by David Bolton
***
Around noon, Doctor Koala stopped by Judge Grandaddy’s tree. Sticky was already there.
“Mr. Johnson will be here tomorrow, and we’ll be ready. I think we have some pretty good numbers,” Sticky remarked.
“Forget those numbers. Here are the numbers we’re going to play,” the doctor said, placing the list of Claire’s “magical” numbers on the table in front of them. He then went on to tell them about her dream, of the numbers engraved on the gently falling golden leaves.
“My word!” Sticky exclaimed. “That is a remarkable story. Why, I do believe we should play these. What do you think, Grandaddy?”
“Sounds good to me. Claire always was able to see more than anybody else. Do you remember a few years ago, when she had that dream that koalas were losing consciousness and falling out of their branches, dead as doornails?”
“Yes, indeed I do,” Doctor Koala answered. “It was only one week later that the wet tail epidemic struck, and that is exactly what happened. They began falling like flies.”
“What a terrible time that was,” said Sticky sadly, “but we must look towards the future, and perhaps these numbers will be a good beginning.”
“It’s settled, then. These are the numbers we will play,” Grandaddy stated firmly.
A Visit to Humanland
At a quarter past nine the next morning, Mr. Johnson’s Land Rover pulled up to the southern tip of Koalaville. Judge Grandaddy, Doctor Koala, Sticky and a few more koalas were there to welcome him.
“Hello, my friends!” the human greeted them jovially. “Has anyone decided to go to the city with me today?”
“Well, sir, after thinking about it for a while, I thought that I would, if you have no objections.”
“Of course not, Sticky. Nobody else want to go?”
“Thank you for the offer,” Doctor Koala responded, but I must make my rounds. Grandaddy seems to think he’s too old to travel, and he just may be right,” he added with a laugh.
“Oh, I’m not that old, but no thanks. The truth is, I don’t care much for humans – present company excepted, of course – and from what I’ve heard, Human City isn’t exactly a paradise of peace and tranquility, which are perhaps the two things I value most in life,” Judge Grandaddy explained.
“Well, you’re right there,” Mr. Johnson agreed, “and I can well understand that you’d prefer to stay here. Nonetheless, I think Sticky and I will have a fine time. It will no doubt be quite educational for you.”
“You’re making me even more curious, sir,” Sticky said. “Would you like a bit of breakfast before we go?”
“No, thank you. I ate before I left the farm. I have a few errands to make in the city, so I’d just as soon start out now.”
“Fine, sir. Well then, good-bye, all!” Sticky waved to his friends. “I should be back by this evening, isn’t that right, Mr. Johnson?”
“Oh, yes, no problem. Hop in!” the human invited him, opening the door of his vehicle.
Sticky climbed into the Land Rover and took his place in the passenger’s seat.
“Oh, wait,” Mr. Johnson said, opening the back door and taking out several very thick telephone books. Asking Sticky to move over a bit, he placed them on his seat. “You might want to sit on these. That way, you can look out the window while we’re traveling.”
“Why, that’s very thoughtful of you, sir!” Sticky replied gratefully just before climbing up onto the books. “Oh, yes, now I can see right out the windows!”
Mr. Johnson helped Sticky buckle his seat belt, closed the door on the passenger’s side, then walked around and got into the driver’s seat. Looking over to the right, they waved good-bye to their friends, who waved in return. Mr. Johnson started the motor, and the Land Rover slowly drove off southwestwards. The human highway was about ten or eleven miles away in that direction; until they got there, they would have to drive over the rough terrain, but Sticky didn’t seem to mind at all.
“My, this is an impressive vehicle,” he marvelled. “It’s almost scary, that noise it makes.”
“That’s the motor, Sticky,” Mr. Johnson explained. “It’s what makes it move.”
“Well, if I may be honest, I think I prefer an anteater wagon, or a cart pulled by an emu, but I’m sure your vehicle does have its advantages.”
“Yes, I suppose it does!” Mr. Johnson laughed. “I can travel hundreds of miles with this, over just about any terrain. Of course, you koalas never have to travel such distances.”
“No, we don’t, and it’s just as well. I wouldn’t feel right, being so far away from my beloved Koalaland for any length of time.”
They continued to converse all the way to the highway, and when they finally were within sight of it, Sticky was amazed.
“Why, there must be hundreds of these vehicles on that road. I never imagined there could be so many!”
“Oh, of course there are, and millions more like them in the human world.”
“But isn’t it dangerous, with so many humans driving at such great rates of speed? I hate to admit it, but I am a bit frightened,” Sticky confessed as Mr. Johnson pulled out onto the highway and increased his speed.
“Don’t worry, Sticky, we’ll be fine. But you are right. Thousands of people are killed every year because they aren’t careful when driving. At such high speeds, an accident can be fatal, you know.”
“Well, there’s no need to go exceedingly fast on my account,” Sticky said, visibly nervous. “I’m in no great hurry!”
Mr. Johnson laughed a bit. “No need to worry. I’m only going fifty. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the view!”
“There aren’t many trees in this landscape,” Sticky noticed. “What happened to them all?”
“People cut them down, for farmland, or for construction.”
“Well, the constructions around here aren’t very beautiful,” Sticky remarked. “How could anything be really beautiful with so few trees around?”
“You may have a point,” Mr. Johnson agreed. “I suppose that from a koala’s perspective, a lack of trees makes everything seem very barren.”
“Absolutely. As we koalas have always said, ‘A life without trees would not be worth living’.”
“That’s a beautiful sentiment, it is,” Mr. Johnson smiled.
They continued to converse until they arrived in the city. The things Sticky saw there caused him to drop his jaw in amazement: entire blocks of buildings, streets filled with cars and trucks, traffic lights, shop after shop, shrill neon lights blinking incessantly, humans, more humans, humans everywhere... and noise. A nearby car blew its horn, and Sticky’s hands went instinctively to his furry ears. “Oh, it’s so loud here! How do you stand it!”
“Well, we humans don’t hear as well as you koalas do, so it’s somewhat easier for us to tolerate. But the truth is, I couldn’t stand living here. That’s why I prefer to stay out in the country, on my farm. I only drive up here every week or two to buy food and other essentials.”
“I do believe I will have quite a few stories to tell about all this when I get back to Koalaland!” Sticky said.
“Now that’s looking at the bright side!” Mr. Johnson laughed.
After driving through a series of streets, Mr. Johnson parked his vehicle in front of a shop.
“Well, here it is. The lottery shop. Get your numbers ready, Sticky!”
“I have them right here,” Sticky replied, patting the breast pocket of his navy blue overalls.
Mr. Johnson got out, walked over to the curb side, opened the passenger’s door, unlocked Sticky’s seat belt and extended his hand to help him out.
“No, thank you. We koalas need no help when climbing,” Sticky remarked, then quickly climbed off the books and seat and leapt out onto the ground.
“No, I suppose you don’t!” Mr. Johnson chuckled. “How about if I let you buy the ticket yourself. It might be an interesting experience for you.”
“Why, that would be pleasantly e
xciting!” replied Sticky enthusiastically.
They entered the shop. The shopkeeper, an older man wearing a visor cap, was behind the counter. He had his back turned to them, as he was placing some cans on one of the shelves on the wall behind the counter.
“Excuse me, sir,” Sticky said.
The man turned around, yet saw only Mr. Johnson five or six yards away, next to the entrance, looking at some magazines.
“Did you say that?” he asked incredulously, since the voice had not sounded like that of a man, and had certainly not come from that distance.
“No sir, it was I,” Sticky explained.
The shopkeeper looked down over the outer edge of the counter, and saw two furry ears on top of an equally furry head. He bent forwards to see what it was. “Was that you?” he asked with a tone of disbelief. “Or are you one of those ventriloquists?” he inquired, looking over at Mr. Johnson again.
“No, I’m no ventriloquist,” Mr. Johnson laughed.
“And it was I who spoke to you,” Sticky confirmed.
“Well, I’ll be! You must be one of those talkin’ koalas! I read about your kind in the Geographic Journal a few years ago, but I’ve never seen one of you in person… I mean, in koala, I guess.”
“Sir, I would like to express an interest in purchasing one of those…” Sticky was interrupted at this point by the shopkeeper…
“Oh, listen to that! He can’t only talk, he talks real fine at that! ‘Express an interest in purchasing’! Now that’s a dandy way of sayin’ you wanna buy somethin’, isn’t it? I do believe he talks better than my human customers!” the shopkeeper said with obvious delight, reaching over the counter and patting Sticky on the head as if he were a dog. Sticky didn’t like it, but courtesy forbade him to protest, for he didn’t want to insult the first human he had met in the city.
“As I was saying, sir, I would like to purchase a lottery ticket. I have my numbers right here,” he said, pulling the paper out of his pocket.
“A lottery ticket!” the shopkeeper marveled. “A talkin’ koala buyin’ a lottery ticket! My friends’ll call me a liar when I tell ’em this one! Oh, I’ve got to get a photo, sir…” he said to Mr. Johnson while reaching under the counter and taking out a camera. “Would you mind takin’ a picture of me with this little feller? Nobody’ll believe me if I don’t have a photo.”
“Well, I suppose so,” Mr. Johnson said, walking up to the counter and taking the camera from him. The shopkeeper walked around to the front and offered to lift Sticky up so that he could sit on the counter, in order to fit into the picture. Sticky declined the help, deftly pulled himself up onto the counter, and sat on its edge, the man standing right next to him.
“Say ‘cheese’, you two,” Mr. Johnson said just before snapping the photo.
“Thank you, sir,” the shopkeeper said. “I think I’ll have this picture framed and put it right up here on the wall,” he said, pointing to a vacant space between two sets of shelves. “Good publicity, the way I see it. If people see that even koalas buy their lottery tickets here, I’m sure to make more sales!”
“About that lottery ticket, sir…” Sticky said hesitatingly, not knowing quite how to dampen the man’s enthusiasm long enough to get him to actually sell him the ticket.
“Oh, right, one lottery ticket comin’ up,” the shopkeeper reached under the counter, took out a form used to mark the numbers, and explained to Sticky how it had to be filled out.
“I’ll mark in the numbers if you want, little feller. I don’t suppose you know how… Why, I’ll be! Look at that! He’s actually markin’ them off, one by one!”
“I do know how to write, sir,” Sticky said, trying to hide the resentment he felt at the man’s presuming his ignorance.
“You surely do! You got ’em all marked in just fine! This one’s on me,” said the man, reaching into his pocket and taking out a one-dollar bill.
“Oh, no, I wouldn’t think of it!” Sticky protested, taking the dollar that Mr. Johnson had given him out of his side pocket.
“Amazin’! He even has money!” the man exclaimed. “Well, I wouldn’t want to wound your pride, so if you wanna pay, that’s fine with me.”
Sticky handed him the bill, and the man ran the form with the numbers through a machine which immediately produced the lottery ticket itself.
“Now, you take good care of this,” the shopkeeper advised. “If you get the numbers right, you’ll need this to claim your prize.”
“Yes sir, my friend Mr. Johnson here explained the entire procedure to me.”
“Oh, that’s somethin’! Listen to how he can talk!” the shopkeeper flashed a big grin. “Is there anything else I can do for you fellers?”
Mr. Johnson bought a couple of cans of soda and a magazine called “Better Farming”. Then he and Sticky said good-bye to the shopkeeper and left the shop.
“Well, Sticky, you’ve just made your first purchase in Human City.”
“Yes, though I must admit it was somewhat stressful. Are all humans as excitable as he is?”
“No, of course not!” Mr Johnson replied. “Though a lot of them will be when they talk to you. After all, there has been practically no contact between people and you koalas, those of the intelligent variety, that is.”
“I’m beginning to think it was a wise decision our elders made when they decided that we koalas should have as little contact with humans as possible. Somehow I think socializing with them would significantly increase our stress level, and as you know, we koalas are not able to tolerate excessive amounts of stress.”
“Yes, I see what you mean,” Mr. Johnson expressed his understanding.
Walking around the streets, Sticky began to feel paranoid. Almost every human that passed them gave him a funny look. Some smiled, others laughed, still others stared in disbelief, especially when they heard him say something to Mr. Johnson. The worst were the children, who would walk up to him unashamedly and stroke his fur, or would block his path and start yelling things like “Look, ma! It’s a real koala! Can we take him home with us?” Most mothers would take their children by the hand and lead them off, but a few patted Sticky’s head, obviously as delighted to see him as their children were. Mr. Johnson took Sticky’s hand in such cases, and quickly led him away, saying they had to get to an appointment.
“Sticky, it looks like you’re a real celebrity!” Mr. Johnson joked.
“I might start to get used to it, if they didn’t pat me on the head. That is a most disagreeable feeling, it is,” Sticky complained.
“Oh, I can imagine, but people think you’re cute, and that’s what they do when they’re with somebody who is cute.”
“Perhaps I should try to look ugly, or make some horrid sound to scare them off?” Sticky mulled.
“Oh, don’t worry. We’ll go into that restaurant over there and get something to eat, and then drive around a bit. They can’t pat your head when you’re in the Land Rover.”
Sticky liked being in the restaurant a lot better than walking around the streets. There weren’t many customers there at the moment, so it was relatively quiet. The waitress was friendly, though very surprised to see a koala there. Mr. Johnson ordered a steak with potatoes and some vegetables. Then the waitress asked, “Can I get something for your pet, too, sir?”
“Pet? Oh, you mean my friend here. No, he can order for himself.”
“Yes, miss, if you don’t mind,” Sticky said.
“Oh, it’s one of those talking ones! I heard something about your kind on TV! Say… could I have your autograph? My little sister just loves koalas! Not that I don’t, I mean…”
“Why, yes, I suppose so,” Sticky pulled a pen that Mr. Johnson had given him out of his pocket, and the waitress gave him a piece of paper.
“There you are,” he said after signing his name.
“Oh, ‘Sticky’! That’s a cute name, it really is!” the waitress smiled with delight.
“Oh, thank you, I guess,” Sticky looked at
the name tag on her dress. “Jenny is a cute name, also. It sounds like a koala name, as a matter of fact, though I have never met a koala named Jenny.”
“Oh, that’s nice of you to say! I never thought of my name as a koala name, but then, why not? Oh, I’m sorry...” the waitress picked up her order pad again. “What can I bring you to eat?”
“Well, I thought I might try one of these grilled cheese sandwiches, and to drink, a root beer,” Sticky told her.
“One grilled cheese and root beer, coming right up,” she smiled again as she hurried off to fill the order.
“A very nice human, I think,” Sticky opined. “I hope the sandwich agrees with my stomach.”
“Oh, I’m sure it will,” Mr. Johnson said. “You koalas eat more than just leaves these days, and some bread and cheese surely won’t hurt you.”
When their meal was served, Sticky took a sip of the root beer.
“Why, this tastes just like some medicine Doctor Koala once gave me,” Sticky remarked.
“Don’t you like it? It’s true that some people say that root beer tastes like medicine,” Mr. Johnson said.
“Or perhaps medicine tastes like root beer?” Sticky speculated. “In any case, I think it’s delicious. As you know, we koalas don’t drink much, but in this case, I think I’ll make an exception,” Sticky took a big gulp, after which he burped. “Oh, I’m sorry, that wasn’t very polite...”
“That’s all right,” Mr. Johnson laughed. “I guess you’re not used to that carbonation.”
For dessert, Sticky ordered a small hot fudge sundae, and loved it. “That was one of the most delicious things I have ever eaten in all my life. But can something so tasty be good for you?”
“Well, it might not be the most nutritious food in the world, but there’s nothing wrong with splurging on occasion,” Mr Johnson reassured him.
The long ride back to the grove was partly spent in amiable conversation. Sticky had a hundred questions to ask Mr. Johnson about all the things he had seen that day in the city, yet all the excitement had understandably made him weary, and after about a half hour, Mr Johnson noticed that he was silent. Looking over, he saw that Sticky had fallen fast asleep.
The sun had almost gone down when they arrived in Koalaville. Mr Johnson gently awakened Sticky, who was surprised to see that he was home again. They got out of the vehicle, and Sticky thanked him for a memorable day.
“Don’t mention it, Sticky, it was my pleasure. Whenever you want, you can go along with me again.”
“Thank you kindly, sir, but I think I’ll need a few months to assimilate all the impressions I had today.”
“Oh, I quite understand!” Mr Johnson smiled. “Well, I’ll be going now. Keep that lottery ticket in a safe place.”
“Indeed I will, Mr. Johnson. Thanks again for everything!” Sticky waved as the human got into his Land Rover and drove off towards his farm, several miles to the southwest, just on the other side of the border to Koalaland.
Sticky first thought of finding his friends Grandaddy and Doctor Koala to tell them about everything he had seen in Human City, but he was completely exhausted, so he decided that there would be enough time to socialize the next day. He headed straight for his tree, climbed up to his favorite branch, curled up, and was soon in Dreamland.