leonard and the telescopic trachea

Needless to say, the title is a work in progress. But I think I'm happy with how the story turned out, and it's not like it's a baby [just written for one], so who cares if I don't name it right away? Anyway, it's my first stab ever at a children's book.* Anthropomorphic animals teach us all a valuable lesson... or something.

Tucked away in the Santa Cruz mountains, far from the stretches of asphalt that wind their way down to the Pacific Ocean, there sits an enchanted forest untouched by human hands.

Within this mystical place, unseen save for in your imagination, there are animals much like those you might find at your local zoo. There are lions and tigers, polar bears and penguins, alligators and elephants...

... and one, lonely giraffe.

You might expect that this solitary giraffe had some sort of cute alliterative name, such as Geoffrey or Gerald or George. Maybe even Jonathan. I expected as much myself when I first heard the story. But no. This particular giraffe was called Leonard.

Unfortunately, as the only one of his kind in the forest, poor Leonard didn't know where he belonged.

He had always pretended that the zebras were his family, because they bore a vague resemblance to himself and ate from the same trees. They never spoke to him directly, but Leonard was happy to imagine the conversations they might have — if they could just get over that chronic case of laryngitis.

But one day, the zebras began to raise an almighty ruckus, and Leonard was forced to admit that they hadn't all been suffering from a debilitating lost voice after all.

"Heavens above!" screeched Zelda, as her siblings Zora, Zeke, and the rest gathered around. "The elongated freak has eaten all the leaves!"

A collective gasp rose up from the herd, and Leonard — as shocked and appalled as the rest of them at the idea that a leaf thief was on the loose — began swinging his neck right and left, looking for the culprit. But in doing so, he quickly saw that the leaves weren't gone at all.

"It seems you're quite mistaken, Zelda," he chirped with a helpful smile. "The lower branches may be bare, but there are plenty of leaves up here to—"

"Monster!" she interrupted. "He's eaten all but the leaves out of our reach so that he might feast while he watches us starve!"

Leonard shook his head and sighed. The explanation was simple enough: The zebras — who were many — had eaten all the leaves within reach, while Leonard — who was one — still had an abundance to spare. But Zelda was clearly in no great hurry to listen to reason, so rather than argue, the generous giraffe pruned a great number of leaf-laden boughs and rested them on the ground within easy reach of the hot-headed zebras before going on his merry way.

Not to be discouraged, he then tried to befriend a tribe of turtles, but they were having none of it.

"All that neck, and it isn't even retractable?" scoffed Terrance, who was clearly the turtles' leader. "What a waste."

He began laughing uproariously, as if this were the funniest evolutionary joke since the three-toed sloth, and all the other turtles joined in as Leonard slunk off.

If you've ever seen a giraffe with its head hung low, then you know what a strangely beautiful sight it is to behold. Thus it was that Leonard came upon a group of monkeys, swinging through the trees as if lighter than air. One, somewhat larger than the rest who chose to travel on foot, stopped to face the newcomer. Leonard needn't have looked up to make eye contact so, burdened as he was by a heavy heart, he didn't.

The primate, sensing that things were not well, furrowed her brow. "Say, friend, what's your name?" she asked quietly.

"Leonard," said Leonard.

"Pleased to meet you. The name's Aggie."

She put out a hand and waited. Wanting to trust her but unsure if he should, Leonard held out his hoof, which she shook with enthusiasm. "Yeah!" she said. "Put 'er there, pal."

Leonard allowed himself a smile. "Aggie... That's a fairly unusual name for a monkey," he ventured.

"Well, strictly speaking, I'm an ape," she explained. "But it was awfully lonely on my own, and the monkeys are a spectacular crew. Tad strange at times, but great fun. You simply must try—"

"Wait, wait, wait," Leonard interjected, his head spinning. "You're the only ape in the forest?"

"I don't see any other apes around here. Do you?"

Looking around, he had to admit that, no, he didn't.

Aggie's smile widened. "So there you have it. If even you can't see any, they must not be out there. In fact, I'll bet you can see all sorts of things the rest of us can't, with that neck of yours!"

If Leonard had been an ostrich, he would have buried his head in the sand. But things being what they are, and him being a giraffe, he hid his face with his hoof instead.

"What's the matter?" Aggie asked, with not an inconsiderable amount of concern in her voice. "Did I say something wrong?"

"It's this neck," Leonard moaned. "No one else has anything like it, and I just don't fit in anywhere."

"Is that all?" Aggie laughed. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

Leonard sniffed and came cautiously out from behind his hoof. "Isn't it, though?"

"Of course not," answered Aggie decisively. "Why should you want to fit in anyway when the world can just as easily fit itself around you?"

The ape's logic made a dizzying sort of sense, but Leonard wasn't fully convinced. "So if I wanted to join the monkeys in their game, that would be alright?"

Aggie shook her head. "Doubtful at best. Their favorite is Hide and Seek, and with your telescopic trachea, you'd have quite the unfair advantage. But they don't like me to play either, since I can't move around nearly as fast as they can with those tails."

"But that's terrible!" Leonard cried, about to once again abandon all hope.

"Actually, it's quite the reverse," Aggie returned. "From here on the ground, I make the perfect referee — something they always needed but never had a volunteer for. What you see as a disadvantage is precisely what allowed us to become friends in the first place."

Cautiously optimistic, Leonard wiped away a tear. "Well... what about me?"

Struck with a sudden idea, Aggie leapt up like a shot. "Wait right here!"

With that, she was off. And Leonard — as per usual — found himself alone.

*          *          *

Several hours had passed, and the sun had long since dipped below the horizon, when Aggie finally returned — but she wasn't alone. Following close behind were the monkeys, turtles, and zebras, but also the lion pride, a congregation of alligators, a murder of crows, a waddle of penguins, and a bear or two for good measure.

Leonard blinked repeatedly in disbelief, and Aggie took him aside as the monkeys started building a campfire.

"What in the world..."

"The way I see it," Aggie said, anticipating his question, "your neck lets you see things the rest of us can only dream about. So... I thought maybe they'd like to hear about it firsthand."

She was right, of course. Who wouldn't love to hear about the rush of the roller coasters, the sunbathing sea lions beneath the pier, the spray and foam from the crashing waves, corndogs, cotton candy, and ice cream cones piled seven scoops high, surfers gliding across the water, or the lights of the Boardwalk at night so bright the stars seem dim by comparison?

As Leonard told stories of all this and more, his new friends traded tales of their own: adventures in the forest, discoveries both small and large, departed loved ones, treasured memories, their hopes and dreams as well as insecurities and regrets.

And Leonard loved each and every one.  

Maybe, he thought, as Aggie shot him a knowing wink, we're not so different after all.

Yeah... might have to nix that last line. Faulkner would approve [of the cutting, not the line].

Next step: Convincing the immeasurably talented Imin Yeh to illustrate. Wish me luck!

* Note: Before anyone says anything, yes, I purposefully used words that are outside of the vocabulary of my target audience. Because (a) I would like this to be the sort of book parents/teachers read to the kids, and (b) how else do you expect their vocabularies to grow? No pandering to the lowest common denominator here, I don't care how young they are.