A Gift For Brambleton T. Beetle

This is Ria. Welcome to Little Stories for Tiny People. Truth be told, years ago, when some very nice person would give me a houseplant as a gift, my first reaction was not gratitude. It was fear, and my first thought was always, this plant is not going to make it. Back then, I was excellent at overwatering plants. I was also excellent at underwatering plants. I was not so good at just watering plants. So a plant entering my home had good reason to worry, and so did I. But I've gotten a lot better at keeping plants alive, and now, when someone gives me one, I'm just happy and thankful. I can appreciate it for the gift that it is. Our story today is about a similar, albeit slightly more ridiculous, journey. It's called A Gift for Brambleton Tea Beetle. Take it away, Evelyn. Remember, there are no pictures. You have to imagine the pictures in your mind. You can imagine the pictures however you want. Okay, here we go! So then, Dantie and I said the exact, I mean the exact same time. Do you have those in a size 12? It was so funny, although I guess you had to be there. Brambleton Tea Beetle tried to focus. He loved his cousin, Delphine. He loved her wild tales of adventure, but he could not stop thinking about his ever-growing to-do list. For years, Brambleton had wanted the job of treasurer of the local Forest Beetle Events Committee. He pictured himself sifting through orderly documents and creating lots of colorful pie charts to illustrate important data. But the position had long been held by Mr. Lincoln Beetlebliss, a peculiar old beetle who always wore a kerchief around his neck. At last, the position opened up when Beetlebliss moved away into an elder beetle community. Brambleton had been nominated and voted in as the new treasurer on the strength of his neighbor Melody's recommendation. Brambleton is so responsible. When I go away on vacation, I always have him water my stinging nettles. Also, he's very good with numbers. When I go away on vacation, I always have him water my stinging nettles six times and he never counts wrong. At his first committee meeting, he had discovered the reality of the job did not quite match his expectations. Brambleton had been handed a tremendous stack of wrinkled papers left behind by Beetlebliss, many of which were stained with something resembling dandelion tea, at least a dozen of which were stuck together with what appeared to be spilled tree sap, and all of which were written in Mr. Beetlebliss's incomprehensible handwriting. Meantime, Brambleton's hut had lately decided to fall apart piece by piece. It was the wettest spring the forest had had in years, and with the rain came various leaks in the roof and drainage problems on his property. Brambleton had slept fitfully for weeks, bolting awake at odd moments, sure that raindrops were hitting his face. In the mornings, he'd leave his hut to find thick puddles of mud where pools had formed overnight. Brambleton's and other concerns clouded his mind as he tried and failed to listen to his lovable cousin as she praddled on in the living room of his hut. I know it's a long time, but we'll get together as soon as I get back. Brambleton looked at Delfine. She was smiling as usual. Her eyes twinkled as usual. She tried to play back the last minute of what she'd said. Nothing came to him. Nothing at all. As soon as you get back, the very minute, Delfine giggled. You didn't hear a word I said, did you? She knew him too well. I suppose my mind wandered slightly. Brambleton muttered, casting a sly glance at the ceiling, scanning for leaks. Oh Brambleton, you've been so distracted lately. I said I'm going away until the end of the month with a gang. We're doing a cliff-jumping tour. I'm gonna miss. Delfine stared up at the ceiling of the hut. Her eyes narrowed in concentration. Two, no three of our weekly lunches. Huh. But we'll get together as soon as I'm back. And you can fill me in on all the adventures. You take while I'm away. Did she just wink? Delfine stepped forward and embraced Brambleton in a suffocating hug. Have a great time. He managed. Don't spend all your time worrying. Do promise. I'll consider it. Delfine breezed out the door. And remember, live a little. Will do. Come back in one piece. Brambleton eased the door shut. Then sighed with relief. Of course he would miss her, but he had so much on his mind. And despite her many charms, Delfine was loud. Brambleton, I have the craziest news. And breathless. Did you just see that hawk? Oh man, I really want to do a hawk ride. Diego told me it's like the biggest rush and obviously the danger is about it. Now he'd have quiet time to get things done while she was away. Brambleton returned to his rocking chair and resumed sifting through the mess of papers bequeathed to him by Lincoln Beetlebliss when he noticed the corner of a green card sticking out from the stack. He grasped it and a knot formed in his thorax. Leaf gliding adventures, it shouted in large letters, good for one incredible afternoon of leaf gliding. In her distinctive loopy handwriting, Delfine had added a note at the bottom. Dear B, I will be here to use my monthly leaf gliding session so consider it a just because gift from me to you. You have to go by the end of the month or it will go to waste and I know how you don't like to waste things. Love Delfine. Brambleton stared at the card in mild disbelief for a full minute. Then he released a chuckle, amused, annoyed, and charmed in equal measures. Brambleton had no idea what leaf gliding was. He had no idea whether one did it on water or through grass. Whatever it was, it did not feel like a gift at all. It felt like one more item on his ever-lengthening to-do list. When a knock came at the door of his hut, he gladly shoved the card into a drawer and went to greet his unknown visitor. So all that's to say, since I'll be away helping my sister Donna recover from exoskeleton surgery, I need someone trustworthy and reliable and responsible to take care of Magnus. And you've always done such a good job with my stinging nettles. Brambleton peered at the beetle on his doorstep, his neighbor, Melody. She was a sweet-natured bug with wings that fluttered when she was excited. The wings fluttered now. No, I will not take care of your pet, whom I have not met, and do not particularly want to. No, I will not add yet another set of tasks to my list. That's what Brambleton wanted to say. Thankfully, he kept those thoughts to himself. I'm excited for you, Brambleton. Really I am. Melody went on, her wings lifting in a new flurry of flutters. Your worries simply melt away when you spend time with Magnus. Your worries melt away? Oh yes. Lots of times, I'll be completely overwhelmed with all that I have to do, picking up sticks, arranging them, sweeping the floor of my hut, sweeping the stoop of my hut, and one look at my dear Magnus and it all fades away. Brambleton pictured himself taking a tiny snail for leisurely strolls in the woods. He imagined Magnus lazing on his lap as he worked to decode Lincoln Beetlebless's impenetrable handwriting. He imagined the good-natured snail sliding sweetly and silently around the hut as he patched his roof. Maybe a pet was precisely what he needed to get his mind off his trifling concerns. And wouldn't this be the ideal way of trying it out? Besides, Melody had kindly gotten him the treasurer job he had so desired. He should do this for her. Melody, how long did you say you'd be gone? Till the end of the month. Brambleton thought, huh, you have to go by the end of the month or it will go to waste. You know, there's been studies that say if you pet a snail for seven minutes every day, it boosts your well-being by 14%. That's 2% per. I'll do it, Brambleton said. You will? Melody's wings fluttered in a frenzy. I'm happy to. Oh, Brambleton, thank you. Melody prattled on. Now make sure you put away all your houseplants or they'll be gone before you know it. But Brambleton was too busy thinking about the other reason he had said yes. If he was pet-sitting a needy snail until the end of the month, he'd have no way to take an afternoon off to go leaf gliding. I'm sorry, Delphine. I just had no time to use the leaf-gliding pass. Magnus needed me. Yes, pet-sitting for Melody was the answer. He could cross Delphine's gift off his to-do list and reap the benefits of having a relaxing pet to take his mind off his troubles. I'm happy to bring over a cart filled with dandelion stems so that you don't have to... That won't be necessary. Brambleton said, returning to the present, I'm sure he can scrounge up whatever Magnus needs. Oh, well, if you insist. Brambleton rose early the following morning to prepare for the arrival of his guest. It had rained again overnight, but the woods were dry enough by sun-up that he was able to collect a basket of dandelion stems, which he set in a small bowl in the kitchen. Beside it, he put a dish filled with fresh water. He had never cared for a snail before, but he imagined Magnus would appreciate having a special place to sleep. He selected a well-loved pillow stuffed with feathers and laid it at the foot of his own bed. Once all that was done, he settled into his rocking chair and continued his work of reviewing documents for the Forest Beetle Events Committee. At precisely noon, with a light but steady drizzle pattering the roof, there came a knock at the door. He practically leapt out of his chair, glad to have a break from the tedium of his work. It would be so much nicer getting things done with a snail on his lap, but when he opened the door of his hut, he understood that there would be no snail. While sitting on his lap that day, or any day in the near future, This is Magnus, melody said brightly, or that is, Brambleton strongly believed it was melody, he could not actually see her. Magnus took up the entire doorway. He blocked all light from the outside. Magnus was not a sweet, diminutive little snail. He was gigantic. What have I done? Brambleton wondered, for the 47th time in the last 8 minutes, melody had left swiftly, I have to catch my turkey taxi. Thank you again, Brambleton. Oh, and by the way, my sister's place is very remote. I'm afraid you won't be able to reach me by dragonfly, but I'm sure everything will be fine. Be good, Magnus. Magnus was not good. Magnus ate all 11 of Brambleton's house plants in a single sweep of the room. Additionally, he had eaten the dandelion stems Brambleton had collected in the small dish. He'd also eaten the dish. The water bowl had been spilled within seconds, the casualty of a mere nudge from the enormous creature as it slid around the hut, which seemed to have shrunk considerably since he'd arrived. Watching the giant snail move in slow circles, knocking over a lamp, and scraping the walls with its shell, Brambleton had to laugh when he considered his plan for Magnus to sleep on his little pillow until he looked over to catch a glimpse of Magnus eating the pillow. Brambleton had spectacularly misjudged this pet sitting arrangement, though there was one thing he'd anticipated correctly. Taking time with Magnus did get his mind off his other responsibilities. For the next week, Brambleton spent every waking moment keeping Magnus fed and occupied. He rose before dawn to collect anything leafy he could find. He served up what he gathered on the largest platter he had in the cupboard and set it before the sleeping giant, who took up so much space in the hut, Brambleton had to squeeze around him to reach his rocking chair. Magnus would wake, gulp down the whole platter full, with Brambleton frantically grabbing the platter itself to see that it too was not swallowed. Within moments, Magnus would lurch up from his resting spot, seemingly searching for more to eat. Magnus, get away from that. Magnus, do not eat that couch cushion. It was desperately exhausting and left Brambleton no time at all to devote to his treasurer duties nor to his home maintenance. A new leak sprung from a corner of the ceiling, but he was too tired to care. On the eighth day, even after a full night's sleep, Brambleton could hardly keep his eyes open as he scrounged for foliage to feed the monster. He staggered home with a basket filled with plants and deposited them on Magnus' platter. The beast blinked his strange eyes open and began chewing. Meantime, Brambleton shook himself fully awake, and it was then when his mind cleared away the fog of sleep that he glanced at the pile of leaves and his antennae shot straight up in recognition. There, on the platter, was a large bundle of poisoned fern. Oh no. Uh, Magnus? Oh there boy, let me just get that. Oh no. It was too late. Magnus ate everything, poisoned fern and all. This time, he even ate the platter. He'll probably survive. This was not the answer Brambleton had been hoping to hear after he had guided Magnus slowly, so slowly, through the forest to the veterinarian whose name Melody had left with him. He never gets sick. He's a robust fellow, aren't you, Magnus? But just in case something comes up, this is Dr. Beetlefoot's address. Something had come up, specifically, poisoned fern. Sorry, did you say probably? Eh, more likely than not. He'll make it. Neither the words nor Dr. Beetlefoot's expression nor Magnus's demeanor, which had been noticeably dark since breakfast, were especially reassuring. This here will have to remain at our office overnight. Two nights in fact, for observation and monitoring. Observation and monitoring. Right. We'll take it from here, Mr. Uh… Brambleton. You know, Dr. Beetlefoot said, suddenly jovial. Brambleton thought perhaps he was going to offer some good news. Instead, he said, I'm a Brambleton myself. Brambleton G. Oh. But, the doctor added, his face growing serious. I would prefer that you call me Dr. Beetlefoot. Right. We'll see in a couple days. Thanks and goodbye. Magnus. Brambleton's walk home through the forest was disarmingly peaceful after so many days spent wrangling an enormous snail. It was late spring, and the well-watered trees were lush with greenery. It was the driest it had been in weeks, and a new warmth had visited the forest. As he skittered through the underbrush, Brambleton reflected on his own foolishness. He thought having a pet would give him some relaxing companionship as he ticked items off his to-do list. Ha! A bird called from a high branch, a lovely, lilting song that stopped him in his tracks. He looked up. Milky clouds glided through a mellow blue sky. Brambleton watched as the bird took flight. Oh, to lift above the trees. Brambleton had never been able to fly. His wings had grown in too short when he was a baby. He stared up a while longer, then came back down to earth and skittered home. He arrived to find a postcard wedged in the frame of the door of his hut. On the front was an illustration of jagged cliffs before a brilliant sunset. He turned it over. Dear Brambleton, the note began in those familiar looping letters. It's beautiful here, and we're having a blast. Except for Monty, who lost a leg yesterday in a pretty spectacular jump. But he says he's got five more, and that's enough for him. Can't wait to tell you everything when I get back, and can't wait to hear all about leaf gliding. Love, your favorite cousin. Leaf Gliding In the flurry of chaos following Magnus' arrival, Brambleton had genuinely forgotten about the leaf gliding pass. He went inside and found it in his desk drawer and held it up in the afternoon light. This pathetic line of reasoning came back to him. Delphine, I just had no time to use the gift. Magnus needed me. Brambleton glanced at his empty hut. There was no snail who needed him. There was no water leaking from the ceiling. His next committee meeting was not for another week. Outside, the sun was shining. The air was warm. He pictured Delphine's wild grin upon her return. Brambleton, what did you think of leaf gliding? Tell me all about it. He could not lie to Delphine. Brambleton grabbed a pouch of leaf rolls to eat on the way, and set off to leaf gliding adventures. When Brambleton saw the bird take flight from the branch into the clear blue sky on his walk home, it was not the first time he had wished he could do the same, not even close. But it could never be. At least, that's what he had believed. Leaf gliding, as it turned out, was not a sport you did in water or on a mudslope. You did not glide a leaf down a grassy hill or across ice. It involved leaping, well in Brambleton's case being pushed by the enthusiastic instructor Lilac, You've got this, Brambleton! Off a tree branch. Whoa! By the way, my brother's name is Brambleton too! He's Brambleton-esque. That's great. Pull up on your lines. There you go. You're doing great. Remember to look for the landing circle. Leaf gliding was Brambleton's very first taste of flying. And it was just as amazing as he'd always imagined. His leaf parachute was aloft above his little seat, secured with various threads. Lilac had assured him we're made of the strongest spider's silk. Once he got the hang of the different line poles, Oh, oh no. Well, okay. He soared upward, catching the wind, and drifted above the trees. Whoa! As he flew higher, he did not only see the trees, He saw the whole living forest. Everything down below appeared so tiny. He saw a pack of deer on a trail. They looked so small, like he could pluck one up by the antlers. Even Magnus, poor Magnus, who would be okay, probably, even he, would look positively dainty from those heights. And up there, Brambleton finally got precisely not what he'd wanted, but what he'd needed. For weeks. A rest from the trifling cares of forest life. The paperwork, the home maintenance. It would all be there for him when he returned. But just for the afternoon, he flew high above it all. As Brambleton glided, perhaps not expertly, but decently enough, towards the landing circle, it occurred to him that he couldn't wait to tell Delphine about his day. And he couldn't wait to thank her for the gift. Magnus was okay. I feel like I have to tell you that. I couldn't fit it into the story, but yes, he was fine. And Melody was so pleased with Brambleton's pet sitting that she's hoping to book him again in the future. We'll see. I hope you enjoyed this story. It was a delight to write it for you. Little Stories for Tiny People is written, performed, and produced by me, Rhea Pector. My in-house tech director, Peter Kay, runs my website and puts my stories on the internet for all of you to enjoy. Thank you to my Little Stories Premium subscribers for supporting the show. If you'd like to get access to the full Little Stories library and to Little Stories for Sleep, an exclusive bedtime podcast, you can join or gift a subscription by visiting LittleStoriesPremium.com. Thank you to Evelyn for the super important reminder message at the beginning. And thank you, as always, for listening in.