croco, continued, with a sad story about a hunt for a missing button

(note that Marie doesn't like the quinoa snacks served at her school - I had to destroy them somehow in the story)

She thought for a few seconds, and then stood up on her desk. Then she shouted as loud as she could, “YOU DIDN’T ANSWER THE QUESTION!”

At this all the commotion in the room stopped. Toys fell to the floor. Crayons were gently put back on desks. Johan, who had left the playloft, stopped throwing the quinoa snacks in the goldfish bowl.

The croco-diamond, who had construction paper butterflies stuck to his jeweled spine and glitter on his head, stopped dancing and throwing things too.

“What ever is she talking about?” asked the croco-diamond.

“I don’t know. Can I keep your bongos?” asked Johan.

Everyone stared at Marie expectantly.

“Ms. Kaeli asked what we would do. Would you help the chrysalis out of the cocoon or not?”

“Are you asking me?” asked the croco-diamond. “The answer is obvious. I would not help the chrysalis. Croco-diamonds do not help people. Since we are royalty, people help us.

In any case, helping people can only end badly. Once my uncle, I remember this as if it happened yesterday, was enlisted to help Lord Fangerly of Elsmuck, or, wait, was it his brother Lord Socksworth of Shutterdam? It’s not important.

In any case Lord Fangerly, or Lord Socksworth, I’ve said I don’t remember, had lost a button while cycling through the moors…or perhaps it was climbing Sgor an Lochain Uaine, which, I’m sure you know, is the fifth highest mountain in Scotland, in Cairngorms…”

“Croc,” said Marie.

“And while looking for the button my dear uncle, who was quite precious to all, but especially to me as he was mentoring me on fractal theory, well, as luck would have it, somehow he managed to fall into an abysm, which, as you know, is a hole that has no bottom, so he is still falling today. But he does manage to write home quite often and has found many interesting things in the abysm, including a kimono. He says it is quite comfortable to wear a kimono if one must be in a constant state of falling. And, we’ve found we can deliver things to him by throwing them in the abysm using a complicated system to control the falling. I, of course, was instrumental in devising aforementioned system. I’m good at physics.

His family throws him a new book every few days. Besides math my uncle is quite fond of the sciences and various periodicals. And my cousin, who is a great gourmand, throws my uncle meals, and has worked out, through various physics formulas, a method for delivering the meals right at the hour of breakfast, lunch, and dinner. My uncle did enjoy a fine steak, but, as it turns out with abysms, sandwiches and meat balls fall faster so sometimes the steak…”

“Croc!” said Marie, but louder this time.

“And though my uncle was quite fond of peas, they just don’t fall correctly. Nor feather pillows, which we have tried to deliver many times, unsuccessfully.  They tend to return as a spray of feathers and some tattered cloth. Einstein may have solved this problem but we are only now just reading his unpublished notebooks. The feather pillows will take time.

One can only be grateful he fell into an abysm and not a schism. Or a crack. Or fissure. Or a rent or a rupture. Imagine if my uncle had fallen into a split or a sunder. Though I supposed one might not be able to fall into a sunder. And all for a button…”

“CROC!” yelled Marie.

The croco-diamond looked quite offended that he had been interrupted.

“It was a very IMPORTANT button. It held the coat closed, that is to say the coat of Lord Fangerly. Or Socksworth. I wish I could remember.”

“Children!” said Ms. Kaeli. “This interruption has been…interesting…and perhaps… educational. But I would request everyone return to their seats so we can finish the story and see what happens to the chrysalis. Croco-diamond?”

“At your service!” said the croco-diamond, and he slightly bowed toward Ms. Kaeli. Some glitter fell from his head.

“I have a suggestion. Why don’t you finish reading the story to the children?”

“What a wonderful idea. I do have a fine voice. I can sing and have often been asked to read the speeches of kings who have not such a nice voice as mine and the need to sound royal. I often have been disguised as a king, and, dressed as a king, given speeches to hundreds. Yes, thousands of people. In particular I remember a speech I gave disguised as King Umblebumble, of the Feiganbaum clan, in the upper swath of what is now referred to as the territories of…”

“Croc!” said Ms. Kaeli, who might have been about to lose her temper, if Ms. Kaeli ever lost her temper. “PLEASE read the story.”

She handed the croco-diamond a book, though Ms. Kaeli had been telling the story without a book. One NEVER asks a croco-diamond to tell a story unless one also gives the croco-diamond the book that contains the story. Else the croco-diamond may end up telling some story that’s entirely different from the story he was supposed to tell.

“Ahem. The print is quite small. Let me get my glasses. Johan?”

Johan ran to the picnic basket, opened it, and pulled out the stop sign, which was no longer flashing as the solar batteries had died. He also removed a chess board, a china salad bowl, two sets of silverware, a banana, a pair of croc-o-socks, the fifth book in the poggly woggly adventure series, a mirror, what appeared to be a half completed science experiment involving rust rates of nails, bunny slippers, a post card from Vancouver that was not in fact addressed to the croco-diamond and that appeared to be addressed to Marie’s father and perhaps stolen from Marie’s mailbox (though the post some times makes mistakes), a dive mask, and then, finally, the croco-diamond’s glasses.

The croco-diamond slowly put on his glasses, and then stared in the distance. “Get in character,” he whispered to himself, “the character of a man who might watch a chrysalis.”

Then he said “To remind you of where we are in the story, I will give a summary. A man has found a cocoon in the woods, and, for reasons not yet revealed in the story, he has taken the cocoon home. The man has claimed he wants to watch the chrysalis turn into a butterfly, but should we believe that? One may never know why a person does what a person does. For example, the other day, I was brushing my teeth, and I suddenly wondered, “What if I brushed my teeth while doing a headstand? So I began to…”

Ms. Kaeli, who was taking quinoa snacks out of the gold fish tank, interrupted. “MR. CROCO-DIAMOND, please proceed with the story.” And then said, in a manner one normally would not associate with Ms. Kaeli, “Or I will order more quinoa snacks to be brought to this room. And you will have to eat them. ALL of them.”

At this the croco-diamond looked scared. “Perhaps, Ms. Kaeli, I am the only one to notice that the important part of the word quinoa is “no”. Which would imply, “no, I don’t want to eat quinoa snacks.”

“THEN READ THE STORY!” Ms. Kaeli, ahem, said. Perhaps a bit louder than she usually said things.