Mishaps of Gum Drop Island--Issue Two
Miss Mae
September 15, 2006
“Land ahoy!” cried Captain Bootlegs.
Don’t you mean Chips Ahoy?” questioned Sir O. Yuri Wiseguy-eh.
You’re thinking cookies,” replied Captain Bootlegs, “as in chocolate chips.”
Oh, yes.” Yuri adjusted his monocle over his right eye. “I daresay you’re correct.”
And I, leaning over the railing of the Good Ship Lollipop, received my very first view of Gum Drop Island. (And there’s that music sounding again—I’ll need to investigate that strange phenomenon in a later episode.)
You’ll recall, dear reader, my last issue where, as a young girl I’d been hijacked—no, that’s not right. Let’s see, I was kidnapped—hmm, perhaps not. Anyway, something very naughty happened. My two male cousins, Zack and Mort, stuffed me in a packing box and mailed me off far from home. Though the intended destination had been the Himalayans, I instead wound up at Noplace in Particular. I called the island home Nip.
Some years later an adventurous explorer, none other than Sir O. Yuri Wiseguy-eh, landed at Nip. Upon meeting me for the first time, he fell head over heels at my feet—literally. Then he pointed out vague reasons why I resembled no other island inhabitant. Only I possessed an upright 5’4” frame, slender waist line of 22 inches, hip-length charcoal black curls, lavender colored eyes, coral pink lips, one dark brown freckle tucked inside the crease of my left arm, and a kind of walk which elicited stammers and stutters from Yuri’s throat. Also, when he looked at me, Yuri’s monocle popped out of place from under his brow. Hands trembling, he fumbled with the glass orb, hurrying to replace it over his eye so he could continue to stare at my different appearance. Thus, I realized these very vague qualities separated me from the island’s natives and I agreed to accompany him back to Gum Drop Island. (Where is that music coming from??)
Aboard the Good Ship Lollipop, Yuri wasted no time ordering Captain Bootlegs to “heave-hove, shove off, or whatever it is you do to get this tub sailing”. Captain Bootlegs, clad in thigh-high armadillo skinned boots (hence, his name, I supposed) swayed and staggered upon the ship’s deck—and we hadn’t even left the lagoon. Peering overboard at the anchor stuck fast in Nip’s muddy bank, Captain Bootlegs curled his lips into a surly snarl.
We needs to unplug that,” he said. “Cain’t move till it’s moved.”
Then, move it, my good man,” Yuri directed. “It’s only an anchor. Pick it up and let’s go.”
Pick the bloody thin’ up, ‘e sez,” Captain Bootlegs mimicked Yuri, standing with hands on his hips and giving Yuri a cock-eyed glare. Actually, it was hard to know if he truly looked at Yuri. One eye looked east while the other stared west. “I’ve done ‘ad a spat wid that baby—”
Then, make up to it and let’s be on our way.” Yuri dismissed the matter by strolling to the opposite end of the deck.
Make up to it, ‘e sez.” Bootlegs stared at Yuri’s retreating back. “Oh, you’re a wise guy, eh, ain’t ye, Yuri?”
However, with no other option available, Bootlegs grabbed the anchor rope and pulled. Slowly, hand over hand, he hauled the heavy weight up the side of the ship. I noticed how carefully, almost reverently, he treated that ‘baby’ as he’d called it. Maintaining a strong grip on the rope while the iron anchor scraped over the ship’s railing, Captain Bootlegs’ lips moved silently with what I suspected were fond words of endearment. Locking his east/west, squinty-eyed gaze on the object of his affection, he rather danced a little jig around his precariously balanced sweetheart, stepping first here and then leaping over there as he sought to confine his darling to its’ proper niche. So passionate was his ardor that when the anchor thudded into its rightful home, he removed his cap and used the back of his cuff to wipe a sweaty stream off his brow. I watched him exhale a trembling breath, and I marveled over his intense devotion. The man was deeply moved, no doubt about it.
So, off we sailed from Noplace in Particular and headed for—Well, you know—my new home.
But I can’t see anything!” I now cried to Yuri. “All this mistiness—it’s damp and moist and the fog is as thick as a camel’s hide.”
You’re mistaken,” Yuri corrected me, coming to stand at my side and peering off into the distance. “Fog is as thick as cotton candy. Not a camel’s hide.”
I blinked. “Really? Why’s that?”
Because that’s simply how everything is on Gum Drop Is—” Cutting off, he whirled about. “There’s that blasted music again!”
Captain Bootlegs’ whistle of surprise pierced through the misty strips of cotton candy fog. “’Ey, mate,” he called. “I ain’t nevah ‘eard dat musick afore. Where’s it comin’ from?”
F—from the wind,” answered Yuri. “It only started when I met her.” Looking at me, he frowned, and the monocle popped from under his brow. “She obviously inspires music to be played whenever anyone says those three words.”
And what three little words would those be, Yuri?” I asked him, watching as he replaced the monocle, but he misjudged its distance and poked himself in the eye.
Clearing his throat, Yuri stared into the mist. Gesturing with his hand, he waved in a non-specific direction. “Well, out there—on the other side of all this fog—is your new home. It’s a mountainous island with rocky cliffs, fragrant green meadows, and a refreshing salty breeze. Perfect conditions for my confectionary nursery.”
What’s a confectionary nursery?” I asked. It wasn’t that I’m dense, you understand. But I needed to ask all these questions so that you, dear reader, could be informed.
Yuri winked his eye from behind the monocle. “Ah, the home and origin of all the sweet and tasty candy in the whole world!”
I thought about that and then asked, “Why?”
Yuri blinked. “What do you mean, ‘why’?”
I have memories of candy being bought in stores.”
Yuri grinned secretively, as if he knew something I didn’t. “And where do you think those stores got their candy? Where did Willie Wonka get all that chocolate for his factory? It all has to be planted and grown from someplace, doesn’t it?” Yuri spread his arms wide. “From here,” he shouted into the wind. “Every single bit of candy and confectionary in the world is grown here, from my home atop the bluffs of Gum Drop Island!”
Oh, stop it, mate!” yelled Captain Bootlegs. “Me ears cain’t ‘andle it! Ow!” And Captain Bootlegs clapped his hands over his ears, trying to drown out the music which boomed and echoed around us from the depths of the mist shrouded sea.
Yuri fell to his knees beside the railing, ramming his fingers to the knuckles in both ears. After a moment, he unplugged them and looked up at me. “I need to ask you something.”
I stared with delight. The music of violins and stringed instruments swelled around us, a man was on his knees beside me, and he wanted to ask a question. It all signified something very important, didn’t it?
Breathless, I replied, “Please do.”
Tell me, don’t you find that music—well—distracting?”
Oh.” Quickly, I regained my breath. “Hmm. Well, if you must know, I find it very pleasant. Music to my ears, even.”
Yuri rose to his feet and gazed across the railing. “We’ve arrived. Bootlegs,” he called to the Captain. “Lower the gangplank. I’m taking my guest to her new home, Marshmallow Mansion.”
What’s a Marshmallow Mansion?” I asked, heading down the gangplank towards the seashell-cluttered beach of Gum—oops, I mean, you know—my home.
Oh,” replied Yuri. “It’s a cozy, comfortable, sweet and delectable castle.” He paused and then said, “Not that it can be eaten, you understand. Our lollipop trees and licorice bushes and other assorted goodies are the edibles. No, I only meant Marshmallow Mansion is a yummy, delightful place to live. First, though, you must be introduced to the staff.”
And who are they?”
Yuri counted on his fingers. “Presently, there’s Moose, Cuddles, Telly, Wrap Periwinkle, and of course, Ms. Whales. She’ll advise you on the Ways of Civilization.” Then he said, “And I’d better warn them about that music going off whenever those three little words are spoken.”
Yes,” I agreed in a dry tone of voice. “Should romantic music play just because a person has said those magical three little words?”
Yuri’s lips twisted into a thoughtful frown. “Somehow I’m not sure if you and I are discussing the same three words here. In any case, perhaps I’d best warn you about Wrap Periwinkle.”
Oh?”
Yes. A good cook is Wrap, but he does have one peculiarity—” Pausing, Yuri muttered to himself, “Come to think of it, they all have some kind of peculiarity.”
Like what?” I asked, intrigued.
Oh, you’ll find out.” Yuri dismissed the matter with a wave of his hand. “Just be careful you don’t exchange any blond jokes with anyone in case Wrap should overhear.”
Is he blond?”
Yuri took my arm and steered me towards steps carved into the side of a cliff. They weaved a pathway upward, disappearing into the cotton candy fog which veiled the lofty mountain top. “No,” he answered my question. “He’s just partial to them because he respects their great intelligence.”
Smiling, Yuri said, “Welcome to your new home, Gum—” Breaking off, he looked about him. “I’d better keep those three little words to myself. Come along now. It’s time to meet your new friends.” And he led me up the rock stairway towards Marshmallow Mansion.
(To be continued..)
Copyright 2006 by Lula M. Thomas
Don’t you mean Chips Ahoy?” questioned Sir O. Yuri Wiseguy-eh.
You’re thinking cookies,” replied Captain Bootlegs, “as in chocolate chips.”
Oh, yes.” Yuri adjusted his monocle over his right eye. “I daresay you’re correct.”
And I, leaning over the railing of the Good Ship Lollipop, received my very first view of Gum Drop Island. (And there’s that music sounding again—I’ll need to investigate that strange phenomenon in a later episode.)
You’ll recall, dear reader, my last issue where, as a young girl I’d been hijacked—no, that’s not right. Let’s see, I was kidnapped—hmm, perhaps not. Anyway, something very naughty happened. My two male cousins, Zack and Mort, stuffed me in a packing box and mailed me off far from home. Though the intended destination had been the Himalayans, I instead wound up at Noplace in Particular. I called the island home Nip.
Some years later an adventurous explorer, none other than Sir O. Yuri Wiseguy-eh, landed at Nip. Upon meeting me for the first time, he fell head over heels at my feet—literally. Then he pointed out vague reasons why I resembled no other island inhabitant. Only I possessed an upright 5’4” frame, slender waist line of 22 inches, hip-length charcoal black curls, lavender colored eyes, coral pink lips, one dark brown freckle tucked inside the crease of my left arm, and a kind of walk which elicited stammers and stutters from Yuri’s throat. Also, when he looked at me, Yuri’s monocle popped out of place from under his brow. Hands trembling, he fumbled with the glass orb, hurrying to replace it over his eye so he could continue to stare at my different appearance. Thus, I realized these very vague qualities separated me from the island’s natives and I agreed to accompany him back to Gum Drop Island. (Where is that music coming from??)
Aboard the Good Ship Lollipop, Yuri wasted no time ordering Captain Bootlegs to “heave-hove, shove off, or whatever it is you do to get this tub sailing”. Captain Bootlegs, clad in thigh-high armadillo skinned boots (hence, his name, I supposed) swayed and staggered upon the ship’s deck—and we hadn’t even left the lagoon. Peering overboard at the anchor stuck fast in Nip’s muddy bank, Captain Bootlegs curled his lips into a surly snarl.
We needs to unplug that,” he said. “Cain’t move till it’s moved.”
Then, move it, my good man,” Yuri directed. “It’s only an anchor. Pick it up and let’s go.”
Pick the bloody thin’ up, ‘e sez,” Captain Bootlegs mimicked Yuri, standing with hands on his hips and giving Yuri a cock-eyed glare. Actually, it was hard to know if he truly looked at Yuri. One eye looked east while the other stared west. “I’ve done ‘ad a spat wid that baby—”
Then, make up to it and let’s be on our way.” Yuri dismissed the matter by strolling to the opposite end of the deck.
Make up to it, ‘e sez.” Bootlegs stared at Yuri’s retreating back. “Oh, you’re a wise guy, eh, ain’t ye, Yuri?”
However, with no other option available, Bootlegs grabbed the anchor rope and pulled. Slowly, hand over hand, he hauled the heavy weight up the side of the ship. I noticed how carefully, almost reverently, he treated that ‘baby’ as he’d called it. Maintaining a strong grip on the rope while the iron anchor scraped over the ship’s railing, Captain Bootlegs’ lips moved silently with what I suspected were fond words of endearment. Locking his east/west, squinty-eyed gaze on the object of his affection, he rather danced a little jig around his precariously balanced sweetheart, stepping first here and then leaping over there as he sought to confine his darling to its’ proper niche. So passionate was his ardor that when the anchor thudded into its rightful home, he removed his cap and used the back of his cuff to wipe a sweaty stream off his brow. I watched him exhale a trembling breath, and I marveled over his intense devotion. The man was deeply moved, no doubt about it.
So, off we sailed from Noplace in Particular and headed for—Well, you know—my new home.
But I can’t see anything!” I now cried to Yuri. “All this mistiness—it’s damp and moist and the fog is as thick as a camel’s hide.”
You’re mistaken,” Yuri corrected me, coming to stand at my side and peering off into the distance. “Fog is as thick as cotton candy. Not a camel’s hide.”
I blinked. “Really? Why’s that?”
Because that’s simply how everything is on Gum Drop Is—” Cutting off, he whirled about. “There’s that blasted music again!”
Captain Bootlegs’ whistle of surprise pierced through the misty strips of cotton candy fog. “’Ey, mate,” he called. “I ain’t nevah ‘eard dat musick afore. Where’s it comin’ from?”
F—from the wind,” answered Yuri. “It only started when I met her.” Looking at me, he frowned, and the monocle popped from under his brow. “She obviously inspires music to be played whenever anyone says those three words.”
And what three little words would those be, Yuri?” I asked him, watching as he replaced the monocle, but he misjudged its distance and poked himself in the eye.
Clearing his throat, Yuri stared into the mist. Gesturing with his hand, he waved in a non-specific direction. “Well, out there—on the other side of all this fog—is your new home. It’s a mountainous island with rocky cliffs, fragrant green meadows, and a refreshing salty breeze. Perfect conditions for my confectionary nursery.”
What’s a confectionary nursery?” I asked. It wasn’t that I’m dense, you understand. But I needed to ask all these questions so that you, dear reader, could be informed.
Yuri winked his eye from behind the monocle. “Ah, the home and origin of all the sweet and tasty candy in the whole world!”
I thought about that and then asked, “Why?”
Yuri blinked. “What do you mean, ‘why’?”
I have memories of candy being bought in stores.”
Yuri grinned secretively, as if he knew something I didn’t. “And where do you think those stores got their candy? Where did Willie Wonka get all that chocolate for his factory? It all has to be planted and grown from someplace, doesn’t it?” Yuri spread his arms wide. “From here,” he shouted into the wind. “Every single bit of candy and confectionary in the world is grown here, from my home atop the bluffs of Gum Drop Island!”
Oh, stop it, mate!” yelled Captain Bootlegs. “Me ears cain’t ‘andle it! Ow!” And Captain Bootlegs clapped his hands over his ears, trying to drown out the music which boomed and echoed around us from the depths of the mist shrouded sea.
Yuri fell to his knees beside the railing, ramming his fingers to the knuckles in both ears. After a moment, he unplugged them and looked up at me. “I need to ask you something.”
I stared with delight. The music of violins and stringed instruments swelled around us, a man was on his knees beside me, and he wanted to ask a question. It all signified something very important, didn’t it?
Breathless, I replied, “Please do.”
Tell me, don’t you find that music—well—distracting?”
Oh.” Quickly, I regained my breath. “Hmm. Well, if you must know, I find it very pleasant. Music to my ears, even.”
Yuri rose to his feet and gazed across the railing. “We’ve arrived. Bootlegs,” he called to the Captain. “Lower the gangplank. I’m taking my guest to her new home, Marshmallow Mansion.”
What’s a Marshmallow Mansion?” I asked, heading down the gangplank towards the seashell-cluttered beach of Gum—oops, I mean, you know—my home.
Oh,” replied Yuri. “It’s a cozy, comfortable, sweet and delectable castle.” He paused and then said, “Not that it can be eaten, you understand. Our lollipop trees and licorice bushes and other assorted goodies are the edibles. No, I only meant Marshmallow Mansion is a yummy, delightful place to live. First, though, you must be introduced to the staff.”
And who are they?”
Yuri counted on his fingers. “Presently, there’s Moose, Cuddles, Telly, Wrap Periwinkle, and of course, Ms. Whales. She’ll advise you on the Ways of Civilization.” Then he said, “And I’d better warn them about that music going off whenever those three little words are spoken.”
Yes,” I agreed in a dry tone of voice. “Should romantic music play just because a person has said those magical three little words?”
Yuri’s lips twisted into a thoughtful frown. “Somehow I’m not sure if you and I are discussing the same three words here. In any case, perhaps I’d best warn you about Wrap Periwinkle.”
Oh?”
Yes. A good cook is Wrap, but he does have one peculiarity—” Pausing, Yuri muttered to himself, “Come to think of it, they all have some kind of peculiarity.”
Like what?” I asked, intrigued.
Oh, you’ll find out.” Yuri dismissed the matter with a wave of his hand. “Just be careful you don’t exchange any blond jokes with anyone in case Wrap should overhear.”
Is he blond?”
Yuri took my arm and steered me towards steps carved into the side of a cliff. They weaved a pathway upward, disappearing into the cotton candy fog which veiled the lofty mountain top. “No,” he answered my question. “He’s just partial to them because he respects their great intelligence.”
Smiling, Yuri said, “Welcome to your new home, Gum—” Breaking off, he looked about him. “I’d better keep those three little words to myself. Come along now. It’s time to meet your new friends.” And he led me up the rock stairway towards Marshmallow Mansion.
(To be continued..)
Copyright 2006 by Lula M. Thomas
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