https://youtu.be/rj3AlcOD6FA
16:12 Minutes
—Chapter 8—
“Aurora you all right?”
“IT SEEMS colder than usual this morning,” said Jelly Belly to the pillow he was hiding his pudgy head under. The sun reflecting in the treehouse window appeared brilliant.
“White,” thought Jelly Belly Bear, “Maybe I’m dreaming I’m in the desert.” That didn’t seem right. Deserts are hot and sweaty. Jelly Belly’s poked one warm toe out from under the fluffy comforters of his squarish homemade willow wood bed. He fished under the bed for a cold slipper with his toe. After getting his slippers on, he wrapped a warm robe around his tubby middle.
“Oh, my!” exclaimed Jelly Belly, looking out the window. “This is an unexpected delight,” said Jelly Belly, “I haven’t seen snow for, well, almost a whole year!”
“Humdinger! First snow and so fluffy and deep,” said Jelly Belly. He smiled one of his special Jelly Belly smiles; the one when his imagination starts to go buggy. It was a doozie. The spinning gears in his pudgy noodle were burning up.
“Today I’ll trek to the North Pole. What an adventure it’ll be! Applesauce, where did I put my snowshoes.” He sorted through his closet for arctic weather gear. And soon created a multicolored pile of costumes.
At last Jelly Belly, as big as life, dressed in a leather-like parka with a furry hood. He wore special goggles to shield his eyes from snow glare and on his feet; big flat snowshoes with turned-up ends. They were perfect for waddling across snowy drifts. Jelly Belly was now adapted for Arctic weather to the teeth. No worries about being buried up to his charming chin in a blizzard. No, Sir!
As Jelly Belly left out the door, he was flapping his arms and whooping it up in his usual Jelly Belly-style. A pile of snow jarred off the treehouse roof pelting him in fun. Like a flawless prank, the avalanche knocked Jelly Belly off the treehouse gangplank. Down he went face-first into a big powdery drift. Up he came sputtering and rubbing his lumpy head.
“Cabbage,” mumbled Jelly Belly as he brushed the powder off, “Who’s the wise guy? I ‘bout broke my noggin. This snow is gonna be more formidable than I figured. I need a formidable dog sled and some formidably healthy huskies.”
With a little creativity, Jelly Belly’s formidable sled and imaginary dogs were ready to go.
“OK, fish eaters,” Jelly Belly said in a tizzy, “When I yell ‘Mush!’ you take off like greased lightning.”
Immediately, the dogs took off like greased lightning! Jelly Belly was standing alone and amazed alone in the drifts. His excitement drained as he watched the paw prints and sled track disappear over the snow-covered hill.
“Fiddle. Did I say something wrong?” mused Jelly Belly. “You know for imaginary sled dogs they are very fast, top-rate, and too obedient. Now I’ll have to walk to catch up. I prefer riding to walking.”
He waggled his round head and trudged through the drifts like a stubby plow.
“Usually I’m not one to miss a trick, but these snow dogs are sly. I try to put on the dog and then everything goes to the dogs,” Jelly Belly mused over his clever canine phraseology.
He felt much better already. Jelly Belly unhitched his metal canteen from his impressive arctic belt. He maneuvered his left hand in the customary arctic fashion. Displaying a movement involving skill and dexterity. Jelly Belly grinned smugly. Few living suspected he was a southpaw. He felt it gave him an advantage in arctic survival. Holding the canteen — to his mouth, he took a big brisk slurp. Jelly Belly took the canteen’s cold metal edge from his slurping portal. He unexpected found the container attached to his moist bottom lip.
“Merph! Mmiggle! Mo!” shouted the dancing Jelly Belly. The dangling water slopping around in a pendulous container, “Mi mips mozen do da danteeen. Mozzzen dolid.” He blathered in unintelligible, nonsensical sounds. He waved his arms and spun in circles. What a spectacle: a fuzzy creature with a canteen stuck to its head and circling as if one shoe was nailed to the ground. Finally, Jelly Belly ran out of gas. He plopped over backward making an excellent snow angel in a spotless drift. His snowshoes propped straight up in the air like two oversized tennis rackets. The canteen, warmed from Jelly Belly being so hot under the collar. It melted from Jelly Belly’s lip and plopped in the snow gurgling.
“I’m my own man. But that’s the worst brush with Lipstick I’ve ever encountered,” sighed the quiet Jelly Belly. He felt he’d fought for his dear life. He picked up the canteen glaring at it as if it double-crossed him.
Jelly Belly and his snowshoes struggled to stand up. He took the canteen between his mittened hands. He glanced over each shoulder. No one around. He stared at the canteen and rubbed his lip.
“Knock it off!” shouted Jelly Belly at the canteen. He chuckled. Every bear has limits and Jelly Belly sure put the old canteen in its place. Jelly Belly looked at the sad canteen worn from so many high adventures. It always performed properly until now.
“Ah, baloney. I apologize,” said Jelly Belly, “Honest, it was my fault. Let’s forget all about it. Chalk it up to experience.”
He shook the canteen and strapped it back on his arctic belt. Everything was okay, even his frozen kisser.
“I’ll take a short cut,” said Jelly Belly humming a tune, “Short cuts always make me feel chipper. Yes.” He once again was oblivious to all the many times he’d gotten lost out in the boondocks. Jelly Belly hummed as he maneuvered through the giant Ponderosa Bull Pines. The snowy moss hanging in their gangling limbs looked like sugar-dusted goat’s beards.
Jelly Belly practiced skipping with snowshoes on.
“This is almost entertaining,” he said. He developed a little dance step to keep the large snowshoes from locking together. Things were going pretty smooth now but Jelly Belly couldn’t hear the sled dogs yapping any more.
“Those pooches are all a long way off – or else they’ve stopped for a nap,” said Jelly Belly. He liked the nap idea. It improved his chances of catching up.
Jelly Belly spied a blurry motion out of the corner of his eye. Blurry motions or shrill and shrieking noises usually gave Jelly Belly the heebie-jeebies. And he avoided them. Not this time. He was curious. Jelly Belly stopped to investigate the drift where the mysterious blur had been.
“Hello? Anybody home?” A small furry white head with a black nose and black beady eyes popped up out of a hole burrowed in the drift. It wiggled its black whiskers. It disappeared and reappeared from a different hole. The skinny creature stretched out to observe Jelly Belly. And then dove back down the snowy tunnel. Soon he stuck his head out a completely different hole. Jelly Belly appeared confused.
“I’ve never seen so many weasels in one place,” said Jelly Belly. He began counting the weasels he remembered seeing in the drift.
“There’s a dozen of those corkers in the powder, for sure,” said Jelly Belly. Astonished sat down on a suitable log and riveted watched the weasel popping up and down. Jelly Belly soon noticed the part of his body he sat on was getting cold. He tried to stand up but his body warmth had melted the snow on the log. Now the moisture froze and Jelly Belly was stuck fast to the log.
“Oh, fiddlesticks, not again,” said Jelly Belly, “This is a dilly. Who’ll rescue me? My dogs are dragging their heels somewhere. They’re no help. I know, I’ll think tropical thoughts and the ice will melt.”
Jelly Belly closed his eyes. He felt something nibbling at his snow pants. In minutes, he was free.
“Mister Weasel, thank you. You’ve released me from my icy trap.”
But the weasel had already gone back to popping in the drift.
“So long,” said Jelly Belly, “Please say good-bye to all your kin. I have to find my dog sled. Bye.”
When Jelly Belly stood up, he noticed a big piece of his snow pants was stuck to the log. He felt a cool breeze.
“Well, I guess my sense of modesty will speed me on my quest.” Jelly Belly now marched in haste. He left the weasel and his catacombs far behind.
Jelly Belly soon arrived at the crest of a snowy hill.
“Wowzers! This must be the top of the world. I can see every place from here,” declared Jelly Belly. He drew in his breath as he admired the rolling snowy fields with their forested hills and valleys.
“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a more magnificent sight.”
A tree squirrel started chattering at Jelly Belly’s intrusion into his territory. Jelly Belly looked up at him with disdain.
“Listen. We all have our opinions, but you don’t have to berate me for praising the beauty of nature.”
The squirrel continued to slander Jelly Belly. Jelly Belly scooped up some snow and pitched it in the squirrel’s direction. The squirrel barked and ran up the tree little further and scolded Jelly Belly. Jelly Belly made a loud sound expressing his disapproval with his tongue and lips. And he waggled his mittens up and down with a thumb in each ear. The offended squirrel raged at Jelly Belly’s uncultured raspberry. Then dodged into his tree trunk home sulking.
“Phooey!” said Jelly Belly, “Rude critters sure get my hackles up.” With the poetic moment spoiled, he paused to think.
“Those dogs have gone home sure as shootin’,” he said with a yawn, “And I’m tired of the society at the top of the world.”
He shook his head as he stared up the tree where the squirrel was barking and chirping again. To Jelly Belly, the Top of the World was as important as any North Pole. So if he headed home now, he’d not jeopardize his potential standing in the distinctive Polar Bear Club. It was an all-weather club reserved to those courageous few who dare bathe in an icy stream, be it summer or winter. The club’s alternative to bathing in a cold stream was, of course, to go to the North Pole. Jelly Belly as plain as day found a safe substitute at the Top of the World.
Now he could forgo the glacial ice bath. Jelly Belly felt relieved. Bathing got Jelly Belly thinking about soaking in a warm bath and he headed for his cozy treehouse home. He could see home was not far from the Top of the World. He belly-flopped on the powdery snow and slid to the bottom of the hill like an expert tummy tobogganer.
“Wa-hoo!” shouted Jelly Belly with glee and off home he ran thinking of hot cocoa and cookies and warm baths.
An Arctic Poem
Give me snow banks
they don’t cash a check
Give me Polar Bear
chase me round like heck
Give me cold chilly air
where my pants were to be
And I’ll run right home
and snuggle in my warm tree.
“Cuz I’m not made to be froze
I prefer to wear my clothes
Next time visiting the North Pole
I’ll take spare pants without any hole.
By Jelly Belly Bear
Jelly Belly read the poem out loud to all the dogs in the kitchen. They seemed to like it and the warm imaginary food they were eating. He trundled off to bed upstairs as the dogs quieted down around the fireplace. Soon they were all asleep. From Jelly Belly’s room, you could hear his whispering voice. “And please bless all those weasels especially the one who ruined my pants, but saved me.”
Jelly Belly finished his prayer, crawled into bed, and dreamed warm, tropical dreams.
