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Roofus (Part 2) by Patrick Fell Childrens [1,305 words]
Roofus (Part 3) by Patrick Fell Childrens [923 words]
Roofus (Part4)
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Roofus (Part4)
-Childrens story
[1,345 words]
Patrick Fell
[February 2009]
[email protected]
Anywhere The Wind Blows (Poetry) Just a short poem about moving on. [81 words]
Can We Get A Wild Animal (Children) Childrens picture book [131 words]
Dear Valentine (Poetry) Valentines Day poem to a girl I like. [171 words]
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I've Been A Fool (Songs) Bluesy. First two verses of new song, verse, chorus and bridge to come, from where I don't know yet. Help [56 words]
Rather Be Alone (Songs) -Country twangy song [140 words]
Roofus (Part 1) (Children) Story of 10 year old boy, his trusty assistant, and a long day of mishaps. [885 words]
Roofus (Part 2) (Children) Childrens [1,305 words]
Roofus (Part 3) (Children) Childrens [923 words]
Roxy The Mambo Monkey (Children) Childrens Book. Rhymes, rhymes and more rhymes, I just cant stop them. [599 words]
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Roofus (Part4)
Patrick Fell

It's time to call in, "The Worlds Most Famous Chief Inspector" code name,
"The Cleaner-Upper".
The "Cleaner-Upper" doesn't just show up at your door, or announce his arrival.
He appears. Like magic. At the scene, ready to work, rain or shine.
With no job too big, no job too small.
Oh sure, investigating, and solving, the most complex case in history,
"The Northern Hemisphere Museum Bank Jewel, Art and Money Heist,"
was a real challenge. The "Cleaner-Upper," also loves the ol' "cat up the tree,"
"hey, mom can't find her car keys again," cases. This case has a little of both.
And like cat-nip to the Cheshire cat (I think I made that one up)
the "Cleaner-Upper" had his curiosity in hyper-drive for this case.
Some investigators need a lot of information before begining a case.
Not the "Cleaner-Upper". He doesn't ask too many questions when he's detectiving.
He has a sixth sense for the world of detectory and relies heavily on three things;
Courage. Instinct. And, (like the camealeon). Disguises,
But choosing a disguise today would not be easy,
judging by the mess left behind from the previous
attempts at tracking down this formidable opponnent, it would take some thought.
Studying the bougainvillea intently, with a hand on his chin in contemplation,
he makes his decision. "Yes," he says to his trusty assistant,
"Moms flowery apron and beach hat should do the trick."
Once outfitted in the apron and hat, to complete the ensamble,
he decides to add the matching oven mitts, and as always, safety goggles.
Now, studying the scene, the "Cleaner-Upper" has concluded,
there is only one way in. Through the front. Directly into the line of fire.
Now directly into the line of fire is never the optimal
route, but in some cases, there is no alternative. So, in he goes.
Push back branch on right, pull back branch on left, and,
DUCK. Excellent. Lesson learned.
Deeper now, into the heart of the bouganvilla beast, where no man has
dared travel before.
There are remnants here of past battles. Feathers strewn about.
The twisted and tangled remains of an old spider web. The scattered husks
from shell casings of little yellow seeds. An old shoe of an ancient....
hey, thats my old shoe, I was looking for that!!!
"We're getting close", he whispers to his trusty assistant.
It's so quiet you could hear a pin drop. So deep now into the bush,
he wished he'd had his night vision goggles. But it's too late now.
Suddenly, he hears a very faint "click", and with incredible speed and precision
he zeros in on the sound quadrant. Something moved, very slightly and very small,
but something moved. He motions for his assistant to get down, hit the dirt.
His motion was badly misinterpreted.
His assistant bolted and ran away, quite quickly. Was it a mis-communication,
or did she get spooked. At this point the "Cleaner-Upper" was not concerned,
he was focusing in on the area of movement. There is something there.
It's hard to define but it looks like a miniature fort of some kind, like a very
small machine gun bunker. built right into the densest part of the bougainvillea
and between two branches that look, remarkably, like a sling-shot.
It seems to have two vines, stretched tight, with a little yellow seed in
the middle. And there seems to be a grasshopper holding back the stretched vines.
Wait a second....sling-shot?....... stretched tight?......yellow seed in the middle?.....
Did that grasshopper just wink at me?
Finally my trusty assistant comes to my aid and begins dragging me out of
the bush by my foot,(which hurts worse than the shot to the nose, by the way).
As she's dragging, I hear a click and then, a noise I never wanted to here again......
THAWACK!!!!!!YELP!!!YELP!!!YELP!!! My assistant has been shot.
Not on the nose,no,she's been shot in the nose!
A little background on my assistant: She's young. Pampered.
Not overly brave. And very relaxed, okay, she's lazy. We have to lift her
into the family wagon, occasionally we have to carry her on walks
and if we didn't wake her up, she would sleep all day.
But the "incident" changed all that. When that seed went in her nose,
it scared her so bad, she jumped over our six foot high fence with room to spare.
Then she proceeded to jump the neighbors fence, then their neighbors
and their neighbors so on and so on all the way down the block.
It took all the rest of that day and half the night to finally track
her down. It was just by chance that we found her at all.
Walking by the baseball field I heard this strange whistling noise, like a tea
kettle gone mad. Whistle-stop-whistle-stop-whistle-stop.
It was such an odd sound, I thought I'd check it out.
And wouldn't you know it, huddled in the corner of the home field dug-out,
It was Roxy.
The seed still stuck in her nose, whistling at every exhale.
After a brief, whistley reunion, my trusty assistant and I made our way back home.
I whistled the whole way and I think it helped calm her down.
Once home, getting the seed out was no problem, Moms tweezers
and her favorite treat made it easy.
But the next day, getting my assistant outside was not so easy.
I eventually got her out into the front yard, but she wasn't going in the backyard,
for anything.
I was a bit hesitant myself, but I knew it had to be faced.
No photographers, no detectives, no astronauts, no cleaner-uppers. Just me.
It took some thinking, but I had a plan.
Armed with pumpkin seeds in one hand and a white flag in the other,
(and a whole lot of butterflies in my tummy) I made my way into the bouganvilla.
"I come in peace", I whisper. As I approach his fort, I stop.
He's not hiding anymore.
He's perched on his sling-shot, almost defyingly, inviting me to come closer.
He winked at me. I took this to mean, drop the pumpkin seeds right there. I did.
He winked again and I stepped one step closer.
He was magnificent looking. Strong and green, and very sure of himself.
He had an air of power about him, a regalness, if you will.
In studying this, highly evolved and obviously talented grasshopper,
I began to wonder.
Am I really seeing this? How did he build this fort?
And the sling-shot? Are there others like him?
I can hear my trusty assistant whining out the back window,
trying to warn me, or will me away from this battle zone.
But hey, I live here too. I'm going to stand my ground.
I think the grasshopper recognized this,
and in a sign of respect he gave a slight bow.
As if saying, I won't bother you, if you don't bother me. I nodded my agreement.
Without thinking, I asked, "what's your name"?
There was an awkward silence. Apparently I thought he was so highly evolved
he might accually speak too.
"Roofus", I hear from the back window.
(Apparently my trusty assistant is more highly evolved than previously thought.)
"Roofus, it is then", and added, "from this day forth, by the power vested in me,
I proclaim you Roofus, Ruler of The Yard."
It didn't seem like much of a corination, but he bowed and winked.
I took that to mean, thank you and go in peace.
I never really got to know Roofus. Like most super heroes,
he keeps to himself, pretty low key.
But as the years went by, now and then, I'd set out some pumpkin seeds,
or some other treats I thought he might like. They'd be gone the next morning.
But I've never seen him since.
Is he still around, protecting his part of the world? I dont know for sure.
But every once in a while I'll find a little yellow seed in a pile of feathers,
or my assistant will yelp as she goes flying over the fence.
You can catch me smiling at those times.

Do I think he's still around? Yeah, I sure like to think so.



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© 2009 Patrick Fell
January 2009

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