RARE BEASTS Read online

  “We don’t want to mail them,” said Edgar. “We just want to sell them. It’s our exotic animal collection.”

  “Exotic, eh?” said Mr. Crapple. “What do you children know about exotic? All you dirty little ragamuffins, thinking you know everything. I doubt you’ve ever been outside dear sweet Nod’s Limbs in your entire young lives! Not a thing wrong with Nod’s Limbs, mind you, but a far cry from exotic!”

  The mailman glared down at them. “You think you know exotic? I know exotic! I’ve served the postmaster general for going on forty years, and I’ve seen a little something from everywhere. I’ve hauled boxes from Borneo and packages from Paraguay! Delivered letters from Latvia and crates from the Congo! I’ve carried cartons from Canada and postcards from Pago Pago—held them right here in my very own hands! Don’t tell me I don’t know exotic when I see it!”

  Mr. Crapple lumbered up to the long wagon full of animals and looked them over. He squinted skeptically as he read the signs describing the animals.

  “That’s an awful lot of strange critters you have there, young-uns,” acknowledged Mr. Crapple as he reached Edgar and Ellen at the end of the cart. “Very unusual. But exotic? I don’t know about that.

  “Did any of them come from some faraway land overseas? That’s the real sign of something exotic— if it came in the mail with colorful stamps all over it. Well, did they?”

  Before Ellen could respond, the mailman said, “Of course they didn’t come in the mail! If they had, I would have known about it!

  “Hey, what’s your strange little friend doing over there?” Mr. Crapple pointed at Edgar, who was gathering rocks by the side of the road.

  “Oh, don’t mind him,” said Ellen, rolling her eyes. “He’s a bit off. Now, can I interest you in one of our amazing animals?

  “Our Multipeeder is considered a worker of miracles in Plutavia. It has lots of little legs, and a little foot at the end of every one.” Ellen held up the brown and yellow creature, which was really a fat gerbil with several doll limbs glued to its body.

  “This rare beast has quite a remarkable history,” she went on. “It was originally captured in the wild savannas of Rimpledop Province in south central Frinquay. We obtained it from a famous traveling musician—a harmonica player, the owner of the world’s largest harmonica, in fact—who had back problems caused by carrying his heavy instrument case all over the world. Imagine how it would feel to have this cute little creature walk up and down your back! So many more feet than Mrs. Crapple!”

  Mr. Crapple laughed dryly. “Listen, girlie, my wife may have bumpy, smelly feet, but that critter you’re holding looks like a giant hairy spider! There’s no way on this great green earth that I’ll let a nasty thing like that touch any part of me!”

  Ellen scowled.

  “I’ve wasted enough of my time,” the postman continued, ignoring her, “I just needed to stretch my back before continuing my route. Here I am talking to you, and you don’t even have any mail!”

  “Pardon me, sir, but I do have something to send,” called out Edgar from the other end of the wagon. He pointed to a large package sitting on the ground.

  “Where did that come from? Well, never mind then, don’t dawdle. Put it in my mailbag over there,” said Mr. Crapple.

  Edgar heaved the parcel into the mailbag. The new addition landed with a heavy thud.

  Mr. Crapple hoisted his mailbag over his shoulder, his eyes bulging and his knees buckling from the weight of it.

  “Gee, how’d this thing get so heavy all of a sudden?” grunted Mr. Crapple as he staggered down the street.

  Edgar pulled one of Ellen’s pigtails to get her attention. “This will be fun to see—I opened up one of his boxes and filled it with rocks!”

  The twins watched as Mr. Crapple hunched forward and balanced the bag across his back, leaving his legs to shiver and shake under the heavy weight. The postman staggered to the left and staggered to the right and staggered every which way. With every lurch punctuated by a sharp cracking sound from his back, he slowly disappeared out of sight.

  Snickering, Edgar and Ellen broke into song.

  “That mailman has a lot of gall

  He really thinks he knows it all

  But now his mailbag’s hard to haul:

  He made a big mistake.

  A Multipeeder’s what he lacks—

  The thing to soothe those painful cracks

  But he declined and now his back’s

  About to truly ache!”

  21. Rare Beast Expertise

  “We are having absolutely NO luck,” said Ellen, “I can’t believe you’ve picked such awful places to set up our cart!”

  “I picked?You’re the one steering this contraption!”

  Ellen ignored her brother’s retort and lifted the cart’s handle.

  “Come on, Edgar, it’s still just early afternoon. Maybe we can find some suckers, I mean customers, closer to the river.”

  So the twins pushed past Greasy Billy’s Gas Station, turned onto Florence Boulevard, and set up shop near the public library. From where they stood, they were within sight of one of the seven covered bridges in town, the one with TAKE on one side of the roof, and FRIEND on the other.

  Soon, a white-maned gentleman bounded up the road. Large round spectacles perched atop his nose, and his lab coat flapped as he moved like the wings of an agitated goose. He was looking every which way, up and down and around, clearly searching for something. The wiry man was so intent on looking everywhere except where he was going that he almost crashed right into the Exotic Animal Emporium.

  “HEY!” yelled Edgar and Ellen.

  Startled, the man stopped.

  “Oh my! Very sorry!” he said, “Have the two of you seen anything odd today? Any strange slithering movements near the ground? I’m looking for an escaped python. The fire department contacted me because I’m an animal expert. Firefighters may be very capable at rescuing cats from trees, but tracking pythons is a bit out of their league! But fear not, I’ll find it.”

  He paused as he looked past the twins, focusing on the RARE BEASTS sign and then on the long stage cluttered with creatures.

  “Oh, my.”

  He dashed up to the closest creature, a green-and orange-tinted Jollypoddle, and quickly examined it.

  “Oh, my!”

  He eyeballed the next exotic pet, a large feathered thing with long scraggly teeth called a Windelstump.

  “Oh, my!” he said once more, his eyes widening behind the thick glasses.

  The animated gentleman skipped along the length of the cart, briefly examining each creature as he went. And with every new discovery, he flailed his arms about in the air or kicked his legs out in a jig or jumped up and down in fits of laughter.

  “Oh, my!”

  Edgar and Ellen stood speechless, startled by his obvious enthusiasm. He hurried up to them, standing so close that they could read the laminated badge clipped to his lab coat:

  DR. FELIX VON BARLOW

  Senior Zoologist

  Nod’s Limbs Zoo

  On the right side was a close-up photo of Dr. Von Barlow, his mouth open and his eyes bulging.

  Ellen suppressed a laugh.

  Edgar said, “Zoologist?”

  “No, young man. A ‘zo-ologist.’ There’s no such thing as a ‘zoo-ologist.’ People always mispronounce my profession. And I’m a senior zoologist, actually, in charge of all the animals at the Nod’s Limbs Zoo. Nothing happens there without my say so,” said Dr. Von Barlow. “Tell me, have you two little ones been there? Children just adore the zoo.”

  Edgar and Ellen had indeed been to the zoo on several occasions, once, in fact, to “borrow” a fifty-pound catfish from the aquarium to put in a kiddie pool. The zoo didn’t have much else that interested them. It was basically a large petting zoo with common animals like cows and pigs and goats. There was a reindeer one winter, brought in especially for the holiday season. The only real fun the twins ever had there was when they
scared a group of skunks into spraying the Gribble family. It had made quite a dent in the Gribbles’ social life.

  “We don’t like your zoo,” said Ellen. “You don’t have any interesting attractions.”

  Dr. Von Barlow’s happy mood vanished, and he let out a deep sigh.

  “Oh, you’re right, you’re right,” he lamented. “Here I am, having spent my whole life studying and learning everything there is to know about every different kind of animal, and look at me! I hurry, hurry, hurry myself to work every day, so I can spend my time making sure the pigs’ tails stay curly and the cows don’t catch colds.

  “I spent years and years at university, getting various degrees that should have made me an international star of zoology with a life full of exciting world travel and impressive speaking engagements. I should have my own television show on the global satellite station, Planète Animale, not that nitwit Professor Paul.

  “I tell the zoo’s board of directors,‘Let’s get a seal,’ or ‘How about a lion?’ or ‘Kids love pandas.’ All they say is, ‘What’s wrong with squirrels?’ and ‘Sheep are nice.’ About the only interesting thing we have these days is our colony of fire ants! Actually, I was in the middle of some scientific examinations when the fire department called, so I had to bring some specimens with me.”

  The zoologist withdrew a sealed glass jar from the folds of his lab coat and set it down on the edge of the wagon. The twins peered closely at the little red insects milling about inside.

  Von Barlow paused, lost in thought. Edgar was lost in a thought of his own, entranced by the fire ants.

  “Sister, owners’ conference,” whispered Edgar as he pulled Ellen aside. “I want those fire ants. Maybe we can trade him!”

  Ellen twisted Edgar’s ear. “Oh, I know you, Brother. You’d have lots of ideas for what we could do with nasty, biting fire ants, but at the first chance you’d dump them under my bedcovers! Well, I’ll have none of that.”

  With one last twist, Ellen let go of her brother’s ear and turned back to Von Barlow.

  “Maybe we have exactly what you need, Doctor.”

  His face lit up. “Oh yes, you very well may! I just can’t believe all the fabulous animals you have here! This may be the greatest day of my career!”

  Edgar and Ellen smirked and kicked at each other.

  “So you might be interested in some of our rare, exotic creatures?” Ellen asked.

  “Interested?” the zoologist replied. “Why I’m downright obsessed with these fantastic creatures! Just look at them! I’ve seen all kinds of beasts, but I have never, I repeat, never, come across anything like these! All new species! Never seen before! However did you get them? Oh, never mind how you got them! They’re incredible!”

  “They are?” said Edgar.

  “Of course they are! These animals will make me famous! The board of directors will erect a huge new building at the zoo! The Von Barlow Hall of Rare and Exotic Species! Zoologists from all over the world will come to see them, and they’ll say ‘That Von Barlow, he’s the best there is!’ ‘Von Barlow Is Our Hero,’ I can see the headlines now! I’ll be promoted to Executive Zookeeper, awarded honorary degrees and titles….”

  He could barely contain himself, giggling and dancing and skipping in front of the cart.

  “Well, Dr. Von Barlow, which of our amazing species would you like?” asked Ellen, eager to finally make her first sale.

  “Which?” retorted the zoologist. “Which? Why, I don’t want some of these creatures, I want all of them!”

  “You want…all of them?” the twins repeated.

  “Every last one!” boomed Von Barlow, picking

  up a dazed Fuddleflinger and giving it a great big hug. But as he swung the Fuddleflinger about, the muzzle on its snout loosened and fell off, and everyone froze as it let out a halfhearted “Woof.”

  “Oh, my!” said the zoologist, “That sounded…just like….”

  Edgar and Ellen glanced at each other. All their hard work would be for naught if Dr. Von Barlow figured out that the Fuddleflinger was just a beagle puppy in disguise.

  The zoologist stammered, “Just like…like a… Troeuilompe! That’s it! Have you ever heard of one? I always have a hard time with French pronunciation. I was fortunate enough to receive a recording of its wild call through my membership in the Animal-of-the-Month Club. I wonder if the Fuddleflinger species is related.”

  He laughed and playfully woofed along with the animal.

  Relieved, Edgar displayed his happiest expression, which, coincidentally, was also his creepiest. Things were going well.

  Ellen sauntered down the side of the cart, adding up the value of each exotic animal.

  “Well, Dr. Von Barlow,” she said, “we have a great many rare beasts here, and you know that rare means valuable. But since you’re willing to keep the collection together—and we’ll miss them so, the adorable little things—I’m sure we can make some concessions.”

  She scratched her chin, pulled on her pigtails, and said “hmm” a lot as she mulled things over.

  “I’m sure you’ll agree, Doctor, that for all of these magnificent creatures, a nice round figure of twenty-five thousand dollars is a generous selling price.”

  The Fuddleflinger yelped as Dr. Von Barlow dropped it to the ground.

  “Sell? Twenty-five thousand dollars? Oh, no, my dear! No, no, no! I’m afraid you just don’t understand! Nod’s Limbs Zoo is a public zoo. You don’t sell animals to us, you donate them!”

  “Donate?!” howled Edgar. “You mean, give them to you for no money? Why would we want to do that?”

  “Why?” said Von Barlow. “Well, you will get a nice plaque on the wall at the zoo!”

  “We get our names on a plaque?!” said Ellen. “Let me get this straight—we give you our animals for free, and you get famous and get your name in journals and get a building dedicated to you, and all we get is a measly plaque?”

  “Well, yes!” said the zoologist. “You should see them. They’re really quite lovely. Very nicely engraved!”

  Dr. Von Barlow picked up the Fuddleflinger and reaffixed its muzzle. While Edgar’s pasty complexion was turning an angry red at the prospect of another lost sale, Ellen grabbed a mallet from the depths of her brother’s satchel and raised it up over her head.

  The twins faced each other, Ellen swinging the mallet madly and both hopping from foot to foot. Slightly beyond earshot of Von Barlow, in hushed voices they chanted:

  “Von Barlow thinks he knows his stuff

  We two are here to call his bluff

  These animals are rare enough

  To make his reputation.

  But we won’t give these beasts away

  If he wants fame he’ll have to pay

  We’re through with cheapskates for today

  Here comes some compensation!”

  The zoologist was lucky, because as Ellen readied her swing, a flashy red fire truck with a big gold “7” painted on the door pulled up in front of their wagon.

  22. Lucky Engine Number 7

  “What’s all this?” shouted one of the firefighters hanging on the back of the truck.

  “Oh, it’s a fantastic collection of rare and exotic animals,” said Dr. Von Barlow, looking up, “Absolutely inspiring…”

  “Well now, Doctor, have you found the python?” called out the driver.

  “Oh, yes, the python,” the zoologist said. “I’d rather forgotten about that….”

  The firefighters climbed off the truck. One of them tilted her helmet back and said, “We haven’t had much luck on the snake hunt, either. Lucky Engine Number 7 isn’t too lucky today.”

  “Dreadful,” muttered Von Barlow.

  “Yeah, Doc, we’re starting to get worried. Having that snake on the loose, well, that’s bad. All those poor kids, you really feel for ’em, you know? Their little pets, stuffed down in some huge, slimy reptile’s belly.”

  Edgar and Ellen listened with interest.

  �
��Things could get real sticky. Word has leaked to the press about this snake situation, and you know those reporters when it comes to something like this! It’ll be all over the headlines by tonight. We could have a full-scale panic on our hands!”

  The twins whispered to each other.

  “Did you hear that, Brother? A panic! That means everyone will be running and screaming in the streets, right?”

  “The whole town, Sister! The whole town will be in a snit! I think that might be a record for us!”

  Just then Sparkplug, the dalmatian mascot for Lucky Engine Number 7, leapt down from the truck and bounded toward the cart. Edgar and Ellen watched with horror as the firehouse dog nosed around the animals, sniffing and grunting and slobbering. Disturbed, the beasts began to strain against their leashes.

  “NO!” yelled the twins, leaping at Sparkplug.

  Ellen grabbed the dog’s collar, trying to pull her head back. Edgar wrapped his arms around the dog’s body to drag her away from the cart. But Sparkplug was big and strong, and the twins didn’t have much success. Fortunately, the dog got a noseful of glitter, which made her sneeze loudly and uncontrollably.

  “Sparkplug!”

  A firefighter called the dog, who dropped her head and slunk back to the truck, letting loose a few glittery sneezes as she went.

  Edgar sighed in relief, but just as Ellen was launching into a sales pitch to convince the fire department to purchase a more exotic mascot, a fleet of bicycles appeared, speeding down Florence Boulevard.

  23. The Search Party

  Suddenly, the area around the ExoticAnimal Emporium became very crowded as a pack of neighborhood children pulled up.

  With eyes red and puffy from hours of crying, two dozen children looked up pleadingly at the firefighters and the zoologist. Occasionally a sniffle could be heard from the back of the group.