The Whimsical World Of Whimsey Village Revised

The Whimsical Tale of Whimsey Village

                        Once upon a time, there was a quaint little village tucked away in the mountain valley. The village meandered along a small river; its founder Percy Peter Ponder had named this village Whimsey Village. He called it that because his wife scoffed at him and called the village “no more than a whim”. After a few years his wife left him looking for excitement with a handsome spelunker. He became a sweet, sorrowful and reclusive stamp collector. He was forgotten for the most part by the villagers except when his trusty manservant Shirley came down to the village to pick up supplies and retrieve the mail. His once beautiful mansion built in hopes of a large family, or at least two large dogs and a cat; weathered away on a hill overlooking Whimsy Village.

             Meanwhile, the village grew into several distinct boroughs: North Whimsey, South Whimsey, Whimsey Island (which was really just a peninsula) and the Borough of Whimsey Heights, and a snooty neighborhood that called itself Wisteria Walk.

           Lighthouses surrounded the village, even though the village wasn’t really on water and had no ports. But the villagers were fond of lighthouses and the lights saved on streetlights. The foghorns were a bit of a nuisance, so the villagers voted on an ordinance that banned the horns except on the fifth Wednesday of the second month in years ending in thirteen.

      Whimsey has a police station, and two fire stations. But the officer could usually be found making sure that the children didn’t throw each other in the pond, attending the meetings of the ONE WAY street enthusiasts, and the ROUND A BOUT support group, and making sure that older inhabitants of Whimsey had enough fruitcakes to send their children at Christmas. There was once a hue and cry when a wreath went missing from one of the bakery’s door, but it turned out to be a simple misunderstanding between the Baker and his wife. She had thrown the old one away, forgotten to tell him and not yet hung the new one. The entire village had a good laugh, warm cookies and the hubbub was forgotten. The fire department was kept busy rescuing kittens and with the occasional Christmas tree fire. But all in all, Whimsey Village is a quiet peaceful place to live. The windmill turned, the water mill turned, and the libraries ordered in enough of Harry Potter, detective, and those dreadful Hunger Games books to keep everyone happy.

      Just down the hill from Founder Ponder’s house was a large Village green. The whole population of the village had played, walked, or stretched out on the Village Green at some time or the other. The Boy Scouts practiced their trooping and the girls practiced watching the Boy Scouts. It was a very satisfactory arrangement for all. Once in a while stray cow or pig would wander across, chased by a small boy brandishing a stick and hollering hoarsely after it. The May Day pole was danced around on the green, peddlers and farmers would spread their wares out for the villagers to choose from among the offerings and enjoy the banter and gossip.

Until something amazing happened! Totally unexpected!  Out of the ordinary! Preposterous! Flabbergasting! Dumbfounding!

 The Villagers woke up one morning in early spring. They washed their faces, brushed their teeth, ate their breakfasts of choice, and began their usual day. The first to notice that something was amiss were the children on their way to school. Some of them rushed back to their homes to grab the hands of their mother and the fathers who hadn’t left for work yet. Dragging them back to the Green, (or what used to be the Village Green,)  the gathering villagers they joined the other children and to stare at what had suddenly replaced the meadow.

     They all stood staring in amazement and shock, speechless until the arrival of Mayor O’Brien and Officer Quickly. Suddenly the questions peppered the air as the villagers surrounded the Mayor wanting to know what was going on and if he had had a hand in it. Was this part of some Urban Renewal Project or a plan to bring factories to the Village?

     “Harrumph,” said the Mayor.” Officer Quickly and I will see about this. (Officer Quickly didn’t look too very enthused about this.) The rest of you go about your business! You young people will all be late for school!” Mayor O’Brien turned to Officer Quickly and whispered “Run see of you can find some of our good Ministers, Reverends and Bishops. This may be one of those situations requiring hymns, the ability to put people to sleep while speaking, and profundities.” Officer Quickly did as he was told and came back with a group of men, some looking as if they had hastily dressed, one had managed to grab his hymnal. (The other clergy looked at him thinking; “Show Off, or I wish I’d thought of that!”)

      The Mayor announced in a very loud voice that they would form up, four abreast, and march up the lane that had appeared and knock on the door of the largest building. He turned to Officer Quickly and said” You’ll be in front Quickly! That’s a good man! Now Quickly!”

      The small group of men, pressed together closely, followed Officer Quickly. They were accompanied by several small dogs, the mail man on his rounds, and the wife of one of the Reverends who had come running up carrying her husband’s forgotten trousers.

      As the straggling group approached the door, merry music could be heard and delicious aromas emanated from various areas. “Here now,” said the Mayor as he pushed poor Officer Quickly to the door. “Be quick man, knock on that door and we will determine who these trespassers are and why they dared to invade our village.” So poor Officer Quickly knocked on the door, timidly at first, and then after a sharp prodding in the area of his sitting regions, he rapped loudly on the door.

       The door, which appeared to be made of candy canes, slowly opened. A small person, no more than 3 feet in height, but appearing to be fully formed, dressed in bright green, looked up at Officer Quickly. “Is there something you’d be wanting?” the small person asked. Seeing that grabbing the doorman and tossing him over the hedge could easily prevent the imminent danger of attack, the Mayor stepped bravely forward. “I am the Mayor of Whimsey Village and I demand to see the person in charge!”

    The band of drafted volunteers looked around them as a chorus of “Ho! Ho! Ho! ” sounded throughout the building. Focusing on the direction of the ho ho hos the group stood in alarmed astonishment as a rotund, jolly, old elf bounced into the hall.

      Rendered speechless, (to the amazement of all), the Mayor stood in a daze as Santa Claus grabbed his right hand and pumped it in a most enthusiastic way. With his booming voice echoing around the hall, Santa greeted the Mayor “Hello Timmy! Did you like the sweater and new yoyo I left you for Christmas?” Red faced and muttering under his breath that the yoyo was really for his nephew, the Mayor said yes Santa, and then gathering up his wits asked “We don’t understand Santa why you, your elves and workshop (because it suddenly occurred to the Mayor that was where he was standing) suddenly appeared in Whimsey Village right in the center of our Village Green? Not that you aren’t always welcome here Santa!” (The Mayor wasn’t taking any chances on a repeat of the year when there was no new yoyo in his stocking)

       “Well, there must have been some mistake!” boomed Santa.” When I visited my cousin Percy Peter Ponder on Christmas Eve, I told him that I was looking for a place to spend spring and summer. He invited me to come here, to Whimsey Village. Percy assured me that I would fit right in with the villagers and be made welcome.”

   So there was the answer. Percy assumed Santa and Mrs. Claus were looking for a Timeshare for the winter, but Santa was looking for a place to relocate the whole North Pole Village. Much laughter, negotiating and frantic attempts by someone to locate the Naughty List went on, while Mrs. Claus and the elves served 23 kinds of cookies, hot cocoa, and left-over candy canes. Santa assured the various clergy that the elves were well behaved and would contribute most significantly to the various charities; and could be counted on to repair any toys or gaping holes in church roofs. Meanwhile, the Reverend’s wife had been off in a corner with an elf arranging an exchange: the mending of eleven trousers for Mrs. Claus’s cookie recipes.

      After reaching an agreement with promises of suitable recompense for the loss of the Green, (triple presents in all the Villager’s stockings, sleigh rides for the prominent members of the Village, [the Mayor and his wife] and certain names removed from the naughty list), Santa, Mrs. Claus, and the elves were thrilled to know that the unpacking and relocating was over. After all, there are only so many times reindeer will tolerate a change of venue for their games.

    So the small assembly of representatives gathered their goody bags, dusted the cookie crumbs from their pajama tops and waved cheerily good bye to Santa and Mrs. Claus and tripped merrily down to the new Village Square (the alley in between Lulu’s Bakery and the Golden Dragon Chinese Restaurant and Fortune Cookie Emporium) to impart to the villagers the news of their good fortune…After awhile, it seemed as if Santa’s village had always been a part of Whimsey. Whenever strangers passing through would comment on the shortness of a large group of the villagers, or the number of toys in the Village, or the extraordinary amount of candy consumed by the village, well, the villagers would shoo them out of town and make certain their names went on the top of the naughty list!

And all lived merrily ever after!

Officer Quickly on Duty!

             Officer Quickly walked out the front door of his tree house and stretched. He looked around and smiled. Officer Quickly loved his little house, snug and simple, high in the branches of an old tree. No one ever came knocking on his door with silly requests for him to chase criminals or investigate the loss of valuables. Besides the fact this was Whimsey Village where bad things never happen, no one else wanted to climb the rickety ladder! (Which was a shame, he wouldn’t have minded chasing down a criminal for that lady baker Miss Lulu!)

        So on this fine morning Officer G.O.Quickly scrambled down the ladder, whistling merrily and slightly off tune, proceeded to do his duty to the townsfolk of Whimsey Village and along the way sample the delights of Kristy’s Cupcake Creations, the Whimsey Bakery and of course Lulu’s Bakery. You never know, someone might have made off with the raisons (we can only hope) and she might need help finding them.

     After wishing a good morning to Baker Reinhardt and mumbling a blushing greeting to Miss Lulu, Officer Quickly went on his way up to Whimsey Spring to make certain that Kristy’s Cupcake Creations hadn’t suffered any loss of sprinkles over night. No one could say Officer Quickly wasn’t quick on the job!

     He hurried as he went past the elf hotel and Santa’s house. He could never be certain that Santa had forgiven him for his part in the events of the day now known through out the Village as “The Day the Mayor Almost Lost Christmas for Whimsey “. As he went past The Thanksgiving Inn, he sniffed the air as the delightful smells of roasting turkey and pumpkin pie filled the air. But his steps slowed as he neared the Halloween District.

    Now, Officer Quickly was a cheerful simple soul, but something about the Haunted House gave him the shivers.

     His eyes quickly scanned the area around the District. As uncomfortable as it made him to walk around there, he did have his duty to do!  And no one could ever say that Officer Gordy Otto Quickly didn’t do his duty. Even if it meant climbing up the stairs of a haunted and awfully creepy mansion. Officer Quickly didn’t really believe in ghosts, he just didn’t relish the idea of bats swooping down at him. And for some reason the bats of the Halloween District had Officer Quickly targeted.

     After he was safely past the Haunted House, after doing his duty to whichever ghostly citizens of Whimsey Village that still resided there, Officer Quickly turned the corner and came face to face with the B.L.Stull’s ZOMBIE Bookstore. The window featured copies of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies and other titles. He wouldn’t be surprised if it also sold those scary Hunger Games books. They sounded like they would appeal to Zombies! 

       There had been uproar when the Stulls had bought the old egg-decorating factory and moved it from Easter Lane to the Halloween district. The egg-decorating factory had gone under when the hens unionized and drove up the prices of eggs. Now Whimsey Villagers used plastic fill and break eggs for their Eastery celebrations. (Which meant the candy sellers made more money, the dentists made more money, and the plastic egg people made more money. Dumb chickens. They just got fried, stewed or crossed the road.)

      The Stulls repainted the bright cheerful building a gray, black and dark blue. It had the feeling of something eerie. And no one knew what he or she put up in the old paint storage vats! (Mustn’t think about that!)

     Anyway, Officer Quickly had another attack of shivers and a whole new creepy feeling as he walked around back and checked out the ZOMBIE Bookstore security. He didn’t feel that it would be a good thing for one of those books to escape! The Stulls had repeatedly made the point that the bookstore was filled with books about Zombies and not a bookstore for Zombies to buy books! But if that was true, why was there a warning sign out front that said, don’t feed the Zombies!

  Officer Quickly shook himself and peered anxiously over his shoulder. He wasn’t going to check that building any closer! If anyone wanted to break in they could and face the ZOMBIES!

    

     Officer Quickly felt as if he had done his duty to the Villagers, the ghosts and even the Zombie Books, and truly deserved a visit to Kristy’s Cupcake Creations. “Hopefully “he thought as he took off at a VERY quick pace, “there will be a cupcake with rainbow sprinkles!”

Election Season in Whimsey

               It was a hot day in Whimsey Village. Mayor O’Brien sat in his office in City Hall. He was in his usual mayoral pose, feet up on the desk. He had his favorite yoyo, and he was practicing looping and spinning. It was amazing how good Mayor O’Brien was; he could even “walk the dog” with two yoyos at the same time. But then, he had a lot of time to practice. The mayor spent a great amount of time in his office. Mrs. O’Brien was so proud of his devotion to his duty as mayor and very happy that he had something to occupy his time. This left her free to run the family business without the mayor’s interference.

     The mayor had been doing some thinking. He was quite aware that the upcoming election might be a little closer than they had been in the past. The villagers were still rumbling about that incident with Santa. For some reason the loss of the village green had become quite a sticky situation. There had been five to six months of good humor and happy anticipation of the bonuses that the next Christmas would bring. But as spring passed and summer arrived with hot days and warm nights, and nowhere for the villagers to play games and enjoy the breezes that came down of the mountain; it began to look as if the whole village might vote to oust Timmy O’Brien as Mayor!

     There had been an O’Brien as Mayor of Whimsey Village since the day his honored great grandfather had strolled up the mountain and announced to Percy Peter Ponder, the founder that Whimsey Village needed a mayor and he, Timothy O’Brien the First was just the man for the job! (There wasn’t a Timothy O’Brien the second yet, but Tim O’Brien was nothing if not optimistic!) And when Tim just happened to reach in his pocket and discover a very rare stamp from the country of Opportunitiknocken, (it was rare because the country doesn’t exist) Percy realized that he had been thinking all along that Whimsey Village needed a mayor and that Timothy O’Brien the First was just the man for the job. And so now, three generations later Timothy O’Brien the Fourth was about to lose the office that his family regarded as theirs, so much that they had had the O’Brien crest incorporated into the Whimsey Village Seal. (The family crest pictured a man reaching in to his pocket and the pocket of the fellow standing next to him at the same time.)

    “ What to do, what to do.” Timmy muttered to himself and he very carefully wound up his super deluxe yoyo string.” Ah hah “he thought,” who hasn’t voted in the last few elections? Those villagers down in Whimsey Hollow that’s who!”

    “Well, I suppose I will have to go down there and do a little campaigning.” Now here was another dilemma for Timmy. The O’Brien’s had never bothered to campaign much, just a few posters here and there, buttons with their faces smiling that patented O’Brien grin, and maybe a few speeches over at the Veteran’s Day pub. And another dilemma was the fact that Whimesy Hollow was just a little frightening to the mayor. The villagers down in the Hollow were a different type altogether.

   After the railroad came to Whimsey and the ticket station was built a community quickly built up around the area. Mayor O’Brien’s father being quick to see the taxing possibilities quietly annexed the area and announced that it was to be known as Whimsey Hollow. (When we say announced we mean he went out back and whispered to the dumpster) It came as a great surprise to the people in Whimsey Hollow when their property tax notices and business sales tax notices came. It was a tumultuous day for the postman as irate citizens chased him out of the Hollow. He was pelted with rotten tomatoes and it wasn’t made any better by the fact that they were organic tomatoes from Tara’s Green Apple Market!

     Since that day an uneasy relationship had existed between Whimsey Hollow and the other citizens of Whimsey Village. Not to mention the lack of love and affection felt for the O’Brien clan as a whole. (Or part!)

     Therefore, Mayor Timothy O’Brien the Fourth stood up to his full five foot eight inches and decided that he had better go and insure himself of the votes of the Whimsey Hollowers so that he would continue to enjoy the benefits of the mayoral office, not be a disgrace to his ancestors, and oh yes, continue to serve the Village of Whimsey with all of his abilities. (All three of them) He carefully put the yoyo in the top drawer of his mayoral desk and strode to the door. “Miss Mellie,” he pronounced in the voice he used for his mayoral duties, “I am going campaigning down in Whimsey Hollow. If I’m not back by sundown please notify my wife and send Officer Quickly down to rescue, I mean find me!”  (As if Miss Mellie is still going to be sitting in the office at sundown. Come five PM she is out of there so fast she leaves scorch marks on the carpet. (The specially woven one with the Village seal incorporating the O’Brien family crest.)

     The Mayor caught the Whimsey Trolley just down the street from his office. He alighted at the Whimsey Hollow ticket station about fifteen minutes later. He realized that the rumbling he was hearing was not the train, but his tummy complaining; so he decided to begin his quest for votes at Frank’s Hamburgers and Diner.

    The Mayor walked into the diner and looked, saw a comfortable looking booth located safely near the door end settled his self in. Noticing there was no menu at hand, he looked around anxiously. Quite suddenly a tall man with a white apron wrapped around his waist about six times appeared at the mayor’s elbow. “We only bring water if you ask and we only use biodegradable paper goods.” The mayor was somewhat startled by this announcement and murmured that was fine. “I would like a hamburger with all of the fixins’!” he said, quite bravely for a terrified man.

     “We don’t have hamburgers. We have soy or other vegetable burgers. I can bring you one of those.”

     “Well, how about a nice chicken salad.” Quavered the mayor.

     “No. We don’t have chicken. I’ll bring you a nice arugula salad with shredded jicama, quinoa and a feta cream dressing and you’ll eat that and be happy.”

     With that, the waiter departed leaving the mayor trembling and fearful. He had never heard of any of those things! And how could a hamburger place/diner not serve hamburgers? What parallel universe had the Mayor wandered into? And even more importantly, would they vote for him if he ate the salad?

     The waiter brought the salad, (it appeared to be a bushel of weeds,) and placed it tenderly in front of the mayor. The waiter then disappeared before the mayor could beg for a glass of water, leaving him to face the fodder without anything to wash it down. However, the mayor, being accustomed to constituents’ dinners that required liquid refreshment to accompany them and having fortified himself for the long train journey, quietly sneaked a small bottle of Diet Dr Pepper out of his pocket. Oh the uproar! (You would have thought the mayor had snuck in a Big Mac!) Suddenly four waiters appeared, all with white aprons wound multiple times around their waists; simultaneously they grabbed hold of the mayor, lifted him up and unceremoniously tossed him out of the door. (Apparently, one doesn’t bring a non-organic drink in a non-recyclable container into a Vegetarian place of business and expect to not cause a riot.)

     The mayor picked himself up and flicked off the pieces of arugula that had been caught on his sleeve when he was removed from his seat. He still wasn’t quite certain what arugula was but thought it would probably be all right to leave it on the ground. (It was organic arugula after all.)

    Then like an exploding firecracker, without any warning, a whirlwind attacked the mayor. After a few moments the mayor recognized the whirlwind as the proprietor of the Green Apple Market. A known ecological militant, rumored to mulch anything and everything, she pounced on the arugula and denounced the mayor as a common litterer and an uncouth lout.

    “I say,” said the mayor,” I’m not the lout here! It was those waiters in that place that misrepresented itself as a hamburger stand!”

    Evidently talking about misrepresentation is not a good thing for a politician to do, especially when he is trying to drum up votes in an area that feels unrepresented, maligned and misused.

    Five minutes later, covered in organic rotting vegetables, the Mayor found himself somehow sitting in a trolley car headed for Whimsey Village. He breathed a sigh of relief, tinged with anxiety. Anxiety about the upcoming election and anxiety if Mrs. O’Brien would let him in the house while he was covered with rotting vegetables. But at least they hadn’t sent him aloft in the Whimsey Hollow Hot Air Balloon!

Next: Timmy goes looking for votes in Whimsey Dell. An area of the village known for their snooty dispositions and lack of vegetables. Organic or otherwise.

A District Meeting

     Once upon a time in Whimsey Village (okay, be realistic here. It happened last week.) The Halloween district shop owners held a meeting in the Zombie Bookstore. The owners and residents were voluble in their complaints that the Easter lane shops had held a monopoly, along with Christmas and Valentine’s Day, on the candy market in Whimsey Village for far too long. The Stulls, owners of the Zombie Bookstore were not too concerned, but they were trying to be good neighbors. During the meeting they were busily handing out cookies shaped like various body parts and frosted with blood red icing. YUM.

     The owners of the costume shop, Dr. and Mrs. Frank N. Stein sat there calmly. She was wearing a white tailored suit that somehow managed to look as if it were constructed from torn strips of white bed sheets. Her husband, a tall awkward fellow, wore his short hair cut flat on top, and appeared to be constructed of odds and ends left over from another project. But it was just an impression one got when one observed him from afar. (And closely) They didn’t sell much candy, but usually had a few displays out for the season. Skull suckers, eyeball jawbreakers, and black gummy bugs.

    The family that ran the Haunted House made their real money from the candy sales when the terrified kids came out at the end of the tour of gruesome delights. There’s nothing like the bombardment of sugar for calming nerves. The owners appeared normal enough, just a little pale and overly fond of the Twilight Book Series.

     The District grocery store owner was also in attendance. There was nothing odd about him but his stooped posture and lisping. His concern was over the sales of the bulk Halloween candy for Trick or Treat. He claimed he operated on a close margin, but everyone had seen the Sam’s Club and Costco bags in the dumpster behind his store. He managed to take up half a trolley car by himself at least three times during the months of September and October as he traveled back and forth from the Big City.

     The Mayor and Officer Quickly were sitting at the back of the room. Officer Quickly was very apprehensive, however he managed to eat seven cookies. He felt it might offend the Stulls if he refused their delicacies.

     Officer Quickly was a little concerned about the mutterings of the grocery store owner Mr. Bram. It sounded like he was saying something about if he caught one of those freak elves in the alley behind his store again that he was going to use them for an entrée. Officer Quickly didn’t really know what an entrée was, but he was certain that Santa wouldn’t approve of an elf being used as one. And Officer G.O. Quickly did not want to risk upsetting Santa again, especially after the incident known throughout the Village as “The Day the Mayor Almost Lost Christmas for Whimsey”.

     The Mayor of course was sitting there, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. After his last attempt at politicking down in Whimsey Hollow he was a little nervous about face-to-face meetings with his constituency. And the Halloween District had always made him a little jumpy. Not that Mayor O’Brien wasn’t one of those willing to join in on the fun and games on All Hallows Eve! Mrs. O’Brien retrieved his traditional leprechaun costume from storage where it had been safely put away after the ST. Patrick’s Day celebrations, aired it out, and checked for fit. She was repeatedly letting it out in the stomach region. The Mayor was sitting there ruminating about all of the usual snide comments he received: “oh, didn’t wear a costume this year Mayor, or came as your Grandfather did you?” when Officer Quickly elbowed him discreetly. (As discreetly as a gangly awkward fellow can) Apparently Count Acheron (as he preferred to be called) (the head of the family that ran the Haunted House) had been addressing him.

   “I say, old chap,” said the Count. “Can’t you do something for us; after all we do pay taxes.”

     “Well, um you know, there aren’t any taxes on candy. And um, you do pay the lowest property taxes in the village because, you um, haven’t made any improvements to your properties.” (And he muttered because everyone in the village is terrified of you.) The Mayor was fairly stuttering in fright.

     There was a dead silence around the room. (You’ll have to let me have that one)

     “Well then,” said Mr. Bram, “I suppose we’ll all have to learn to live together!” (And that one)

     With a sigh of relief the Mayor and Officer Quickly were tripping over one another trying to be the first out the door. Officer Quickly was trying to decide if a quick stop at Kristy’s Cupcake Creations was worth a trip, there might be one with sprinkles left, maybe one with the frosting just a little smudged that Kristy would give him for free. Or, the possibility that Miss Lulu had made pecan tarts was always thrilling. He fairly simpered in anticipation of Miss Lulu and her pecan tarts at the same time.

    Suddenly, a hand on the shoulder of Mayor O’ Brien and a deep voice in sepulchral tones saying “a word if you will Mayor and you too Officer Quickly” stopped his eager footsteps all too quickly... 

Whereas Officer Quickly is in a MOOD

    Snow was falling softly in Whimsy Village, in the prescribed storybook manner. Gently swirling down, the wind forming lacy patterns in the sky, covering potholes and cracks in the village lanes, giving the whole village a charming picturesque appearance. Even the Halloween district looked faintly quaint.

     Officer Quickly peered through the snow as he stepped out on his tree house balcony. It wasn’t a balcony, just a ledge really, but when he was referring to it to his friends, Office Quickly liked to twee it up a bit, and call it his balcony.  He had enjoyed his hot cocoa topped with sweet whipped cream and accompanied by a scrumptious pecan tart. Even though it was several days old, it was flavored with the essence of Miss Lulu’s sweetness and enhanced by the fact that it was free. A man may be twittery with love, but he still has his budget to consider!

      Officer Quickly wrapped his hot pink, yellow and fluorescent green muffler tightly around his neck.  The muffler wasn’t actually official uniform wear for a Whimsey police officer, but when that police officer’s mother wraps it around his neck and beseeches him to always wear it on cold days, well, you know how it is.

 He hastened nimbly down the ladder and began his precarious journey on Whimsey Village lanes. Dodging snowballs, sudden small avalanches from overhanging eaves, and slippery traps on the sidewalk, Officer Quickly made his way up the hill. He was hoping that one of the many bakeries in Whimsey would be setting out fresh from the oven blueberry muffins or cinnamon rolls. Officer Quickly could ALWAYS find room in his tummy for a free bakery treat. He wasn’t however fond of dim sung or bird’s nest soup from the Golden Dragon, but smiled cheerfully when it was offered and ate it like a trooper.

    The reason for Officer Quickly’s mood was coming towards him from the other end of the village. Officer G.O.Quickly was not an only child. In fact, he was an identical twin to S.O.Quickly. A fellow with an outgoing personality, S.O. became a firefighter specializing in microwave popcorn fires, Christmas tree light shorts, and the ever-present kitten up a tree. He was considered fearless by the village and quickly promoted up the ladder.

      S.O. Quickly’s tree house was much nicer than G.O.’s. But then everyone knows firemen are handier with hammer, paint and glue guns.

    So G.O. was just a trifle jealous of his brother. He got to drive a bright red fire truck around the village, sounding the siren up and down the lanes of Whimsey  Village while children ran out of their houses shouting and waving. He was automatically given the best seats in the cafes and served quickly in case he had to suddenly leave to rescue a puppy down a well. AND G.O. had seen S.O. leaning over the counter at Miss Lulu’s bakery having a VERY private conversation with Miss Lulu herself. Officer Quickly worried that Miss Lulu wasn’t saving all of her day old baked goods for him.  (If you know what I mean.)

     Officer Quickly was usually hooted at by the citizens of Whimsey, usually something like ”Hey Quickly, how are the donuts today?” or ”Quickly helped any old ladies into a bakery lately?”  And of course the mayor was always shouting at him and yelling ”Quickly-quickly!” He had a difficult time guessing if the mayor was calling him by name or telling him to move quickly. He usually guessed wrong.

      Oh well. G.O. and S.O. had arranged to meet for brunch this morning at Reinhardt’s Bakeriei and breakfast café.  S.O.  was especially fond of going there because Reinhardt himself would often wait on him and there was always a discount. Ever since the near disaster with the experiment in flaming omelets, S.O.Quickly had become Baker Reinhardt’s VIP customer and was always served quickly. The customer S.O. had saved from singed eyebrows and a torched tongue was the mayor’s mother, THE  Mrs. O’Brien. That hadn’t hurt S.O.’s career either thought Officer Quickly, somewhat bitterly if the truth be known. After all, hadn’t he, Officer G.O.Quickly, helped Mrs. O’Brien up the icy stairs into the city hall? And was it his fault that wasn’t were she wanted to go and was it his fault they both slipped and rolled down the stairs in front a very large group of villagers who couldn’t manage to not laugh for DAYS AND DAYS!

Life was just not fair sometimes.

     G.O. had long felt that S.O. was the favorite child. Ever since that long ago day when Granny Quickly’s beard had caught fire from her pipe, and S.O. had quickly leaped up and dashed her in the face with his pink lemonade. (G.O. had always wanted to dash his pink lemonade in Granny Quickly’s face but the opportunity had never arisen. He was quite put out that S.O. had quickly seized upon the only chance to do it.) And it was Granny Quickly’s own vanity that had caused the fateful fire. She would insist upon styling her beard with a full can of hairspray each day and lighting her pipe with butane grill lighter.

    So ever since that fateful day, S.O. was given the best seat at the table, closes to the fireplace, with a large pitcher of pink lemonade at his place. (In case the need to put out the fire arose.)

He was always given the largest pecan tart, and EVERYONE in the family knew that pecan tarts were very dear to G.O.’s heart.  

      G.O. so wanted to skip this breakfast meeting; the thumping’s on the back and warm welcome that S.O. would receive. But he had agreed to meet because the twins were quickly running out of time to plan their parent’s anniversary party.  It was almost 30 years since Why and Sure Quickly had joined hands at the Valentine’s Day Chapel in Whimsey Village and pledged their “I do’s”. (And in Dad Why Quickly’s case -“maybe I do”)   G.O. fervently hoped that the dinner would not involve candle, fireworks or flaming food, further giving S.O. an opportunity to ingratiate himself with family members and just generally be a showoff with a fire extinguisher. All in all, G.O. just hoped the meeting and the party would go by quickly.

   

Mayor O'Brien Thinks Things Through

Whereas Mayor O’Brien stuffs his face and comes to a conclusion….

  

                    Mayor O’Brien was sitting home in front of a toasty fire. The flames crackled away cheerily, in complete contrast to Mayor O’Brien’s mood.  Although he was engaged in his favorite activities, walking the dog, loop de loop and double twirling with his best yo-yo, he had a terrible scowl on his face.  At his elbow was a quickly disappearing bowl of Halloween candy, which wasn’t going to please Mrs. O’Brien. She had specifically instructed him to NOT EAT ANY MORE CANDY TONIGHT. But as soon as Mrs. O’Brien had shut the door behind her, Timmy had begun scarfing candy and yo yoing as fast as his fat fingers could unwrap, and his jaw could chew. Wrappers surrounded his feet and soon the cat serving as a table on his lap would disappear under a mound of chocolate scented evidence. He knew Mrs. O’Brien would be gone for at least 3 hours to her Scrap Bookers Anonymous Support group; they usually stopped off at the craft store and indulged in a round of self-recrimination in the paper aisle.  (Which resulted in an increase in sales for the craft store. And additionally gave the support group a continued existence. And kept Joann and Michael, the owners, happily provided with tax write off trips to Craft Store Owner Conventions where the owners all laughed at the poor unfortunate scrap bookers while passing along the latest ideas to keep them coming back for more.

           The Mayor as noted, was in a terrible temper. The election was just weeks away, and to add further to his fears and aggravation, his mother was nagging him to come put up her Christmas lights. It wasn’t enough that small crowds gathered to watch his portly figure sway on top of the ladder, his mother insisted on remaining in O’Brien Manor, while he and his wife had to settle for a six bedroom house in the suburbs. And it wasn’t even November first yet, clearly against the ordinance restricting the putting up of Christmas decorations before November twentieth!  Of course the Halloween and Thanksgiving district retailers had rather forcibly pushed those restrictions through the council.  And the ordinance that required Christmas decorations to be removed by January first had come at the urging of the Valentine’s Day storeowners. The Mayor often felt as if his life was a blur of holidays, dealing with villagers and the disputes between his wife and his mother who couldn’t agree on how to run the family business-O’Brien’s Emporium. They only thing the Mrs.O’Briens agreed upon was that Timmy should keep his nose out of the business and let them run things ever since the year he had ordered in one thousand deluxe toasters and had tried to promote them as:

THE  “Ideal Valentine’s Gift for your Sweetie!

                           Guaranteed to Arouse Romance!”

    The Mayor didn’t like to remember that Valentine’s Day at all.

     Mayor O’Brien shuddered again as he remembered his last meeting with the Halloween district storeowners. How could he ever forget that hand on his shoulder…

All in all, being Mayor Timothy O’Brien the IV wasn’t as glamorous as some might think.

     Timothy O’Brien, or whatever number he was VI or VIII, he could never remember, abruptly stood up. Dislodging O’Furball the cat and causing a very uncomfortable rush of blood his brain, he shouted out to the room “I won’t have it any more! It has to stop! I will no longer be afraid of sinister storeowners or intense over the top restaurant owners, my Mother, my wife or the Villagers! And I’m certainly not afraid of a fat jolly old elf! I’m going to eat all the candy I want and order a thousand waffle irons if I want! No more arugula in my hair, zombie finger cookies, or or or…”

      He wasn’t sure what else, but there was bound to be something. There always was!

       As Timmy stood there, his heart pounding, he heard the familiar sound of a door opening and closing. “Yoo hoo, Timmy I’m home early! The craft store was closed for inventory, and after we calmed down some of our more panicky members I decided to come home!”

       Timmy hastily dropped to his knees and began frantically scooping up the evidence.

Officer Quickly and Rowan

        The village of Whimsey is a picturesque place to live. But to a boy of ten, a picturesque village, where it seems as if nothing ever changes, village life is probably not as interesting as it might seem to older folk.

        That is why, on a chilly day in late autumn, just a few afternoons before Halloween, (which may seem exciting to some, but to someone that lives in a village with a permanent Halloween district is just another ho hum festival) a boy could be found perched high in the largest tree in Whimsey Village.    

       Having taken the precaution of carrying a 2 liter bottle of ginger ale, 3 cans of root beer, a box of atomic fireballs, and a large bag of unshelled peanuts up with him, this young fellow felt well able to hold out until something interesting happened!

     Officer Quickly was making his usual rounds of the village, nodding hello to the villagers, yelling, "scat" at bird feeder robbing squirrels and accepting numerous offerings of baked goods.

      As he walked by the venerable old oak tree, his quick eye caught sight of something that was definitely unusual.

    It just didn't seem quite right to Officer Quickly that peanut shells should be scattered under an oak tree, with shells wafting gently down as if they were snowflakes with the remembered scent of school lunches.

     And just as Officer Quickly stepped up to the tree, another memory of the school lunchroom burst from the leaves. A belch that blew most of the remaining leaves off of the tree caught him off guard and he stumbled back. Regaining his composure quickly, Officer Quickly peered up through the branches catching sight of a red and blue striped shirt.

    "Hey! What do you think you're doing up there?" Officer Quickly shouted? There was silence and then- a sudden rain of peanut shells on Officer Quickly's head, a few shells lodging in his collar and pocket.

     Officer Quickly had a very uncomfortable feeling that he wasn't looking very professional and that once again he would be the laughingstock of the village. And naturally once again, Officer Quickly would be the target of Mayor O'Brien' scorn.

    How was he to extricate himself from this situation with his dignity intact, his uniform in one piece, and of course the boy unhurt?

   "Hey!" he yelled up at the tree, what's your name?"

    "Rowan!"

     "Rowwing?"

"NO! Rowan! my name is Rowan Theboat!!" screamed the boy.

     " I know your family!! You're one of the Theboat boys from Whimsey Dell! Your parents own the sail factory! What will they say when they find out what you've been up to!"

     Rowan's heart sank.

     He then realized that everyone in Whimsey knew his parents, Doc and Sloe' and it wasn't going to take very long before they knew what he'd been up to.

     He considered trying to convince everyone that he had been chased up the tree by a rabid peanut seeking squirrel but he knew in his heart that he would have to just tough it out. He truly was bored and tired of this humdrum village. And maybe this would liven things up!

     Twilight was drawing near, (the time of day, not the series) and Officer Quickly was quickly becoming worried. The safety of the village was his utmost concern and a villager was quickly going to be in a very unsafe situation. As he pondered what to do, a crowd of villagers was gathering, suggestions were being made; chief among them was calling Fireman Quickly to the rescue with his tall sturdy ladder. Officer Quickly quickly stifled that suggestion with a murmur that the village council had spoken quite firmly against the frivolous use of the rescue squad and their tall sturdy ladder. (Not to mention Officer Quickly's deep aversion to letting his brother Fireman Quickly is a hero. Again.)

   Suddenly, coming up behind him, Officer Quickly heard a cheery " HO! HO! HO!" The crowd of villagers gasped with delight. They had all been under the impression Santa and his entourage had all gone north to prepare for Christmas. In answer to the villagers’ excited questions Santa said that Mrs. Claus had decided that they would stay and celebrate Halloween in Whimsey Village. Even now she and the elves were busily baking cookies and making special candies for the Trick or Treaters. Orange and black frosted Christmas trees and licorice candy canes featured high in their output.

   So Santa noticing the NAUGHTY list glowing with an addition (and Mrs. Claus’s not so subtle hints about the number of treats that disappeared every time he walked through the kitchen) decided to take a little stroll down to the village and see what all of the hubbub was about.

     Up above the milling crowd, barely hidden by the autumn leaves, Rowan crouched on his branch. His stomach reacting violently to the combination of root beer, ginger ale, atomic fireballs, peanuts and sudden cessation of humdrum existence, did what little boy's stomachs usually do. And usually do on the nearest target. Ho! Ho! Ho!

 The Mayor's Legacy

     Mayor O’Brien tugged at his collar as he turned and began the slippery uphill walk to the Whimsey Village city hall. After the narrow election victory of last week, Timothy O’Brien the 6^th or 3^rd whatever number it was, was set to begin his next term of office. It truly had been a grueling campaign, with his surprise opponent Count Acheron gaining on him daily with promises of extra trick or treating days and cut rate costumes as he stood outside of the many businesses handing out copious, yes copious amounts of candy.  Telling the Whimsey Villagers that a vote for him, Count Acheron, was a vote for progress, a vote for change and a vote for better Fourth of July speeches. (As if Mayor O’Brien’s long polished 1776 minute long Independence Day speech wasn’t impressive enough for the occasion!)  But the day was saved when Kristy’s Cupcake Creations and Miss Lulu’s Bakery came out in force on Election Day with samples of cupcakes (with extra sprinkles) and luscious pecan tarts, declaring their support of O’Brien for Mayor! Who would have thought that cupcakes and tarts could win an election! (Cupcakes and tarts have caused the loss of many an election.)

     As the mayor pondered what change the village could possibly be hankering for he noticed out of the corner of his eye movement over by the village green. Ahh yes, young Rowan doing his community service, counting the pinecones and neatly arranging the leaves to provide that well-established seasonal arrangement necessary for a whimsical autumn setting. Hopefully the jolly old elf himself had taken note of the many hours required of young Rowan in recompense for that unfortunate drenching at the hands or rather mouth of that luckless young man.  As he circled the park the mayor exchanged greetings with the Mormon missionaries. The two young men were manning the free hot cocoa stand by the skating pond. They’re fine young men, the mayor thought to himself and could do some serious damage to Mrs. O’Brien’s famous broccoli curry casserole with cashew crumbles. And since the mayor detested Mrs. O’Brien’s famous broccoli curry casserole with cashew crumbles, he always made certain those two young men were invited for dinner when she served it. In fact, he insisted on it.

    Finally reaching the city hall, the mayor strolled in the door, nodding his head magnanimously to the receptionist old Mrs. Quickly and accepting her greeting affably. (He just wished she wouldn’t call him Timmy and ask how his little problem was every time he saw her.)  As he maneuvered on past the many offices that were taken up by lesser official folk he thought he heard murmurings. (Probably just arguing over leftover cupcakes, he thought)

     The Mayor stepped briskly onto the rug with the Whimsey Village crest and greeted his secretary Miss Mellie. Of course she ignored him, but he saw on his desk, neatly typed, correlated, and appropriately stapled the agendas for the town council meeting. (Apparently one can talk on the phone, surf the net, update Facebook and do one’s work at the same time. Who knew? All the Mayor did know was that it was better to not ask. Or comment.)

    Breezing on by his overpaid and underworked niece, the mayor grabbed the agendas, his special yoyo with the Whimsey Village Mayor’s crest on the side, and an extra large container of Cool Whip. He didn’t really need the Cool Whip, but well it was sitting there and he might as well take it. (After all, he was a politician) As he entered the council room he found the source of the murmuring. There had been a heated exchange between councilor X and councilor Y. (Which wasn’t all that bad of a thing because the council room was notoriously chilly) As the Mayor called the meeting to order he passed out the agendas and handed round the Cool Whip.           

            The councilors and the Mayor all stood and recited the Pledge of Allegiance and then recited the Whimsey Village creed, and bowed their heads for a brief prayer offered by one of the fine religious leaders of Whimsey Village. Then they settled in for the real business of the meeting: avoiding spending cuts at all costs, raising tax rates on the Halloween District, and voting on remuneration for all elected officials. Just as the Mayor was beginning to think he had everything under control as usual, Councilor X cleared his throat and stood up. (And since Councilor X was an elf it was a little difficult to see him, as he head was the same height as the table, so Councilor S boosted him up on the chair earning a glare from the elf and an under his breath threat of the naughty list) “It’s time for a change and some progress around here,” shouted councilor elf, I mean X. The mayor looked around the table apprehensively as the other councilors all shook their heads with approval. Even the councilor from Whimsey Hollow looked up and nodded agreement as she surreptitiously dipped her organic zucchini sticks into the Cool Whip.

  The mayor sputtered that he had been duly elected by a .03% margin and sworn in by the Judge in front of the postman, his mother and the village dog watcher, when councilor X glared at him and said something along the line of “shut your gob and let me get a word in ye mucky smuck”. (Actually that is exactly what he said) The mayor subsided with a quickness only observed in those who have a great fear of being put on the naughty list and grabbed the Cool Whip away from the councilor from Whimsey Hollow and then gagged as he discovered he had without looking taken a bite of broccoli that had dropped into the Cool Whip.

   Councilor X took a deep breath and began his carefully rehearsed speech. “We elves are sick and tired of being gawked at like animals in a zoo or a circus. So we think that Whimsey Village should provide the real thing for the villagers and the tourists.” The mayor was confused. Was councilor X saying they weren’t real elves? If so, shouldn’t someone tell Santa Claus and wasn’t that going to rework a whole lot of books, Christmas Specials and Ornaments? Not to mention that really scary movie -Elf? And what about the elf on the shelf? Hey, maybe they could introduce a change-the leprechaun on the shelf, all done in the likeness of Mayor O’Brien of course!

     The uproar in the council room brought the mayor back from his whimsical wanderings, reminding him that someone needed to be in charge and he needed to get a drink of something very strong very quickly to get the taste of Cool Whip covered broccoli out of his mouth. He reached under the desk and grabbed his emergency diet Dr. Pepper, took a large swig, swallowed, and standing, pounded on the table.

     As the swirling room of councilors quieted, the mayor took advantage of a captive audience by throwing his yoyo out doing a few special tricks.  (And then picturing himself leading the St Patrick’s Day Parade on an elephant painted green for the occasion)  he pronounced in mayoral tones“ It will be my legacy to the village. We shall call it the O’Brien Memorial Zoo. It will be a true reflection of my years of service as Mayor of Whimsey Village. We will have a giraffe and a parrot!”

 Officer Twinkle Toes

      Officer Quickly was sprinting up the hill towards Upper Whimsey as quickly as his legs could carry him. He didn't want to be late for his lesson at the Whimsey Village School of Knitting and Dance, and Detective Agency. No, Officer Quickly wasn’t learning how to knit from Miss Augusta or Miss Ashley, and hadn’t hired A.J. to find something for him; he was taking dance lessons from Mademoiselle Augustine. (Of course if he saw her downtown at the café he’d say:”How’s it going Aggie?”)

     The Whimsey Village Social season was now in full swing. The time period between Christmas and Valentine’s Day was filled with costume parties, skate parties, and quiche tastings, culminating in the grand Founder’s Day Ball on February 14^th.

      Oddly enough, Founder Percy Peter Ponder never came.

    

  Now as everyone in Whimsey Village knows, Miss Lulu loves to dance. She could whirl and twirl and stomp with the best of them. Unfortunately the best of them was not Officer G.O.Quickly. Not only did it seem as if he had two left feet, but two left knees and a stunning ability to leave his partners bruised and sometimes bleeding. 

    However, Firefighter S.O. Quickly loved to dance and of course he danced well. It was said that maidens swooned and older women twittered behind their fans when he took his partner in his arms and seemingly light as air floated around the dance floor. (Of course, it must be noted that Firefighter Quickly quietly spread this.)  Officer Quickly couldn’t attest to the truthfulness of this rumor, as he had never had the courage to attend the Ball. But this year was going to be different! Miss Lulu was going to be there to see his Rond de jambe, which Mademoiselle Augustine assured him, would be the highlight of the evening. He was certain that his plié’ and his Revoltade would impress her, he just wasn’t certain that he would be able to lift her over his head after their Pas de Deux. Though he intended to give it the old Quickly try.

       As he was putting on his uniform after his lesson, through the dressing room curtain he heard a hushed conversation. The first woman whispered that she had heard that Firefighter Quickly seemed to have developed a taste for Pecan tarts these days, and then the other voice whispered: “do you think he is going to ask her to the ball?” Quickly Quickly thrust the curtain aside catching in mid whisper Mademoiselle Augustine and the older Mrs. O’Brien. They developed a sudden interest in the tile grout.

      Officer Quickly rushed out of the building, his face flushed, legs sore, and mind bewildered by what he had heard. Fighting off stark terror over the possibility that after all of the hours spent pirouetting across the floor and ordering by special express the tights and toe shoes which he felt certain would win Miss Lulu’s admiration and hopefully her heart: Miss Lulu would not be his date to the Founder’s Day/Valentine Ball! Picturing Miss Lulu held aloft in the muscled arms of his firefighter brother was too awful for him to contemplate.

     But the impending doom was brushed aside by the more imminent wrath of Mayor O’Brien if he was late to another council meeting, so scurrying around the frozen pond he headed to the village hall. As he skidded across the marble entry hall and sprinted up the stairs three at a time, he tried unsuccessfully to wipe from his mind the image of Miss Lulu and his brother sharing a pecan tart, drinking their caramel cocoas, laughing together, planning their evening at the Ball and possibly their future as a couple. The horror of facing the two of them and Granny Quickly at the ensuing family occasions filled his soul with utter anguish!

    As he entered the council room breathless and hesitant, everyone turned to look at him. The council and the Mayor had finished planning the music for the Ball: three reels, six waltzes, one polka, a rumba and a few foxtrots to fill in around the edges. They had been in the midst of an argument about salsa dancing when Officer quickly burst through the door. The Mayor announced that they would move on to the next agenda item: the St Patrick’s Day Parade.

      Officer Quickly breathed a sigh of relief, apparently he wasn’t going suffer the effects of the Mayor’s displeasure and they wouldn’t be discussing the Ball today, which was quickly becoming an uncomfortable subject.

    The meeting finally over, having escaped the notice of the Mayor, Officer Quickly began the slow walk towards Miss Lulu’s Tart shop. His steps lagging as every minute brought him closer to what he felt was certain to be heartbreak. The door of the pie shop flew open as a group of firefighters, possibly the whole day and night shift, swarmed out with boxes and boxes marked “Perfect Pecan Tarts by Miss Lulu". They were shouting and calling to one another about the Firefighter’s party that night. They were in high spirits, no doubt fueled by generous samplings of Miss Lulu’s tarts and thoughts of more to come that evening.

    Officer Quickly stood there stunned. Could it be? Miss Lulu and his brother had not been plotting a future involving endless dances, dinners with Granny Quickly and dreaming of a tree house with added branches? Was it possible his brother hadn’t been trying to capture Miss Lulu with his dancing shoes and ability to put out oven fires, but instead had been planning the refreshments for the Firefighter’s party?! Whew! Escaped the horror of that finale this go around! His heart sang as he avanted with a Bouree, ending in a cabriole on the pie shop doorstep, knocking aside two elves waiting to enter and purchase the sweet goodness of perfectly formed tarts for themselves. But he didn't care! He and Miss Lulu were going to the Ball!

   ****Alas, the night of the Ball would bring disappointment, humiliation, and torn tights for Officer Quickly as he pirouetted across the dance floor into the orchestra; in the confusion knocking the punch bowl onto the ladies clustered by the refreshment table and causing the twinkly lights to short out.  Thus causing a fire, leading to heroics by Firefighter Quickly, planting the seeds of future discomfort for Officer Quickly and much merriment for the villagers. And then there's always Mayor O' Brien's wrath...

 The Dancing Detective

     Whimsey Village was experiencing a temporary lull in the usual frenetic social scene. Everyone was relaxing and looking over their wardrobes to see what needed cleaning, repair or replacement, to be precise what had been seen too many times at the winter revelries.

     In Whimsey Hollow the good ladies at Stacie Jo’s Day Spa were taking a well-deserved rest. They were stocking their potions and lotions till time to prepare the anxious ladies of Whimsey Village for the Mayor’s Ball or just to meet their old friends over gossip, hot cocoa and pecan tarts. The ladies of Whimsey Village never went anywhere with out make up, hair undone, or heaven forbid: barelegged!

      Miss Lulu was heartbroken, embarrassed and if the truth be told, somewhat amused. Neither she nor the entire village of Whimsey, including the punch drenched matrons of Wisteria Lane, would ever forget this year’s Founder’s Day/Valentines Ball. A truly memorable affair. Ah, the many whimsies of love.  But life continues on, her ovens were heating, her pecans were chopped, and a good many tarts and shamrock shaped cookies were in need of baking before the Whimsey Village Annual St. Patrick’s Day Parade and Mayor’s Ball.

     Officer Quickly hadn’t been seen since the night of the Founder’s Day/Valentines Ball. It was rumored that Mayor O’Brien had sent him to the big city for a brain scan. Current Whimsey Village facetiousness speculated on whether a brain would be found during the scan.

    There was another discontented citizen of Whimsey Village. Aggie, as she was known outside of her dance studio, knitting school and detective agency, was suffering a slight touch of guilt in the banishment of Officer Quickly. Perhaps she should have determined just what kind of dancing Officer Quickly needed to learn instead of assuming he was yearning to become the Whimsey Village Mikhail Baryshnikov. The snickers and quickly averted smiles Aggie encountered as she walked through the lanes and past the doors of Whimsey Village were really beginning to needle her. 

      She was somewhat apprehensive about any more male students. The Officer Quickly catastrophe had quickly followed the Army Veteran’s waltz lesson disaster. (Men that are accustomed to marching time 4/4 simply cannot with one lesson learn to dance to 3/4 times. At least this group couldn’t. They waltzed/marched their wives in stiff formation, the entire duration of the Veteran’s Day Ball. Several of the wives were still wearing casts and their numbers in her knitting school had diminished.)

     Aggie was bored. She was in dire need of a real detective case. Even a missing person or suspicious found person case would do. The last suspicious arrival was Santa Claus and the Mayor sorted that out. There was a woman who lived down in Whimsey Dell that no one remembered seeing. But since the grocery orders, Amazon boxes and many eBay boxes were still being delivered, it was doubtful she was missing.  She was probably another bibliophile, philatelist or maybe even an obsessive miniature Village builder.

   Aggie decided that to soothe her troubled heart, she would dance her way into Kristy’s Cupcake Creations. As she stood at the counter pondering the many delights, she decided on a pink coated cake pop with sprinkles for now, and a red velvet cupcake to take home for later.

   As she wandered slowly back up the hill to her/knitting school/dance school/detective agency, nibbling at her cake pop, the distinctive pinafore that marked Miss Lulu’s appearance suddenly appeared in front of her. After Aggie’s eye’s focused and she came out of her swoon from the overpowering aroma of pecan tarts that accompanied Miss Lulu everywhere she went; (half fearful that Miss Lulu was going to wrench the cake pop from her hand and throw it on the ground) she weakly asked if there was anything Miss Lulu needed?

     Miss Lulu said quite firmly,” I want you to go to the big city, Find G.O. Quickly and bring him back! The Mayor says the brain scan was finished three days ago and no one has heard from him since! And it is in some measure your fault that he was sent there!”

    Aggie stammered,” Well maybe a teaspoon’s measure my fault! But he never spoke up-“

 “Never mind that!” Miss Lulu thundered. “You just find him!”

    “Have you checked his parent’s house or his brother’s tree house?” 

“You know he’d never go there, it is ashamed and humiliated he is!”

“What about his tree house?”

  “Aggie! I’m a single respectable baker of tarts! I would never scramble up the ladder to Officer Quickly’s tree house!  What would my customers think”?

     As Miss Lulu huffed and muttered about the gossip that would ensue if she were seen scrambling up the ladder to Officer Quickly’s tree house, Aggie came to a decision. She would go to the big city, she would find Officer Quickly, and bring him back to propose to Miss Lulu. Just as the Villagers had been expecting him to for the past 993 days.

   Aggie quickly grabbed Miss Lulu by the arm, promised her quite recklessly that she would bring Miss Lulu’s tart eating officer home and ran up the hill to her knitting school/dance school/detective agency/home to cancel all the classes. Whimsey Village would just have to knit one, purl two, plié’ and twirl without her for as long as it took to scour the big city for the missing officer!

Perhaps she should take a few pecan tarts with her as a lure?

It's Not Yard Sale Heaven for Officer Quickly

     Officer Quickly was sprawled out on a bench in the Low Whimsey Park ruminating like a cow. Not like a camel, because he was thirsty. He felt that give in the bench when someone has plopped themselves down next to him but was afraid to turn his head for fear it was someone he had trampled on or dumped punch on.

      “So,” said S.O. his brother,” have you been up to see Miss Lulu yet? It’s been two weeks since A.J. dragged you out from that den of gingerbread spice cookies and put you on the train for Whimsey Village.”

       “Um nnnnno,” stuttered Officer Quickly weakly. He remembered the event of his discovery and further humiliation only too well.  His poor beleaguered soul groaned at the remembrance. Surely it wasn’t necessary for A.J. to make such a fuss! After all he and A.J. (also known as Mademoiselle Augustine, AKA Miss Aggie) had known each other since high school metal shop. He had always assumed that she had forgiven him for setting fire to her final project with the welding torch. (Who would have thought that a metal statue of Sherlock Holmes dancing with Isadora Duncan would melt and burn so quickly?) She had never made mention of it after Mr. Metalli Tabernam the shop teacher had pulled her shrieking off his back, pulled the crowbar from her wildly gesticulating hand and carried her out of the room wailing as if she was being torn away from a hot fudge sundae with nuts and extra whipped cream.

     Officer Quickly huddled feeling even more forlorn. His brother slapped his hunched shoulders briskly and said cheerily ”Well, you’d better get on up the hill before Miss Lulu sends A.J. looking for you again! And by the way, it would probably be a good idea to brush the cookie crumbs off your face and your clothes. You wouldn’t want to show up in a tart shop with proof of your perfidy covering your face! Or maybe I’ll go and check out her ovens!”

     Officer Quickly quickly stood up, brushed the incriminating crumbs from his person, gathered his wits and started up the hill with his usual loping stride.

     As he neared Ponder Circle (the home of Founder Percy Peter Ponder’s twin sisters, Prunella Ponder Pucker and Portia Ponder Pinche) He heard screeching that sounded as if a screech owl was running its claws over a blackboard while simultaneously trying out for an opera. As he fought to control the instinctive shuddering response that was threatening to over come him, Prunella Ponder Pucker came rushing around the corner of one of the identical houses. (The houses were also identical to Percy Peter Ponder’s house, because well, he felt that he had paid so much for the house plans that he should get his money worth’s out of them) Following at a lower speed but not at a lower screech was her sister Portia Ponder Pinche Over his own heaving breathing, Officer Quickly could barely make out what the screeching was about. He threw out his arm Prunella Pucker ran smack into it, followed quickly by Portia Pinche pouncing on her and when by virtue of the forces exerted on his arm, Officer Quickly fell to the ground.  They all three began rolling around with Officer Quickly dodging the punches and hair pulling and trying to cover his ears from ongoing screeching.

     “STOP THIS AT ONCE!” Suddenly all noise and movement ceased as the two muddy, disheveled and shocked combatants and one muddy disheveled and shocked officer of the law looked up to see who was standing over them. To Officer Quickly’s horror, there stood the Mayor, Percy Peter Ponder’s trusty manservant Shirley, and of course, Miss Lulu. Miss Lulu wailed that if it wasn’t enough that he had broken her heart with that jezebel gingerbread maker, he was now indulging in a roll in the mud with the Ponder sisters, whereupon she burst into tears and went wailing away to drown her sorrows in pecan tarts. (And possibly the attentions of Firefighter S.O.Quickly.)

      “Quickly!” roared the Mayor! “You’ll come with me! NOW!”

     The Ponder sisters were trying to quietly fade into the dust when trusty manservant Shirley bent down and said” Not so fast you two! What did your brother say the last time you were caught fighting like this!”

    “But we were 5 years old then! He can’t put us to bed early and take away our dolls now! We’re married women with children and yard sales to run!”

     Ah hah. There swiftly emerged the cause of the ruckus. As the sisters started bringing out the goods for sale, a long lost treasured item appeared in the boxes of Prunella Ponder Pucker, raising the wrath of Portia Ponder Pinche who had lent the treasured item to her sister long ago, only to be told that it went missing. When she declared ownership and wrath or at least the profits from the sale of the treasured item, Prunella grabbed the item declaring possession was nine tenths of the law, and the chase began!

     Trusted manservant Shirley seized the item, looked at it closely and identified the treasured item as having come from Percy Peter Ponder’s home and been missing from there for some time. As he strode away, treasured item firmly grasped in his arms, he heard the screeching and thump as the accusations flew. “TO YOUR ROOMS!” he thundered and the sisters turned and fled into their homes.

    Officer Quickly stood in the hallway out side of the Mayor’s office waiting to for his ordeal to begin. He wandered down the hall to the city bulletin board and started reading the lists of business permits just issued by Whimsey Village. A chill ran straight down his spine, down his leg and out the door as his attention was drawn to the new business listing:

           “The Gingerbread Cottage of Whimsey Village”.

A Prelude

     The Grand Fourth of July Extravaganza was finally over. Bar B Qs, the Annual Whimsey Firefighter’s Pancake Breakfast and concerts at the park culminating in so many fireworks that it might seem as if Gandalf  himself had come to town.

      Mayor O’Brien was presiding over the city in his usual languid pose with his feet propped up on his mayoral desk. August and September were slow months in Whimsey Village, the heat seemed to turn the villagers into apathetic perspiration drenched masses at loose ends. Mayor O’Brien was thinking that this was not a good thing. At some point the villagers were going to start blaming him for the situation. This definitely was not a good thing. Never mind the fact that most of the villagers had moved to the village to enjoy the blessings of a peaceful village life and if asked by outsiders they would certainly extol the virtues of living in a country village.

             Boredom is an insidious germ. So Timothy O’Brien decided what the Village, his approval ratings, and Whimsey Village’s tax revenues needed was another festival. Granted that his only duty regarding said festival would have been the idea (and opening the festivities), he would surely reap the benefits of the warm fuzzy feelings kindled.

     As he sat at his desk, practicing the Around the World trick with his favorite yo-yo, his eyes lit upon the flyer for the Grand Opening of the Gingerbread Cottage. He sat up with a thump as the brilliance of an idea filled his mind. With all of the bakeries and home bakers in this village surely a Cookie Creations Festival would draw visitors from around the world! And Mayor Timothy O’Brien knew exactly who would be the perfect judge! The Jolly Old Elf himself, Saint Nick! Now the all mayor needed was the nod from Santa, the guild of Bakers to agree, and a committee to actually do all of the work.  Just then through the open door he saw an ungainly shadow scurrying past.  The mayor hauled himself to his feet and bellowing, lurched to the door. “Quickly you fool, get in here! I have something I need you to do.”

      Officer Quickly hunched his shoulders and gave up all thoughts of the quiet afternoon he had planned checking the villagers’ compliance with the Village quaintness ordinance. (Town Hall had had a few complaints of homes lacking the proper amount of picturesque) After the Mayor explained his great idea, Officer Quickly considered making a trip back to the big city and making  it permanent. If he could manage to hide from Aggie/A.J.  He was sure he could, if he just stayed away from bakeries. But he realized his doom. He was as attracted to bakeries as the mayor was to candy. If he could arrange to stay off of the committee he might make it through the festival set up. But after the gingerbread, chocolate chip, sugar, snicker doodles, pumpkin chocolate chip, peanut butter, white chocolate macadamia nut, and then the bar cookies-oh the brownies! The lemon bars! The pecan bars! and the ladies that bake got hold of him, he was truly doomed.

Post Cookie Creations Carnival Stress

     The Complete story of The Cookie Creations Carnival cannot be told here and should not be told anywhere…leave it where it lies-in shame in the lanes, parks and hearts of Whimsey Village.

Halloween is not for Wimps!

    In the aftermath of the Cookie Creations Carnival half of the village wasn’t speaking to the other half. Officer Quickly was in hiding and Santa was looking at properties in the Bronx. There was talk of impeaching Mayor O’Brien and a select committee of Whimsey Dell citizens was meeting at a non-Bakery venue to discuss seceding from Whimsey Village and becoming a separate Village. With a NON-Whimsey name.

     As villagers walked up and down the formerly serene and restful lanes of Whimsey, traces of the Cookie Riots could still be found. Frosting and sprinkles adorned the eaves of Miss Lulu’s shop, and here and there in the trees could be seen the remnants of brownies or snicker doodles. Kristy’s Cup Cake Creations was closed for a month while the owner went to a spa and then on a cruise. That was the rumor at any rate. Whole cookies were stored in squirrel’s nests and Tara’s Organic Green Apple grocery store sported a dusting of crumbs. (Apparently Un-sweetened Broccoli Raisin with tofu frosting Delights were not well received.) Things were very ominous indeed in Whimsey Village.

     As Autumn began to slink furtively into the Village backdrop (as though it was hesitant to even show up in Whimsey Village) the Mayor had hopes that Whimsey Village was reverting to the previous status quo…After all, how long can people hold a grudge? (Apparently the mayor hasn’t met anyone from the Deep South.)

     Dried cornhusks, Indian corn and jack-o-lanterns were sprouting like a seasonal fungus on the porches and storefronts of the village. The leaves were turning colors and dropping from the trees unfortunately their bare branches displaying even more petrified remains of baked goods.

     Mayor O’Brien was enjoying the mild air and his stash of preseason candy bars while occupying his favorite spot on his patio. It was a perfect spot. He couldn’t be seen from the house, but he could see if anyone approached. (Anyone being Mrs. O’Brien.) He was listening to one of his favorite sounds: Rowan Theboat performing his community service, mowing his 873^rd lawn. With only 129 more lawns to go the villagers were hoping that Rowan would somehow fall afoul of society and be sentenced to additional lawn care. With Halloween approaching the odds were very high in the villagers’ favor.

As the whirring of the push mower stopped the Mayor had a thought. “Hey Rowan! Come on over here for a moment!” 

  

  As Rowanmade his way through the hedge the mayor hastily hid his candy and wrappers.  Rowan stood in front of the mayor, clutching his rake in one hand and his water bottle in the other. “ Is there a problem with your lawn Mr. Mayor?”

    “No.no Rowan. You’ve done a fine job. I just have a few questions for you about the village.  I know that you have quite a large group of friends and I’m wondering what their plans are for Halloween. Do you think that you’ll be doing any Trick or Treating? Do your plans involve eggs or TP?”

   “Well, Mayor I am positive that our plans don’t involve any vandalism, and we are counting on the Halloween District to show us a delightful time. And sure, lots of Trick or Treating.”  Rowan shifted from foot to foot as he wondered if the mayor had heard things.

   “ So you don’t think there will be any hard feelings as the trick or treaters go out on Halloween night?”

    “Well your honor, I can’t figure out what grown ups will do one minute from the next, but us kids are okay.”

   “What would you think about holding a Halloween Party at the Hall?”

    “I’d think you were crazy Mayor!” blurted Rowan. “You know Count Acheron would be at City Hall or here at your house faster than a bat at midnight during a full moon if he heard you were planning something like that!”

   Shaken at the thought, the mayor stood up and said” You’re probably right Rowan! Let’s say nothing more about this! You’d better get Miss Havisham’s lawn raked before she gets home. You know how those clippings get caught in the holes in her stockings.

     The Mayor was terrified of the possibility of a visit from Count Acheron or anyone else from the Halloween District. Except for maybe that nice Mrs.Stull.

But he’d rather not see anyone. 

     He decided that he needed to find Officer Quickly and make certain that the Whimsey Village police force was in good shape and prepared for any possible hooliganism or shenanigans.  And that involved shaking Officer Quickly out of his tree house, making certain that the frosting was out of his ears, and that he had stopped screaming at the sight of Oreos. How could anyone be afraid of a 32.50 foot in diameter Oreo? Just because it rolled after the man as he ran terrified down the main street of Whimsey Village! It wasn’t double stuff after all! And while he was out the Mayor decided to get himself a new costume. It was time that he moved on from his leprechaun suit and dressed as something terrifying! It was possible people would begin taking him more seriously if he was dressed as a dangerous creature.  Maybe he would borrow one of his mother’s wigs and dresses. To his mind (or the Villager’s minds) there was no creature more terrifying or dangerous than his mother! Even Count Acheron was afraid of her!

A Very Bad Poem and Apologies to Mr. Moore

Twas the day of Thanksgiving and all through the village,

The mice were crouched ready waiting to pillage.

The crumbs that would drop would be tasty and most plenty

(Even the mice in the Organic grocery would taste of the bounty)

 - Officer Quickly might come out of hiding to join in the feast

With all of his relatives coming from north and from east.

Climbing down from his tree house to join with his brother

Hoping his antics would please, yes even grandmother.

Santa would sit at a table groaning with splendor

The Valentine Ladies would ooh with delight

 (As befits their fair gender)

At the pies and turkey that completed the sight

And would soon fill all the villagers with wondrous delight.

Tots all in Pilgrimy garb soon would sing and perform

Then upon all the abundance the village would swarm.

Here’s hoping that all will go well during roasting and meetings

That tummies won't ache and hearts will swell with fond greetings.

The villagers are eccentric, odd, and yes, downright quirky

But usually all will behave for pie and some Turkey!

And Away We go!

         The day after Thanksgiving the Clauses had packed up and headed home to the North Pole.  

          After the traditional lighting of the tree and deputizing a “Santa” to preside at the O’Brien Emporium and receive all letters addressed to Santa, the sleigh lifted off with just one grumpy red nosed reindeer in the shafts. The elves and the other reindeer had left in March to begin preparations for the Christmas season. Santa had promised that he and Mrs. Claus would indeed return after New Years. The sleigh looked a little worse for the wear; having been power washed to remove the last traces of frosting and cookies. (There was a worry that the caked on cookie remains would affect the aerodynamics of the sleigh, thus increasing the grumpiness of the flying caribou.) No worries, the elf in charge of sleigh maintenance had been notified and stood ready to bring the sleigh back to a Santa approved level of magnificence.

                    After the Gifting comes the Sifting

    After much caroling, wassailing and gifting, topped off with reverent worshiping (with a notable lack of cookie baking) Boxing Day dawned. For many years the villagers had been under the mistaken impression that Boxing Day was an opportunity to hit one another with overlarge mittens.   It served as an excellent way to work of the sugar high associated with the Holidays; or relieve irritation at receiving yet another gift that was the result of one too many late nights watching the Whimsey Village Shopping Channel or one of Mayor O’Brien’s misguided merchandizing schemes.

     After the advent of Miss Havisham’s relocation from the Dickensian Village over the Mountain, the villagers were instructed in the correct, modern, and green *Boxing Day. Yes, they flattened gift and mailing boxes, collected the used gift-wrap and carried the remains of Christmas to the Village Recycling Center.

    Auld Lang Synge was upon them. The wonderful tradition of taking small gifts of baked goods around to one’s neighbors. (Most of Whimsey Village's traditions center around baked goods) This was somewhat based on the DuPont’s new Year’s Calling tradition, but without the hangover. Mainly because Auld Lang Synge took place on New Year’s Eve.

   Now to be honest, most of the villagers took advantage of Auld Lang Synge to regift all of the baked goods that were deemed unpalatable and to dispose of fruitcakes. There is told of a fossilized fruitcake circa 1923 still making the rounds. The original giftees of the fruitcake having brought it with them from their old village. Upon unpacking in the new house and discovering the tin containing said fruitcake, the new comers decided not to be wasteful. Villagers in that particular neighborhood would greet each other the first week of January laughing ” Did you get the fruitcake this year?”

     Miss Lulu in preparation for Auld Lange Synge had baked 631 pecan tarts, 387 pecan bars and stirred up 117 dozen-pecan pralines to sell to the villagers who had eaten all of their goodies. However, the Gingerbread lady was advertising a buy 2 get 3 free offer on gingerbread police officers and throwing in a leftover Gingerbread house for each donation of canned vegetables for the Big City Food Bank. Apparently the goodwill so carefully negotiated by the Mayor was evaporating like leftover apple cider.

     Officer Quickly was in a quandary. As fond as he was of gingerbread in any shape, pecan tarts were very dear to his heart and stomach.

    As he walked along the lanes of the village swinging his legs in rhythm to a tuneless whistle, he came upon the building housing the Whimsey Village Weight Watchers and Parasailing Society.  Now Officer Quickly was by no means bulky. In fact if he turned sideways he could disappear from sight. A valuable circumstance that he often made use of when the Mayor was looking for him. However as he stood in enthralled wonder in front of the Whimsey Village Weight Watchers and Parasailing Society a thought flitted through his mind.  If he publicly joined the Weight Watchers group he couldn’t eat any cookies or tarts! And if he were truly lucky, he could parasail right over the mountain and down into another valley never to be heard from again! Or at least break a few bones and get some sympathy.

    Now full well knowing that he had socked away in his tree house enough sugar laden treats to sustain him through Valentine’s Day, (and then he would come up with another plan) Officer G.O.Quickly squared his shoulders, stood tall and marched up to and through the door to face the weigh in.

    Down the hill from the Halloween district lays Valentine Circle and Easter Lane.  As always a haze of chocolate and sugar infused mist hung heavily over that part of the village. The jellybean factory and chocolatiers were in full production.

    Officer Quickly was skulking down the hill, hanging close to the buildings his ears still ringing with the laughter of the Weight Watcher’s staff and the jeers of the parasailing instructor.  He sniffed the air appreciatively. Quickly, the answer reached his head. If as the chortling receptionist implied, he was 100 lbs. underweight, why then didn’t he make a stop at EVERY bakeshop within the village boundaries! Hot Dog!  And oh yes, he’d have some of those too!

    Meanwhile down at the Village Chemical Society, things were bubbling, burbling and boiling. A strange sulphuric aroma always seemed to emanate from the chimney; when the breeze shifted from the north it competed with the sweetness from the sugar mist.

     Most of the villagers avoided the area around the Chemical Society. There were great misgivings about the activities of the society. And then there were the strange fluorescent purple and lime green birds that roosted in the trees that lined the walk to the door. Not to mention the overabundant growth of stinkweed that circled the building.And there was often an interesting aroma emanating from the Lofgren Engineering Firm next door. Sometimes it smelt of room freshener, or pizza, and sometimes it smelled quite strongly. That's the only way to describe it. Quite strongly. 

     Was it just Officer Quickly’s over sugared imagination, or was there a low rumbling emerging from the Society building’s basement?

The Fireworks

     One of the Whimsey Village pet shops occupied a quiet and noisy corner of the lower village. Officer Quickly stood in front of the widow entranced by a teeming mass of puppy. There were yellow puppies, white puppies, brown puppies, black puppies, and spotted puppies in one constant churning movement.

      Astonished and in a haze Officer Quickly  found himself walking up the lane towards his tree house with a cardboard pet carrier in one hand and a large bag filled to the top with chew toys, collar, leash, food dishes and puppy chow.

          After struggling up the hill, he finally stood at the foot of the tree house ladder. Now how to get everything up the ladder without the puppy escaping? Quickly he took the puppy out the box. Holding the pup against his chest, he fastened his jacket around him. Holding the bag in his right hand and the ladder with his left, G.O. began a very careful ascent. Halfway up the pup decided to also climb. He began climbing Officer Quickly. The pup squirmed, wriggled, whined, and finally escaped the confines of the jacket. By the time G.O. reached the top of the ladder the pup had reached the top of G.O. With one paw in his left eye, one paw in his right ear, one stuck in his mouth and one flailing in the air, Officer Quickly reached up and hoisted his self up the final rung. Applause erupted from the Whimsey villagers who had gathered to watch the spectacle. Embarrassed, Officer Quickly pushed the pup through the tree house door and hurried in after him. As the puppy investigated his new surroundings, G.O. emptied the bag, filling the water and food bowls, and placing them carefully where the puppy could discover them.

       A constant irritated kind of rapping startled Officer Quickly from his enthralled viewing of the pup’s antics. He quickly realized someone was at his door and rushed to fling it open. A red faced out, of breath Mayor O’Brien stumbled into the tree house. When he had caught his breath he blurted out “I heard that you’ve gone and bought a puppy!”

 “I have Mr. Mayor! Here she is, isn’t she a cute fellow!”

“What were you thinking?! You can’t be responsible for a living thing!” With that pronouncement the mayor swept his hand around pointing out the row of dejected and very dead potted plants on all of the tree house windowsills.

 Officer Quickly’s face fell but quickly brightened again. “But this time it will be different!”

“And how is that exactly?!”

“The puppy will help me remember the food and water!”

His Honor pondered that for a few minutes and then said “Well then, how about potty needs and being alone during the day?”

Officer Quickly was very quiet. Then he tentatively said, “I’ll teach her to be a police dog! She’ll go on patrol with me and the good villagers of Whimsey Village will feel safe!

Mayor O’Brien looked down at the miniature dog tugging on his shoestrings and had grave doubts about the dog’s defensive capabilities. “I think we will have to send you both to K-9 training school Quickly! Then at least YOU would be leash trained! Have you decided on a name?”

“Miss Lulu.”

Four months later…

      Officer Quickly and Miss Lulu walked down the lane to the Halloween District. Miss Lulu’s tail was wagging so hard that her south end would sometimes wag in conjunction.  There had been a complaint from the official Fireworks stand that Count Acheron was selling fireworks and Independence Day Banners. This was a clear violation of the statute regarding the separation of Holidays and celebrations.  Officer Quickly was more than a little nervous, he wished that the Mayor would have come with him, but his honor said he had important things to do. (Probably cowering under his desk in anticipation the Count’s anger.)

       As they approached the Haunted House, it was impossible to not notice the building draped with patriotic bunting, flags and advertisements for fireworks of every kind.  Miss Lulu’s barks and leaps of joy were audible throughout the District. As they entered the Haunted House, Miss Lulu quieted, shying away from the shadows cast by the flickering candles. The eight foot tall candelabra held 25 dripping candles, the hanging candelabra was alight with 25 more, and every where Quickly glanced there was a candlestick with a lit dripping candle.  Then he noticed the crates of fireworks. Fire crackers, sparklers, Roman Candles, Catherine wheels, dragons and snakes, shells. And much much more. As the Count approached him, Officer Quickly looked up with apprehension. He began to stutter and stammer that firework sales were limited to the Fourth of July concession. The Count smoothly assured him that he wasn’t selling fireworks or indeed anything related to red, white or blue. In all actuality, he was giving them away! With the purchase of any candy item, a bag of explosives was included. Now how could that possibly be in noncompliance with the statute? And how could anyone find fault with his patriotism! Oh, perhaps there had been a slight, ever so slight increase in the cost of candy, but not enough to make the buying of a few treats prohibitive to even the smallest child’s allowance.

    Officer Quickly and Count Acheron were so involved in their discussion they paid no heed to Miss Lulu. Her little nose was quivering as she investigated the crates. The smell of the fireworks was fascinating, and then she saw it. The object of her investigation; a mouse, darting in-between the boxes. Frantically Miss Lulu began pushing the boxes with her nose, trying desperately to get in between them. Out of the corner of his eye the Count caught the movement and whirled around. “Here now!” he exclaimed. “Careful there!” Startled, Miss Lulu bounced back into a crate and then forward against an open box of rockets. The box knocked into the candelabra, and for a moment everyone froze as the candelabra tipped over and into the open box. Officer quickly dashed forward and scooped Miss Lulu up and ran for the door. The Count was desperately looking for his water bottle in a futile attempt at dousing the flames. Alas, the first rocket exploded.

     The sky over Whimsey Village was lit with the cascading stars, rockets exploding and spinning wheels. The noise thundered throughout the valley and bounced back off the mountains. In the distance the sirens of the village’s two fire trucks could be heard wailing as they wound their way through the lanes. Officer Quickly shuddered as he realized that soon he would face, not only the Mayor, but also his brother Firefighter in Chief S.O. Quickly. But he was comforted because he had Miss Lulu safe in his arms and the Count would certainly not be selling fireworks anytime soon!

Whether the Weather

     After the Pledge and singing of the semi- official Village song, (When Irish Eyes are Smiling) Mayor O’Brien called the village council meeting to order by rapping his favorite yo-yo on the table. The village secretary Miss Mellie had just finished refusing to read the minutes from the last meeting and resumed filing her nails when Officer Quickly came bursting through the door with his whirlwind of a puppy, miss lulu. The puppy galloped over to the Mayor and proceeded to announce his joy at seeing him with numerous slobbery kisses. “Get this absurd creature under control!” fumed the mayor. Officer Quickly grabbed miss lulu (the puppy, not the baker) by the collar and dragged him back to his place at the table.

      Councilor X (the Elf) asked in a quavering voice, “ Just what kind of dog is THAT anyway?” “He’s a Great Pei. “

“A WHAT?”

“You know, a Great Pei, a cross between a Shar-Pei and a Great Dane. A Great-Pei. Although I suppose it could be Shar-Dane.” The council members all set there, stunned, their minds boggling and unboggling as they considered the ramifications of a cross between a Great Dane and a Shar-Pei.

      The Mayor pounded his yo-yo on the table again, which caused miss lulu (the puppy, not the baker) to begin another round of barking. When Officer Quickly finally had him calmed down again, the red-faced mayor announced the first order of business.

     “It has come to my attention that Whimsey Village doesn’t have a Weather Station!

    “What need does Whimsey Village have of a weather station?” sputtered Count Acheron.

“Well, it always seems that no one ever knows whether we have snow, sleet or freezing rain! If we had a weather station we could get a definitive answer! I need to know if I should wear my woolies or take an umbrella!”

Councilor X (the Elf) said, “Have you ever thought of stepping outside your door Mayor? Or looking out the window?”

“That’s just it!” sputtered the Mayor. “I want to know BEFORE I step outside of the door!! It’s too late once I’m outside!”

“Oh, I give up,” muttered the Count under his breath. “The fool’s going to have a weather station whether we need one or not.”

     Miss Lulu (the baker, not the puppy), spoke up, “I realize that as the newly elected member of the council, I may not be up to date on everything, but do we have enough funds to pay for a building and to hire a weather person?”

“Easy peasy lemon squeezy!” pronounced his Honor. “I will be donating the gazebo in my back garden! It is just the spot. Not only is it not being used for anything, and it already has a desk and a telephone in it.”

Silence reigned over the council room except for the sound of miss lulu, (the puppy, not the baker) slurping as he licked his paws.

“Excuse me,” squeaked the Elf. “What kind of a weather station would a gazebo make?”

“Well,” said the mayor quite pleased, “If the weather person was ever in doubt as to whether the weather forecast was correct, they could just stick out their hand and check to see what is falling from the sky!”

(“Again,” grumbled the Count “I suggest that you do that for yourself! And who has a gazebo with a telephone and a desk?”)

“If that’s all that is required,” said the Elf, “then Rudolph could be the weather person!” “Hey!” said the Mayor, “do you think he would?” “NO!” shouted the Elf, “get some dummy to do it for you!

“Oh!” said the Mayor, maybe my brother-in-law would be available!”

Officer Quickly quickly leaned forward and whispered urgently into the Mayor’s ear.  “Um, scratch that, Miss Mellie don’t write that down!”

(No problem as she hadn’t been paying attention or writing anything down.) I would appreciate no one passing that last bit on to my wife or mother-in-law.  (However Count Acheron HAD filed that away in his prodigious memory for future blackmailing purposes.)  How about Granny Quickly? She is still alive right?”

   Dr. Tierarzt the veterinarian spoke up “Why don’t we just organizing rotating scouts to man the station?”

Count Acheron “I don’t understand how young boys twirling around in a circle will help keep track of snow, sleet, or rain.”

“No, no, NO!” shouted the vet, “you always get things wrong on purpose you old wannabe vampire!”

“How dare you call me a wannabe! I’ll show you!”

The council room was suddenly filled with screeches and snarls as the vet and the vampire began flailing at one another and was soon rolling around on the floor. Shrieking, scratching, snarling and spitting. Pandemonium ensued as Miss Lulu (the puppy, not the baker) barked and jumped in the fracas. Miss Lulu (the baker, not the puppy) was wailing at Officer Quickly to quickly do something to break up the melee. The Mayor and the Elf had both seen the desirability of being on top of the table.

Miss Mellie sighed, laid down her fingernail file, picked up her extra large soda, strolled over to the squirming mass of vet and vampire, and dumped the extra large, icy cold drink over them. The combatants withdrew their bite, and scratch covered soaking, selves to their respective chairs.

After everyone had settled themselves back into their accustomed seats, (the vet and the vampire glaring at each other, Miss Mellie leaving to find another soda,) the Mayor said, “Well, now that that’s settled, pass the gingersnaps and the cool whip!”

Trolley Trouble

      Usually getting around in Whimsey Village is a fairly simple matter. There isn’t anything that is really out of walking distance and one could easily hop on a trolley; either back and forth in the districts or ride the circular route throughout Whimsey proper. On one occasion Officer Quickly and Miss Lulu (the puppy not the baker) had even ridden all of the trolleys in one day. Just to make a show of “police presence” in the village you understand. Actually it had been a cold rainy day and Officer Quickly was afraid Miss Lulu (The puppy not the baker.) would get her paws wet if they walked his regular route visiting all of the various bakeries and cafes in Whimsey Village. Officer Quickly did a fine job making certain that the sugar supply in Whimsey Village was kept safe.

     But on this day there was no trolley service. The Whimsey Trolley, Tortilla, and Taffy Company  (The T3 company ) had duly notified the Mayor, the Newspaper, and Santa that trolley maintenance must be done during the walking weather season. They had consulted with the Whimsey Village weather station, where the official forecaster had dutifully stuck his head out the side of the Mayor’s gazebo and had declared that it didn’t seem to be raining, snowing, or hailing.  So walking weather was upon Whimsey Village. There would be no trolley service for two weeks. Apparently there is only so much frosting, gumdrops, and tinsel that trolley wheels and gears can roll over and have jammed into them before a little bit of cleaning must be done. And as for the Chocolate Lane and Valentine’s trolley, the wheels and the gears were coated with enough chocolate to make a candy bar the size of Miss Lulu. (The puppy not the baker)

     So being a lovely day and there being no trolley service, Officer Quickly, Miss Lulu and Miss Lulu decided to take a picnic basket filled with scrumptious pecan tarts, gourmet sandwiches and pink lemonade and walk down to Ponder Park and share a lovely feast.

    Officer Quickly suggested following the trolley line to the park. An unusual route but he mentioned the wildflowers growing along the way (both of them) and birds singing in the trees. (He hoped) Officer Quickly harbored boundless optimism that this route would help in dodging Firefighter Quickly as the trolley route did not go past either Whimsey Village fire stations. Ponder Memorial Park and Locomotive Relic were close to the village center so Officer Quickly, Miss Lulu, and Miss Lulu arrived quite quickly. Miss Lulu (the puppy not the baker) bounded off joyfully to sniff each and every shrub. Her front end disappeared into one peculiarly shaped bush, and her back end wagged itself into a frenzy. Her tail soon going in circles in her excitement.

      Officer Quickly set the picnic basket on the nearest table and adroitly assisted Miss Lulu (the baker not the puppy) onto the bench. He spread the hot pink corduroy tablecloth and set out his finest melamine dishes in a manner that even the senior Mrs. O’Brien would have approved. He poured the chilled pink lemonade. Carefully he set out the peanut putter and jelly sandwiches, arranging them ever so deftly on doilies garnishing each with a carefully crafted radish rose. Miss Lulu (the baker not the puppy) set the pecan tarts in the middle to serve as a delectable centerpiece.

     Officer Quickly seated himself and then without warning bellowed “Miss Lulu!” causing Miss Lulu (the baker not the puppy) to jump. After repeatedly bellowing “Miss Lulu!” and Miss Lulu (the baker not the puppy) repeatedly jumping, but Miss Lulu (the puppy not the baker) continuing her frantic tale wagging and exploration of the irregular shrub; Officer Quickly bounced up from the table, pink lemonade spraying in a thousand directions. Mainly on Miss Lulu. (The baker not the puppy)

    As Officer Quickly bent over to grasp the wayward pup, he caught sight of a leg. A leg clothed in the uniform of the Whimsey Village firefighter-fighting brigade. A leg that belonged to none other than Firefighter S.O.Quickly!

    Officer Quickly sputtered with indignation and frustration as Miss Lulu (the baker not the puppy) wandered daintily over to see what the fracas was.

     “Oh!” she exclaimed in her pretty lilting voice. “Why, its you S.O. Are you lost?”

   Firefighter Quickly quickly answered with that special tone of voice that he used for Miss Lulu. (The baker not the puppy. He didn’t have a special tone for the puppy except for maybe one of irritation as the creature had just managed to ruin another pair of his perfectly tailored uniform pants and revealed his carefully chosen hiding place)

 “Why no, Miss Lulu, I was just checking on the fire danger here in Ponder Park!  And I’m happy to say that it is perfectly safe for your charming self! “

    “Oh my, aren’t you sweet! I’m sure that G.O. wouldn’t mind if you joined us. There is always room for another Quickly at the table!”

   Glowering as he carried Miss Lulu (the puppy not the baker) back to the table, Officer Quickly sat down and grumpily proceeded to eat all the pecan tarts while S.O. and Miss Lulu (the baker not the puppy) had a sparkling conversation and planned a picnic excursion to celebrate the cleaning of the trolleys and the fire safety of the park. They were certain the fine weather would hold and that Officer Quickly would be oh so delighted to join them.