By Clare Bartel
Ivy had zero misgivings about bringing her armadillo spelunking with us. Gustave was well-mannered and well-bred. He’d accompanied Ivy to prestigious events, such as opera premiers, royal balls, and lectures on the nature of truth by eminent philosophers. His track record was spotless.
He is now sitting in the corner on time-out.
Here’s what happened: Ivy and I needed a break from the myriad obligations of princessing. What better way to recuperate than a week of spelunking in Malaysia? We booked a flight with Cashmere Air, packed our forty-two suitcases, trunks, banjos, telescopes, tiara cases, backpacks, handbags, pogo sticks, and Gustave’s cage, and boarded the flying carpet.
The day after we arrived, we donned heavy-duty climbing boots and hardhats (the kind with clip-on tiaras), hoisted our backpacks, and set off for the caves.
At first the going was easy. Gustave placidly trotted at Ivy’s heels as she explained the causes of geological features and recited relevant excerpts from scholarly articles and Journey to the Center of the Earth. Gustave nodded along in profound absorption.
Some sand skidded across the ground, diverting his attention from Ivy’s quotation of an academic essay on ornamental sweet potatoes. A fat, juicy beetle lumbered slowly through a fissure in the wall. Gustave’s eyes fastened on the insect, and all thoughts of sweet potatoes vanished. He hesitated a split second, then sprang forwards and hurtled through the crevice.
Ivy cut off mid-sentence. “Gustave! Desist this outrageous behavior at once!”
We darted after him, charged down the narrow tunnel, and turned a sharp corner. Without warning, there simply wasn’t ground beneath us. We fell down, down, through pitch-black darkness, the cold wind whistling in our ears and our hands wildly searching for something to grab.
I landed with a jolt on the stony ground. Something underneath me wiggled.
“Gustave!” Ivy sighed in relief and rolled me off of him. She firmly turned the armadillo around and proceeded to lecture him on the error of his ways.
“Do you have your flashlight?” I asked. “I lost hold of mine while falling.”
She paused in her lecture. “So did I. There should be a camping lantern in my backpack somewhere.”
After much rummaging, done exclusively by feel, I found it and clicked it on. We had fallen onto a tiny island in a vast subterranean lake.
“That was lucky,” Ivy observed. She pointed at several smooth objects in the water, barely discernable in the gloom. “Say, do you think those are buoys, or seaweed bulbs, or gray slimy polo balls someone left here by mistake?”
I was about to suggest some new variety of produce, when I realized they weren’t. The objects slid noiselessly towards us, leaving trails of silent ripples, and emerged from the gloom.
“Subterranean piranhas!” I clutched Ivy’s arm.
Another surfaced, then another, and another. Hundreds of ghostly pale piranhas clustered around the island, slowly swishing their tails. They stared with bulging eyes. They clicked their needlelike teeth. Waiting. Watching. Waiting.
We stood frozen in place, but the piranhas seemed unable to emerge. I drew a shaky breath and unclamped my hand from Ivy’s arm.
“Just don’t swim.” Ivy joked, straightening her tiara.
By the light of the lantern, Ivy rooted through our backpacks until she found a small wireless radio. She signaled an SOS. “Thank goodness I remembered to pack this.”
“There’s nothing more we can do.” I pulled a quiche dish and a tray of strawberry shortcakes from my pack. “We might as well eat lunch. Oh good, the quiche is still warm.”
Ivy fished out a checkered tablecloth and contemplated whether Gustave deserved his dish of dead bugs. We dug in, though the strawberry shortcake was slightly squashed.
After eating, Ivy’s head and shoulders disappeared into her bag again. She emerged holding Princess Monopoly.
“We might as well have some fun while we’re stuck down here.” She unfolded the board. “Besides, Monopoly lasts forever, and who knows how long it will take them to respond to our SOS.”
“Why, Ivy, you think of everything!”
Ivy had just landed on Rose Garden Lane, where I had seven towers and five cottages (the rent neared six digits), when a thumping and rumbling echoed across the lake.
“Say, do you hear that?” Ivy paused from reluctantly counting out the money. “I wonder if it’s caused by some species of cavern fowl.”
“Subterranean ostriches, perhaps?”
“Yes, yes, you must be right. I read once that—” She cut off abruptly. Gustave lay in a tight ball, shuddering violently.
“On second thought, it’s probably not subterranean ostriches after all,” Ivy said hastily. She gave Gustave a reassuring pat. I recalled Ivy mentioning that Gustave once tied himself to an ostrich’s left leg as an experiment and had never quite recovered from the terrifying experience.
The thumping and rumbling ceased, and several ropes landed around us.
“It’s about time!” exclaimed Ivy.
Ninjas in orange jumpsuits and hardhats slid down the ropes and began the rescue operation. With ease and panache, they repacked our bags, buckled us into safety harnesses, and sent us up.
In the tunnel above, a heavy-duty all-terrain limousine awaited. One ninja politely opened its door for us.
Inside was a barometer, a tea service, and several brochures about Observing Proper Safety Regulations When Spelunking in Unknown Caverns. Ivy handed Gustave one of them to read while we discussed our day. We’d both found our adventure terribly exciting but did not want to say so in front of the armadillo.
“I wonder what the scientific classification of those piranhas is,” I mused as we rumbled along.
“I’ll bet Princess Christina would know. She loves piranhas,” replied Ivy. “Have you read her latest books, Piranhas: Small and Splendiferous and My Life with Piranhas?”
Gustave sat docilely in a car seat, flipping through the safety pamphlet and looking out the window. A small shadow flitted across the cave wall. A spider. Gustave glanced quickly at Ivy, then at the seatbelt buckle, then at the door, then back at Ivy again.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
I like the lists of things they bring and talk about.
Now I can ask people, “What do armadillos, subterranean ostriches, tiaras, ninjas, and piranhas have in common?”
I thought it was very witty and clever. I got a chuckle in the first paragraph and was drawn into the rest of the story.
The princesses are priceless. What a fun romp.
That was wonderfully wacky and entertaining!