Lost Boy's Place

One of the cool things about being a Lost Boy is the stuff you learn.  The learning is cool even if sometimes the lesson itself can be a bit dodgy.  That being said, here is a list of some of the stuff I’ve learned as a Lost Boy:

1.  If you're getting ready to swing across a river on a vine you should make sure it's actually connected to something before starting to swing.
2.  If you don't do #1, you should make sure there aren't any raspberry bushes, rose bushes or other things that have thorns directly below you.
3.  Right on red doesn't work if you're in the left lane.
4.  You shouldn't use bleach to clean up an area where a feline has had an accident.
5.  If you walk around the metropolitan area wearing a bear pelt, people will ask questions.  Lots of questions.  Questions to which the answers to will only result in even more questions.
6.  If a traffic cop asks you "where the fire is" it doesn't get you very far if you give him/her an address.
7.  Be wary of containers of beverage that proclaim "natural flavor" and in small print whimper "contains no juice."
8.  It's not a good idea to swing a sword so hard that you end up knocking yourself out.  This is especially true when in the middle of a pirate battle.
9.  When someone in a tiger pelt takes a great deal of time to explain that super glue doesn't work on palms and tree limbs figure that it really works very well and that you might end up suspended from said limb until someone finds some pixie dust to dissolve it.
10.  Pixie dust does not dissolve super glue.
11.  If a manatee asks you to dinner, you should bring a gift of greens.
12.  No matter how badly you throw it, a boomerang thrown when you're on the Island will unerringly come back to where your head is located.
13.  Friendship is better than treasure and you don't need to follow a map with an "X" on it to find it (usually).
14.  You cannot mend a leaking boat that's sinking with blueberries or strawberries.
15.  Being the last person in an elevator and facing the back of the car instead of the doors will make everyone very uncomfortable.
16.  Karaoke in circumstances of #15 will make everyone super very uncomfortable.
17.  Cannonballs can hurt.
18.  It doesn't bode well when you hand someone a flower and they respond by breaking out in a sneezing fit and their eyes suddenly turn red.
19.  People on buses at 6:45 in the morning don't appreciate comedy routines.
20.  Seagulls know more than they let on.
21.  There is no wi-fi in Middle-Earth.
22.  Riding waves at the beach is one of the most awesome things on earth.
23.  So is sitting beneath a tree on a sunny day and discussing important things that aren't usually discussed, such as what green tastes like.
24.  Casting a spell at a mirror is ill-advised.
25.  Pine cones aren't good to eat.
26.  If someone tells you that there is a big drop-off at a lake shore and you proceed to demonstrate it to yourself through experiencing it, you're going to get yelled at.
27.  If you're not supposed to listen to the same song twenty-seven times in a row, then why do CD players have a single song repeat function?
28.  Dancing with wolves is great until someone's tail gets stepped on at which time you start playing "running away from wolves."
29.  Little Willy, Willy won't go home.
30.  Blood may be thicker than water, but crude oil has both of them beat.
31.  It's always fun until someone gets hurt.
32.  Computers that burst into flames normally signifies an issue.

The next day I woke up. At least I thought I had. I pinched myself and didn’t feel a thing and realized that I had only woken up in my dream. I sighed and sat down and waited until I finally woke up in the real world. The garden was the same as before with one main difference. The ambassador had disappeared. I searched everywhere but couldn’t find any sign of him. I wondered if something had taken him during the night or if he’d simply abandoned me instead. Being a Lost Boy I kinda was leaning towards the latter. Part of the definition of being a Lost Boy was being abandoned.

I double checked that I still had the coins, remembering what Nibbler had said in my dream-within-a-dream that they could prove valuable. Having wandered around the courtyard everywhere I could, I decided it was time to choose a door. I spent the next couple of hours examining doors. There wasn’t anything to tell them apart except where they were and what colour they were. Other than that, they looked exactly the same. I even checked to make sure they smelled the same and discovered they all smelled like warm wood and paint. That wasn’t too surprising, but you never can be sure about such things until you actually check it out. I did refrain from tasting the doors, although there was a purple one that looked as though it might taste just like a certain type of berry that I almost tried.

I finally decided the only way to decide was to use the “eeny-meeny-miney-mo” method. The only problem with that was there were so many doors located in so many different places that while I was performing the ritual, I ended up having to make so many circles that I got dizzy and fell on my rump while watching multiple copies of the same doors twirl around me. I looked up to see that I had fallen in front of the thundercloud grey door. Figuring this was some sort of sign, I opened the door and went through which promptly closed behind me.

The first thing I noticed was that there was no pile of socks. No woman. No nothing like what had been there yesterday. This time there was a staircase. A staircase that went up. A quick look around revealed two horrible things. The first one was that there was no ‘down’ staircase. The second was that the door which had swung open with a touch was now solidly jammed shut. I looked up at the staircase which round around the four walls of the stairwell and saw the stairs went beyond what I could see. I tried the door one more time, sighed, and started climbing the stairs.

Since there wasn’t anything better to do, I started counting the stairs as I climbed them. I got to a couple of thousand before I lost count the first time. I wouldn’t think it’d be so hard to simply count one after another but after the second time I lost count, I gave up on it. Whoever had built or created or magicked the stairs had done an interesting job. There weren’t any landings, even where they left one stairwell wall and started up the next one. The stairs were also different sizes and heights. Some were like half-an-inch tall while others were a good six-to-eight inches tall. They also ranged from a few inches to a few feet deep. I don’t know what the deal was, but it made climbing them irritating and tiring. Of course I found climbing up most stairs irritating and tiring, but at least this time I had a good reason.

Days passed and the floor of the stairwell disappeared from sight as I climbed higher and higher. Okay, it was more like an hour or two, but my legs were awfully sure it was days. I stopped and rested a few times, looking up to see nothing resembling the end of the stairs above me or where the light was coming from. I briefly thought about going back down and seeing if the door would open, but wasn’t sure what I might do if it turned out to still be locked.

Climbing the stairs became the focus of my life and I kept my head down to make sure that I didn’t end up tumbling down them because of a misstep. That was why I didn’t see the door before my head ran into it causing me to tumble after all. It wasn’t too bad since the last couple of stairs I’d climbed over had been the deep type and I managed to stop myself before I fell down more than two or three steps. I got back up to my feet and climbed back to the door. There was a big green sign above the door that said “Nexit”, the light behind it flashing on and off like it was getting ready to burn out or something. I put my hand on the doorknob and was so scared that it wouldn’t move when I tried to turn it that I froze. I carefully picked up the pieces of my courage and molded them together until there was enough to allow me to turn the doorknob. Naturally, after all the worrying, it turned without any problem. I slowly opened the door, and peaked around it to see how far I could see from my perch above the landscape. The view that greeted my eyes was the courtyard and the garden. I stared as I slowly walked through the doorway and turned around as I heard it click closed behind me. It was the purple door. I had walked up a billion stairs just to get fifteen feet across the courtyard. There hadn’t been anyone to help or to help me, no one to answer questions or any clue as to how to get to the path I was supposed to be on to get back to wherever I was supposed to do. Now, not only was I confused, my legs were killing me and I was hungry and thirsty. I felt like just sitting down and maybe just thinking about bawling for a few seconds.

Before I could collapse to the ground, there was yelling behind me. I turned around again, this time to see a kid running at me. “Hey, you. Yeah, you. Don’t you even think about trying to run away. I need to talk to you, right now.”

“What’s wrong? I didn…” I couldn’t say anything else as he threw a tangerine that caught me in the chin. It didn’t hurt me nearly as much as it surprised me, but it was still enough to suddenly sit me on my rump.

I looked up as the kid stood over me. “You ate my tangerine,” he screamed at me.

It took a lot more effort than it should have to get the box out of the narrow space that branched off to nowhere from the common room. Cubby came out of the wiggle space (it was too low to be a crawlspace) sneezing up a storm because of the dust he’d raised pulling the box out. His pelt was more gray than brown and grime stretched from one side of his broad face to the other, covering all the freckles that normally hung out there. Cubby sat down next to the opening, put the box in his lap which raised another cloud of dust and another sneezing fit. He wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve and then carefully opened the box. Inside was a pelt but not one that looked as though it had ever been worn by a Lost Boy. Cubby’s face broke out in a huge grin. He closed the box and with a whoop of excitement tore through the common room and out his trapdoor which led to the outside.

Being used to Cubby’s exuberant moments, none of the other Lost Boys paid much attention to the yell or rapid exit. Surefoot was busy destroying Tig in a game of checkers when he suddenly looked up. “Something’s up,” he told Tig as he jumped three of his checkers.”

Tig, not looking very happy with the way the game was progressing gave Surefoot a sour look. “No joke. You just got lucky, that’s all.”

Surefoot shook his head. “I don’t mean that. It’s Cubby. I just have this funny feeling.”

“Funny feeling about what?”

“I dunno. Just…” Surefoot finally shrugged his shoulders when the answer refused to come to him. “Nothing I guess. It’s probably not important.” He jumped another one of Tig’s checkers.

Tig’s face darkened for a moment and then lightened as he gave a huge grin. With a quick sweep he slid the various pebbles, coins and gems that were being used as pieces from the checkerboard that had been carved into the common room table.

“Hey! What’d ya do that for?” Surefoot demanded. “Afraid I was going to beat you for the first time?”

“Naw, you wouldn’t have come close. I was just trying to make you feel good. But I think we oughta go find out what Cubby’s up to. You know, just in case. In fact, it’d probably be a good idea if we all went.”

Surefoot looked at Tigger suspiciously. “Yeah, right. I know the real reason you’re doing this. Nice try.” Tig stared at him with all the innocence he could muster. “Fine,” Surefoot said, throwing up his hands. “Let’s get this done so we can get back here and I can cream you again.”

“You weren’t creaming me this time,” Tig protested as they got up from the table. “I was simply setting a trap and you took the bait. A few more moves and you’d have been begging for mercy. No one beats me at checkers.”

Surefoot looked suitably unconvinced as he walked to one of the common room walls and grabbed the conch shell that was hanging from a nail in the dirt wall. He put the end to his lips and blew creating a low sound that resembled what a chicken might sound like if being strangled. He looked at the end of the conch and made a face. “Who used this last?”

“I think Roo did.”

“Was he chewing on old socks then? This tastes awful.” Surefoot made a great production of spitting. Before Tigger could respond there was a bunch of yelling and commotion as the rest of the boys came pouring into the common room from their trapdoors.

“What’s up?”

“Whose in trouble?”

“What’d Tig do this time?”

“What makes you think I did anything?” Tig asked Red of the last comment.

“You’re here, ain’t ya?” He looked around. “Where’s Cub? I thought he was in here too. Don’t tell me he got stuck again.”

Tig broke in before Surefoot could say anything. “Cubby’s gone ahead. We’re going to play ‘Follow the Leader’ and Cub’s the leader this time. But there are a couple of changes.”

“There’s a surprise,” Stumble whispered loudly enough to Roo to make sure everyone else heard it. There was a lot of eye-rolling at the announcement as well.

Tigger didn’t even bother to pretend to be hurt. “It’s kind of like ‘Follow the Leader’ and ‘Seek but Don’t Hide’. We have to follow as close as we can but we can’t let him see us.”

“Won’t he be looking for us?”

“What difference does that make?” Tigger asked.

“I dunno,” his brother said. “It just seems sort of different. How do you win?”

“Uh… It’s not if you win, you just gotta make sure you don’t lose by having him see you.” There were a couple of glances exchanged and a bit more eye-rolling before a general agreement with the new rules. There were a few essentials grabbed and then the boys headed out.

Once everyone was gathered outside, Red and Leo did a quick scan of the area and picked up Cubby’s trail. “Man, if I didn’t know better, I’d say he was galloping,” Leo remarked.

“He did seem to be in a hurry,” Surefoot said. Leo shrugged and started tracking, the rest of the boys behind him.

Far ahead, Cubby was in a cave busy trying to figure out how to fit into a pelt that was meant for someone who was obviously shorter and not nearly as big around as he was. After pondering on it for several minutes, conscious of the fact that time was slipping by way too fast, he finally decided that he could make a few adjustments. He’d heard the conch blow and while he was glad that his plan seemed to be working, he’d thought he was going to have a bit more time. He took out a jackknife, wondering briefly when he’d stuffed that in a pocket, and began making some cuts and tears. When he was finished, he had a piece of the pelt that included the sleeves and hood and another portion that included the legs. Putting the two pieces of the modified pelt on over the bear pelt, he saw that the sleeves stopped mid arm and the legs stopped just below his knees. There was a large gap between the two pieces where his bear pelt showed. Figuring that was the best he could do, he took off again at a gallop for his next appointment.

About fifteen minutes after Cubby abandoned the cave, the rest of the boys showed up. “Is this part of the game?” Roo asked as he held up pieces of the pelt that Cubby had left behind. “It looks like he got into a fight with a beaver or something.”

“It’s not his pelt,” Red pointed out unnecessarily.

“No. You sure?” Surefoot asked and then frowned as something stirred in the back of his mind. He took a closer look at the pelt. “I have a bad feeling about this,” he announced.

“You don’t think he’s in trouble, do you?” Red asked, trying to make sense of Surefoot’s worried pronouncement.

Surefoot shook his head. “Not him. Us.” The others asked what he was talking about, but whatever thought he’d had slipped away as quickly as it’d appeared. He almost felt as though something in his mind was blocking him from remembering, but that would have been silly. After making sure there weren’t anymore clues around, the boys left the cave and started following Red this time as he took over tracking.

“You know, this is nutsy,” he muttered to himself.

“What?” asked Stumble, almost running him down where he’d come to a stop.

“He’s galloping again.”

“Are you sure there’s no one chasing him?” Roo asked.

“No way unless they’re using pixie dust. The only prints here are Cubby’s.”

“You don’t suppose that Tink is chasing him again. He did eat her blueberries, after all.”

“Naw, she wanted him to. Don’t you remember that she put that spell on them. I don’t see how you could have forgotten that.” Cubby, claiming he hadn’t known the blueberries had belonged to the pixie, had made short work of the blueberries. For the next day he was only able to talk in bird whistles. That probably wouldn’t have bothered him except for the fact that the whistle seemed to attract every bird on the island. He’d tried not talking, but if he went to long without doing it then he’d burp or hiccup or cough or sneeze and it would come out in birdsong, once again attracting everything that could fly on the island. Peter had gotten upset over it because he figured even pirates would wonder why there was a huge flock of birds around.

Having exhausted the possibilities of what might be chasing Cubby, besides themselves, they took off again uphill.

As the rest of the Lost Boys marveled at the possibility of Cubby galloping uphill, he was standing in front of a stone hut talking to a dwarf. Next to the dwarf was a stack of what looked like gold coins and a watering can. The dwarf and the huskiest Lost Boy spent several minutes bargaining and negotiating. Finally Cubby spat in his hand and offered it to the dwarf. The dwarf being a dwarf and not an elf agreeably spat in his hand and shook on the deal. After several minutes of massaging a paw that now felt as though it had been broken, Cubby scooped the gold coins in a large bag that the dwarf provided (for an extra shilling) and headed off with both bag and watering can in tow. The dwarf, watched as the strangely dressed Lost Boy disappeared into the woods and then pulled the linchpin from the stone house. It quickly collapsed and folded into itself until it was the size of a grapefruit. The dwarf shoved it in a pocket and walked off counting the coins he’d been given.

Cubby continued through the woods until he came to a certain hollow tree. Unfortunately it wasn’t the one he’d spend tons of time looking for, but did have something in it he’d left earlier. He pulled out a small brightly colored sack that was tied at the end with a hank of red hair. Cubby absently rubbed his head remembering where the hair had come from. He carefully untied the hair and opened the bag dumping the contents into the watering can. The bag was carefully put in a pocket for future use. Everything was done and there was only one more place to get to. He laughed as he thought about the expressions that were going to cross several places.

“There was something big here,” Red said, as he examined the ground where the hut had been. “And no, I’m not talking about Cubby either,” he added as he saw Tig start to say something.

“I was just going to ask what it was,” Tigger said with a wounded expression that fooled no one. Tigger would make light of Cubby’s size, but if anyone besides a Lost Boy tried it, Tigger would be the first to defend him. Not that it was needed very often.

“I don’t know what it was, but there’s another set of footprints that go off that way,” Red said, pointing in the direction the dwarf had taken. “Cubby’s head this way.”

“There’s no blood or anything, is there?” Roo asked.

“Naw. No blood, guts, skin, hair, pelt or anything.”

Surefoot shook his head, his brown hair flying. “I don’t think he’s in that kind of trouble. I don’t think he’s in trouble at all. I just have this feeling that we need to find him. Quickly. Not because he’s hurt or anything, just because we should.” Tigger’s charade about ‘follow the leader’ had been given up on between the cave and where they were now. It wasn’t a game, but it wasn’t quite a rescue yet either.

Surefoot took up tracking for the brief period it took them to get to the hollow tree. “Aw, he’s not doing that again, is he?” Stumble asked. He seemed to take it as a personal affront that Cubby could spend so much time looking for a hollow tree where elves baked cookies. Stumble had even volunteered to make cookie stew. An offer that had been heartily turned down by everyone.

“Naw. He didn’t try to get into this one. There was something in it, but I can’t tell what it was.”

“Here’s some of his hair,” Roo announced. “At least it’s red like his.”

Continuing to wonder exactly what was going on, the boys continued to follow Surefoot as he followed Cubby’s trail. After awhile it became obvious where the trail was headed, and they stopped for a huddle.

“Dude, he’s headed for Pirate’s Cove. What’s he doing?”

“Maybe he’s going on a raid.”

“By himself? Cubby? Get real.”

“I dunno. Maybe someone told him they had blueberries.”

“Not even Cubby is that blueberry crazy.”

“Bet he is.”

“Guys, forget it,” Leo finally broke in. “We gotta follow and see what happened to him. We may need to rescue him after all.” There was a quick battle order drawn up and then they headed for the edge of the woods that bordered Pirate’s Cove’s beach.

“I don’t…” Leo gasped.

“…believe it,” Tigger finished.

Not too much earlier Cubby had been standing in the same place Leo and Tigger were now standing. He’d stared at The Jolly Roger, carefully noting where each pirate was. The problem was they kept moving around and Cubby kept having to make new notes to himself until he was suddenly trying to keep track of what seemed four times the pirates that were actually on board ship. He decided to give it up as hopeless when he realized that he had Cap’n Hook in three different places. The raft was missing, but there was a large board there that Cubby dragged to the water’s edge. Throwing caution to the wind in an untypical Cubby-like manner, he carefully placed the bag and watering can on the board and held on to it as he kicked his way across the lagoon to where The Jolly Roger lay anchored. As luck, or something else, would have it, a rope ladder hung from the deck above within Cubby’s grasp. After several minutes of tying, placing, holding, and at one point grasping with teeth, Cubby managed to attach the bag and watering can to himself and began climbing up the ladder. Halfway up he remembered something and sighed in frustration. He climbed back down, filled the watering can with seawater and then climbed back up and over the rail to drop on the deck.

The ship was a hive of activity with pirates swabbing the deck, mending sails, sharpening blades and other nautical or pirate-y stuff. Even though he knew it would be useless, Cubby tried to make himself as small as possible and tiptoed across the deck towards the main mast. He was almost run down a couple of times, swabbed twice, and had a cannon ball run over a paw which had him biting his tongue to keep from yelling in pain over. Not a soul appeared to notice him and Cubby reached the main mast without anyone having raised the alarm or paying a bit of attention to him. Taking a deep breath and making sure his bag and watering can were securely fastened or clenched in his teeth, he started up the main mast.

Climbing the mast wasn’t anything at all like climbing a tree. For one thing there weren’t a lot of helpful things sticking out in which to grab onto. Those that were there tended to snag and bite at his hands rather than help him from sailing to the deck. There were also a lot of lines and rope which tended to tangle around him and distracted his attention from trying to appear as small as possible. He’d given tiptoeing up at the beginning since he wasn’t quite sure how you tiptoed while climbing. Whether it was because of the distractions, because the magic that had kept him invisible only worked on deck, or ‘just because’, Cubby was finally spotted when he was halfway up the mast both by pirates and the rest of the Lost Boys who had just gotten to the edge of the woods.

“Mr. Smee,” Captain Hook roared, causing all activity on The Jolly Roger to come to a quick and complete halt.

“Yes, Cap’n?”

“Why is there a bunny rabbit on my ship?” he demanded, pointing to Cubby who was clinging to the mast and slowly inching his way up. Every eye on the ship turned to look at where Hook was pointing at the interestingly costumed Lost Boy. On top of his head was a set of rainbow coloured bunny ears, that were wildly waving back and forth as he climbed, and rainbow hued fur that ended right below his arms. From that point to his knees was the brown of his bear pelt. Below his knees the rainbow coloured rabbit fur continued once again to his paws.

“It… It must be the Easter Rabbit,” one of the pirates exclaimed in awe and then hastily ducked as Hook casually took a shot at him from one of the pistols. While Hook was a superb swordsman, he was a notoriously bad shot and the ball missed and ended up skittering across the deck.

“It’s a Lost Boy, Cap’n. That big one who’s usually a bear. I don’t think that rabbit costume is his.”

“A Lost Boy? Really? You don’t say, Smee. How grateful I am to have you tell me these things,” Hook said in a very quiet, conversational tone which was his most dangerous. His cheeks started growing red as he screamed, “Of course he’s a Lost Boy and I don’t care if it’s his costume or not. A bag of doubloons to the one who brings me his head.”

Cubby had paused when he’d found out he’d been discovered. When he heard Hook call for his head he turned a shade of green that clashed with the bunny hood and tried to climb faster. He was almost at the crow’s nest and was shaking with both fear and exertion.

“We gotta do something,” Red said after hearing Hook’s pronouncement which hadn’t had any problem drifting to where the rest of the Lost Boy’s were watching from the edge of the woods.

“Not yet,” Surefoot said, shaking his head “I have a feeling that something…”

“But…”

“Just wait and see,” Surefoot said with increasing confidence. “We’ll charge in if he needs us, but remember it’s Cubby and it’s spring.”

There was some murmuring at the remembrance of it being spring. Cubby not only had vast amounts of luck that normally ran his way, but when Cubby heralded the beginning of spring, strange things normally happened. The boys relaxed just a little and waited to see what would happen.

At the promise of gold, there had been a vast rush of pirates towards the main mast. This worked in Cubby’s favor since a number of fights broke out among the pirates and he was able to reach the crow’s nest and climb in. He almost jumped back out when a voice said, “You look ridiculous, you know.” Cubby looked down to see Sorrowful Sam stropping a knife from where he sat on the floor of the crow’s nest causing him to be hidden from view from outside it.

“Eeep,” Cubby said in true Cubby manner.

“I could use a bag of gold,” the pirate said matter-of-factly as he continued to sharpen his knife. “It might be hard, but I could probably remove your head from your carcass with this too.” He stopped and looked at Cubby suspiciously. “Wait a second. This is that spring thing, isn’t it?” Cubby tried to figure out if it was a good thing or a bad thing, but finally nodded that it was ‘that spring thing.’ Sorrowful Sam let out a chuckle and tucked his knife at his belt. “That sounds like it’ll be more fun than a bag of gold. Well don’t just stand there like you’ve been pole-axed. Get on with it.”

Cubby, who did feel like he’d been pole-axed, shook his head. Below him the pecking order of pirates had finally been fixed with more than a few now lying on the deck moaning. The rest of them were headed up the mast in grim determination, the first few already a quarter of the way up. Cubby opened the bag he’d been carrying and shook it over the side. As the pirates caught sight of the cascade of gold that was raining onto the deck, they quickly reversed direction and headed back down to gather their share.

Hook’s face got redder and redder as he watched his crew abandon their pursuit of Cubby to pursue the gold on the deck. The predictable number of fights quickly broke out and it was several minutes before one of the pirates called out, “Wait a second. This isn’t gold. It’s chocolate.” He peeled back the gold wrapper to reveal a piece o’ eight made of chocolate before eating it.

It’s hard to tell if the scramble for the coins lessened any once it was discovered that they were chocolate rather than gold. Most pirates have sweet tooths almost as large as certain Lost Boys when it comes to chocolate (they aren’t nearly as fond as blueberries) and the times that pirates came across chocolate were few and far between. Still, there are a few pirates that would rather have gold than chocolate and these once again started up the mast while Hook screamed incoherently.

Cubby, having gotten the extra time he needed, carefully shook the watering can being careful not to splash it all over as he normally would have done. Sorrowful Sam watched curiously, but didn’t say a word. When Cubby was done he held the watering can over Sorrowful Sam and watched as a single drop fell from the spout and fell towards the pirate.

“Hey,” Sorrowful Sam said as he started to stand up and reach for his dagger. He didn’t stand a chance. As the drop fell it turned into what looked like a dandelion seed. As it reached the pirate, there was a shimmer and a bunny rabbit landed on the pirate. The rabbit looked at Sorrowful Sam and twitched its whiskers and wiggled its nose. “Awwwww,” Sorrowful Sam said as he smile and started rubbing the rabbit. Cubby, satisfied that the mixture in the watering can was perfect, began dancing around the crow’s nest with a goofy grin on his face as he sprinkled the contents of the watering can over the side. The drops turned into the dandelion seed looking things and then shimmered into bunnies as they either landed on pirates or hit the deck of the ship. Within minutes the pirate ship was covered from bow to stern in rabbits of every size and variety. Every pirate on board, with the exception of one, was busy rubbing and petting dozens of rabbits.

As Cubby continued to do his best spring dance around the crow’s nest, a strong onshore wind sprang up and grabbed a few hundred of the ‘dandelion seeds’ as they floated from the crow’s nest. The seeds were quickly carried over the water and deposited on the beach.

“What’s Cubby doing with that can he has and where’d all those bunnies come from?” Roo asked. The Lost Boys were too far away to see the liquid spraying from the watering can or the seeds but were more than able to see that the pirate ship was covered from one end to the other in bunnies. They were also able to see the reaction the rabbits were having on the pirates.

“Uh, guys? I think it’s probably time we got out of here. Like really fast,” Tigger announced.

“Are you crazy?” his brother replied. “This is hilarious. I know how embarrassed they’re going to feel when the rabbits vanish too.” On board the ship, the pirates had turned the mast into a Maypole using rigging and were busy dancing around it. There was a lot of laughter and cheers. “I bet Hook is having a fit.”

“If we don’t move, we’re going to be just as embarrassed feeling,” Tig said pointing to what looked like a fog moving onto the beach from the water. It was a fog composed of seeds. As they touched the sand, each seed morphed into a bunny. Without pause they started hopping towards where the boys were hidden.

“I agree with Tig. Cubby can take care of himself. Run, run, run,” Stumble declared as he turned to follow his advice. It was later agreed that not even Cubby could have done a better job of getting his feet tangled in each other. Stumble went down and the rest of the Lost Boys, who were following, ended up tripping over him. Within moments the bunnies were upon them and each Lost Boy got heralded with the beginning of spring.

Back on the pirate ship, Cubby continued his spring dance in the crow’s nest as the watering can slowly emptied. The crow’s nest, however, hadn’t been built with the possibility of the largest Lost Boy doing a spring dance within it. As the last of the liquid trickled from the watering can’s spout, there was a loud splintering sound as the floor of the crow’s nest where Cubby was dancing bid farewell to the rest of the structure. Cubby danced on air for a few seconds and then began tumbling towards the deck. It wasn’t anything like falling out of a tree since there were no branches to bounce off of on his way down. Below him, pirates and bunnies quickly scattered from the growing shadow on the deck. With a ‘whump’ he hit the deck rump first and lay stunned.

“Well, well. So good of you to drop in. With such graceful form as well.”

Cubby looked up to see an apparently unaffected Hook looming above him holding a cutlass that looked like it meant business. Hook raised the cutlass above his head and Cubby screwed his eyes shut knowing what was getting ready to happen and wishing it wasn’t going to be someplace where he felt all alone. He let out an ‘eep’ as something landed on his stomach. Grabbing as much of his slippery courage as he could, he opened his eyes to see Hook staring down at his middle, the cutlass seemingly forgotten. Cubby looked down to see that it was a large bunny that had landed on his stomach. It was like any of the other rabbits except for the fact that his one had a small hook on one paw and was wearing an eye patch. Cubby watched as Hook’s face went through a multitude of changes from resolute disdain through grudging curiosity, to a non-evil smile that looked totally out of place. The cutlass clattered to the deck as Hook picked up the bunny and started talking baby-talk to it while scratching it behind the ears.

Cubby, knowing when the getting was good, heaved himself to his paws and lumbered across the deck towards the rail, pirates and rabbits scattering from his path. Halfway to the side, he skidded to a stop and picked up one of the gold foil chocolate coins that had been missed. Continuing on, he made it to the rail and jumped over landing with a huge splash below. After wiping the water out of his eyes, Cubby dog-paddled as quick as he could to shore. He grinned at the sight of the rest of the Lost Boys petting, rubbing and playing with the bunnies that surrounded them. When the sun set, the bunnies would fade away with the sunlight. No doubt there would be talk of revenge from the rest of the Lost Boys as well as the pirates this time since playing with bunnies seemed to be some sort of faux pas for both Lost Boys and pirates. Looking at the silly grins and behavior of both groups at the moment, he believed it was well worth it. Besides, spring had been heralded as it was supposed to be.

“Look out!” Tigger yelled as he streaked from his trapdoor to his hammock where he proceeded to lie down and pile every fur and blanket he could get his hands on, on top of him.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, figuring something horrible had happened. I’d have thought pirates, but Tig wouldn’t be hiding from them. It must be something totally awful.

“It’s Wednesday the eleventh,” he said in a muffled voice from under the covers. This brought a general moan from pallets and hammocks around the common room as the other Lost Boys repeated the same process that Tig had just completed. I looked at Roo who was sitting across from me at the common room table.

“Wednesday the eleventh?” I asked.

Roo shrugged. “Not only is it Wednesday the eleventh, but the moon’s also full. Both of them. The sun’s full too.” I continued staring at him wondering what he was talking about. “You know. Black cats, mirrors, dragonsbane? Bad luck? It’s worse when the moons and sun are full.”

“Don’t you mean Friday the thirteenth?” I asked scratching my head. Not only was I confused, but I was pretty sure I had fleas again.

“Are you nuts? That’s nothing. The best thing to do is hide ‘cuz when Wednesday the eleventh shows up, all that happens is doom and despair.” He held up a finger and made a slashing motion across his throat. “That’s what I’m going to do.”

“But I’m hungry and I found a strawberry patch the other day that should be ready by now. I don’t want stew for breakfast again.” I’ll admit it came out just a tiny bit whiny.

“I heard that,” a muffled voice said from beneath a pallet.

“Anyway, Friday the thirteenth ain’t ever bothered me. I’ve always had good luck on that day. Sorta. And you know… Strawwwwwwwwberries.”

For a moment Roo looked tempted at the thought of strawberries, but then just shrugged again. “This is Wednesday the eleventh not Friday the thirteenth. You do what you have to, but don’t say you weren’t warned. Ain’t no way I’m leaving the Tree unless it’s falling down.”

I looked around the common room at the five bodies hidden under blankets and furs. “This is a joke, right? Tig put you all up to this, didn’t he? I’m going to spend the whole day cowering for nothing.” Sadly, it wouldn’t have been the first day I spent cowering, but I’d had pretty good reasons, at least for me, the other times.

No one said a word. Roo continued to stare at me and then shook his head in a sorrowful manner. I always hated it when Roo was part of a practical joke because it was impossible to tell if he was pulling your leg or not. He had the most serious expression no matter what was going on.

I ducked under the common room table and rummaged through the chest by my pallet. I grabbed a slingshot and my club. Next I went to one of the small holes in the wall and pulled out a small bag of pixie dust. It was a little heavier than usual, which I figured was a good sign since it took a lot of pixie dust to get me off the ground. “I’m going now,” I called out, waiting to see if anyone would try to stop me or start snickering. Neither one happened and I noticed with a bit of alarm that Roo had buried himself beneath his pallet too.

A few minutes later I was outside and wondering how anyone could have thought I’d fallen for such an attempt at a joke. There was no way anything bad could happen. The sun was indeed full and shining brightly. There was a breeze full of the smells of honeysuckle and a few other things that was causing the branches of the trees to sway gently and make an awesome noise as it moved through the leaves. All-in-all it was a perfect day that had me thanking the powers that be once more that I’d been rescued from the ‘real’ world and made a Lost Boy. On that note, I started out for the strawberry patch I’d found the other day.

Lost Boys are lost in a lot of ways but when it comes to the Island, we can usually tell exactly where we are and how to get where we want to go. Even I had the ability a lot of the time and it had been about a month since I’d managed to misplace myself. It was near the apple orchard too, so I wasn’t sure that it really counted since nothing seemed to work right near there. This time I couldn’t blame it as after walking for awhile I suddenly realized I had no idea where I was. It wasn’t the ‘I’ve never been here before’ feeling, but the feeling that shows up when you are positive you have absolutely no idea where you are. I tried retracing my steps and ended up being even more confused than before. I’m not real sure why, but whenever I get lost I end up walking faster. It doesn’t make a lot of sense, but I guess if I move faster I figure I might come out at a place I’ll recognize faster. That’s why when the ground suddenly dropped off in front of me I couldn’t stop in time. I might not move real fast, but once I get going sometimes it’s hard to stop. I think inertia has a grudge against me.

The ground ended and I continued going and fell tumbling down the side of a pretty steep bank. If it had been the bank of the Little Bear or the Great Bear Rivers everything would have been okay. If it had been some nameless creek, that would have been fine. Even if it had been the cliffs on the eastern edge of the island that overlooked the sea and I’d broken my neck and all my bones it would have been better. Maybe. Instead I ended up in the middle of a skunk-mud bog. As the name implies, skunk-mud doesn’t smell real nice. In fact to say it reeks would probably be understating the point greatly as evidenced by the withered condition of the plants and grass around it. Normally skunk-mud bogs are about three or four inches deep and about a foot or so wide. It would have been nice if this one had been normal. Instead it was about ten feet around and about four feet deep. It’s not like quicksand, so you don’t have to worry about drowning or anything if you can touch the bottom. What it is, is very clingy and sticky. I landed in the middle of the bog and quickly became covered in the stuff from head to paws. With a lot of struggling I managed to pull myself out and stood on one side of the bog. I felt like there was about fifty pounds of mud attached to me. The good news was that the flea that had been snacking on my scalp was gone.

Before I could even begin to think of where to start trying to go there was a crashing in the brush around me. It was one of those types that seem to be coming from everywhere at once and I whirled around in dramatic fashion trying to find out where it was coming from. In front of me a rather large tree was shoved over and a figure appeared. It looked to be about 8 or 9 feet tall, stood on two legs and was covered in fur, sort of like those pictures of Bigfoot or Sasquatch. It stood there staring at me for a moment and then said, “Bah,” and began walking towards me.

Having used up all my courage last week and there not being enough time to have replaced it, I took off as fast as I could gallop in the opposite direction, just managing to avoid the skunk-mud bog. It turned out that not only was whatever it was bigger than me, it was a lot faster too. I suddenly felt myself hoisted off the ground and slung over the beast’s shoulder.

“What are you doing? Put me down. HELP! Stop it. I don’t belong to you.” My whole collection of useful phrases for unknown beasts carrying me away was accomplishing nothing. The entire time I was yelling, all she said was, “Bah,” over and over again while making abrupt nods with her head. Slung over her shoulder, I could only see those places we’d been and the trail of destruction that was being left behind as she pushed through trees, plants and rocks. I couldn’t believe I’d never seen a trail left behind by the thing carrying me before.

She came to an abrupt stop and dropped me to the ground. The smell of the skunk-mud that was all over me was mixed with something else now. Something that smelled a little like rotten eggs. I peered around her legs and saw where she’d brought me. “No way!” I tried to get up and run at the same time but only managed to kick up great clods of dirt before she grabbed me around the middle. “I’m not taking a bath,” I yelled. “You can’t make me. Lost Boys don’t take baths.”

“Bah,” she said emphatically before tossing me underhand into the bubbling pool. I had just enough time to close my eyes and hold my nose before I hit the surface of the water. Not only did it smell like sulfur but it was hot. Very hot. Not boiling hot, but ‘feel like you were getting scalded’ hot. I tried to get out but was casually thrown back in by the beast. I guess trying to get out of the ‘tub’ upset her because on my second attempt she grabbed a rock and waded in with me. She put me in a headlock and for the next hour proceeded to scrub me with the rock. I yelled, pleaded, begged and threatened, but none of it made any difference. By the time she was finished with everything from my neck down, I felt like a huge giant bruise. I was pretty sure there were new rips in my pelt and new scrapes in my skin. In fact I was a little surprised the water I was in wasn’t tinged with orange. By the time she got to my head, I was suffering in silence since my throat was now killing me. She released me from the headlock and started scrubbing my head. She started with the top of my head and caused the hood of the pelt to come off my head. Her eyes got huge and she started yelling, “Na mn. Na mn.” She turned and ran out of the water and disappeared into the woods.

I stood in the middle of the pool, listen to it bubble around me, wishing that I’d thought to do that a lot earlier. I thought long and hard before finally dunking my head underwater and washing my face off. I figured if I’d had 95% of a bath, I might as well get rid of the rest of the skunk-mud. I just hoped no one would ever find out.

After finishing the rest of the dreaded bath process, I started walking in no specific direction. I still didn’t have any clue where I was or how to get to somewhere that I’d know where it was. As if that wasn’t enough, my stomach was still rumbling because it had been cheated out of strawberries. The day was still warm, but there was a strong wind blowing that cut right through the wet bear pelt and caused me to start shivering. I thought back to the dire warnings concerning Wednesday the Eleventh. I’d had some bad luck today, but it was pretty much a coincidence. I mean it wasn’t really bad, bad luck or anything that would deserve its own day. In fact, from what was in front of me, my luck was about to change.

Walking had brought me to a big open meadow full of buttercups and clover. The wind died down and as I walked across the field, the sun was nice and warm. I reached the middle of the field and threw myself down in the middle of the flowers, which is what every Lost Boy knows is what you’re supposed to do when you find yourself in such a place. Instead of snoozing in the sunlight, though, I got up as quickly as possible. I felt like I’d been poked by a bunch of sandburs or something. I bent down and took a close look at the buttercups and discovered they had thorns on them. They were little but very strong and sharp. I checked two or three other places around the meadow and found the same thing.

Sighing at the loss of snoozing in the sunshine, I headed back towards the woods, my stomach complaining even more loudly that it needed feeding. I tried arguing back that there was no way I was ever going to starve in a day’s time. My belly was neither convinced nor impressed and continued letting me know about it. That’s when my luck really changed. The first tree that I came to had a big hollow in it from which came the sound of buzzing. I carefully peered inside to see that it was a bee colony with a great number of honeycombs inside. While I’d had my mind set on strawberries, honey would do just as well. I took a few steps back and studied the situation.

While I may be the clumsiest Lost Boy, one of the things I can do really good is steal honey from bees. I had been made the chief honey raider by Pan and hadn’t gotten stung yet. I eased my way back to the hive so the bees wouldn’t get suspicious and carefully stuck a hand in. Another moment and I gently pulled it out holding a handful of honey. I was getting ready to eat it when a voice behind me said, “Bear.”

I whirled around, honey flying everywhere, but didn’t see a thing. That is until I looked down. Standing about ten feet away from me was a group of ten chipmunks. There wasn’t anything extraordinary about this group of chipmunks if you didn’t count the fact that they were standing on their hind legs, were dressed in some sort of military uniform that looked like it was from the 1800s, and the fact that nine of them were holding tiny bows loaded with arrows and pointed at me. The tenth one held a sword in the air. As I watched he lowered his sword and nine arrows flew towards my legs. A lot of them bounced off but a couple of them made it through pelt and skin. I howled and then brilliantly stood there and watched as they reloaded and repeated the whole thing. This time after howling, I started galloping away from the tree. I’d have thought that would have been good enough for them to call it quits, but instead I heard the sound of a bugle call. I turned around to see if this meant I was about to be swarmed by chipmunks.

It was not chipmunks that were swarming, but bees. Loads of them. My mind, being a bit overwhelmed at the sight of a zillion bees bearing down on me, pointed out that at least they weren’t wearing uniforms. Under other circumstances that might have made me feel better, but about the time that thought ran through my mind, I got stung by one on my nose. I got stung on each cheek and a hand. While fear my give you wings, that’s nothing to what fear and pain provide when it comes to galloping. I was galloping blindly since I was looking back to see how close they were when I tripped over something. I went tumbling down an embankment and ended up in… Yup, the skunk-mud bog. It should have been impossible since I absolutely, positively know I was running in a different direction, but there was no mistaking the trail of destruction leading away from the place. I might have whimpered.

It was at that point I entered full panic mode. I got out of the bog, not at all sure what’s-her-face wouldn’t suddenly reappear to give me another bath, and fled. I trotted up hills and… up hills. There were no downhill places. I jumped over streams and creeks and even tried to jump over a river (which didn’t work at all). I fell and tumbled and made my way across blackberry brambles and thorn-bushes. By the time I stopped I had scrapes and cuts all over myself. I could barely see around my swollen nose and cheeks and I was missing about half of my bear pelt. I stank. I hurt. I was not as happy-go-lucky as I usually am.

It was while I was stood trying to catch my breath that I saw it. Strawberries plants as far as the eye could see loaded with red, ripe, juicy strawberries. Somehow I had managed to stumble across the place I’d been looking for all along. It wasn’t a whoop of joy I gave, but more of a croak. My stomach rumbled in mild interest but had long since given up on getting anything. I limped over to the nearest bush, picked one of the strawberries and took a bite. A second later I was spitting it out. “Gross, this isn’t a strawberry,” I said out loud in disgust.

“Of course it’s not a strawberry you liltzrot.” I turned to see an elf standing behind me. “This belongs to his lordship Sir Fragum. In order to enhance his environment, his lordship has put in a grove of wax strawberry plants. The deer don’t eat them. Nor should large Lost Boys,” he added unnecessarily. “You’ll have to pay for that.”

I gave him a shilling that I found in my pocket. He frowned mightily at the fact it took several shakes of my hand to get it loose since it was the paw that had been in the honey. “By the way, are you aware of the fact that you are extremely odious,” he said as he made sure I walked away in case I decided to have another wax strawberry. I couldn’t argue with him.

“The rest of the guys are pretty impressed that you actually survived,” Red said, handing me a handful of sand to use to scrub the pelt again. I had managed to make it back to Hangman’s Tree yesterday, but I stank so bad that I was told I wouldn’t be allowed in until I didn’t smell quite as ‘odious’. “It’s one thing to smell, but that just stinks,” Peter himself had told me. I had decided not to risk another bath on Wednesday the Eleventh, so had waited until today to take one. Red had come along to make sure I didn’t drown myself.

“I didn’t know. I figured it was just a joke or something,” I croaked out. My throat was still sore and I could still barely see anything through swollen cheeks and nose. Fortunately I’d been able to just pull out the tiny arrows from my legs and Roo said, from a distance, that none of the other stuff looked as though it would kill me right away.

“We wouldn’t do that. Not about Wednesday the Eleventh. That stuff you just don’t kid about.”

As I suffered through my second bath in two days, I heartily agreed with him and knew exactly what I’d be doing the next time Wednesday he Eleventh wandered by.

The ambassador stalked off to the opposite side of the courtyard muttering darkly under his breath. He wasn’t at all happy about my decision to just give my sock away, but I really didn’t care. None of the doors seemed to jump out at me, so I grabbed one of the tangerine things off a bush and sat down with my back to the fountain. I’d heard people mention eating an orange or tangerine and describing it as having a taste like ‘honey’. I never really understood that because obviously tangerines tasted like tangerines and oranges tasted like oranges. Unless they’d been on the ground too long and then they tasted like something else entirely, but definitely not honey. Anyway, after biting into this tangerine, I knew what they meant. No, it didn’t taste like honey, but that’s what it seemed like. Yeah, I know I’m not making any sense. It was one of the sweetest things I’d ever tasted, but in a good way. I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to starve now.

After finishing the tangerine, I thought about what had happened. It didn’t seem too fantastic to me, but I did wonder about the woman. I got up and walked over to where the ambassador was still sulking. “You need something?” he asked me in a sarcastic tone.

“Yeah, I need to find out about that door I opened.”

“So now you feel is the time to question about such things? After the event. After the proverbial horse has left the proverbial barn you’re going to try and shut the proverbial door? A brilliant plan. Why ever did I not think of it?”

He was apparently still steamed. “Have you ever opened that door before?”, I asked him (probably in some sort of proverbial way). That wasn’t a question he was expecting and it took him a moment to switch gears.

“Perhaps I have and perhaps I have not. Is this so important to you?”

For someone who was supposed to be an ambassador, he sure didn’t know anything about diplomacy that I could see. “I just wondered if things behind the doors remained the same or changed or what happened. If she has her sock now…”

“Oh yes. She does have her sock now, doesn’t she? She advances onto the next level while I remain in this stupid courtyard stuck with some stupid kid who has no idea what he’s doing. I try to do things in the spirit in which their intended to be executed in and I get cursed by the likes of you. Well let me tell you something. There will be no information from me without payment. Understood? Ask all the questions you want but know that each answer will only be gotten with payment.”

“But I don’t have anything to pay with,” I said turning the pockets of the bear pelt inside out. I normally had tons of stuff that rattled when I walked or managed to bounce out when I fell out of trees and stuff like that. This time the only thing I had were the two coins. No marbles, pixie dust, slingshots (broken or otherwise) or anything else.

“I could take the coins off your hands,” he said. “One coin for each answer. Or better yet, you ask three questions, give me the coins and I’ll answer all of them. Is it a deal?” He seemed strangely eager all of a sudden.

One thing that I’m really pretty bad at (well actually I’m good at it which is bad) is coming to quick decisions. I suppose in some ways that’s a good thing. Leo is fantastic at it when a pirate battle is going wrong or one of is being forced to walk the plank. He does a good job at looking at everything and making changes on the fly. Me? I’m not quite that way. Roo says I do it because I hate to make decisions so I just go for the first thing that pops in my head. I can’t dispute it. Heck, it’s gotten me in trouble both in the ‘real’ world and on the Island. So I tried to play it cool, this time. “Let me sleep on it.”

He considered that for a moment and then smiled. “Very well. I will ask you in the morning for your decision and we will go from there.” He nodded at me in dismissal and I retreated back to the fountain.

There was no indication of what time it was or when the sun might go down (or the huge light bulb hidden behind the wall might be turned off). I thought about asking the ambassador, but figured that would end up being one of the three questions I might be allowed. Instead, I curled myself up against the fountain, made sure the two coins were clutched in a grubby fist and closed my eyes.

It was no use. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t fall asleep. For a moment I wondered if part of this place was that the sun never went down and you never got to go to sleep. Grumbling I opened my eyes and sat back up against the fountain. The light was different now. Not as bright but nowhere near twilight. There was someone sitting on the lip of the fountain above and to the left of me who let me know he was there by poking me in the side with his foot. I looked up to see a shadowy outline of Nibbler. “You’re already asleep, Cubby. Don’t you know anything?”

I grinned because with him that phrase was a joke. “Oh, man. Am I glad to see you. Can you get me out of here or help me get out of here?”

He shook his head. “I’m not really here. I’m just able to see you and you me because you’re closer to wear I… hang out, you could say.”

I looked at his face. Normally he had a big grin on it but today it was very solemn with the humor hidden. “I’m dead, aren’t I?”

“You’re not dead. Least not exactly. You’ve been kinda misplaced. Misfiled would be a good term. You’re being here has caused a ton of trouble and no one’s quite sure what to do with you. You’re pretty good at doing stuff like this, you know. You totally shouldn’t have been able to go through that fence, no matter how rickety it was. It’s supposed to be impossible to fall off the ‘End of the World’.”

“Oh, sure. Make me feel good about the whole thing. Is that what you came here to tell me? That I’m dead?”

“You’re not dead.” He emphasized the point by jabbing me in the side with his foot as he said each word. I tried to grab his foot to pull him off the fountain, but my hands simply slid through it like he was a ghost or something. That scared me a lot. “You just gotta trust in yourself. What the reap-rep said…”

“Reap-rep?”

“The woman in the office. What she said was true. Just look for the right path. Oh, and go with your instincts too. The sock thing? Cool move. Don’t worry about Colonel Blimp over there.”

“Hey! He said he’d answer three of my questions if I gave him two coins,” I said showing them to Nibbler. “Should I do it?”

“You can if you want, but coins can be pretty valuable, especially depending on how they were gotten.”

I looked at them. Even though they were identical, I knew where each had come from. “This one is from the sock woman. This one was in my hand when I arrived here, but it was given to me by a friend.”

“So hold onto them. Besides, did he say he’d give you the correct answer?” I shook my head no. “Exactly. You could ask him what’s through door number three and he could answer ‘and’. It wouldn’t be the right answer, but it would be an answer. You always gotta phrase things just right when you ask a question.”

“Oh. So can you tell me about… Why are you shaking your head? You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”

“It’s because I can only tell you the stuff I already did. I’m not allowed to tell you anything else except not to eat the oranges.”

I couldn’t believe it. Why was it that whenever you ended up somewhere all weird and different that you always found someone who might be able to help and then got told they weren’t allowed to give you the answers. Then there was the casual mention of not doing about the only thing I’d done since arriving. Sometimes I wondered if Tig weren’t somewhere around having a huge laugh as he changed all the rules as we went along. This sounded just like something he’d do. “Fine. Oh, now what? You’re going to fade away too? Tigger is behind this, isn’t he? You wait ‘til I get back.”

Nibbler didn’t answer but did the fade away thing like the Cheshire Cat from Alice’s adventures, the only difference being it was his rabbit ears that faded last instead of his non-existent grin. Since I was supposedly asleep, I wondered if I should lay back down and try to go to sleep while I was sleeping and if that would then cause me to wake up or if I should walk around or do something else instead. Sitting against the fountain, I pondered about Nibbler telling me not to eat the oranges. Did that mean don’t eat them or was it simply a suggestion. Like, if you eat too many oranges you’ll get a tummy-ache or something along those lines. That made a lot more sense. How bad could one orange be anyway? Thus were my thoughts as I fell asleep in my dream.