Slung around Blambi’s fleecey neck is a strap that supports a blue basket with a pink flower etched on the front. Little Tweetsie, Blambi’s main chick, is perched in the basket. She is his first and only love. They are runaways. Neither of their families approve of their pairing. They are too different, from two different barnyards. It is just not right, they claim.
After all the bleating and chirps they receive from both sides, they decide to sneak away. They are old enough to fend for themselves and claim their own farm. No more strange looks or baadmouthing. Enough.
On the road, Blambi sees two pairs of ceramic wooden Dutch shoes cast away by the tall grass. If not for the sheen of the shoes’ white ceramic base, Blambi would have overlooked them.
“Those are some baad shoes, Tweetsie,” Blambi exclaimed as he ran toward the shoes and put them on. “They fit just right!”
“I remember my cousin telling us about some enchanted ceramic wooden Dutch shoes. I thought he was just flapping his bill, but they look magical. How do they feel?”
“Great! I – I think I’m being led to the roadway ahead. I didn’t even think of going thaat way. I’m being glided, Tweetsie!”
The shoes make Blambi’s amble feel faster but effortless, as if he is being carried. He feels like he could go for miles without having to rest. Indeed, they traveled past many villages and stopped only once to drink and eat.
As the sun sets, Blambi and Tweetsie see a red barn ahead with music blaring from it. They see various animals as they near the doorway. Inside the center is a raised platform on which a scarecrow is dancing along with other animals. Blambi, still carrying Tweetsie in the basket, draws closer into the crowd until they are looking up at the tall strawman with a smiling pumpkin head. He seems to be waving to them, encouraging them to come onstage to join him and the other dancers.
“Let’s go,” Tweetsie chirps. Blambi bounds up on the stage. Before he can think of any dance steps, the ceramic Dutch shoes he still has on move him to twirl, twist, tumble, and turn every different way until his legs begin to wobble from their endless activity.
Even Tweetsie can feel herself almost bounce out of the basket. “Take off those shoes, Blambi!”
“They’re baad shoes!”
With all the control he can muster, Blambi jumps up. He kicks off a shoe, and then another. He falls on his side and prods another shoe off with a freed hoof. One more shoe to go. At last, he is fully shoeless. Just as the last shoe falls off, the music and dancing around him, and Tweetsie stop. Even Tweetsie doesn’t utter a sound. Everything around him darkens. In the far background, he faintly hears someone calling.
“I’m coming, mom,” Jenny yells back as she pushes her big barn against the wall and places all her stuffed animals back in a bin. She picks up her favorite lamb and says to it, “I’ll be right baack, as soon as I finish dinner.” She then gently places the yellow lamb down and leaves her bedroom.
©2015 Karina Pinella