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Once upon a time in the City of Confusion, located in the State of Fear in the good old US of A, Miss Little left her baby
blue, Honda Hybrid in the parking garage and decided to take a walk. She strolled along the city sidewalks, past an outdoor
cafe, a pricey art gallery and under a rainbow-colored awning. Spring was in the air, the aromas wafting from the diversity
of restaurants in the city was enticing and nothing could ruin this perfect afternoon . . . or so she thought.
There was no warning, no siren blast. Just a KERPLUNK! Something terrible fell from the sky and Miss Little was nearly knocked
unconscious . . . or so she could claim, over and over again to her lawyer. She reeled slightly as a crystal clear cube of
ice began to puddle at her Nike clad feet. "Oh, my," said Miss Little to the crowd of artists and on-lookers, as they clucked
over her. "This is surely a sign of global warming! Polar ice caps are melting in Antarctica." Murmurs of agreement spread
through the sympathetic crowd. Miss Little made detailed notes on her PDA, she must report this to the president. Still shaken,
she aimed her cell phone at the remnants of the ice and the surrounding damp spot capturing this historic moment. She was
now on a mission.
It wasn't long before Miss Little spotted her good friend, Miss Henrietta Penny who was so engrossed in the the full color
ads on the recycled newspaper she was carrying that she bumped smack into Miss Little, who was most anxious to solicit her
support.
"You can't possibly go shopping now," said Miss Little wagging her finger. "The polar ice caps are melting and you might
be hit by a calving iceberg. I'm on my way to tell the president." Miss Little insisted that Miss Henrietta Penny come with
her. There was no time to
waste.
The pair now made their way along the sidewalk. Dragging Miss Penny past windows filled with consumables, Miss Little came
to a sudden stop as she saw their friend,
Mr. Ducky Lucky. Mr.Lucky was checking his pocket for chump change and about to enter his favorite shop for buying lottery
tickets when Miss Little grabbed him by the arm and yelled excitedly , "This is not your lucky day, Ducky. The polar ice caps
are melting and you might get hit by a calving iceberg. Miss Penny and I are on our way to tell the president, you'd better
come with us." She even showed him the notes on her PDA, vowing that this information would put the City of Confusion on the
map once and for all. Miss Penny secretly wanted to go shopping and Mr. Lucky just knew that this day's pick would make him
a millionaire. But friendship won out and they continued on their way.
"Oh, my goodness," shouted Miss Little as she glanced across the street. Standing in front of the bakery window ogling the
blueberry muffins, was their friend, Mr.Geesey Reesey. The trio crossed at the intersection of Conspiracy Way and Misinformation
Blvd. It took the three of them to convince Mr.Geesey Reesey that the plight of the world was at stake, that the polar ice
caps were melting and that he might get hit by a calving iceberg. This was surely more important then blueberry muffins. And
off they went.
The quartet now began to sing the blues, they were running out of steam and no one was quite sure how to get to the big white
house where the president lived. They had no idea that Mr. Foxxy Foxxy was behind them. That he had slunk out of an alley
way several blocks back and was listening to their nervous conversation about polar ice caps and calving icebergs. Ah ha,
ah ha, he said to himself while rubbing his hands together and craftily planning his moves. For some psychological reason,
he was in the habit of repeating himself.
"I beg your pardon, "said Mr. Foxxy Foxxy in a polite and soothing tone. "I couldn't help but overhear the distressing news
about this impending disaster. You must be exhausted carrying this burden," he said as he offered to treat them to a nibble.
"I'm on my way to Starbucks, won't you join me? There was little resistance as Mr. Foxxy Foxxy fished an old map out of his
pocket, waved it back and forth, then declared he would show them the way to the big white house. Actually, it was slightly
altered map of a fictitious gold mine he had tried to peddle to some tourists a few months back.
Starbucks was crowded, but putting on the charm, Mr. Foxxy Foxxy managed to find seats at the first table willing to take
his bribe. His plan now was to get the quartet loaded on latte's, steal Miss Little's PDA and cell phone, then run his big
mouth off to the president. At last, he thought, public recognition. He made some smooth moves on the more innocent Miss
Penny, plying her with apple-filled scones, and not the fat-free ones either. She was quite mesmerized, by the gold chain
which nestled so enticingly in his hairy chest But Miss Little grew more suspicious by the moment and accused him of being
a wolf in sheep's clothing. If hadn't been for Mrs. Foxxy Foxxy, who happened to be in the neighborhood, and quite a fox herself
in Spandex and stilettos, the quartet might have been stuck with the bill and never given credit for alerting the president
to this climatic change. Needless to say, Mr. Foxxy Foxxy had a lot of explaining to do.
As the quartet left Starbucks, they could be heard confidently proclaiming, "The polar ice caps are melting. You might get
hit by a calving iceberg. "A murmur of agreement went through the cappuccino crowd. A few day old scones, the fat-free kind,
were aimed at them from non-believers. Global warming was definitely a very hot issue. All the more reason to tell the president.
In a caffeine induced frenzy, Miss Little, Miss Penny, Mr. Lucky and Mr. Reesey raced back to the baby blue Honda Hybrid,
Miss Penny plugged their destination into the onboard computer and soon relaxed as the authoritative voice gave them turn
by turn directions.
"Oh my," said Miss Penny as the big white house loomed ahead. There seemed to be armed security guards everywhere, but she
and her followers were on a mission and not to be deterred. The authoritative, computerized voice began shouting, "Go back,
go back. Drive away from the building now." How annoying, thought Miss Little as she made a note on her PDA to mention this
to the Honda Dealer.
Perhaps it was the baby blue Honda Hybrid or Miss Penny's bright smile. Perhaps it was Miss Little sternly announcing to
the guard at the gate that the polar ice were melting and he just might get hit by a calving iceberg. Actually, the fact
was that Mr. President was hosting a tea for a number of environmentalists in the Green Room of the big white house. So with
a wave of a white glove and nod, the quartet were cleared for the reception in the Green Room.
Now the appointments in the Green Room were even more elegant that Miss Little could have imagined.A parlor from the past,
just perfect for genteel and refined conversation. A quiet calm flooded her, she only hoped it would last. She and the others
could barely contain themselves. After-all, this was big news and it was their patriotic duty to report it to Mr. President.
A number of people were sipping tea and holding tiny finger sandwiches ever so delicately as the quartet navigated the room.
They read each name tag attached to bodies large and small. There was Mr.and Mrs. Sierra. Miss Greenpeace, Mrs. Peta and a
Mr. Wylie Kyoto who seemed to be in accord with a Miss Epa and a Mr. Prig. Miss Little wasn't quite sure about the guy in
the funky chicken suit whose feathers landed in teacups and tickled earlobes.
But where was Mr. President? A question which was on everyone's lips was soon answered by an official looking man. With quiet
dignity, the man drew the crowd's attention as he picked up a silver spoon and tapped on a magnificent piece of crystal and
began to make apologies for Mr. President.
"My fellow Americans, " he began with Harvard educated tones, "I regret to inform you that Mr. President has been called away
on a matter of some urgency. He sends his regrets and well wishes and would like you to enjoy the reception," finished the
gentleman. He was secreted away before any inquiring minds could know more.
Now Miss Little and her supporters were someone upset that after all they had been through that they would not be able to
make their findings known to Mr. President. In a moment of unbridled frustration, Miss Little picked up the silver spoon and
gave the lovely piece of crystal a few ringing taps. When all eyes were on her, she squawked in a loud nervous voice, "The
polar icecaps are melting and you might get hit by a calving iceberg." The applause was deafening and the quiet, genteel atmosphere
of the Green Room erupted into a full-fledged demonstration. Miss Little was scooped up by the guy in the funky chicken suite
and carried around the room on his shoulders.
It had indeed been a harrowing, and heady day for this quartet from the City of Confusion. And that very night, C-BAD cable
news network ran sound bites and pictures of the demonstration, including Miss Little's wild ride on the shoulders of the
guy in the funky chicken suite. The media was unrelentless for about fifteen minutes and Miss Little and her supporters tried
very hard not to become prideful, even though the City of Confusion was fast becoming a world class tourist destination.
Several days later, Miss Little received a gift from the big white house. It was a baby blue hard hat with a hand-written
thank you note from Mr. President. As Miss Little snugged down the baby blue hard hat she felt a slight feathery tickle on
her left earlobe as a terrible , but familiar smell of funky chicken filled her delicate nostrils . . . or so she thought.
The End . . . . . . . . . . . .
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