Mishaps of Gum Drop Island -- Issue Five

Something scratched my cheek. Opening my right eye to a mere crack, I saw a black nose in a furry face, long gray whiskers close enough to brush against me and—

Yikes!” Bolting upright from my prone position on the ground, I sat up and stared at the creature. Beneath the brown fedora, the furry face broke into an engaging grin.

Whatever’s the matter?” Yuri Wiseguy-eh inquired, helping me to my feet. “One would think you’d never seen a possum.”

But he—” I sputtered. “He’s grinning!”

Recall our story from last issue, dear reader. Yuri Wiseguy-eh had introduced me to someone he claimed would be my constant companion. Never before encountering a possum’s toothy smile, I’m afraid the law of gravity caught me as I fell face forward in a swoon.

Naturally,” Yuri now said. “Heathcliff’s learned Ms. Whales’ Ways of Civilization. Her Code of Conduct Book, Rule 123, section Z, sub-part D states: ‘On introduction to the opposite sex, one must always exhibit the reason for their dentist’s costly Porsche.”

A scream cut through the air. “Yuri! Yuri!” Cuddles’ voice sobbed out his name as she ran forward and threw herself into Yuri’s startled embrace.

Dear Cuddles,” exclaimed Yuri, smoothing golden hair away from her delicate brow. “What has upset you?”

Dear Cuddles?” questioned Ms. Whales, drawing herself up to her full height, which looked barely tall enough to step under a mule’s belly. Her arched brows rose to meet her sugary white hair.

Well, I—I say—,” stuttered Yuri, staring wide-eyed at Ms. Whales. The monocle popped from under his brow. “That is—I meant to say—”

Oh, Yuri!” cried Cuddles, turning her tear streaked face up to his. “He’s a beast, he is. He’s cruel, heartless!”

Who? Who?” Yuri asked, looking about him with an inquiring glance.

Him!” Cuddles pointed her finger accusingly at Moose. Beneath the red and purple striped leaves of a tuity-fruity tree lounged Moose, easing a leftover bit of chocolate out of his teeth with a brown stained thumbnail. “Ask him what he did to my darlings!”

Moose?” asked Yuri, striving to push Cuddles back as he squirmed under Ms. Whales’ direct stare. “What did you do?”

Me?” Moose spit the dislodged chocolate at Cuddles’ feet. “You mean this?” And he whistled a long, low note.

That’s it!” screamed Cuddles, snatching the wispy-wings that fluttered through her hair close to her chest. “That’s the cruel thing he’s doing, Yuri! He’s bursting my babies’ fragile eardrums! Do something!”

Aw, why don’t you put a lid on it, Shet?” Moose poked his thumbs in his ears and waved his fingers at her outraged expression.

Now, listen here, Moose,” cautioned Yuri. “Be careful you pronounce Shet with an ‘E’.”

Ms. Whales says he’s at liberty to pronounce that word any way he deems proper.” The dignified lady sniffed, snapping her head with an affirmative nod.

But, dear Ms. Whales—,” Yuri began when Cuddles’ cry cut him off.

Dear Ms. Whales?” Hands on hips, Cuddles didn’t wait for an invitation. She stomped her foot atop Yuri’s and then stood watching, a pleased smile on her face, as Yuri bounced in a tight circle, grunting with pain.

Hold it right there!” Telly called out, her hand racing across her artist’s easel. “Y’all make a great group portrait. I’ll name it, ‘The Friendly Friendliness of Friends’.”

You’re shootin’ off your mouth, Telly.” With a fast grab, Moose snatched away her paintbrush.

All right, you mangy moose. You asked for it.” In less time than a flea takes to jump on a coon dog’s hind leg, Telly spit the gun she kept clenched between her teeth into the palm of her hand. Pressing the trigger, she aimed at Moose. The cork popped into his mouth, and Moose’s eyes widened with delight.

Hey.” He chomped on the cork, smacking his lips loudly. “Carmel nuggets. Super. Thanks, Tell.”

Telly peered inside the end of her gun barrel. “That’s where I hid my stash.”

What’s going on with you people?” Yuri bounced to a stop and stared at his little group. “Before I left on my last voyage, we were all harmonious. But since my arrival at Gum Drop Island—”

Oops. He did it. Yes! He spoke those three words, and you know what happened, dear reader. Music exploded through the air like booming cannon shots. Covering his ears, Yuri crumpled to his knees.

Awk!” he cried, wincing with pain. “That wretched racket!”

Cuddles hurried to cover her darlings amidst her voluminous hair strands while she gazed at the sky. Telly, Moose, Ms. Whales, and Wrap Periwinkle turned themselves around, staring with surprise.

Say,” grinned Telly. “That sounds like a Texas swing.”

No,” said Wrap. “It’s the melodious tones of eastern music.”

You’re wearin’ your cap too tight ‘round your head, Wrap, baby.” Moose smirked. “Otherwise, you’d recognize good bluegrass fiddlin’.”

Fiddlin’ is not civilized music,” spoke Ms. Whales. “What you’re hearing is Squelsh tunes from my beloved homeland.”

Oh, squash your squelsh,” said Cuddles. “The composition is obviously Mozart.”

The music trailed off and only then did Yuri pull his hands off his ears. He regained his feet. “Well.” Clearing his throat, he commented, “Seems as if we all heard different melodies. However, I beg you, don’t mention the name of this island. That music plays whenever those three words are spoken.”

What three words?” Cuddles and Ms. Whales asked the question together, and then glared at each other.

But no music ever sounded before,” Wrap told Yuri. “Why is it happening now?”

And with that, dear reader, the story turned back to me, and all I can say is, finally! After all, this is supposed to be my tale, not one about this island’s bizarre inhabitants. Right?

Yuri pointed at me. “It all began when I met her.”

Her?” Moose swallowed the last of his caramel chew. “Why, she doesn’t even have a name.”

Yuri adjusted his monocle and looked at me. “That’s true. What is your name, de—” Catching the glances of both Cuddles and Ms. Whales, Yuri finished, “Girly?”

That’s when it struck me. I’d been left so long at Noplace in Particular without another person calling me names—uh, I mean, calling me by my own name—that I remembered I’d forgotten it. What was my name?

Why, it’s—” I broke off. They all waited expectantly, even Heathcliff. Then he winked. Distracted by the action, I blurted out, “Oh, does it matter? The writer hasn’t bothered to give me a name just yet. I suppose in a later issue I’ll have one.”

Yuri pursed his lips in thought. “You could be a victim of writer’s block.”

Is that bad?” I gasped. It sounded like a dreaded disease.

Is that good?” Moose countered. “We all have names. Heck, even the possum gets a name. But you, the main character, don’t have a name by now?” He shook his head. “Don’t need to be a blonde to figure that out.”

Are you insinuating something, Mooch?” asked Cuddles.

In any case,” spoke Yuri before Moose could reply, “let’s return to our duties. We have a confectionary plantation to run.” He clapped his hands. “Hip, hip. Hop to it, people. Look lively now.”

I despise hopping,” muttered Wrap as he, none-the-less, obeyed and made like a rabbit. The others followed him single-file down the grassy path, although Moose more or less skipped as he shifted his hops from one foot to the other. I watched them and then noticed someone remained behind: Heathcliff.

For the first time, I addressed him. “Why are you in this story?”

A series of whistles, grunts, and clicks issued from his throat. I took a wary step backward and then I also jumped like a jackrabbit down the same grassy path. Seeing Moose sprinkle white objects around the base of an almond joy tree, I paused beside him.

Heathcliff,” I panted. “He made some obnoxious noises.”

I must have startled Moose because he straightened upright and bonged his head against the tree’s lowest branch. Loose chocolate bars shook off and fell round his feet in a disorderly pile. The box containing the small white objects dropped from his hand and splattered open on the ground.

Women always say that about men.” Moose rubbed his injured head, smearing chocolate through all his hair. “Oh, wait a minute. I guess you heard Heathcliff speak Possumese. Ya gotta learn his language if you wanna communicate with him.”

Possumese?” I blinked. “Oh.” Then I looked down at the spilled objects. “What are you doing?”

Moose smirked. “I’m gonna get old Shet. When those sissy wimpy wings of hers come flutterin’ over, they’ll get a real buzz by just taking one whiff of this. Shoot, it’ll make ‘em more manly, give ‘em strength.” He chuckled. “But I reckon that’ll cause old Shet to pull all her hair out.”

Grabbing a handful of the white objects, I held them under my nose. A sharp odor assaulted me. “Mothballs!”

Moose took them away from me. “Hey, watch it,” he said. “These things are expensive. They don’t grow on trees, ya know.”

A peculiar thing happened then, dear reader. That pungent smell awakened long, lost memories. Like being stuck in that packing box all those years ago when I was shipped to Noplace in Particular. Well, a flash of vivid memory brought to mind of how I hadn’t been alone. A large quantity of mothballs had been packed beside me. Inhaling the same odor now that I’d had to endure for the duration of that arduous plane ride reminded me of the mothballs place of origin…

But they do,” I told Moose.

He frowned. “What do?”

Mothballs do grow on trees. I’ve seen them. I was with my cousins, Mort and Zack, on a mothball plantation the day they stuck me in a box and mailed me off.”

What’s that?” Yuri had come up and overheard my last statement. “You know Mort, the Mothball Millionaire?”

Is that what he’s called? If he’s that’s rich, then I guess maybe he inherited the family’s plantation.” With a growing sense of excitement about remembering my identity, I explained my past as quickly as possible to Yuri and Moose.

This information could be useful.” Yuri extracted a card from the inner breast of his tweed jacket. “Our nursery uses mothballs to keep parasites such as wooly-boogers away. Yet, this Mort millionaire man has continually charged exorbitant fees. I wasn’t quite sure how to deal with him. And then, his card arrived—” Yuri looked at me. “Along with you, his long lost cousin. Coincidence? I wonder. In any case, I think I can now arrange some kind of deal to lower our costs.”

That card’s from Mort?” I asked. “What does he say?”

He’s requesting I loan Heathcliff to him. It seems your cousin Mort has learned of Heathcliff’s world-renowned private detective fame and he wishes to hire him.”

He’s a detective?” Startled, I looked at the little possum. Suddenly, I began to find him quite interesting.

Where does Mort live?” Moose asked.

Right by the stroke of Midnight,” I answered.

He exchanged a look with Yuri. “WHERE does he live?” Moose asked again, stressing the one word.

Midnight’s a village,” I explained. “When you get there, you turn right by the stroke in the road. The plantation’s called Moldy Corners.”

Wonderful.” Yuri beamed satisfaction. “With you as our guide, and Heathcliff our bargaining chip, we’ll find this Mort fellow and wrangle a decent working relationship. Moose, call Captain Bootlegs to ready the G. S. Lollipop. We’re sailing toward Moldy Corners.”

(To be continued….)

Copyright 2006 by Lula M. Thomas