“Well, it’s going to be a mess, anyway,” said Peatmouse.
“Yeah!” we all agreed.
5
Fred
“That’s not where the decimal point goes!”
“Sure it is,” I said.
I was sitting at my desk doing my math homework. How Miss Blossom had managed to give us homework, or teach us anything at all, was a surprise to me, things being as they were. But it had been such a loony day, I was ending up actually talking to myself. And, I might add, answering myself as well.
“No, it isn’t!” I heard myself insist. “Try moving it over two places and see what happens. You’re going to come out with a ridiculous answer if you don’t. Go ahead, why not try it?”
“Oh, all right,” I said, and grudgingly moved the decimal point as I’d been advising myself to do. “There, how’s that? Satisfied?”
Of course, I could see that the decimal point was now in the right place, but as it was my own idea, what was I going to do, give myself a medal for discovering that?
“You don’t have to be so snarky about it. I was only trying to be helpful. I know quite a bit about numbers, for your information. I’m glad you finally came around, matey.”
“Of course I came around,” I grumped. “Besides …”
I never finished what I was going to say, because at that moment, if I’d been a comic strip character, you would have seen a big bulb light up right over my head. I wasn’t talking to myself at all. I was actually having a conversation with someone else. But, who? Who was there besides Fred, sitting on my shoulder, Caruso in his turtle bowl, and Hector and Guinevere in their respective guinea pig cages? And then another light bulb came on. The other voice had been coming from very close to my right ear.
“Fred?”
“What is it, matey?” replied Fred.
“Is it you who’s been talking to me?” I asked,
“Of course it was me,” Fred said, “or ‘I,’ if you prefer. I like T myself, being a grammarian of the old school and a bird who … oh, I beg your pardon. I seem to have wandered from the subject. But, yes, I’m the one who’s been talking to you. Who else could it have been? You didn’t think you were having a conversation with yourself, did you?”
“No,” I said promptly, going strictly against my truthful scientific nature. But I could hardly admit that that’s exactly the stupid thing I was doing to this opinionated bird, pet or no pet. And it was then that yet another bulb lit up over my head. “But it could have been Caruso or Hector or Guinevere,” I said, letting this smarty-pants bird figure out for himself who they were.
“Them?” Fred said, and guffawed right in my ear. I think it was a guffaw, anyway. At least it’s as close as I can get to what a bird would do.
“What do you mean by referring to us as ‘them’ in that tone, you … you … you overbearing collection of feathers,” came an outraged voice from across the room. It was the voice of Guinevere. “You don’t have to be so high and mighty just because you sit on Rupert’s shoulder. We’ve all been here a lot longer than you have. And don’t think we didn’t see that disgraceful performance you gave last night. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, flying off to hide in your cage and leaving poor Rupert to face that crazed machine all by himself. You should have your tail feathers clipped!”
“And for your information,” Hector broke in, “Guinevere and I once performed a very useful scientific service for Rupert as a nutrition experiment.”
“So, what does a turtle do besides sun himself under a lamp all day and take a dip in his own private pool?” Fred said.
“Well, I may have never done much for science,” Caruso returned. “But I do provide entertainment to soothe the scientific brain. I’m quite a singer, you may have noticed.”
“I hadn’t,” Fred replied. “Actually, I do some singing myself. But I have other far more useful talents where Rupert is concerned. I don’t suppose you noted my helping with his math this evening?”
“Some help,” said Caruso, “moving one decimal point! I could do as much riding around on his shoulder looking down on his homework.”
“That’s a picture!” said Fred. “A turtle riding around on someone’s shoulder. How would you propose to do that?”
“I could if someone would build me a nice little basket,” said Caruso.
“A turtle riding around in a basket on someone’s shoulder!” hooted Fred. “That’s a laugh. You need to have someone look into your head and see what’s riding around in there.”
I don’t know what made me sit there listening to all this. Maybe it was just the shock of being able to actually hear my pets talking. But this had gone on long enough.
“See here, all of you,” I said sternly. “You’re all going to have to get along. Or …” I added ominously, “somebody’s going to have to go.” I waited a few tense moments for this to be digested. “Now, Hector, Guinevere, and Caruso,” I continued, “you’ve had your moments, all three of you, but you get through it and always end up friends, right?”
“Rupert’s right. We always do,” said Guinevere.
“But, Fred,” I said, “you really are going to have to stop being such a pain in the head.”
“More like a pain in the tail,” Fred said dismally “I know I can be pretty insufferable at times. I’ll try to mend my ways. I’m really sorry I hope I haven’t offended everyone too much. I do apologize.”
“There, there, that’s quite all right, dear,” said Guinevere. “We need to do some apologizing ourselves. After all, just because we’ve been here longer doesn’t give us the right to go lording over anyone. We’re glad you’re Rupert’s new pet, Fred, and we want to be your friends.”
“And I’d like
