by Douglas Cobb
"We might get in trouble if we do those things," Sam reasoned, "as it clearly states that the red panda--"
"Dingo!" Joe interjected.
"--or dingo is meant to be a gift. I believe this is one area where if we don't notify our bosses, any initiative we might show as to the ultimate dispensation of the float might cost us our jobs. Let's wheel the sucker inside! We'll let someone else worry about it and its alleged species!"
The two workmen wheeled us inside. My plan was coming off brilliantly! I was a bit peeved that they didn't recognize immediately that the float depicted a red panda, and even had doubts once they read the note; and, I admit I had become slightly alarmed at the mention of the words "incinerator," and "trash compactor," but the point is, we had gained entrance into one of the SNURFLES' strongholds. Now, all we had to do was wait until everyone left the building.
Some hours later, after the buzzer went off that announced the end of the working day, though we were cramped and uncomfortable, we waited approximately a half hour more to make sure no one was still in the warehouse. Bladders full, we gave in to Mother Nature's insistent call, wherever and everywhere available. Lucy and I logged into the computer in an office with a wooden plaque on its door that read: "CEO Franklin Sinister." It had to be Frankie's office; there was a framed photo on the wall of eggs in a nest, one cracking open with a bird's head poking out of it, and others depicting various important occasions in Frankie's life, like when he had a cap and gown on and graduated from the SNURFLES Flight Academy at the top of his class.
We crashed the computers, stole all of the files and records we could find as quickly as we could, and got ready to leave to return to our homes, to spend the rest of the Thanksgiving holidays with our families. We left personalized messages behind on some of the walls, like "SNURFLES Suck!", and I had drawn a mustache onto an otherwise solemn portrait of Frankie in his office.
That was when, at the dock door we'd been wheeled into, that I realized since it was a Friday, the place was locked up for the rest of the weekend. The employees had Thanksgiving off, but had to work today, and now wouldn't return until Monday. We were in a pickle, and I didn't like pickles, as they gave me a rash. So, there wasn't much recourse for us, but to use the Emergency Exit, knowing that would trigger an alarm, and then I would fly them as far away from the warehouse that I could, to avoid answering any potentially embarrassing questions the police or firemen might have.
Moments later, we were soaring in the wild blue yonder! Fortunately, Lucy had told me she'd managed to disable the security cameras. I dropped off my weary friends, and finally flew back to my own house's backyard, where I roared to be let in. Celeste met me there, and said she and her parents had been searching for me for hours, and couldn't find me anywhere. I explained to her that I'd been on a secret mission to infiltrate SNURFLES HQ, and was gone longer than I'd expected to be.
"Oh, Lily!" Celeste said, "If you were taking a nap somewhere, like maybe under the porch, just say so! You come up with the craziest stories!"
"No, really, Celeste!" I protested. "I and my friends were--"
"Oh, stop trying to convince me!" Celeste said, picking me up and giving me a big hug. "You're my best fri-end, even though you're a nut!"
I told myself that I would make a concerted effort to convince Celeste of the truth of what I was trying to tell her. I would come clean with her, and tell her everything. I hadn't really meant to be deceiving her in any way, but I just hadn't told her the full extent of my history and activities before. But, not just this second. I didn't want to spoil the moment we were having, just two best friends having a happy reunion of sorts.
In the living room, in his easy chair, Triple Q was reading the evening addition of the newspaper. Looking up at us, he said: "Listen to this--according to this story in the paper, because of 'an economic downturn in Centralia economy, Scarlet O'Hair-a's Delivery Service has announced that they will be permanently closing their doors.' And, there was another interesting story, here on the first page: 'Economic disaster was barely averted when an Internet scheme to siphon off Christmas holiday dollars was exposed by government agents.' I kind of wonder if these two stories might be related in any way."
"It's probably just a coincidence, Dad," Celeste answered her father. Of course, I knew that there was no such thing as coincidences, but I couldn't very well say that then.
"Yes, you're probably right," Quentin replied. "It's good, though, that we didn't purchase anything online earlier today when this scam was going on full force. Luckily, we got the sweater and scarf for Lily today at the Centralia Mall instead of online."
Yes! I thought joyfully to myself. Score! No mere Grinchy bird-brain is gonna steal this pterodactyl's Christmas! In your face, SNURFLES!
Chapter Eleven
Professor Rex
"How it all began," I said to Celeste on Saturday (after telling her about PAWS' successful victory over SNURFLES on Black Friday), "I owe to the training and guidance of Professor Rex. He saw that I had many, uh, specialized talents even when I was a young pterodactyl barely free from my eggshell, still wet behind my wings. He taught me and his other students how to control our latent powers, and use our minds to project into the brains of humans how we chose for them to see us."
"Oh?" Celeste interjected, sounding dubious. "What shape did Professor Rex project, then, and what animal was he really?"
"He was a--kingly animal, as his name suggests, but he wasn't a Tyrannosaurus Rex, lion, or a dog. He was a Rhode Island Red chicken, who chose to project an image of a Cornish Rex cat for himself. Why, I'll never know; perhaps in part as a psychological test to see if I could handle being around someone who resembled one of my favorite types of between-meal snacks. He'd strut around the yard, all regal-like, pecking at kernels of corn and grasshoppers as if there were no tomorrow--"
"Excuse me, Lily," Celeste said, "but I just don't think that a Rhode Island Red chicken sounds all that kingly or regal."
"Not even with the pecking part?" I asked, rhetorically. "Nevertheless, he was. I guess it was in the way he held himself, his bearing and manner as he cocked his head rapidly from side-to-side. He treated me like the daughter he never had, and I rapidly learned under his tutelage, training in the basic subjects I would suspect are taught at any school: History, Math, foreign languages, martial arts, the use of deadly force with a wide variety of weapons including origami swans (you can inflict vicious paper cuts with them, you know), hacking into computer systems, interpretative dance, etc., etc."
"Hold on for a minute here!" Celeste cried. "I have been taught the first three subjects you mentioned in school, and I take lessons in judo and aikido on my own; but, I've never heard of the other subjects you said ever being offered in schools before! What possible use would you have to learn 'interpretative dance'?"
"What do they teach you kids at school these days?" I replied, with another rhetorical question. I liked to do that--it keeps people on their toes. "Interpretative dance is a vitally important skill when it comes to using your wiles to infiltrate your foes' camp. It is almost as useful as the deadly art of origami!"
"Since when is origami deadly?" my best-est friend queried.
"When it is practiced correctly, every crease and fold one makes contributes to the final creation's having razor-sharp edges, a weapon that is silent and deadly."
"Silent and deadly, huh?" Celeste said. "Kind of like when you eat too much left-over chilli and you--"
"Girl, puh-lease!" I said. "Don't even go there! I try to talk to you about a traditional art of slaughtering one's enemies, and you have to make it sound all nasty and disgusting! It was kind of funny, though--"
"Yeah, I'm cool like that!" Celeste said.
"I don't know if I would go that far," I replied. "Now, where was I? Oh, yeah--talking about my training with my teacher, the head of the Rex Academy, Professor Rex!"
"This story seems to me like you borrowed it from the X-Men comic books and movies--"
<
br /> "I don't know what you're talking about!" I protested. "It's entirely different, and besides, I lived it! You probably think that I'll be claiming I'm a mutant, next!"
"You're not one?" Celeste asked.
"Well, sort of," I answered. "Mutant-like, anyway. A bit. Maybe half, on my mother's side. Seventy-five, eighty percent, at most. Yeah, well--I may be a tad mutant-ish, but just a tad. It's not like I'm some sort of freak, or anything. But, I can start fires whenever I want to, I admit to that, and there's the whole X-ray eyes thing I have going, but--"
"The what now?" Celeste asked.
"Uh, um--I said nothing about being able to start fires with my mind or having X-ray eyes--it was just your imag-gi-na-tion! You are getting sle-epy, sle-epy!"
"No, I'm not! I'm wide awake and feeling fine! Don't be trying your mind-control mumbo-jumbo with me!"
"Uh, um,Celeste, don't get all cra-zy on me, chica! I would never try something like that with you, girl-friend! I was--um--just jo-king, that's all--just joking!" I explained.
"I know what I heard, Lily," Celeste said. "Don't try to be blowing smoke at me!"
"You know I don't smoke, Celeste! Now, back to the origins of PAWS--"
"I still want to know about these so-called powers of yours, and why you'd attempt to hypnotize your supposed best-est fri-end!"
"Okay, okay--I admit saying I can start fires, but only with matches or lighters, and--" I saw the scowling look Celeste gave me, so I then said: "occasionally, but just occasionally, mind you, with my--um--mind. But the X-ray eyes part, that was merely to embellish the story--oh, alright--I can see through things, to, but it's not as cool of a power as you might think...."
"What's not cool about it?" Celeste asked.
"Okay, fine--it's pretty cool, except for the drawback that you sometimes see things you don't especially want to see, if you get my drift--things it's impossible to un-see!"
"I can see that, I guess..." Celeste said. "I suppose you can continue with your 'story' now."
"It's not just a story, Celeste--but, anyway--we learned to control our powers (more or less--I still don't really trust myself in forests under burn-ban conditions, though) and then I split to do like Professor Rex told us we should do, to form our own quasi-legal law enforcement groups dedicated to Being Ever Vigilant, especially when it came to the dangers of strangers and, of course, SNURFLES, and that is exactly what I did."
"What do you mean by 'quasi-legal'? And, if you really have an underground computer complex, where'd you get the money to fund it?"
"My, but you sure have a lot of questions!" I said, getting somewhat peeved. "Of course, no member of PAWS would ever think about doing anything illegal, but to answer your second question, I have made quite a nice sum of money as a pterodactyl hip-hap and rap singer, and there's the money I've siphoned off of your father's vast fortune, seeing as how I came up with his most major inventions, and then there's the fact that Professor Rex happens to be the world's wealthiest Rhode Island Red, as well as being the body double for--"
"Don't tell me for Foghorn Leghorn!"
"No, don't be silly, Celeste!" I said. "For Brad Pitt, of course!"
"Really, Lily? Really?" Something told me Celeste wasn't buying every bit of my story as being the complete, unvarnished truth.
"If you don't believe me, do you believe in FATE?" I asked her.
"I suppose so," she said, "if you mean that there is an overall meaning to life, and that a deity is directing us and--"
"That not what I mean at all!" I said, holding up a copy of F.A.T.E. magazine. "Here, it's all in black-and white, with color photos, of course! Cornelius Flyspeck owns the magazine and edits it, and there's a story about Professor Rex on page 31, opposite the ad for a product that will end chronic crazy leg syndrome! You know, F.A.T.E., Flyspeck's Animal Top Entertainers magazine, check it out!"
Celeste took the copy from me and turned to p. 31, saying: "I don't know, Lily; this magazine doesn't look all that reputable to me."
"It contains all the news about top animal entertainers that's fit to print!" I said. "What further proof do you need?"
"Let's assume that everything you're telling me is true, Lily, and that this rag is also printing the truth about this Professor Lex Luther friend of yours--"
"That's Rex," I said, "without the Luther. You're thinking of the bald-headed Superman villain, an easy mistake to make."
"Whatever. Still, why haven't people heard about PAWS before, then? How's it been kept such a big secret?"
"It's not exactly been kept a big secret," I said. "Sure, most people don't know about it, or me, though most animals do, and I get fan letters via e-mail every day and requests for my autograph. We like to keep it on the down-low, and don't do what we do for the public acclaim. Also, there's the whole 'the more people who know about us then the more evil people who might want to harm our loved ones in retaliation' concept in play. I wouldn't want any harm to come to you or your Mom and Dad, Celeste.
"That's very thoughtful of you, Lily," Celeste said. "But if most animals know about you, and your main arch-enemies are animals, how's the general human public not knowing about PAWS really stop myself and my parents from being in danger?"
"Well, I suppose you have a valid point, there--but, our efforts to remain Ever Vigilant and promote the idea of Stranger Danger goes a long way towards securing your safety, wouldn't you say?"
"Maybe--except from speeding red trucks trying to run me down!"
"Are you still dwelling on that?" I asked. "It was traumatic, and I'm sorry I put your life in danger, but I did save your life, too."
"Which wouldn't have ever been necessary if you hadn't jumped from my arms and went after Frankie!" Celeste said.
"Who jumped out of who's arms and who ran into the street is debatable, but--"
"No it isn't! You are the one who did the jumping, and the running!"
"Don't forget the 'saving' part," I said. "Still, the less people who know about myself and PAWS, the better. The fewer animals who know, also the better, but that particular horse has already leaped over the fence, thrown off its rider, and is racing away."
"Will you take me to your underground computer complex sometime, Lily?" Celeste asked me.
"You know only members of PAWS can go there, Celeste."
"Yeah, but--"
"Which is why, if you would like me to, I will make you an Honorary Member of PAWS," I went on, "if you can handle the danger, that is!"
"Like you to?" Celeste responded. "I'd love to be a member of PAWS! I get into enough trouble helping you guys out as it is--I might as well join!"
"Now you're talkin'!" I said. "But the training might get rough at some time...."
Celeste was already pretty good at aikido and judo--for a human, that is--but I had much to teach her the following days and weeks. I didn't make her call me "sensei," or "Sensei Lily," like I had with the other members of PAWS, but I trained her just as hard. Making someone into a lean, mean, fightin' machine--isn't that what friendship is all about, really? I should put that on a Hallmark card. And the Saturday after Thanksgiving that I told her about Professor Rex and my origins, I did fly her out to the secret underground computer complex, as well. I called it CHASE (Computer Hacking Animals Solving Encryptions): "Chase what matters," was the motto I had engraved on one of the walls there on a plaque. I think she was impressed, but it's sometimes difficult to tell with teenage humans, who want to act as if nothing much impresses them.
"Your backbone is bumpy, Lily!" Celeste groused on the flight home.
"Next time, maybe you'll bring a pillow, like I suggested!" I shouted above the wind's noise. "Enjoy the sights! Immediately below us, you can see the dome of the capitol!"
"Excuse me if I don't say very much--ugh! Ptooey!" Celeste said, spitting out insect fragments everywhere. "Bugs, you know!"
"Besides the pillow, a motorcycle helmet would come in handy, too!" I said.
"Yeah, I didn't have one, though, a
nd you know it--gulp--ugh! I swallowed that one!"
"Goes down good, don't they?" I said. "Crunchy, yet satisfying!"
She was oddly quiet the rest of the trip home. We landed just in time for supper, one of my five favorite meals of the day! Celeste looked a little green--I guess she already had her supper, en route.
"I'm not very hungry, Mom," she said.
"Why not, Celeste?" Clare asked; then, seeing her face, she said: "Are you sick? Do you have a stomachache?"
"Something like that, yeah," Celeste said. "I think I'll just lie down for awhile and I'll get over whatever it is."
"Well, if you don't eat it, I suppose I'll just have to give it to Lily, then!" Clare said, putting a plate of sliced turkey, mashed potatoes with brown gravy, and green beans on the floor. "Yes!" I thought, "Whatever chef invented Thanksgiving was a genius!"
I settled in and eat my supper with gusto, eating every last delicious bite. It had been a long but enjoyable day. I felt tired, but a good kind of tired. Celeste knew the truth, now, and I felt a weight lift off of my shoulders. Winter and Christmas was in the air! SNURFLES would likely regroup, and I wasn't looking forward to that; but, for the time being, all seemed right with the world!
Chapter Twelve
Visions of Dancing
Scarlet SNURFLES
"On the first day of Christmas/Vegging out in front of T.V./Watching some 'toons and/Scratching at some fleas!" I sang heartily and merrily, getting into the holiday spirit. The tree was a Douglas fir, and was up and decorated; Clare was burning a peppermint-scented candle; and I was watching one of my favorite Christmas cartoons, "A Charlie Brown Christmas." I liked the dance scenes probably the most of all--I bet I could have choreographed them better, though!
Centralia had experienced one of its rare snowstorms earlier in the day, and we were still under a Winter Weather Storm Advisory. We didn't get much snow compared to most of the states to the north of us--even Oklahoma generally got more snow each year than we did--but the four inches we did get were fun to roll around and play in!
