Lord and Lady Bunny—Almost Royalty!

by Polly Horvath

  “I have already prepaid for the B and B up north, Mrs. Bunny. Madeline will be fine on her own. Were you not the one who said you wanted to go to the north of England to walk the moors, straining your long and fuzzy ears for the cries of ‘Heathcliff! Heathcliff!’?”

  Mrs. Bunny blushed. Mr. Bunny did know just how to make her sound like an idiot. “Well, perhaps we should stay in the girls’ stateroom and keep an eye on them for the duration of the cruise. I did not like the way that steward was looking at them. He seemed very determined to throw us overboard even though it would clearly distress the girls.”

  “WHAT?” said Mr. Bunny. “Not after I just bought first-class tickets. No, Mrs. Bunny, don’t even think about it. That would be pushing a bunny too far. We can certainly come up to their deck during the day to visit, but at the end of the day we retire below.”

  “Oh, very well,” said Mrs. Bunny.

  “And furthermore, if I do not take off this cummerbund soon, I will require the services of a furatologist. My fur is all mashed and sweaty.”

  “Yes, let us retire, Mr. Bunny. Mashed fur always makes you cranky. Perhaps Mrs. Bunny’s good ideas will look better to you in the morning, when your fur has dried out.”

  So the Bunnys hopped off to their huge new stateroom.

  “Ooooo,” said Mrs. Bunny happily as they opened their door. “Chompies!”

  The next few days were lovely. Mrs. Bunny had thought that bunny first-class had a lot to offer, but she almost fell over backward when Madeline handed her the list of activities on the human deck. Although Mrs. Bunny still wanted to keep one eye on the girls.

  “Oh, look, Mr. Bunny, English as a Second Language. We simply must attend the intensive level so that Katherine will understand what we’re saying. It is too awkward always having to wait for Madeline to translate.”

  Fortunately, the English class was next door to the girls’ calligraphy. Mrs. Bunny convinced Mrs. Treaclebunny to join them. The rabbits were all hopping to the classroom together when Mrs. Treaclebunny learned that calligraphy was being offered next door. She was out of the English class like a shot.

  “After all, I already speak English fluently. You have to in business,” she said over her shoulder as she hopped next door. “It was many an hour that Mr. Treaclebunny, God rest his poor dead moldering paws, and I would sit about in the evening speaking a little English, a few words of Kangaroo, a little Mandarin, a touch of Thai, some Squirrel. We’d already mastered the Romance languages. But I do think I’d enjoy a spot of calligraphy.”

  “A spot?” said Mr. Bunny.

  Mrs. Treaclebunny was starting to use a lot of British phrases. She said they crept into her speech naturally, but Mr. Bunny found this most unlikely and annoying.

  “When she starts to call trucks ‘lorries’ and stoves ‘cookers,’ I shall have to take action.”

  “What kind of action?” asked Mrs. Bunny nervously. Mr. Bunny was unpredictable when all riled up.

  “I do not know. That remains to be seen,” said Mr. Bunny.

  “Never mind, come hop under this chair with me, where we won’t be noticed,” said Mrs. Bunny. “We have a lovely view of everyone’s shoes. I think you can tell so much about a person by his shoe choice, don’t you?”

  “More haberdashery chitchat,” moaned Mr. Bunny, and then he had to be quiet as the teacher began.

  When class was over, the Bunnys hopped out to meet the girls.

  “There,” said Mrs. Bunny, putting a paw on Katherine’s knee, “now Mr. Bunny and I are fluent. We can speak like natives. And Mrs. Treaclebunny has promised to speak English from now on as well. In fact, she said when she goes to England, that’s all she speaks anyway because the animals speak English there. She says anyone who has read children’s books with animals in them set in England would know that. Is The Wind in the Willows written in Mole with a little Ratty thrown in? Is Winnie-the-Pooh written in Bear? No, it’s English, because that’s what the animals there speak. I didn’t know that before. Travel is so broadening.”

  “Well, jeez, that was fast,” said Katherine.

  “Yes, I don’t know why people make such a fuss about learning languages,” said Mrs. Bunny vaguely, but her eye was on Mrs. Treaclebunny, who was already hopping up and down the deck poking her nose into different rooms to see what they held. All the aerobicizing had given her a very jumpy manner. She could barely sit still for two seconds at a time.

  “Oh, look, the brochure says there’s a cooking class in that room down the hall! I must give the teacher tips!” said Mrs. Treaclebunny, and made off for it like a shot.

  “Mrs. Treaclebunny has more bossiness than brains!” said Mr. Bunny. “Did you not explain to her that while on the upper deck, it is best to hide under tables and chairs when humans are around?”

  “Or try to appear stuffed. Yes, I did, but have you never tried to explain anything to Mrs. Treaclebunny?” asked Mrs. Bunny indignantly.

  “Can we stop Mrs. Treaclebunny and then argue?” pleaded Madeline as Mr. and Mrs. Bunny squared up, facing each other.

  “Good point,” said Mr. Bunny.

  Then they all raced into the cooking classroom.

  But it was too late.

  “Today we make civet de lapin à la française,” said the teacher. He was holding Mrs. Treaclebunny up by her ears. “My rabbits were not delivered to my kitchen today, but what luck! In hop three live replacements! And such nice plump specimens!”

  “Plump! How dare you. I’m only four percent body fat,” said Mrs. Treaclebunny.

  But the chef wasn’t listening. He raced over and grabbed Mr. and Mrs. Bunny by the ears. “First I will show you how to skin a rabbit,” he said.

  “Those are our pets!” said Madeline.

  “They are my entrée!” insisted the chef.

  “Someone call a steward,” said a woman nervously. “This doesn’t seem right.”

  A man ran into the hallway just as the chef lifted his knife.

  “Don’t kill me!” screamed Mrs. Treaclebunny.

  “That rabbit is talking!” said another woman.

  “I told you not to start the day with mai tais,” said her husband.

  “I heard it too!” said another woman. “That rabbit said, ‘Don’t kill me!’ I’m a member of PETA and I’m making a citizen’s arrest.”

  The man who had gone out to find a steward returned with Percy.

  “You mustn’t let this teacher kill the bunnies,” said the PETA member. “They belong to those little girls.”

  “Yes, hand them over, François,” said Percy to the teacher. “Here on Incredible Cruises we treat all animals humanely.”

  The teacher, with slitty-eyed bad humor, handed the three rabbits to Percy, who marched out. The girls ran after him. Behind them they could hear François say, “We will substitute texturized soy protein, but I will not speak for the results.”

  “I’ve got you now!” said Percy as he carried the rabbits to the ship rail. “And it’s overboard you go.”

  “Oh no, oh no!” said Mrs. Bunny. “That’s not humane. That’s not humane at all. Let’s just throw some texturized soy protein overboard and call it a day!”

  “I don’t really see how this works into your theory of synchronicity, Mrs. Bunny,” said Mr. Bunny acidly. “Or is this the one ultimate good you keep babbling about?”

  “And I happen to know the captain is taking a nap,” said Percy. “So there will be no last-minute reprieve for you.”

  He had the rabbits poised over the rail and was savoring the big moment when around the corner came the ship’s doctor.

  “Were you talking to those rabbits, Percy?” the doctor asked mildly.

  “I was saying goodbye,” said Percy, and laughed brutally.

  “Oh dear,” said the doctor. “Ship fever. It’s as bad as a sea change. The brains slosh back and forth with the movement of the waves, getting bruised. Don’t worry, Percy, old man, I’ll recommend some time off in the infirmary. You’ll like it,
they have banana pudding.”

  “What? You think I’m crazy? Say something to the man!” Percy ordered the bunnies. They each put on a glazed, congenial stuffed expression.

  “They’re not even real rabbits, man, can’t you see that?” asked the doctor. “Now listen, there are movies in the infirmary. And they don’t dock your pay. You can wear your pajamas all day!”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Who are you signaling over? Wait a second, are you signaling security? I’m telling you these rabbits talk. Just ask these children!”

  “They’re our stuffies,” said Madeline, trying to look round-eyed and innocent.

  “We like to make them clothes. Some days we take our dollies out for walks and some days our stuffies,” said Katherine.

  “There you go,” said the doctor, turning back to Percy. “Now be reasonable. Just come along for a checkup and at least discuss the matter calmly in the infirmary. We don’t want to have to cause a commotion, do we?”

  The security officer stood on the sidelines eyeing Percy warily.

  “They’ve fooled you! They’ve fooled all of you! They pretend they can’t talk and then whenever I’m alone with them, they chatter away! Take your hands off me! I’m not going to the infirmary. I’m just taking care of the ship’s vermin problem. Have a good swim!” But before he had a chance to release the bunnies into the deep, the security officer yanked him away from the rail. Madeline grabbed the bunnies and she and Katherine ran to their stateroom.

  “No, no!” screamed Percy as he was led away. “They did talk. First in gibberish and then in English. And they understood everything I said too!”

  “We’ve a nice, private room for you without any bothersome talking bunnies,” said the doctor. “The only person you’ll have to talk to is a nice, nice special kind of doctor. You can eat pudding together!”

  Madeline and Katherine and the bunnies collected themselves in the girls’ stateroom.

  “Saved by the bell,” said Mrs. Treaclebunny.

  “All goes as it was meant to, synchronistically speaking,” said Mrs. Bunny, but she did not push it. It had been a trying day.

  “Are you all right?” Katherine asked Mrs. Treaclebunny, who was looking very upset.

  “It’s very unsettling,” said Mrs. Treaclebunny, looking at her paws.

  “It’s your own fault,” said Mr. Bunny. “Did we not explain how to hide from humans? It’s true they seldom look down, but there’s no sense blatantly calling attention to yourself like that.”

  “No, not that. I mean my paws! They’re covered in ink! That calligraphy course had no fur guards at all! I shall complain to someone high up. Failing that, I shall complain to everyone in sight!”

  Mr. Bunny pulled at his ears. Learning how to stay invisible to humans was an art that Mrs. Treaclebunny seemed to have no interest in learning. He feared eventually it would land them all in trouble.

  “I think we need some quiet R and R,” said Mrs. Bunny.

  So they all got lemonades and books and spread out on deck chairs. Everyone agreed they had had quite enough excitement and had better rest before England, so this was how they spent most of their time for the remainder of the cruise. With Percy in the infirmary they had no need to hide.

  For days they lolled about on deck chairs reading and doing crossword puzzles and the like. The girls tanned and the bunnies warmed their fur. When anyone approached, the bunnies glazed their eyes and looked stuffed. Nobody gave them a second glance.

  “You’re even reading in English now,” said Katherine admiringly one day to Mrs. Bunny, who had War and Peace propped up on her tummy. It was a very thick book.

  Mrs. Treaclebunny glanced over at Mrs. Bunny’s book. “Of course, I read it in the original Russian. It was tip-top!”

  “Tip-top? Grrr,” said Mr. Bunny.

  Mr. Bunny was about to go for another round of fruity umbrellaed drinks to keep from throttling Mrs. Treaclebunny when Madeline sat up stiff as a board and pointed. “LOOK! LAND!”

  “Oh no,” said Mrs. Bunny. “Our time with you cannot be coming to an end so soon!”

  “Oh, Mrs. Bunny. Oh, Mr. Bunny!” said Madeline, giving each of them a hug. “We must go and finish packing. I knew we were debarking today but I didn’t think we’d see land so soon. Please try to come to Bellyflop to visit.”

  “We will try!” said Mrs. Bunny.

  “We make no promises,” said Mr. Bunny. “Train fare is outrageous. Why, the fare alone between London and—”

  But he was drowned out by the captain announcing that they would dock before long.

  “Come, Mrs. Bunny, we must hop!” said Mr. Bunny, and the last goodbyes were lost in the sea of feet rushing to their rooms.

  Madeline and Katherine soon joined Flo and Mildred, who were preparing to disembark. Getting everything off the ship was a nightmare, with Mildred racing back and forth, having forgotten this or that “dear little thing” she had bought and left in the stateroom by mistake. Finally, they seemed to have all the luggage and shopping bags in one huge pile on the dock in Tilbury, the port outside London where they had landed.

  “How are we going to get all this on the bus?” asked Madeline.

  Suddenly Mildred’s face changed. It was as if she were awakening from a dream.

  “What am I doing with alpha hydroxy anti-aging cream?” she asked, peering into one of the shopping bags. “In fact, what am I doing with all this junk? Girls, help me get rid of it.”

  It took a little while to distribute the bags among the homeless and then, with a lightened load, they made their way to the bus station. Madeline breathed a sigh of relief that Cruising Mildred had been left on board ship with Cruising-Fruit-Eating-Criminally-Inclined Selma.

  “Everyone pick up a suitcase and let’s grab that bus,” said Flo, who had bought four tickets. They climbed on and, with a lurch, they were off to London.

  “We’ll change there for a train to Bellyflop,” said Flo.

  They all nodded sleepily. It was early evening but they were tired from the day’s excitement and trying to find their land legs again.

  The evening light dimmed as they drove into London’s bright city sparkle.

  “Where do we get off?” asked Mildred in bewilderment as the bus jerked to a halt at various stops. The driver called out the names of the stops but none of them could make out what he said through his thick Cockney accent.

  “This is harder than trying to understand Rabbit,” said Katherine.

  Even Madeline, who understood all animal languages, could make neither head nor tail of it.

  Flo had a map open and was reading it sideways and upside down. “I should be able to figure out where to get off,” he said. “Victoria Station is here on the map somewhere, I’m sure.”

  Finally, when they were the only ones left on the bus, the driver called out something that sounded like “Rylbrzmsem.”

  “Excuse me, did you just call out Victoria Station?” asked Madeline.

  “Frezzle drom mz,” said the driver.

  “Close enough,” said Flo, and hustled them all up and forward.

  They yanked their luggage from the overhead rack at the front and raced down onto the rainy pavement.

  There they stood looking left and right.

  In front of them was a huge building with giant pillars. “That must be Victoria Station,” said Flo.

  They followed the mass of people moving up the steps into the giant building. But once inside they had a great deal of trouble finding the trains. Instead there were winding hallways and staircases.

  “There’re lots of mummies and such,” said Madeline, peering into different rooms. “But I don’t see anything resembling public transport.”

  “What are these booklets? Train schedules?” asked Mildred, grabbing one from a desk and reading it. “This isn’t Victoria Station, Flo. This is the British Museum.”

  “Cool,” said Flo.

  A guard happened by and spied them walking along, toting their
suitcases. “Moving in?” he asked jovially.

  “Ha ha,” said Mildred, who was very tired. “If you people weren’t so hard to understand, we wouldn’t be here. We’d be where we want to be.”

  “Where do you want to be?” asked the guard.

  “Victoria Station. Could you give us directions?” asked Madeline.

  “The cabby will know the way, miss,” said the guard. “You’ll want a cab. It’s too far to walk.” He tipped his hat and dashed off to keep a pair of boys from climbing on the statues.

  “All right, let’s get a cab,” said Flo. “You’ll have to pay, Mildred. The bus tickets from Tilbury ate everything in my wallet.”

  “Me?” said Mildred. “I don’t have any money.”

  “Well, where’s our stash? You didn’t leave it under the mattress, did you? You said you’d be in charge of the cash.”

  “Ummm, it may be gone,” said Mildred slowly. “You know, it’s all coming back to me kind of mistily, the sea journey, the Donna Karan separates.…”

  “You spent all of it?” squawked Madeline.

  “Well, Cruising Mildred did, to be more accurate,” said Mildred, looking away.

  “Why didn’t you tell us before this?” asked Flo.

  “I wasn’t keeping track,” said Mildred. “Cruising-Shopping Mildred doesn’t think about money.”

  “Well, now what do we do?” asked Flo.

  “Maybe you should have thought of that before. Maybe you should have told me at Tilbury we were down to our last fifty dollars,” said Mildred.

  “ME?” said Flo.

  Madeline could feel a fight brewing. She didn’t mind so much for herself, she was feeling as crabby as everyone else, but she didn’t want Katherine put in an awkward position. “Oh, have some lavender essential oil,” she said, getting it out of her purse and flinging droplets about.

  A family of tourists walking by stopped to watch. The father said, “Are you part of an exhibit? Is this one of those interactive museum experiences I’ve read about? Are we supposed to ask you about that oil? Is this some ancient rite? Just tell us what roles to play, we’re keen to join in. Are you ancient Egyptians?”