part 3
(from the previous entry):
And, after two hours of upward, intense hiking, they reached the summit. Needless to say, they weren’t prepared for what they found there. Hundreds of stuffed animals – everything from snakes to badgers to parrots – were dragging cut stones together, building what what looked it was going to be an enormous statue of . . .
A giant oatmeal cookie?
“That’s right!” Karl said. “Oatmeal cookies were Grunty’s favorite snack. They must all be working under him, trying to please him by turning the island into . . . well, I don’t know. I guess you’d have to call it “Oatmeal Cookie Island,” since once this thing is done, you’ll be able to see it from 50 miles away.”
“Karl, these animals shouldn’t be working like this,” V said. “They need to play, to sleep, and to cuddle. Not drag big stones around, making a giant cookie – WHICH, by the way, they won’t even be able to eat when it’s done.”
“Right,” Karl replied. “We should be showing them how to make ovens and rolling pans instead. Then they’ll be able to make their own REAL oatmeal cookies, and I’m sure Grunty would rather have his slaves doing that.”
V looked angrily at her acquisitioning partner. “Wrong again, Karl. Where is your head, lately!? Grunty should have slaves at all! We need to put a stop to this.”
“Oh, right. Of course. Seeing stuffed animals speaking in palindromes and building enormous baked-goods statues must be getting to me. . . I have an idea!”
“Well, it’s about time,” V said. “What is it?”
“Well, first, guess what I have packed in the boat?”
“You mean. . . You’re kidding. You couldn’t. . .”
“Oh, but I do! A whole big bag of oatmeal cookies. I was saving them to give to the Pinstripe Penguins, but this is more important.”
“Let’s go back to the beach, and lay out trails of crumbs! If we can get Grunty to come back with us, I think this whole mess will undo itself.”
“But V,” Karl reminded her, “We don’t HAVE a way back!”
“Details, details, Karl. Now get hiking!”
The two went back down the mountain, back through the jungle (which was easier since they’d cut such a thorough path on the way up), but it was still tiring. Fortunately, these two are very passionate about their work.
They got to their still-wrecked boat and were happy the cookies were still there. For a moment, Karl scanned the waters beyond the beach for his beloved Pinstripe Penguins, then sighed, and the two set about making trails of cookie crumbs from the jungle to the beach.
Saving a handful of oatmeal cookies for themselves, and for the last step in luring Grunty out of the jungle and into their hands, the two acquisitioners made their camp on the beach and waited for nightfall, when they were sure Grunty was most active.
Then just after midnight, with the white light of the moon reflecting onto the calm waters surrounding Platypus Archipelago, the crazed palindromes reached Karl and V’s ears. . .
“Able was I ‘ere I saw Elba.” The voice was faint, and sounded inquisitive. Then it grew louder, and more excited. “Rats live on no evil star? Rats live on no evil star!”
“He’s coming out,” V whispered. The rustling from the black wall of jungle trees grew louder, and then they heard little monkey footsteps in the sand. Finally, they saw him approaching, manically stuffing little oatmeal morsels into his mouth.
“Grunty,” V whispered to him, holding out a larger chunk of cookie. “Grunty, come here. Remember me? Remember V?”
“V?” the little monkey asked, his mouth full.
“V,” V said, and held the cookie out further. “Want this? We have more, too.”
The monkey’s eyes lit up at the piece she held out, but did not yet come closer. He was weary of humans from so much time away. Soon enough, though, the smell of Karl’s cookies overpowered his apprehension, and he scuttled closer.
V gave him the morsel, then showed him the several FULL cookies they had in their bag. The monkey eyes bulged, and he pointed at the bag, saying happily, “Lisa Bonet ate no basil! Lisa Bonet ate no basil,” and jumped up and down, clapping his monkey hands.
“Well, it looks like we’ve won him over,” Karl said. The monkey sat down between them with a new familiarity and munched away, holding V’s hand with his one free one.
Yes,” V replied, he’ll be sitting here with us all night. A few real oatmeal cookies can warm a heart the way no giant stone staute ever could.”
“Yes, but we still don’t know how the three of us are going to get out of here,” Karl reminded her again.”
“Oh, Karl,” V said, petting Grunty’s head, “You worry too much. We’re StuffedZoo Acquisitioners – something will work out. It always does.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Karl said, and calmed down.
And then, just as the three were dozing into sleep, a strange sound came to them from across the water – the calls of Karl’s beloved Pinstripe Penguins, who were finally making their famous annual migration. They didn’t miss it after all.
The end.
