Lily, Unleashed Read online

  Some time later, after having had several baths, two with tomato juice, and none of which proved totally satisfactory in completely eliminating the malodorous odor (it stubbornly lingered for weeks, which made me very suspicious that this was not the work of an ordinary skunk, if you get my drift), I fell into a deep sleep, but it was one plagued with visions of poor Fuzzy Wally MacGee calling for me to help him, sad and forlorn because I failed in my number one priority in helping a fellow member of PAWS in need. I vowed it would never happen again.

  Chapter Two

  The Scarlet One

  The next morning the sun rose as if nothing world-shattering had occurred the previous night. But, I knew better. The attack on my person so close to the sanctity of my home proved to be quite unnerving to me, and I was a bundle of nerves. I couldn't let on to anyone else that I was so shook up, though, so I acted as if I was cool and calm, and as if nothing had happened. The first chance I had, when I got outside, I hailed Fuzzy to learn if he'd somehow managed to survive the night. He answered me back that he had, but that he'd also had a run-in with the mysterious cat who was an agent of SNURFLES, and that he'd been trying to warn me to be on the look-out for it, to be--well--"Ever Vigilant." How those words haunted me now, as if they'd come back to me mockingly to bite me on the rear like an angry flea thirsting for my life's blood!

  I resolved then and there to have an emergency mandatory meeting of PAWS at noon. I sent Fuzzy the message, and he commenced to relaying it to the other members of PAWS. We'd meet at the Centralia City Dog Park, where I knew the entire gang usually hung out on Sundays about that time. There was something in the air besides the scent of skunk, or the delicious odor of baking cakes, cookies, and pies coming to my oh so sensitive nose from the Eternity On Your Thighs baked goods shop a mile and a half away, and I was bound and determined to get to the bottom of it!

  Like knights in shining armor of old, we dutifully meet at the dog park and discussed the events of the previous night and what to do about them. We were free to roam about at will, because here we were free to be ourselves, and not to be led around by the leashes of "Da Man." There was a pond there that reminded me very much of the English Channel, and my days on the Pterodactyl Olympic Swimming Team when I took a gold medal in the 100 meter Pterodactyl Paddle, a story best left for another day. I dove in for a refreshing dip before the meeting, and rolled in the grass afterward, trying to dry off, and shaking my head to get the water out of my ears. Now, instead of smelling of skunk, I smelled of skunk, tomato juice, and dirty pond water--almost like my old self once again, though I still had a ways to go.

  Prince Alphonso Saed opened the meeting with his customary mountain lion "yowl," signifying that he was calling for order. The other members of PAWS stopped their traditional ways of greeting each other by sniffing each other's posteriors and they focused their attention forward to hear me address them.

  "Members of PAWS, united we stand in our efforts--Lucy, I said stand--(Lucy was temporarily distracted, not by the odor nor antics of our Distractor, Fuzzy Wally MacGee, but by wanting to swing from the limbs of the nearest tree) get down from that tree, so I can continue--right, then--I say, united we stand in our efforts to fight the dangers of strangers and other criminal elements in our city and the entire world, especially the nefarious plots and schemes of SNURFLES!"Which brings me to the main point of why I called this meeting today. Last night, as I was in the backyard, I heard the plaintive bellows of a rhinoceros in dire need of help. They were not the bellows of just any rhinoceros you might find at your ordinary zoo or circus or Africa or neighborhood or at the Centralia City Mall, shopping for rhinoceros sneakers or other accessories, indeed, no! They were the bellows of a fellow member of PAWS, who just so happens to be here today, namely Fuzzy Wally MacGee!"Not only that, as if that weren't enough of a reason to call this meeting--but as I was about to leap into the night sky to respond to his calls for help (at this point, all of the other members of PAWS shouted encouraging remarks like "Hear, hear!" and "That's the way to go!" and "Spoken like a true friend!"), I was attacked, blind-sided you might accurately say, by a cat pretending to be a skunk, who assaulted me quite viciously and with malice aforethought, by squirting me in my face with a bottle of eau de skunk perfume.

  "This resulted, as you can well imagine, in the entire Quince household being roused up and in my enduring the agony and humiliation of multiple baths! Needless to say (but I will, anyway), the worst part of it was I couldn't go to the aid of our good friend, Fuzzy. It wasn't until this very morning that I learned that he, also, had been subject to attack by the very same cat wielding a squirt bottle! Coincidence? I don't think so--no, it had to have been the latest plot by SNURFLES, doubtless designed to incapacitate two of the members of PAWS at one time, so we'd be out of commission when the next leg of their plan commences! And, what will that be?"It was then that I saw a brilliant flash of scarlet in the tree-tops, just for the barest second, then whatever it was that I saw vanished. But, it didn't disappear before I started mightily roaring, which alerted the other members of PAWS to turn their heads and catch a glimpse of scarlet, as well. Lucy Marmoset Higgins hauled herself up onto a tree limb to give pursuit to the strange creature, but it sped off before she could swing for more than a couple of branches. She returned with disappointment plain on her face, but nobody could fault her for giving it her best effort.

  My ferocious roaring unfortunately called attention to the humans who brought the other members of PAWS to the dog park that "the game was afoot," as Sherlock Bones would say, and that their was criminal activity taking place right under their noses (and above their heads). I heard someone comment about the "beautiful nesting cardinals," in the area, but I highly doubted that one of those was the source of the mysterious scarlet flash I saw in the treetops. There could be only one answer--that a scarlet-colored member of SNURFLES had been in our very midst, attempting to spy on our activities, no doubt alerted to our planned meeting by his feline partner-in-crime, the hit-and-run sprayer of eau de skunk.

  But, I asked myself as I headed home, why scarlet? Two and two, I told myself; two and two. What's two and two equal? What did the clues add up to? The answer must be that scarlet is the color of blood, and that SNURFLES had very deadly plans that meant they would possibly even try to assassinate myself or other members of PAWS. That was the true reason that the member of SNURFLES we all saw with our own eyes was clad in scarlet. A cardinal? Pshaw, I say! I knew that this new phase in SNURFLES' schemes meant that we would have to be even more vigilant than ever!Quite unlike my usual, non-confrontational, peaceful nature, for days after that meeting I would roar at perfect strangers, like the mailman, people going in and out of the church across the street, joggers, little old ladies, and little old lady joggers, their blue-colored hair bouncing up and down as they jogged hurriedly away when they heard me roar, Girl Scouts, and other disreputable door-to-door salespeople. Who knew, really, who could be a potential member of SNURFLES?

  That was when packages started to be delivered to our door. Packages that were delivered by--you guessed it--people dressed in scarlet colored uniforms! The truck the delivery men came in was also scarlet, and painted on the side of it in big letters was the phrase:

  SCARLET O'HAIR-A'S

  DELIVERY SERVICE BEATS

  BROWN

  HANDS DOWN

  You can probably imagine the roars of indignation that escaped my (already sore) throat whenever the deliverymen (if that's what they were) brought packages to our door. There was notelling if they were perhaps members of a terrorist cell, which I believe are tiny, one-celled organisms with nasty attitudes, or if they were members of SNURFLES in disguise. If I was a betting pterodactyl, though, I'd say the latter. Sure, the packages they brought strangely coincided with orders for rare, collectible Goofy figurines that Clare bought to add to her burgeoning collection, but you know what they say about coincidences!

  You do, don't you? Everything is for a reason; there are
no coincidences! Being knowledgeable of this obvious truism, I realized that the deliverymen's bringing the collectible Goofy figurines was just a cover-up for their step-by-step plan to gain the Quince's confidences so that they could then proceed to PHASE II of their scheme. All of the tiles were falling into place now, slowly revealing more and more of the BIG PICTURE.

  Luckily, I wasn't born yesterday, and I wasn't taken in by their wiles and ploys like the Quinces seemed to be. I smelled something fishy one day, so, snorting and snarling, I ripped into the bubble wrap that one package contained, popping bubble after bubble with ferocious and gleeful abandon, because I knew that at long last I would discover underneath the bubble wrap the secret that I had been looking for! It was only after I'd popped all of the bubbles and stared deep down into the package that I realized that...it pains me to say it...there was nothing but yet another Goofy figurine within! The deliverymen must have tricked me by eating fish fillet sandwiches before arriving, to try to throw me off the track and discredit me!

  Okay, I said to myself--this battle may go to you, SNURFLES, but the war has just begun!

  And, just a little bit later that day, when I went outside to use the facilities and chase after some extremely evil squirrels (I don't think that they were members of SNURFLES, though, but they might have been), I had my chance to parlay with the original scarlet creature whom I saw in the treetops of the Centralia City Dog Park, and whom I'd come to refer to in my own musings about it as "The Scarlet One."

  You will probably find this hard to believe, Dear Readers, but I had begun to doubt whether or not the creature I'd seen in the dog park was an agent of SNURFLES. Cardinals, as I mentioned, were nesting in the area, so I was questioning what I had thought I'd seen. To be sure, an agent of SNURFLES spying on a meeting of PAWS from the treetops is something I'd expect from them. It fit their sneaky M.O., or modus operandi, or to my non-Latin speaking Readers, Mode of Operating. Not many pterodactyls are conversant in Latin, either; but then again, not many are Warrior Sleuths, either, like myself. In fact, I think I might be the only one!

  Anyway, as I was saying, when I strolled outside and caught some evil squirrels attempting to rob acorns from the ground, as the squirrels hauled their furry little heinies up the oak tree and a nearby pine tree, that's when I saw The Scarlet One again. It was perched one a low tree branch, almost, but not quite, within my reach. Of course, I could have manifested into my true shape, that of a pterodactyl, and then flown up to grab The Scarlet One; but, I figured that it was a messenger of the SNURFLES, and I decided it would be better to hear what it had to say, and then let it go back to the headquarters of SNURFLES, and to perhaps track it there. Knowing where the HQ of the SNURFLES was would be important knowledge to eventually bringing them all to justice."I'm Lily Quince, leader of PAWS. Who are you?" I roared softly, well, as softly as possible, for I didn't want to risk having to go back inside the house until I'd learned more.

  "Bwa-ack! Bwa-ack!" the Scarlet Macaw screeched, for that is what the creature was, a possible escapee from a pet store, zoo, circus, or maybe a stowaway on a cruise ship who had previously been involved in criminal activity in the Amazon Rainforest. Crime can happen anywhere, you know; rainforests can be (and often are) hotbeds of criminal activities.

  "That's not a very informative answer, whoever you are! Tell me who you are, and what do you want from me? Did SNURFLES send you?"

  The Scarlet One bobbed its head up and down several times, by way of answering. Then, it said: "Bwa-ack! Frankie wants a cracker! Bwa-ack!"

  I decided that The Scarlet One had to be speaking in code. But, what could it be meaning by its mysterious words? Was "cracker" code for information, perhaps? I was sensing that this Frankie fellow was trying to tell me something, give me some sort of information, or he wanted some, or both. Before I could ask him to clarify himself, he spoke again:

  "Bwa-ack! Warning, warning, danger, Will Robinson! Danger!"

  "I told you, Frankie, that my name is Lily, Lily Quince, though some of my friends call me Vic-tor-ia! Don't ask me why; it's a long story. The point is, my name isn't 'Will Robinson.' I'm sure that whoever Will Robinson is, he's a nice person; but I'm not him."

  But, whether he'd heard my words or not, I didn't know until later, for when I looked up into the oak tree again, Frankie was gone. I'd missed my opportunity to follow The Scarlet One by probably mere seconds. I deduced that for whatever reason Frankie kept calling me "Will

  Robinson," he was likely attempting to warn me that I was getting too close to breaking this case wide open, just like a cracked Brazil nut, one of the foods Macaws (particularly Scarlet ones) love to eat as midnight snacks. I was used to living on the edge of danger, though. Danger wasn't my middle name, but it was the middle name of my Great Aunt, Gertie Danger McPherson, so danger was definitely in my blood!

  As far as I am concerned, I say that both squirrels and Macaws not only like to eat nuts, but they are nuts, generally not making much sense when you talk to them. Still, I couldn't help but think that if The Scarlet One had just stayed a few minutes longer, he was on the verge of telling me something that was vitally important. Maybe I would have another chance to talk to Frankie. If he didn't spill the beans, then I wouldn't rule out using excessive force, and maybe even Barbecue Shake & Bake for Parrots.

  When Celeste let me in the house after I politely pounded on the door, slamming into it with my entire body, she gave me a big hug and called me her best-est friend. I said, "No, you're my best-est friend," and licked her face for emphasis. Humans definitely have their faults, but sometimes, when they're at their best, they are pretty good at comforting pterodactyls in their times of need. I was glad to have a friend like Celeste.

  Chapter Three

  Clare Sees Red

  Things were pretty normal for a change over the next several days. After school, Celeste would often take me over to talk with the other members of PAWS, individually and collectively. Sometimes she had martial arts classes to go to after school, or had to do lots of homework or practice her Flag Line routines and her clarinet to prepare for Sectionals, but she was still able to devote plenty of quality stomach-scratching time to me, and take me on my rounds to conduct my bid-ness with my PAWS peeps.

  But then, one Friday towards the end of September brought yet another surprise into my life. When Celeste and I came home from an important meeting with PAWS (it was a teacher in-service day so Celeste didn't have to attend school), I heard a strangely familiar squawking sound coming from the basement of the house, where Clare kept various species of wildlife that she'd rescued until they got healthy enough to release into the wild again.Celeste ran down the stairs with me in her arms to investigate what the fuss was about. Scarlet feathers were drifting in the air, and littering the concrete floor, and in a huge metal barred cage at the left side of the room, there was an indignant, squawking, half-naked Frankie! Clare was standing by the front of the cage, trying to talk soothingly to the enraged Macaw to calm him, but to no avail. I kept roaring in anger that The Scarlet One had somehow tricked Celeste's mom into bringing him right into our inner sanctum, our castle, and got her to sympathize with him.

  "The big guy here, who calls himself 'Frankie,' is just molting, Celeste! You need to get Lily to shut up and stop her barking--it's scaring this poor Macaw! He must have gone through a lot. I noticed him when I went to take the trash out, pitifully clinging to a tree limb, hardly able to flap his wings. First, though, I just saw red, the scarlet red of the poor guy's feathers fluttering in the air and falling to the ground."

  After Celeste talked soothingly to me, telling me "It's okay, you're okay, Lily, it's just a bird," I calmed down, though I was still seething with anger inside. Frankie wasn't calming down, though. "I know just what will get Frankie to settle down," Clare said. She went over to a refrigerator that she kept there for the animals, and removed from it a containers with a lid on it. She got a tablespoon from a drawer, took the lid off, and started feeding the co
ntents to Frankie, who devoured the food as if he was starving. Then, she got a box from the cupboard and gave Frankie a couple of the crackers inside it, which the greedy bird also ate with gusto.

  Clare had an inventive streak of her own, which resulted in even more millions for the Quince family. The food she'd feed Frankie initially was labeled "Clare's Cuttlefish Chutney," a spicy blend of cuttlefish bits to help parrots' beak stay shiny and sharp, and a mixture of vegetable and fruit in chutney sauce. The motto on the container was: "Satisfies Even the Sauciest Parrot's Palate!"

  The crackers in the brightly-colored box with pictures of parrots and Macaws on it was called "Clare's Exotic Bird Crackers." Its motto? "Guaranteed to Please Even the Most Finicky Polly!" I'd like to take credit for having thought up these inventions and their mottoes, but Clare did it all on her own. I was proud of her, but I thought the last thing we should be doing is to encourage that freeloading bird Frankie from frequenting our family's house. We should kick him out on his freaky, feathery butt!

  Unfortunately, my feelings were not echoed by Clare nor Celeste. They kept "Ooohing!" and "Aaahing!" over "Poor widdle Fwankie." and his extreme case of molting, or "Macaw pattern baldness," or whatever politically correct turn of phrase you might want to describe his condition. I sort of liked referring to Frankie as being: "TFC," or "Temporarily Flight Challenged," or "FBN," "Featherless By Nature." Celeste said I was just being catty, but I don't know what she means by that. I told her that, being a pterodactyl, I like to eat small animals like cats. Maybe she was referring to that....

  Celeste carried me back upstairs and into the house. I hoped that The Scarlet One would grow new feathers soon. It couldn't happen too soon for me, because I wanted that dirty bird sent back to the wilds asap.