Ferbert Flembuzzle's
Most Exotic Zoo
Chapter 1 - The Maple
(Please forgive errors in formatting. Posting on a website has its limitations.)
Sophia Flembuzzle threw open the door of a small house and burst out onto the porch. The seven-year-old girl was small for her age and carried an old, weathered canvas satchel, weighed down by several dense, rectangular objects. She wore jean shorts and a pink t-shirt, and her long, dirty blonde ponytail floated in the air behind her. As she ran on slender legs that were more bone than meat, she exposed the dirt-stained bottoms of her bare feet.
Sophia leapt with cat-like grace off the porch and into the grassy field behind the home, lifting the strap of the satchel over her head so it hung from her opposite shoulder. She broke into a sprint and ran across the open field toward a large maple tree.
Every few steps, she gave a nervous glance over her shoulder. When she was about halfway between the house and the tree, a man with dark, neatly combed hair emerged from the home. He was thin and about half a head taller than the average man. He wore a short-sleeved shirt, shorts, and tennis shoes with untied shoelaces. His eyes panned across the open field, searching for the girl.
Sophia gasped, pulled the satchel tightly against her side, and forced her legs to carry her faster.
“Hey, you little thief!” the man shouted as he began his pursuit.
When she reached the base of the maple, Sophia’s lungs heaved. The man was closing in quickly; there was no time to rest.
The lowest branch was well out of Sophia’s reach, but that was not a problem. She gripped the thick bark with her tiny fingers and nimble toes and climbed. She ascended the trunk with the speed and ease of a lemur, and once she reached the first branch, she leapt from limb to limb like a squirrel.
Near the top, two side-by-side branches jutted out from the center of the tree. Sophia pulled herself onto one of them just as the man reached the base of the tree. She nestled her body into the joint of the limb and stretched out her legs so she was hidden from the view of the man below.
As Sophia waited, the only sounds she heard were the gentle rustling of the wind in the branches, the soft scraping of shoes sliding along bark and muffled grunts from the man climbing the tree, her heavy breathing, and the anxious beating of her heart. She pulled the satchel tight against her chest and bit her lip.
Without warning, the man’s hand shot up and grabbed Sophia’s calf. “Gotcha’!”
The girl screamed, and her eyes shot open. She was now face-to-face with the man. He gave her a stern scowl, but it didn’t last long; his face soon relaxed into a playful smile.
Sophia broke the silence. “What took you so long, you slow poke?” She stuck out her tongue and her lips curled upward in a teasing smile. A single dimple formed on her left cheek.
“I guess I’m not as quick as I used to be. Or,” his eyes moved to the satchel in Sophia’s arms. “Maybe I got a late start because I couldn’t find my satchel, which appears to have grown legs.”
“Dad, I think it’s ’cause you’re an old man.” Sophia made an unsuccessful attempt at a wink.
“Me? Ferbert Flembuzzle, old? Hogwash! I’m as spritely as they come.” Ferbert leaned in. “Listen, I’ll let you in on the real reason for my tardiness, but only if you promise to keep it a secret.” He didn’t wait for a response and turned his head back and forth, pretending to be on the lookout for eavesdroppers. “The actual reason for my tardiness is because I stopped to pick this for my favorite girl.”
Ferbert revealed a fresh, yellow tulip from behind his back and handed it to Sophia, who blushed as she accepted it. He then pulled himself atop the neighboring branch and relaxed as if he were in a lawn chair, the untied laces of his shoes dangling over the side.
He and Sophia had spent almost every afternoon of the last three years—even the rainy ones—perched in those branches. In fact, they spent so much time in the tree that it molded to the shapes of their bodies as it grew.
“Now, since you assumed the role as keeper of the satchel, how ’bout sharing some of the loot?” Ferbert requested. Sophia reached into the satchel to retrieve one of the rectangular objects: a book.
“This one’s about birds.” She read the title, “Storks, Flamingos, and Other Long-Legged Fowl.”
“Storks, huh? Did I ever tell you the one about the man, the woman, and the talking stork?”
Sophia gave him a disbelieving look. “Is this gonna be another one of your lame jokes?”
“Lame jokes?” Ferbert pretended to be offended. “I’ve never told a lame joke in my life! This is no joke. It’s a legend.”
“Same thing.” She rolled her eyes and grinned.
“Well, let me get on with it. A man and woman come upon a talking stork. They tell the stork they want a baby, and the stork asks, ‘Do you want a boy or a girl?’ They say, ‘We want a girl, but not just any girl. She has to be the prettiest, smartest, most wonderful girl in the whole world.’ At this, the stork shakes his head and mumbles to himself, ‘No, no, no, no, no, no, no! Impossible!’ The man and the woman look at the stork and ask, ‘Why is it impossible?’ The stork rolls his eyes and says, ‘I’m afraid the prettiest, smartest, most wonderful girl was already delivered.’ The man and woman demand to know who this perfect little girl was delivered to, so the stork pulls out a notebook and starts flipping through it. ‘Let me see, let me see,’ he says. ‘Ah, here it is: the prettiest, smartest, most wonderful girl was delivered seven years ago to a Juliet and Ferbert Flembuzzle, and it looks like they named her Sophia.’”
Sophia shook her head with another blush, but then nervously asked, “Dad, can you tell me about Mom?”
She had asked this question on many occasions over the years, and Ferbert gave the same response he always did. “When the time is right.”
Normally, Sophia didn’t push the issue, but she was feeling bold. “What does that even mean, ‘when the time is right’? I barely know anything about her besides her name. Why won’t you just tell me now?”
Ferbert took a deep breath and thought for a moment. “Sophia, answers to some questions are like a tulip.” He pointed to the flower he gave her moments earlier. “It starts out as a delicate flower bud with all its beauty packed into a tiny, little pod, waiting for the right time to bloom. If someone tries to open the flower bud before it’s ready, they’ll destroy the flower and it will never bloom into a beautiful tulip. What you want to know about your mother just isn’t ready to bloom yet. When the time is right, it will.”
It wasn’t the answer Sophia wanted, but she knew better than to press any further. She had read hundreds of stories about children with either no parents or bad parents, and she reminded herself how lucky she was to have at least one good parent.
Anxious to change the subject, Ferbert pointed at the satchel. “What else have we got?”
Sophia pulled out another book and read the title, “Amazing Brazilian Critters.” She smiled. “There’s a chapter in here about the Brazilian three-banded armadillo. Its skin is like armor, so when it’s being attacked, it rolls into an armored ball until the predator leaves. It’s really cool.” Sophia kept digging through the satchel. “We’ve also got Geographic Greats All Around the Globe,” she announced. “I’ve read this one a bunch of times already. It’s all about places like the Drobwobble Desert, the Jumondo Forest, and the Nocarogubby Mountains.” Sophia’s eyes widened with excitement as she listed the locations. “Do you think we can we go to those places some day?”
“Maybe. Where would we go first?”
“Hmm….” She thought for a moment, closing her eyes. “The Jumondo Forest. Can you imagine what it would be like to stand in a forest surrounded by hundreds of those trees?”
“I don’t have to imagine,” Ferbert responded.
“Why? What do you mean?”
He smiled. “I went there when I was younger.”
Sophia lit up. “You’ve seen Jumondo trees up close?”
Ferbert nodded.
“Wow. I’m so jealous.” She looked off toward a large hill in the distance. “I’m not positive, but I think the tree on top of the hill may be a Jumondo tree.” She pointed. “It’s the one on the other side of that humongous gate.”
From the branches of the maple tree, Sophia and Ferbert had a perfect view of the distant hill where a narrow road zig-zagged up to a massive, metal gate that stretched high into the sky. Just beyond the gate was the enormous tree Sophia pointed to.
“It has to be a Jumondo tree. No other tree grows that tall,” she explained. “But I thought Jumondo trees only grow in the Jumondo Forest.”
“Normally, that’s true.”
“One of these days, I’d like go up there and investigate.”
Ferbert gave his daughter a slightly puzzled look. “Sophia, you don’t remember?”
“Remember what?”
“Seeing the tree up close?”
She shook her head. “No. What are you talking about?”
“You’ve been there before,” he explained. “You really don’t remember?”
“No. When?”
“Three years ago,” Ferbert’s eyebrows furrowed. “The whole town of Vedner was there.”
Sophia thought for a moment. “Dad, I really don’t remember.”
The dark-haired man gave a quick, surprising chuckle. “Huh, you’ve forgotten already. I wonder if the other children have forgotten, too.” Ferbert spoke aloud, but Sophia felt that he was talking to himself.
“What children?”
Ferbert shook his head. “Sorry, I was just thinking to myself.”
Both sat in silence for several minutes before Sophia popped up from her relaxed position with raised eyebrows. “Dad, since I don’t remember, we should go back, like, right now! Can we? Please?”
Ferbert’s face sank. “I would like that very much, but you can’t—we can’t. You… we’re not…” he struggled to finish the sentence. Then, in a very serious tone, he continued, “We’re not allowed inside the gate, anymore.”
“Why not?”
He sighed gently. “Someone locked the gate three years ago, and no one’s been inside since.”
“Who? Why?”
“It’s a sad story.” Ferbert shook his head. “There’s no sense in spoiling a beautiful day like today with a sad story. Which book do you want?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’ll take Geographic Greats.”
“Great. I’ll take the one about Brazilian critters.”
Sophia opened her book and started reading, but she found it difficult to focus. She wanted answers. She wanted to know what her dad wasn’t telling her. She wanted to remember whatever it was that she had forgotten, and she didn’t understand why her dad wouldn’t talk about it.
Ferbert also struggled to focus on his book. He was thinking about what he hadn’t told Sophia. He was thinking about the gate on the hill and about the day a salesman named Gus Gates knocked on his door more than three years earlier.