The Betweenlands

Nobody really likes them very much and they just don't care. On the other hand nobody really dislikes them very much and they don't care about that either. Really they only care about one thing and that is each other.

This is the case of Blue Jaye and Dinky Dollarbird. They are mother and daughter. Each one is a little polka-dotted blue-eyed church mouse. Their church is the Church of the Third Cutting and the 16% Dairy Grain. They worship at the church as often as possible. They are very pious.

Blue Jaye is the daughter of my aunt, the late lamented Blue Umbrella, who was a daughter of the original Baby Belle. I guess she is my cousin but I don't really think about that. This is a strange branch of the Belle family tree, known for being quiet and mild-mannered. Even my own mother, Blue's sister, was gentle and kind. Possibly at some point they were adopted and the paperwork got lost. Or eaten by someone. Winjay loves paper especially those brown grocery sacks. Anyway Blue was always very polite and never once was put in lockdown. Which just really doesn't make sense to tell the truth.

Back to Blue Jaye and Dinky Dollarbird. Dinky Dollarbird had a nickname for a while, she was called Little Drudgery. This was because she was so morose and sad once she got to be Last Year's Baby and Blue Jaye forgot about her. But when her younger brother went to a new home she returned to Blue Jaye's side and stuck there like glue and her depression disappeared. No more moping and sighing.

Together they carved a life for themselves in the betweenlands.

Wherever they were put they would escape together and settle down right along the fenceline outside the pasture they were supposed to be in, always on the betweens between where they were supposed to be and where they were. This was so they could be around only each other and no one else, they do not like anyone else. When they were put in the fat girl pasture with the fat girls they escaped and set up a little tiny home under the overhang of the fat girl barn. The fat girls were inside the barn, two feet away, but there was a wall between them so that made it okay.

When they were put in the big barn they escaped about eighteen inches away, worming through the fence and taking over Dolly's dogloo next to the gate. It isn't big enough for two normal goats, but it is perfectly fine for them, since there is never any space between them.

When people visit they always ask, what about these two? Are they supposed to be out here? "No," explains the farmer. "But yes."

They eat, they stroll, they murmur and confer on important topics, they sleep. They never make a sound unless they are separated. Then it is Katy bar the door, the air raid siren goes off. Otherwise peace and harmony. Always in the betweenlands.

She Was Warned

Ok June Bug got born and spent her days on 24-hour food service, traveling from the milk machine (her mother Faraway) to the hay feeder to the fat girl feeder to the old lady feeder to the fenceline feeder to the horse feeder. She remained pocket size despite her prodigious eating skills and she walked right through the holes in the fence Natty Bumppo style. Like the Leatherstocking she was a goat of many names, a spirit in the grain bin, ghostwalker, feedstuffer, micro-pig, disobediator, white fog. And so on like that. This went on day after day after day after day. After day.

The farmer's patience wore thin. Then thinner and thinner, until it was a sheet of fluttering angry gauze. It could not get any thinner. The farmer said, 'listen, I am not going to tell you again.'

She was warned. She was given an explanation. Nevertheless, she persisted.

And now she is in the lockdown cell with her fellow criminal, Belle Starr. This is what happens.

Did You Fall from a Shooting Star?

As far as who is the most tiresome kid ever I always thought it was Crumpet being ferried everywhere in private limousine, dining toute seule by barnlight in the grain bin, taking private piano lessons, wearing dog coats with dog turtlenecks underneath, mewing for her chauffeur at dinner time, ratting out any friendly thrashings she might receive. Crumpet, hands down.

But just when you think the brat bar has been set so high that no one else will ever come near it, along comes June.

Along comes June. Homely monkey-faced hoodlum with ears like two kites.

That is all I can say for now because it sticks in my craw. I will have to tell more later.

June!@!@!@$#$%^^%%$@!!!!