Hi, readers, it’s Jill here. As you know, something’s gone wrong with Andy and Terry, so I’m going to narrate for a little while until we can fix them.… Oh, look at that amazing butterfly—it’s a brush-footed, gossamer-winged loop-the-looper, if I’m not mistaken. Yep, look at those loops! It’s the loopiest insect in the whole animal kingdom—capable of up to one million loops per day!
The only other insect to come close to that is the somersaulting silverfish of Soweto—which reminds me of a funny story—
“Jill,” says Alice. “You’re supposed to be narrating the book, not talking about animals.”
“Oh, sorry,” I say. “I got completely distracted by the loop-the-looper.”
Now where was I? Oh, that’s right. At the end of the last chapter, I rescued Andy, Terry, Alice, Albert, and the baby from the giant spiderweb in the treehouse.
Silky and her flying cat friends helped bring everybody back to my house, which is where we are now.
“What’s wrong with Andy and Terry?” says Albert.
“Well,” I say, “let’s see, shall we?”
I shine a flashlight into Andy’s right ear.
The beam of light passes through his head and comes out his left ear and then travels into Terry’s right ear, through his head, and out the other side.
“Ah, I see the problem,” I say. “Their heads are completely empty. It’s as if their brains have been drained of all knowledge.”
“Oh no!” says Alice. “What are you going to do?”
“Fill them up again, of course!” I say. “Luckily I have an early-learning center for animals. I opened it just last week.”
“But Andy and Terry aren’t animals!” says Alice.
“Yes they are,” I say. “They’re human animals … we all are! And right now I need you both to be human animal teachers. You’re going to help me reeducate Andy and Terry. Let’s take them to the early-learning center.”
I go to my shelf of learn-to-read books. I have one for each animal, including Andy and Terry.
“Who would like to read this one to them?” I say.
“I will,” says Albert.
He opens the book and starts reading.
“Well done, Albert,” I say. “Now it’s time for Andy and Terry to learn their numbers. Alice, would you like to read them this treehouse counting book?”
“Yes, please, Jill,” she says. “I love numbers.”
“Good work!” I say. “Now they’ve got the basics, it’s time to put the rest of their knowledge back in. Time to sing my ‘Everything-There-Is-to-Know-About-Everything song’!”
“Wasn’t that fun?” I say.
“Yes,” says Terry. “And very educational! I feel much smarter now.”
“Me too,” says Andy. “I bet I’m much more smarterer than you!”
“No way,” says Terry. “I’m a million billion times smarterer than you!”
“Are not!” says Andy. “I’m a million billion frillion times smarterer than you!”
“No you’re not,” says Terry. “I’m a million billion frillion … (yawn) gillion hillion jillion nillion … (yawn, yawn) quillion spillion trillion willion xillion yillion … (yawn, yawn, yawn) zillionzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…”
“Look!” says Alice. “Terry fell asleep while he was talking.”
“And Andy fell asleep while he was listening!” says Albert.
“They must be tired after all that learning,” I say. “Not to mention all that boasting.”
“So are they back to normal now?” says Alice.
“Almost,” I say. “But they’re nowhere near as smart as they think they are. We’ll have to put some more knowledge into their ears while they’re asleep.”
“Okay, I think we’re done,” I say. “Let’s do the flashlight test again.”
This time when I shine a light into Andy’s ear, it doesn’t pass through.
“Their brains are full to the brim!” I say.
“Yay!” say Alice and Albert.
“I think we should all have a little rest now,” I say. “Andy will be able to take over the narration again when he wakes up.”
It’s been really fun being your emergency narrator—thanks for being such great readers and listeners!