Open Pelican

Prong has flown down to tell everyone what's happened.

What happened? asks Terence.

We pulled Normal bear out of the fork in the tree, says Prong.

Yay! saysTerence.

But then the rescue went wrong, says Prong.

Boo, says Terence.

Not that wrong, says Prong. It's just that Holy Spitball let go of the string.

Too busy spying, says Terence.

No, he got jerked, says Prong.

So where's the normal bear now? asks Sweezus.

Yes where is he? asks Sartre. I need to know too.

He fell into the Virgin's bowl, says Prong.

Yikes! says Terence. Did she notice?

Of course she noticed, says Prong. Luckily Normal bear didn't fall on Little Fuzzball.

Sounds like a good outcome, says Sweezus.

Did you give him the message? asks Terence.

Yes, says Prong. And guess what?

What? asks Terence.

Little Fuzzball can say handbag, says Prong.

Did you teach him? asks Terence.

No he just learnt it, by listening, says Prong. And  pencil.

Is there a reason for him learning pencil? asks Sartre, noting the word down.

He had one in his handbag, says Prong.

Maybe your Fuzzballs have a pencil in their handbag, says Sartre. 

Why don't you open it and see, says Sweezus.

It's too small and fiddly, says Sartre.

So he doesn't.

How about the lasso? asks Sweezus. Did the normal bear like it?

I don't know, says Prong. I came down to tell you guys what happened before he started lassoing.

Go back up! says Terence.

Okay, says Prong.

Up she goes again.

At last! says Holy Spitball. Look what happened! The clasp on the handbag is broken.

We were hoping your friends down below might be able to fix it, says the Virgin. Baby's upset.

Little Fuzzball snuffs loudly.

Sure, says Prong. But before I go, how does Normal bear like his lasso?

He hasn't tried it yet, says Holy Spitball. 

Normal is ready to try it.

He picks up the lasso. 

Wait! says Prong. It has to be tied round his waist first.

But too late. Normal has thrown the lasso at a branch and missed it.

And the lasso has dropped into the open cement beak of a pelican.

Where Is He Now?

The Virgin is surprised to find Normal bear in her bowl.

Are you all right, dear? asks the Virgin.

Normal bear is surprised too. He says nothing.

Pencil! cries Little Fuzzball.

Did he land on your pencil? asks the Virgin. 

Handbag, says Little Fuzzball.

Normal bear looks underneath himself.

Yes, a handbag. And he's seen it before.

Is it broken? asks the Virgin.

Little Fuzzball starts crying.

Snuff-snuff.

Holy Spitball flies down.

My fault, says Holy Spitball. He was heavier than I expected. When he jerked I let go of the string.

Jerk! says Little Fuzzball.

I don't like you saying words like that, says the Virgin.

Little Fuzzball snuffs harder.

Did my bear land on your baby? asks Holy Spitball.

No, but it was close, says the Virgin. He may have damaged the handbag.

I'll have it fixed, says Holy Spitball. It's the least I can do.

Very kind, says the Virgin.

I'll give it to Prong, says Holy Spitball. She has friends down below.

I know, says the Virgin. But where is she?

She must have flown down to tell them what's happened, says Holy Spitball.

She's very good, says the Virgin.

Isn't she, agrees Holy Spitball. And she thought up the rescue.

And my happy existence, thinks Normal. But she got that part wrong.

Come on bear, says Holy Spitball. 

He gathers up Normal.

Oh, wait, says Holy Spitball. I'll need that string unthreaded.

The hairnet lies in the bowl, still threaded with string.

Easily done, says the Virgin.

She pulls the string through, and gives it to Holy Spitball.

Are you planning to keep him tied up? asks the Virgin.

Not at all. says Holy Spitball. This string, if you look at it, is a proper lasso. When this end is tied round his waist, he can use the lasso to catch and swing between branches.

Like a monkey? says the Virgin. 

Exactly, says Holy Spitball. You'd better watch out!

I once had a bigger baby, says the Virgin. He was always up to mischief.

I remember that infant, says Holy Spitball. 

I can't say I miss him, says the Virgin. But I sometimes wonder where he is now......

The Happy Existence

Now to rescue the normal bear, which is stuck in a fork of the tree.

How are we going to do this? asks Holy Spitball.

You sit at the top of the cypress holding one end of the string, says Prong. I'll fly across to the bear, and net him. Then when I say pull, you pull.

Simple enough, says Holy Spitball.

Just be ready, says Prong. He might jerk you.

Jerk me! says Holy Spitball.

He'll be falling, says Prong.

You think of everything, says Holy Spitball. 

I try to, says Prong.

Holy Spitball perches at the top of his cypress, holding one end of the string in his beak.

Prong flies across to the normal bear.

The normal bear glares at Prong from his uncomfortable position.

I'm here to rescue you, says Prong. Your happy existence is about to begin.

Normal starts looking more cheerful.

Hold still while I net you, says Prong.

Normal holds still. 

Prong thinks about the best way to net him.

Head and legs? Or bottom.

No, she can't net his bottom.

I'll drape the net over your ears, says Prong. And then pull it forward to net both your feet. After that I'll get Holy Spitball to pull the string tighter. 

Normal decides not to think about how painful this might be,

Instead he thinks about what Prong might have meant by his happy existence.

Prong nets his ears. Then pulls the net over his feet. 

So far so good. 

Prong signals to Holy Spitball. 

Pull the string tighter!

Holy Spitball pulls.

Normal's feet draw up close to his face.

His bottom loosens (in a good way).

He drops out of the fork in the tree.

Holy Spitball has been prepared for a jerk, but not quite such a big one.

He teeters, on his branch. Tries to right hinself. Drops the string.

Normal falls down unrestricted.

And lands in the Virgin's bowl next to Little Fuzzball.

Phew!

It could have been worse.

The Clever Baby

What did you say? asks the Virgin.

She stops threading the string though the hairnet.

Oh, nothing, says Prong.

It sounded like handbag, says the Virgin.

Did it? says Prong.

Odd you should say it, says the Virgin. Because I recently found one.

What did you do with it? asks Prong.

Put it aside, says the Virgin. Would you believe it was in the baby's bowl?

Little Fuzzball looks sad.

Some babies like handbags, says Prong.

But where had it come from? asks the Virgin. Who knows what might have been inside?

Didn't you look? asks Holy Spitball.

No I didn't, says the Virgin.

Where is it? asks Holy Spitball. My bear might like it.

Your bear is welcome to it, says the Virgin.

She reaches behind her.

Here it is, says the Virgin. You should probably open it first.

Will you open it? asks Holy Spitball. 

The Virgin fiddles with the plastic clasp at the top of the handbag.

Click! The handbag pops open.

Lttle Fuzzball is watching.

Inside is his stuff! 

A tiny pencil, a tiny notebook and a tiny drink bottle. 

Little Fuzzball wriggles and squeaks with excitement.

Maybe you should let your baby keep it, says Prong.

Oh...I don't know, says the Virgin.

It would be educational, says Prong. Your baby might learn to say handbag, like other babies.

Other babies say handbag? says the Virgin.

I know at least two who do, says Prong.

Little Fuzzball is listening. 

Litle Fuzzball can guess who the two who do are.

Well, if they can say handbag, so can he.

Bag-bag, says Little Fuzzball.

He's already trying, says Prong.

Handbag, says the Virgin. Say it properly or don't say it.

Handbag, says Little Fuzzball.

Well done, says the Virgin. Now say pencil.

Could you just finish threading the string through the hairnet? asks Holy Spitball. Then we'll be off, and leave you to your lessons.

The Virgin threads quickly.

Done, says the Virgin. And sorry, we'll be keeping the handbag, so your bear can't have it. 

Never mind, says Holy Spitball. Once he's rescued from the fork in the tree, he can pursue other activities.

Watch him, says the Virgin.

Good bye, Virgin, says Prong. You have a very clever baby.

Thank you, says the Virgin.

Pencil! says the clever baby 

A Bear How Funny

Prong flies up with the hairnet.

She lands on a branch, near Holy Spitball.

How's it going? asks Prong.

Nearly out, says Holy Spitball. What's that there?

 A hairnet, says Prong, I'm going to use it to free your wedged bear.

How? asks Holy Spitball.

First I'll need some of your string, says Prong. 

This lasso? says Holy Spitball. Then help me get out of it.

Okay, says Prong. 

She hangs the hairnet on a cement leaf, and sets about helping.

A tweak here, a tug there. And Holy Spitball is free.

I know what I did wrong now, says Holy Spitball.

That's good, says Prong. Now help me thread string thought this hairnet.

Are you joking? asks Holy Spitball. 

We both have beaks, says Prong. 

If it was up to me I'd ask the Virgin to do it, says Holy Spitball.

Do you think she'd agree? asks Prong.

Why not? says Holy Spitball. She's always saying she'd like a hobby.

Does she know about your bear? asks Prong.

Not yet, says Holy Spitball. This would be a good time to tell her.

Then let's go, says Prong. You bring the lasso. I'll bring the hairnet.

They fly down to the Virgin, who is absent-mindedly patting New Fuzzball.

Hello, dear, says Holy Spitball. How's the baby?

Good as gold, says the Virgin.

I have something to tell you, says Holy Spitball. I too have a baby.

How can that be? asks the Virgin.

It's a bear actually, says Holy Spitball. Nothing like your little bundle.

A bear, says the Virgin. How funny.

Not that funny, says Holy Spitball. It's got itself stuck in my tree.

Surely a bear can find its way out of a tree, says the Virgin.

It's wedged tightly, says Holy Spitball. But my friend Prong has planned a rescue by means of a hairnet and string.

Clever Prong, says the Virgin. 

Thanks, says Prong. We were wondering if you'd help thread the string though the hairnet.

I'd be happy to, says the Virgin. If my fingers weren't stiff.

Oh, come on, says Holy Spitball.

He drops the lasso in her lap.

What a well-made lasso, says the Virgin. Perhaps you don't need the hairnet.

It would be safer, says Prong.

You're quite right, says the Virgin. Give me the hairnet.

Prong gives her the hairnet.

And sneaks a look into the bowl where New Fuzzball is sleeping. 

Or pretending to be sleeping.

Handbag! whispers Prong.

Handbag?

New Fuzzball's eyes have popped open.

She Said Cat

I'm back! says Prong.

Did Holy Spitball like the lasso? asks Terence.

Yes he liked it, says Prong. Until he tried to use it.

It was for his bear! says Terence.

I know, says Prong. But he wanted to try it out first.

So what happened? asks Sweezus.

He got into the wrong loop, says Prong.

Could he get out of it? asks Terence.

No, he's still in it, says Prong.

Ha ha! laughs Terence.

What about his bear? asks Federico.

It's still wedged in the fork of the tree, says Prong. I came down for the hairnet.

Can Prong have the hairnet? asks Terence. Where is it?

I have it, says Sartre. But it's ripped, and therefore useless.

Not necessarily, says Prong. I've come up with a plan.

Excellent, says Sartre. I'm a plan man myself. What is it?

Net the bear, says Prong. Thread the string through and pull. 

Thread the string through before you net the bear, says Federico.

Good thinking, says Prong.

Let me make a note of this plan, says Sartre. Run it by me again.

Federico runs the plan by Sartre while Sartre makes notes. 

I should have made notes all along, says Sartre. I must ask Prong about the string thing.

Ask away, says Prong. That string sure has come in useful.

Why did I suggest tying it to your leg? asks Sartre. 

Don't you remember? asks Prong.

Too many things have happened, says Sartre.

You're right, says Prong. Well, if you recall, I was to fly a new Sylvanian baby up to the Virgin's bowl. And Holy Spitball wanted some string for his bear. A parrot can only carry so much in her beak, at one time.

Aha! says Sartre. It's coming back to me now. My suggestion. 

Yes, says Prong. And us having no scissors.

So Saint Joseph had to chop it, says Terence. Lucky he didn't chop your foot off.

Sweezus looks at Arthur.

Arthur shrugs.

So what if Terence has been thinking up horrors. Is it his fault?

I'm going to fly back up now with the hairnet, says Prong. Any messages?

Who for? asks Terence.

Anyone, says Prong. Holy Spitball, his bear, the Virgin, her new Fuzzball?

Tell the new Fuzzball the old Fuzzballs can say Handbag, says Terence.

That should put the cat among the pigeons, says Prong.

Sartre wonders if she meant to be funny. 

But it wasn't that funny.

Because she said cat.

Thinking Up Horrors

What did I look like? asks Terence.

Sartre shows him the photo.

A sparkly ghost, says Terence. With  my feet.

I suppose ghosts have feet, says Sartre. Now let me get on with writing this post.

Terence looks at Sweezus.

Do ghosts have feet?

Yeah I guess they do, says Sweezus. 

He looks at Federico. He's Spanish. He'll know.

Ghosts may or may not have feet, says Federico. It depends on how their life ended.

How? asks Terence.

Think about it, says Federico. 

Terence thinks about it. 

Don't think about it, says Sweezus.

No don't, says Arthur. You'll start thinking up horrors.

Thanks, Arthur, says Sweezus.

What horrors? asks Terence.

People who died with out feet, says Arthur. For various reasons. But don't worry, it rarely happens.

Yikes! says Terence.

Sartre is only half listening.

He is writing his blog. Now where was he?

....a stroke of genius on my part.

He continues:

Our mission seemed simple, But a knotty problem had come up. A dove representing the Holy Spirit began interfering. It demanded a bear of its own. Fortunately we had a spare one. A spare one which strictly did not belong to us, but needs must. The Holy Spirit's assistance was required. It had agreed to distract the Virgin, while our parrot made the switch.

He stops typing.

He's forgotten why they'd needed the string.

Why did we need the string? asks Sartre.

For the lasso, says Terence.

Before that? asks Sartre.

To tie to Prong's leg, says Federico. It was your idea.

How's it going? asks Sweezus.

I'm a bit behind, says Sartre. And I don't quite remember how things unfolded.

Doesn't matter, says Sweezus. Just keep it funny. And keep on mentioning bikes.

Merde! says Sartre. I haven't mentioned bikes since the train.

So mention them now, says Sweezus.

In what regard? asks Sartre.

Like, yeah, when you and Arthur went off to buy the hairnet, says Sweezus.

But we walked, says Sartre.

That's where you could embellish, says Sweezus. And make it funny.

Sartre does not like to take writing advice from Sweezus, but he knows that he ought to. 

However there is still the problem of not knowing why they needed the string.

Bien sur! The parrot will know the answer.

But where is she?

Look up Sartre!

Here she comes now.