By Stephanie Rebman/NEMS Daily Journal
Editor’s note: After the Founders’ Pond Wishbone was taken from its pedestal, the residents of Oleput have noticed some strange events around town.
By Stephanie Rebman
While Oleput’s nocturnal residents were hitting the hay and early-risers were repeatedly hitting the snooze button, Bubba Beaver and Rusty Squirrel were already at Founder’s Pond fixing a pesky leak.
“I say, Rusty, looks like the bolts that were holding the Wishbone in place, um, heh, heh, rusted,” Bubba joked.
“Right, Bubba, why don’t you whip out some of yo’ bubba gum to fix it,” Rusty said, really having had enough of Bubba’s stupid jokes lately.
“Whatever, dude, let’s cement this up and get on our way,” Bubba said.
“You know I hate that stuff they give us to work with,” Rusty said. “It’s so unnatural. Let’s use some of this tracked-around mud and these crow’s feathers.”
“Nah, I’m almost done,” Bubba said with a few quick flaps of his tail to pound the cement into place.
The two industrious fellows stopped the trickle, per Mayor Peacock’s orders, and stepped back to survey their work. The sweet sounds of the Freddie Finch family overhead and the morning silence were halted by the screeching of tires and the gut-wrenching crunch of metal – repeatedly.
Bubba and Rusty quickly hopped in their Oleput Water & Light truck and headed toward TownCrossing to check out the wreck.
Once they reached the main intersection of town, they were shocked at the chaos at the scene.
It was a 50-car pile-up.
Front and center was a well-known Labrador, just sitting in the driver’s seat, staring at the traffic lights overhead with his head cocked. He was so puzzled, his head kept going from side to side, his brows tightened in confusion and one ear perked up to hear all the shouting.
“The light was red!”
“What are you talking about? It was green.”
“Don’t get on my case, I saw gray!”
“You owe me money, mister, this is a new car.”
“It’s your fault, you blind fool!”
“Holy mother of Earth, we can’t see straight!”
Fire trucks, ambulances and police came speeding to the scene, the shrill sirens piercing the air and pooches in a one-mile radius filling Oleput with howls.
“Well, I’ll be, what’s the problem with our law enforcement? They can’t even turn on their red lights,” Molly Meerkat said.
Irene Iguana, one of the town’s reporters, was strolling inquisitively around the scene even before most first responders arrived, talking to angry critters while EMTs were extricating anyone trapped in cars.
Mayor Peacock and Councilman Dr. Alligator whizzed on to the scene together in a city car. The councilman immediately ran to the EMTs to see if his powerful jaws could be used to chomp away some metal and save lives.
A television news crew pulled up and started filming live the disgruntled car passengers while drivers bickered in the street.
Once the crew saw Mayor Peacock, they surrounded her like flies on honey. She stretched out her body, lifted her neck in the air and showed the world that a peahen is just as strong and beautiful as a male even though they don’t have the colorful feather display.
“What we have here today is a catastrophe,” she said. “Many lives have been harmed in this tremendous accident. Our first responders of Oleput will see to it that lives are saved by doing what they do best.
“I want everyone to stay calm. Something is going on in our beautiful, little town. Please, citizens, know you are not alone. Some of us cannot see the color red. Some of us cannot see the color green. Bless your hearts, some of you are completely colorblind and you don’t see what the fuss is. And, yes, I realize this is just days before Christmas.
“We will figure out what is causing this problem and fix it. Let’s all work together.”
Callie the camera cat slung the camera away from the mayor and zoomed in on a toddler raccoon still in a car seat, tears pouring from her eyes and slumped in sadness.
“But, mommy … Christmas is here. Why can’t I see the red decorations?”
Christopher Crow swooped down to town at his usual breakfast time, a little after rush hour, looking for some grub. He was cruising the skies, grateful to be in Oleput. He found some munchies in a fast food parking lot. Next to some Fried earthworms on the ground were the town’s newspapers.
“Green Gone” was the headline on the Reptillian Advocate. Then, “Who is to blame for color disappearance?” The first sentence of the story was, “Reptiles to unite at meeting at City Hall today.”
On the front of The Daily Mammal, the headline read, “Red Roulette?” Under that, it said, “Disappearing color a mystery.” Next to that was, “Mammals: Come one, come all, to City Hall.”
“Well, I’ll be….” Christopher uttered.
Saturday, Part 4: In search of the Outcast