“I’m great, I’m great, I really quite first-rate,” they heard a voice calling out. “I’m great, I’m great, I’m great.” As they turned to see what the commotion was a Jackalope loped up to them, still declaiming his fabulousness. He had a small mirror attached to a chain around his neck, which he took in his front paw and lifted to admire himself. Neither Lulu nor Reggie had ever seen a rabbit with horns before, except on a threatening post-card the witch had once sent from Texas, though neither of them knew at the time from whom the card came. It was now obvious.
When the Jackalope saw them he turned to address Lulu. “Aren’t you lucky today? Behold my splendor.”
"What are you talking about?"
"I am looking at you."
"Well, have you ever seen a more amazing specimen than I in all the briar patches of the multi-verse? Look at my soft fur, my majestic horns, my soulful eyes. I am simply the most stunning creature that I have ever seen." He stared into the mirror as he made his pronouncements.
"You are fairly amazing," Lulu agreed.
"You can say that again." The Jackalope dropped the mirror and stared at her. "I said ‘you can say that again,’ and I'm still waiting."
"You are fairly amazing," Lulu repeated.
"Ah, yes I really am, aren't I, Janet?"
“I suppose you belong to my fan club?”
“Of course.”
“Well, I guess I won’t bite you, then. I can’t lose any fan club members. Or maybe I should bite you.”
“Where?” His head jerked side to side as he scanned the area, looking flustered. “They’re always after my hide.”
“It’s got its invisibility cloak on,” Lulu said, hoping her bluff would stop the thing from biting.
“Oh, no. Not again.” With that he turned and ran.
“Wait,” Lulu called after him, but he didn’t stop. “We’re looking for a Snipe.”
“Why’d he call you Janet?” Reggie asked, scratching his head, his Navigational Mustache still twitching from side to side.
“I don’t even know anyone named Janet,” she answered. “I guess he was just crazy. We may as well follow him, though.” Reggie followed her as she started off after the Jackalope, who was now out of sight.
"The mustache is still wiggling, so it's obviously the right way to go," Reggie assured his sister.
They hadn’t gone far when Lulu spotted a very small house. Too small for either of them to fit into the front door.
“What’s that?” she asked pointing it out to Reggie.
“It looks like a stupid doll house,” he answered.
“Let’s go look.”
“You go. I don’t want to see a dumb, girly dollhouse. It’s a waste of time,” Reggie answered, nevertheless following her when she approached it.
The mailbox on the front of the house said “Bigfoot, a.k.a. Skunkape.” As far as Lulu knew, Bigfoot was about nine feet tall and certainly wouldn’t fit in this house. She knelt down and looked in the window, where she saw a very miniature Wild Haggis having espresso with a tiny Drop Bear. These were creatures she’d read descriptions of, but their existence was much more dubious than even things like ghosts, so she’d definitely never given the descriptions much thought. Forgetting the danger these creatures posed she called out to them.[75]
“Hello. Can anyone here give us directions?”
The Wild Haggis and the Drop Bear both looked up, their expressions changing from surprise to anger when they saw her. The Haggis's one big eye, which was red and took up most of it's hairy face, blinked and it showed it's sharp teeth when it grinned at her. It's twisty horns, one on each side of its head, gave a low honk.
The bear scratched its head.
“Damn it, Janet,” the Wild Haggis began. “You aren’t wearing your watch.”
Lulu didn’t have a watch and she still didn’t know anyone named Janet. But, wait. Maybe she did have a watch.
“Reggie, look in the portmanteau for a watch,” she whispered to him.
The Haggis and Bear continued to stare at her as Reggie searched.
“What club do you suppose it’s in?” Bear asked.
“Ask it,” said Haggis.
“What club?”
“It looks like a Sallow. Or possibly a Crooked. Look how asymmetrical the thing is,” Haggis scrutinized.
Lulu was saved from answering their queries when Reggie held up a watch. The dial looked like those on watches she’d seen in Walla Walla, except that where the twelve should be, it said “Cupcake,” and where all the other numbers would normally have been, it said “Not Cupcake.”
At least now they’d know if they were going to be turned into sugar, she thought, as she strapped on the watch. The thought occurred to her that she might interrogate these freaks to gain insight to their current predicament.
"Why are you calling me Janet? The Jackalope did the same thing," Lulu asked.
"The Jackalope?" both of the creatures asked in unison, looking horrified.
"It didn't bite you, did it?" the Haggis asked.
"No. But, do they really bite?"
"Sometimes. Only on their were-days. You know, when they're wer-Jackalopes. The problem is you can never tell when that's going to be," the bear said.
“You’re forgetting the zombie ones,” the Haggis put in. "I'm sure the witch would rather they were bitten," Haggis said to Bear. "She's been wanting a new Jackalope fur coat and a couple more pelts from these two would finish it." Lulu felt like the temperature had just dropped several degrees as they said this.
"She would make a coat out of us?" Reggie asked.
"Of course. What do you think happened to Janet?" the Bear asked.
"So, if you know what happened to Janet, why are you calling me Janet?"
"It's just a name, so it may as well be yours since Janet won't be using it anymore." the Drop Bear explained. “A Janet by any other name would be insane. By the same argument, we could call you Special.”
“Can either of you tell me where I might find the Snipe?” Lulu asked, trying her hardest to sound semi-polite-ish.”
“Can either of you tell me where I might find a Snipe?” the bird perched on the branch of a gumball tree repeated, inflecting her words with a whining tone. Lulu was surprised, but the Haggis and Bear didn’t even look in the bird’s direction.
“Well, you have to ask a Gorgon,” the Wild Haggis answered after a moment of contemplation and horn scratching.
“But not a sleird[76]one, mind you,” the Drop Bear cautioned. “It has to be a fruvious[77]one because when they’re sleird they won’t tell you anything.”
“They won’t tell you anything,” the bird repeated in its plaintive tone, and still the creatures acted as if they didn’t hear.
“No, the fruvious ones are the ones to watch out for. You can’t ask a fruvious Gorgon a thing. Better to try a Blatherhatch than that,” the Wild Haggis argued.
“You can’t ask a fruvious Gorgon a thing,” the bird whined.
“What’s with that bird?” Lulu asked, breaking into their conversation.
“Now you’ve done it,” the Haggis replied. “If you give a mocking bird any attention, it’ll never quit.”
“It’ll never quit,” the bird moaned.
“Filthy bird,” the Bear said.
“I know you are, but what am I?” the bird whined.
“You should never speak to them,” the Haggis said to Lulu. "It's the worst thing you can do with a Mocking Bird. They'll mock you all day.”
“Wah, never speak to them,” the bird mocked.
“Go on!” yelled the Bear and hurled a spoon at it. The mocking bird flew off. “It’ll be back in a few minutes,” he lamented. “You just had to go and comment on it, didn’t you?”
“Sorry.”
"You can't do anything to them, either because they're good luck," the Haggis added.
“Now what was it we were debating?” the Wild Haggis asked the Drop Bear.
“You just told her that she could ask a Blatherhatch how to find a Snipe,” the Drop Bear reminded him.
“Oh, yes. A Blatherhatch is just the thing,” the Wild Haggis[78]answered.
“I’d sooner ask a Chupacabra than try asking a Blatherhatch,” the Drop Bear shot back. “Even a Harpie is more reliable than a Blatherhatch.”
“Ha,” snorted the Wild Haggis, “a Harpie. That’s a good one. Next you’ll be telling her she could ask the Grays, or worse: a Sidehill Gouger. Wait ’til Bigfoot hears this.”
“I’ve known some harpies that were perfectly civilized,” the Drop Bear remarked, looking a bit offended. “And Sidehill Gougers don’t exist.”
“It’s all semantics,” Lulu said and both of them looked startled, having forgotten she was there. What she meant to suggest was that their conversation was offering nothing beyond word games, which wasn’t entirely the case.
“You’re anti-semantic remarks are offensive,” the tiny Wild Haggis informed her. “Lexically speaking, of course. If you’re going to use that kind of language, I don’t want to talk to you at all.”
With this he put his fingers into his ears and started to sing God Save the Queen in a loudly vicious tone.
With this he put his fingers into his ears and started to sing God Save the Queen in a loudly vicious tone.
“I quite agree,” said the mini Drop Bear, who followed suit. The sound of their singing was horrid and they were some of the most argumentative creatures she’d ever met.
Lulu also wondered if that “Lexically speaking” bit was an insult, but since she had no idea what that meant, she couldn’t know. Then she remembered the dictionary. She looked up “Lexical,” but it just said “depends on context.” That was no help. On further inspection, she discovered that every word was defined exactly the same way, so she tossed the stupid tome over her shoulder. Anyway, she was one more Not-Cupcake closer to Cupcake than she had been before this whole conversation, or rather, not-conversation, started.
“Let’s go,” she said to Reggie.
“I told you coming over here was stupid,” he said.
“Quick, hide,” she pulled Reggie behind a candy cane bush just in time. Bigfoot, if she was correct about the identity of the very tall, hairy, brown creature, was approaching. He walked up to the tiny house and bent over, inserting his key into the lock. When he turned it the door didn’t open, but Bigfoot shrunk to the size of the door, then turned the knob to open it and entered.
“Weird,” Reggie remarked, slurrily, having stuffed a candy cane in his mouth.
“Everything here is,” Lulu answered. “If only we can get back to Walla Walla.”
“That’s right,” Reggie commented as if he’d realized it for the first time. “This whole thing is your fault. The witch wanted you, so it's your fault I got kidnapped.” Pink drool was dripping from the corner of his mouth.
“And if you’d not been pestering me out in the field, you'd also not be here,” Lulu pointed out.
“But it's still you the witch wanted, so this really is all your fault. And another thing: how did the bezoar get in your room?”
“I'm sure you know the answer to that,” Lulu said, glad that he wasn't smart enough to catch the deflection.
“I never saw it before.”
“Whatever. I’m not going to argue about it. It’s a waste of time and we don’t have much of that.”
No sooner had Lulu spoken than Reggie began to twitch. He fell to the ground and stiffened as electricity zapped around him. He lay there having his fit until it passed, and he was able to sit up, looking dazed and confused.
“Can you stand up?”
He did, slowly.
“What happened?”
“You just fell on the ground and had some kind of a fit.”
“No I didn’t.”
“Do you remember why you were down on the ground?”
“No, how did I get there?”
“I just told you.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“What do you think happened, then?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I fell asleep?” He looked befuddled.
“We have to keep moving, Reggie.”
Reggie was feeble, but he followed Lulu, carrying the Expedition Kit.
[74]You can’t believe a tale told by a Jackalope. It will be full of bluster and rage, but mean absolutely nothing.
[75]The fact is, imaginary creatures of such miniature stature are not considered dangerous, except to the very suggestible, to whom they pose an ultimate danger.
[76]Probably a portmanteau of slimy and weird.
[77]Most likely a combination of frugal and envious.
[78]Never credulate a calumny communicated by a creepy critter. It will be all kerfuffle without an iota of import.
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