Saturday, September 27, 2008
Fumbles: the Case of the Pouting Thumb
Fumbles knew there would be problems before he even opened his Eyes. And he was right.
Every time Right Thumb reached over to turn off the alarm clock, Right Thumb hit snooze instead, deliberately. He knew Fumbles hadn’t opened his Eyes yet, and therefore, couldn’t see what he was up to.
Right Thumb was still mad, and still pouting because Fumbles had made him play Barko the Mad Thumb during last night’s game of finger puppets, instead of Thumb-fabulous the Super Hero. Thumb-fabulous was Right Thumb’s favorite character.
Right Thumb was also pouting because he was jealous of Left Thumb. Left Thumb had been allowed to play her favorite character, Thumbelina the Dancer-ina. She had also been allowed to play her favorite finger puppet play, Dance of the Finger Fairies. Right Thumb thought it wasn’t fair; not fair at all.
Fumbles knew he should never have let Right Thumb sit on Right Hand, the dominant hand. Now Right Thumb had this superiority complex. And now, of course, Right Thumb thought he should always get his way.
So instead of arguing with Right Thumb, which he knew would be pointless, Fumbles just told Left Thumb to reach over and turn off the alarm. She’d earned the privilege. And maybe it would teach Right Thumb to have a little humility.
Right Thumb just made Right Hand reach out and knock over last night’s unfinished glass of milk, which had been sitting on the night stand. Its contents spilled down the side of the stand and onto the carpet. Some of it even splattered onto the bed covers. Some of it even splattered onto Fumbles’ face too, forcing him awake.
“Clean up that mess!” Fumbles shouted to Right Thumb.
But Right Thumb wasn’t in the mood. Instead of wiping the milk droplets off the covers, he twisted himself up in them and started pulling them off the bed, knowing full well that they’d land in the milk that had spilled on the carpet. And of course, they did. And of course, they immediately started soaking up the milk. And now, Fumbles would have to wash them. Sweet.
“Bad Thumb!” Fumbles exclaimed, swinging Left Hand out with the intent of spanking Right Thumb.
But Right Thumb saw it coming. He’d pulled this stunt often enough to know. He just ducked at the last moment, when it was too late for Left Hand to stop her swing, so instead of spanking Right Thumb, Left Hand smacked straight into the Left Cheek of Fumbles’ Face.
“Ow!” bellowed Fumbles. Left Cheek was afire and stinging. Left Eye started crying.
Right Thumb only giggled. It had been his plan all along.
Just for spite, he pulled Right Hand up, and in another deliberate move, swung him over to hit Fumbles on his Right Cheek.
“Ow!” bellowed Fumbles again. Right Cheek started crying. Right Eye started in too.
This, of course, only served to make Right Thumb double-up in laughter.
“You can stop this be-devilment right now, Right Thumb,” scolded Fumbles.
Right Thumb just kept laughing.
“Someone’s looking to get dunked under the faucet in the bathroom; and this time, it might be hot water instead of cold!” warned Fumbles. Right Thumb just kept laughing.
“Okay then!” said Fumbles, springing from the bed ready to carry out his threat.
“Hot water!” mocked Right Thumb, hooking himself onto the waistband of Fumbles’ pajama pants. “Oh, I’m so scared!”
Left Hand was getting tired of Right Hand’s attitude too. He swiftly grabbed hold of Right Thumb, thinking to force Right Thumb to let go. But instead of letting go, Right Thumb fought back, pulling both Left Hand and Fumbles’ pajama pants to the floor.
This, of course, made Left Hand feel obligated to try and pull the pajama pants up, but she only succeeded in making Fumbles lose his balance.
Fumbles fell over, cracking his Head on the corner of the night stand; then thumping it hard as he came to rest on the floor.
Slightly dazed from the double head injury, Fumbles didn’t think to take action to stop Right Thumb before he did what he did next.
But he should have.
Right Thumb made Right Hand reach up and pull the night stand over, toppling it.
Fumbles screamed as the cabinet came falling towards his Head.
Left Hand sprang to his rescue, pushing it away at the last second. It was a very close call. And it was a heroic act that cost her dearly. Instead of falling onto Fumbles’ Head, the night stand fell smack down on top of Left Hand, crushing her.
There was only stunned silence for a moment. Fumbles’ Mouth shaped itself into a funny-looking “O” and his Eyes almost popped out of his Skull, so great was his shock at seeing Left Hand get squashed. And then came his cry of agony, “Owwwwwwww!”
“Left Hand!” sobbed Fumbles, pulling her out from under the rubble. “Are you all right?”
Left Hand was too weak to answer. Left Thumb had passed out altogether. Fumbles gently set them in the crook of his Right Arm; and cradled them both, softly cooing assurances in a voice that sounded more like a moan.
Right Thumb was most pleased; so pleased, he wiggled. He had wrought his revenge and it tasted quite good. “You’ll let me play Thumb-fabulous tonight, won’t you, Fumbles!” he smirked to himself. “There’ll be hell to pay again tomorrow morning too, if you don’t!”
Just then, Right Thumb noticed the Reader. “Hey you, what are you looking at?” he shouted.
In fact, the Reader wasn’t just looking at Right Thumb. The Reader had been following the story all along. The Reader had actually come in back at the very beginning, before Fumbles had even opened his Eyes.
“Do I barge into your bedroom in the morning and stare at you?” Right Thumb sneered.
“I just stopped by to read this post,” said the Reader.
“Yeah, well if you want to read any more, you’d better give me high praise; high praise indeed or I won’t let Left Brain dictate any more stories to me,” he threatened. “And next time, show some manners. Knock first!”
And with that, Right Thumb huffed off back to bed. ‘Can’t a thumb get any privacy anymore?”
He was a conceited thumb indeed.
September 23, 2008