Emily Jenkins - Being the Adventures of a Knowledgeable Stingray, a Toughy Little Buffalo, and Someone Called Plastic

“Oooooh.” StingRay is silent for a moment. “What if I whisper, ‘Don’t eat your vegetables’?

or ‘Sit in front of the TV all day like a giant

wet noodle’?

or ‘Cheat at card games’?

What if my submarine message is

‘Buy StingRay lots of presents’?

Will she really do whatever I say?” StingRay

feels a thrill.

Plastic rolls side to side, nervously. “Forget I told you about it. It only maybe works, anyway.”

“If it maybe works, I want to try it,” insists Lumphy. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it,” says Plastic. “It’s a bad idea.”

“Then how am I going to get on the bed?” cries Lumphy, looking up at the fluffy pillows from his spot on the rug. “I have to get up there!”

“Don’t worry,” says StingRay. “I’ve done submarine messages lots of times before. I’ll get you up.”

It is hard to think about sharing the big high bed—in fact, StingRay doesn’t want to share it at all. But even more, she doesn’t want Lumphy to ignore her and stare at his bit of fluff all day. That evening, StingRay stays awake when the Little Girl falls asleep.

“Bring Lumphy to bed,

Bring Lumphy to bed,

Bring Lumphy to bed,

Bring Lumphy to bed,”

she whispers long into the night.

… …

The next evening, after brushing her teeth and putting on her pajamas, the Little Girl lifts Lumphy up along with StingRay. The submarine message has worked!

Lumphy is so excited. Cool white pillows, patchwork quilt, warm flannel sheets, private time! He can hardly believe it’s true.

But here is what happens, up on the high bed:

Not much. The Girl’s father reads three stories aloud. He sings a short lullaby. The Girl kisses her father four times. He turns out the light and leaves.

Then the Girl kisses StingRay and Lumphy, tucks them under the covers, and goes right to sleep.

StingRay goes to sleep, too.

Lumphy lies there and stares at the ceiling.

He stares at the clock, which glows in the dark.

He stares at the curtains, blowing slightly in the wind.

He doesn’t feel sleepy.

“Psst. StingRay,” he whispers.

StingRay doesn’t answer.

“StingRay!” he whispers again, nipping her gently on the cheek.

“What?” StingRay sounds muddled.

“Want to play I Spy?”

“It’s dark. I can’t spy anything.”

“I need a drink of water,” moans Lumphy.

“No you don’t.”

“Then I need another story. Will you tell me a story?”

“I can’t think of one now,” says StingRay. “I’m trying to sleep.”

“Want to sing ‘Camptown Races’?”

“No.”

“Just a little bit? I think it will help me relax. Camp-town Racetrack sing a song …”

“Doo dah, doo dah,” mumbles StingRay softly, and closes her eyes.

Lumphy stares at the ceiling again.

He stares at the clock.

He stares at the curtains.

He still doesn’t feel sleepy. He crawls to the edge of the high bed and looks down.

The toy mice are playing leapfrog. Plastic is reading one of the big books and rolling slightly side to side. The one-eared sheep is laughing with the wooden rocking horse in the corner.

Lumphy sighs, and rearranges himself on the bed. The problem is, he usually stays up late. This time of night, he likes to be doing stuff. Playing marbles, or checkers, or pick-up sticks. Something.

It is not his bedtime yet. Not even close.

Bonk! Lumphy jumps down. It hurts his bottom when he lands, but he doesn’t mind. He is so happy to be down again that he kisses all three toy mice with his buffalo mouth and then trots over to Plastic and offers to watch her roll down the staircase.

… …

Every night after that, the Little Girl takes Lumphy to bed with her. Lumphy feels he’s got it made—all the importance and extra kisses of going to sleep on the high bed, and none of the boringness. He just waits until the Girl is asleep, then hops down—Bonk!—and lives it up until midnight, when he (very cleverly) positions himself below the edge of the bed, so it looks like he fell off by mistake, and goes to sleep till morning.

StingRay feels this behavior is disrespectful. “It’s an honor to sleep on the high bed,” she complains. “You’re not taking it seriously.”

She, Lumphy, and Plastic are watching cartoons in the living room while the Little Girl is at school. “I’m not sleepy at eight,” Lumphy says, when the show goes to a commercial.

“Fine, then,” says StingRay. “Don’t get up on the bed.”

“It’s not like I have a choice now.” Lumphy is smug. “The Little Girl takes me. She wants me, I guess, because of how much she loves me.”

“When it’s bedtime,” explains StingRay, “you’re supposed to get in bed and stay there until morning.”

“Why?”

“Because people bigger than you want you to,” pipes up Plastic. “That’s why.”

“Who knows the difference?” Lumphy asks. “The Little Girl doesn’t know I’m hopping down.”

“ I know,” says StingRay. “And I don’t like it.”

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. And I’m not sleepy at eight.” Lumphy goes back to watching the cartoon.

… …

But the Little Girl is no dummy. She notices Lumphy on the floor each morning by the side of the bed. One night, she gets a length of shiny green ribbon and ties it to his tail. She ties the other end to her bedpost. “You won’t fall out now, sweetie buffalo,” she says, kissing his head an extra time to make up for all the bumps he must have suffered in his falls.

“StingRay, look at my tail!” whispers Lumphy, when the lights are out and the Girl is asleep. “Take the ribbon off!”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“The Girl wants you to have that ribbon. She goes to school. She knows what’s best for you.”

“I know what’s best for me,” says Lumphy. “And this ribbon is not it.”

StingRay wrinkles her nose. “You got covered with peanut butter, and then you got covered with jam,

and then cookie batter,

and hummus, and soy sauce.

You’re always getting dirty. How is that someone who knows what’s best?”

“I’m older now,” says Lumphy. He walks to the edge of the bed, stretching the ribbon tightly. He leans forward, and feels the pull on his tail. “StingRay, help me!” he cries. “I’m tied up like a balloon!”

“You wouldn’t be, if you’d stayed where you belong.”

“My tail is killing me!” says Lumphy, lying. “I need to get down!”

“Be quiet, or you’ll wake the Little Girl.” StingRay flips over and closes her eyes.

… …

Being tied up makes Lumphy feel frantic. The knots in the ribbon get tighter and tighter the more he pulls. He tugs harder and harder, grunting his buffalo grunts, and finally jumps off the edge of the bed with the ribbon still attached to his tail.

There is no bonk. Lumphy is upside down, tail side up, hanging in the air. He feels sick to his stomach.

He tries to scramble back up the side of the bed, but he can’t get his feet turned around the right way.

He wiggles and tries to lift his head up to chew on the ribbon, but his body is not very flexible.

He is stuck.

“Lumphy!” It is Plastic, rolling across the rug toward him. “Why are you upside down?”

“Untie me,” cries Lumphy.

“No hands,” says Plastic.

“Pull me.”

“No arms.”

“Chew through the ribbon.”

“No teeth,” says Plastic. “It’s normal for a ball.”