shipwreck cleaner,” repeated Ms. Lobster teacher, clapping her claws. That is wonderful.”
“I’d like to be a bottle collector,” squeaked the voice of a baby lobster in the back row.
“Does anyone know why one of your classmates wants to be a bottle collector?” said Ms. Lobster teacher. No one replied. “Because there are many bottles lying at the bottom of the ocean, and someone has to take care of them.”
Feisty snickered from the back of the class. Ms. Lobster teacher grinned at him.
“Tell us Feisty, and what would you like to be when you grow up?”
Feisty didn’t even think for a second. “I’d like to be a window breaker!”
“A window breaker,” said Ms. Lobster teacher, holding her heart. “How original and creative. But in life, you can either be a window cleaner or an ice breaker, not a window breaker.”
“Then I’ll be a window smasher and swim away. Let me show you.”
“No, no, no, no,” said Ms. Lobster teacher as she rushed to tie Feisty’s claws with rubber bands. At that moment, the light went out in the classroom. The baby lobsters turned round and gazed through the window in confusion at the patrons entering the restaurant.
Martians in Times Square (#11)
Once a flying saucer in difficulty landed near Times Square. The crew was in need of repair, and the captain sent one of its members for help. A little green man climbed down the stairs and ventured down the street. He was a weird looking creature, green his from head to his knees. His toes were covered with short yellow feathers. He had a flattened head, with two enormous bug eyes, below two fluffy rabbit’s ear-like antennas. He walked towards people, raised his hand, and said with a smile I’d like to offer you a cup of tea. But people shrugged their shoulders and were far too busy rushing around to even listen.
So he stood in the middle of the pavement with a wide sign on his belly, saying My flying saucer’s crew is broken, I need help. But people who didn’t have time for a cup of tea had even less time to read about a flying saucer’s crew.
Finally, desperate, he tried to grab a woman in a grey suit racing by in sneakers. She got so upset that she called the police. Distraught, he would not let go of her, and he trailed after her to find out in what kind of flying saucer she lived and hid. Frantic, she typed an access code and slid through the metal door of a very tall flying saucer, made out of glass. The green creature did not have the access code to get through the door. Powerless, he watched the other crewmembers of her team, wearing the same grey uniform, rushing into the tall glass flying saucer.
Failing to grab anyone’s attention, the Martian went back into his flying saucer. His feet in pain. The yellow feathers on his toes flattened and dirty.
“So?” asked the captain eagerly. “Did you find someone? To rescue us?”
The green man’s fluffy ears collapsed. “We are doomed. This planet isn’t inhabited. All I came across were grey creatures passing through,” he said. The captain grabbed his ears in a dignified style while the crew looked down resigned. “Since we failed to find a host to share a cup of tea, we can’t go home.” So they abandoned their flying saucer and bought themselves sneakers and grey suits.
The Girl, the Echo, and the Trampoline (#12)
Once upon a time, a young girl with braids moved into a brand new home. Her bedroom was large and sunny but also very empty. Her bed looked rather tiny in the gigantic room. She had so much space that she could ride her bicycle and do twenty cartwheels in a row without touching the walls. She loved to run around and scream like a banshee. Her room was so spacious that an echo repeated everything she said.
The first time, she heard the echo, she stopped short.
“Don’t be afraid,” said the echo. “I promise I’ll repeat everything you said and more and more and more.”
“Okay,” said the girl.
“Okay, okay, okay,” repeated the echo. “But you must not share me with anyone else.”
The girl with the braids and the echo became best friends. She talked a lot and the echo was delighted to repeat and repeat. One day the girl said: “Echo, I’m getting bored in this big room. I think I should bring something in.”
The echo was not happy, but there was nothing it could say and say.
The following day, a giant trampoline stood in the middle of the room.
“Echo, look at what I’ve brought for us to play with,” said the girl.
“I see, I see, I see,” said the echo with a little voice.
“Speak up, echo. I can’t hear you well today,” said the little girl bouncing and bouncing. “Please, don’t hide from me, or else I will cry . . .”
The echo was losing its voice so much it was screaming, but as the girl felt silent there was nothing it could say, could say, could say.
The following day, the little girl brought three friends back from school. She wanted to introduce them to the echo, and the trampoline. But the echo could barely be heard. The children could not believe that such a feeble echo could exist. They made fun of it, and the girl with braids, while bouncing up and down on the trampoline, did not dare to say anything.
Soon everyone in the school knew about the faint echo. The little girl with the braids just said to whomever mocked her: “It’s just having a bad day.”
But she wanted to hear the strange echo. The following day, she came back home with ten more friends. They shouted and yelled, and waited in silence. The echo’s voice had shriveled to no more than a whispering draft under a door. No one could hear it at all. Still hoping, the little girl looked up at the ceiling with her arms crossed on her chest. The echo watched and waved, and cried: “But I want to be your friend.” But no sound came out of its voice, for now the space was tight and crowded. Disappointed, the little girl hid her tears and waited in the silence. But when the echo failed to make itself heard, she went back to the trampoline and played with her new friends.
Two Crabs in a Boxing Ring (#13)
Two crabs wearing enormous boxing gloves woke up in the middle of a boxing ring. The crabs had no idea how they had gotten there. Peering at his awkward blue gloves, one of the crabs said: “What do you think they are?”
“I don’t know but I hope that no one is watching,” said the other weighing his heavy black gloves, unpleased.
“For sure let’s not pick each other’s nose,” joked the crab, nearing his blue gloves close to the face of the crab in black.
“They look like bathtub plugs,” said the crab in black, raising them in victory.
“Cant’ be. My bathtub’s only got one drain, and you and I have two plugs each.”
“I suggest we go around the ring and do some thinking,” said the crab with blue gloves. The crabs twirled and reeled, considering the ring for a while. Sometimes trampling each other but without harm or disrespect.
“They’re floaters, so that we can’t swim,” said the crab in black frowning.
“You’re wrong. No one would dare to play a joke on us because we’re . . .” The crab in blue gloves fell silent as he spotted a quarter on the floor. “What do you think this is?”
“Looks like a sad looking fish,” said the crab in black trampling on it.
“It reminds me of a fish I once saw landing from the Moon,” said the blue gloves, lifting his head towards the ceiling. The black gloves tried to pick up the quarter. “By Zeus, it’s not the fish that landed from the Moon, but us two that landed on the Moon. Look, it’s never happened before. I cannot pick up the fish!” The crab in blue gloves shook in dismay. He sat on a stool he had spotted in a corner of the ring. He lifted his gloves. “These must be balloons then. I won’t be surprised if next we ended up on Mars,” he said clutching his friend.
“If these are balloons, then we are in a parade. These are made to be used as drums,” he said beating on the floor. The crab in blue gloves looked askance.
“I tell you what,” he said. “I?
??ll let you have my fish, if you give me your balloons. You’ll get to have the whole parade to yourself. For you see I’d rather be on Mars.”
The crab in black gloves chewed over the offer. “Okay, he said. But I want two fish for my gloves.”
The crabs argued back and forth for a while, without noticing that the wind had started to sweep the ring. Soon they could hardly stand, their gloves catching the draft. But the crabs were more interested in getting what they wished for from each other. The wind got so strong that both crabs fell out of the ring and in their fight flipped onto their backs. And no one from the Moon or Mars flew to their rescue.
A Conch Shell Goes To The Courthouse (#14)
A very old conch shell went to the sea courthouse to complain. It could no longer hear the ocean in its own shell. Someone had clearly stolen it.
In the lobby, the shell first came across a sea-ty clerk, a gaunt flounder sharpening a pencil. He told the clerk, “I’d like to complain about my stolen ocean hum.”
“Case #23,” said the clerk, “The judge missed the tide. He’ll be doubly late.”
“What is it you said?” asked the seashell pricking up his ears.
“I’m paid to make statements not to answer questions.”
The flounder pointed at a bench with his sharpened pencil. The old seashell sat on the bench amongst other grim–looking complainants. He looked around lost, wanting to strike a conversation. But the crowd kept their bulbous eyes