Taterskin & The Eco Defenders: Book 2, Chapter 28
Book 2 ("Tell It to Future Generations"), Chapter 28 of 56
CHAPTER 28
As the CM would have to stay hidden and guard our JNGs in Central Park (otherwise somebody would be sure to stumble upon them and borrow them indefinitely without asking), we had decided to utilize a ‘skeleton crew’ to carry out our operation regarding the Triangle Shirtwaist Company. Alexis stayed with Albert and the larger animals.
The crew was not comprised of literal skeletons, of course (that would be both macabre and impossible), but instead was to be a small subset of our group. They would not be small in number, but small in individual size — relative to the CM, at least. Besides myself, Rovette, and the pups, our group consisted of Chapawee, Marmalade (who was coming out of her ‘shell’ and willing to leave Stripes’ side for longer periods of time), Drako, and Rinky. Chapawee was still dressed in her Indian ‘costume,’ but none of the New Yorkers or visitors seemed surprised by her garb, or even paid any particular attention to it. I guess they were used to seeing people dress in all different ways and fashions in the ‘Big Apple.’
A woman (Chapawee) out with ‘her’ Dogs (Rovette and me) and our pups, along with a cute Orange Tabby, was not all that unusual, but having the Bearded Dragon along was unusual, and attracted a little attention. The one who took the cake, so to speak (she doesn’t literally take cake, because she doesn’t care for it) was Rinky. Most people thought she was a fancy plush toy, as they had never seen a Duck-billed Platypus walking around in public before, and had always envisioned them as being much larger — more of a prehistoric Beaver size than of House Cat dimensions.
We didn’t come across many people, though; we stuck to the least-visited and most ‘natural’ parts of the park. What we were searching for, our candidate recruits, were Bees. And it wasn’t for their honey that we sought them out.
Drako was the first to spot them. They were hovering around a bunch of flowers in a small meadow.
The Bees saw our team, too. In reality, they probably saw us before we saw them — after all, even Drako, Rinky, and Marmalade were like giants compared to them. But the Bees weren’t afraid of us. Because they’re not afraid of anything or anyone. They knew that if anybody tormented them, all they would need to do was to bury their stinger in a sensitive part of their antagonizer’s body — such as a nose or an eye or such — and the attackers would back off, yowling, in no time flat.
I told them that we weren’t there to steal their honey, chase them, or harass them in any way. On the contrary, we wanted to enlist their help. This made them curious. One of them went back to the hive to report, and returned with three others from their cluster who were apparently their business agents or some such (as they were the ones sent forth to negotiate with us).
They were four brothers, surnamed Beesnees. As they approached us, flying in a serpentine pattern, they were humming Greenfields.
Led by big brother Buzz, the Beesnees were also made up of Buzzy, Buzzly and Buzzard.
“A bee named Buzzard?” Rinky asked.
“Sure; why not?” Buzz replied.
“Why not?!? What do you mean, ‘Why not?’ How about because he’s not a Buzzard?”
“What does that have to do with anything, Rinky?” I asked.
“It’s confusing. One would expect someone named Buzzard to be a Buzzard.”
Buzz and Buzzard seemed a little upset by that statement. They started buzzing a little louder and vibrating more violently. I de-escalated the potentially volatile situation through the use of irrefutable logic, and queried Rinky: “Do you expect everyone named Buzzard to be a Buzzard?”
“Yes.”
“Is that so? OK, then: Is Cat Stevens a Cat?”
“Well, no.”
Is Snoop Dogg a Dog?”
“No.”
Is Tiger Woods a Tiger?”
“Nope.”
“Then why do you expect Buzzard Beesnees to be a Buzzard?”
Rinky reluctantly admitted that names did not necessarily have to describe a person’s heritage or appearance. But then one of our pups asked Rovette and me to start calling him ‘Polar Bear’ instead of ‘Panny’ (which is the shortened form of his full name, Paniagua). We dissuaded him from that, though, knowing where that would lead; we didn’t want to have to start calling our other pups names like ‘Saint Bernard,’ ‘Hound of the Baskervilles,’ and ‘Diplodocus,’ so we told Panny that we would think about it. Which we did. A little. But not for long. We were hoping he would just forget about it.
Then we got down to business with the Beesnees. We told them about what was happening at the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory (and of similar things which were happening in many other places around the city, the country, and the world) and what would soon happen if we didn’t put a stop to it.
The Beesnees were concerned, and wanted to help. After all, Bees desire to have a friendly relationship with humans — and they do, as long as they are left alone by them. This is obvious, because if bees did not like humans, they would swarm and attack them every chance they got, and Central Park would be avoided like the plague as a dangerous place where you could suffer death by a thousand stings.
The upshot of it was that the Beesnees agreed to help us, and guaranteed that the entire hive would be glad to do so, on one condition.
“What condition is that?” Ravelle X asked.
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