LSPoorEeyorick
04-13-2008, 09:02 PM
The following is a short story that I wrote with the intention of adapting it immediately as one of the animated interstitial "bedtime stories" within the screenplay I'm working on. I already have the visuals planned, and the Busby Berkeley stuff in particular will be more "show" than "tell," so I kept it kind of minimal within the short story. Thanks, in advance, for reading.
Marmalade started every day the exact same way. She looked up at the rising sun and sniffed in the smells of the morning. Then she tipped her snout underwater and blew orange-blossom-scented bubbles, stretched, and drew her toes out of the mud that lined the hippo pool at the wild animal park. It always made a satisfying squelching noise, so this was her favorite part of her morning routine. From that point, she liked to shake up the day’s activities.
Sometimes she would wade over near the glass wall on the side of the pool, watching zoogoers out of the corner of her eye, curious about the endless small creatures – and large ones – being wheeled around the park. The small ones would sometimes bang on the glass with a loud thwack, sending vibrations out to her flippy ears. An unpleasant sensation would reverberate along her crackled skin, and she didn’t enjoy that as much and would venture away from the glass wall upon the first big thwack. But every so often there would be a gentle but enthusiastic creature that peered at her quietly, with so much fascination, and so much affection, that she could barely pretend to be nonchalant, as was the custom for the park hippos around her. She would rise to the surface, take in an enormous gulp of air, and dive back down near the glass wall, where she would proceed to blow the most elegant stream of bubbles, moving her snout from side to side to create waves and shapes that would impress even the brashest of glass-banging toddlers. But, of course, Marmalade wasn’t making this show for them. She was making it for the shy creature with the twinkling eyes… and her bubble show made them twinkle all the more. That was, until the bigger creatures shuffled them away, always to some 11 AM showing of the leaping dolphins or the tap-dancing monkeys. “This is boring,” they’d grumble as they shuffled the little ones away. “These hippos do nothing but wallow in the mud – let’s find something more fun to see.
Other times, she would make her way over to the hipposcotch corner, as it was typically known, because the rest of the hippo community would splay themselves together as though they were etched in chalk on a sidewalk. She knew she should be social as best as she could, but she always found their habitual process – sniff air for a minute, hold breath for three minutes, blow a dull stream of bubbles for thirty seconds, sniff air for a minute – to be somewhat less than exciting. This, of course, was the standard for her counterparts… and had anything out of the ordinary happened, she knew they would only have snorted disapproval or feigned disinterest.
On rare occasions – rarer than she would have liked, because it was frowned upon by the hipposcotch squares – she would surface up near the zookeeper’s corner. She enjoyed this because it gave her the chance to look at the creatures in, what she thought, was their natural habitat. They were always busy shuffling papers around, scribbling on them. Unless it was their break-time, at which point they would turn on their magic television box. This was Marmalade’s very favorite time of all.
Often the box was filled with talking heads and headlines she couldn’t read. Sometimes it would show a dramatic exchange between romantic couples, gesticulating wildly and yelling at each other. But one day, one marvelous, special day, that magic television box changed Marmalade’s life forever.
Jules, a zookeeper who often spoiled Marmalade with extra carrots, had happened to take her break in the hippo observation station that day, and had switched the television box to a channel Marmalade had never seen before. It was black-and-white, and she could make out a waterfall and a man singing. Curious as to what this might mean, she nudged to the edge of the pool and tromped her hippo toes onto the ground to get a better view. Jules had noticed her, and turned, smiling, to wave at her hippo pal.
Once Marmalade had settled in, both looked back to the box to find that the scene had completely changed. Female creatures, wearing bathing caps and elegant swimsuits, were sliding down an even larger waterfall, diving in great splashes from the side, moving together in unison, swimming in graceful arcs under the water. It was as though she could see through a glass into a human pool, where they were creating more beautiful patterns than she could ever have imagined – as though the streams of bubbles she blew herself had turned into creatures and rearranged themselves into shapes like the sun, like an orange blossom, like a squelching puddle of mud. (To Marmalade, this - in particular - was the height of beauty.)
Marmalade’s brain fizzed and popped with the enormity of this new discovery. It was as though the purpose of her hippo life had presented itself to her in one magnificent swoop. She was destined to be a synchronized swimmer. She was destined to be a star.
Beginning on this quest was, as you might imagine, not exactly a roll in the mud. Marmalade first took it upon herself to learn to swim in great, graceful arcs in the hippo pool. Her massive belly and her thick hippo legs sent out ripples that made the pool choppy. Her practice session splashed the hipposcotch gang until they all were feigning a mildly-furious boredom while remarking back and forth to each other in the crisp, staccato tones of displeasure.
She next decided to practice the fancy patterns. She moved her hippo feet back and forth, creating imaginary flowers and puddles with the angles of her legs. In her imagination, she was surrounded by a circle of other swimmers, echoing her movements and filling out the rest of the pattern puzzle. It didn’t take her very long to realize that, all alone, she simply looked like a hippo who had rather lost her marbles.
Determined to transform herself into the exotic vision in her head, she ignored the zookeepers’ puzzled head-scratching, and the sideways looks from her snooty fellow hippos. Once and for all – she though to herself – I will show them exactly what I can do. She floated to the shallowest part of the hippo pool by the leafy tree, and trudged, step by sticky step, out to the mud pool and around the side. Firm ground was not friendly to her hippo legs, which supported all of the weight of her barrel-shaped body. But she was a stubborn hippo, and the aches and pains in her knees did nothing to deter her from reaching the shore by the deep end of the pool by the glass window. By now, a huge crowd had gathered around it, curious to witness the unusual motion and commotion at the pool. Little creatures rapped on the glass, and bigger ones furrowed their brows and smirked as she waddled to the edge. But Marmalade simply closed her eyes. She sniffed at breeze, wafting an orange-blossom (and vaguely rhino-dropping) scent in her direction. She drew herself up as tall and as proudly as she knew how. And then… she leaped.
(continued)
Marmalade started every day the exact same way. She looked up at the rising sun and sniffed in the smells of the morning. Then she tipped her snout underwater and blew orange-blossom-scented bubbles, stretched, and drew her toes out of the mud that lined the hippo pool at the wild animal park. It always made a satisfying squelching noise, so this was her favorite part of her morning routine. From that point, she liked to shake up the day’s activities.
Sometimes she would wade over near the glass wall on the side of the pool, watching zoogoers out of the corner of her eye, curious about the endless small creatures – and large ones – being wheeled around the park. The small ones would sometimes bang on the glass with a loud thwack, sending vibrations out to her flippy ears. An unpleasant sensation would reverberate along her crackled skin, and she didn’t enjoy that as much and would venture away from the glass wall upon the first big thwack. But every so often there would be a gentle but enthusiastic creature that peered at her quietly, with so much fascination, and so much affection, that she could barely pretend to be nonchalant, as was the custom for the park hippos around her. She would rise to the surface, take in an enormous gulp of air, and dive back down near the glass wall, where she would proceed to blow the most elegant stream of bubbles, moving her snout from side to side to create waves and shapes that would impress even the brashest of glass-banging toddlers. But, of course, Marmalade wasn’t making this show for them. She was making it for the shy creature with the twinkling eyes… and her bubble show made them twinkle all the more. That was, until the bigger creatures shuffled them away, always to some 11 AM showing of the leaping dolphins or the tap-dancing monkeys. “This is boring,” they’d grumble as they shuffled the little ones away. “These hippos do nothing but wallow in the mud – let’s find something more fun to see.
Other times, she would make her way over to the hipposcotch corner, as it was typically known, because the rest of the hippo community would splay themselves together as though they were etched in chalk on a sidewalk. She knew she should be social as best as she could, but she always found their habitual process – sniff air for a minute, hold breath for three minutes, blow a dull stream of bubbles for thirty seconds, sniff air for a minute – to be somewhat less than exciting. This, of course, was the standard for her counterparts… and had anything out of the ordinary happened, she knew they would only have snorted disapproval or feigned disinterest.
On rare occasions – rarer than she would have liked, because it was frowned upon by the hipposcotch squares – she would surface up near the zookeeper’s corner. She enjoyed this because it gave her the chance to look at the creatures in, what she thought, was their natural habitat. They were always busy shuffling papers around, scribbling on them. Unless it was their break-time, at which point they would turn on their magic television box. This was Marmalade’s very favorite time of all.
Often the box was filled with talking heads and headlines she couldn’t read. Sometimes it would show a dramatic exchange between romantic couples, gesticulating wildly and yelling at each other. But one day, one marvelous, special day, that magic television box changed Marmalade’s life forever.
Jules, a zookeeper who often spoiled Marmalade with extra carrots, had happened to take her break in the hippo observation station that day, and had switched the television box to a channel Marmalade had never seen before. It was black-and-white, and she could make out a waterfall and a man singing. Curious as to what this might mean, she nudged to the edge of the pool and tromped her hippo toes onto the ground to get a better view. Jules had noticed her, and turned, smiling, to wave at her hippo pal.
Once Marmalade had settled in, both looked back to the box to find that the scene had completely changed. Female creatures, wearing bathing caps and elegant swimsuits, were sliding down an even larger waterfall, diving in great splashes from the side, moving together in unison, swimming in graceful arcs under the water. It was as though she could see through a glass into a human pool, where they were creating more beautiful patterns than she could ever have imagined – as though the streams of bubbles she blew herself had turned into creatures and rearranged themselves into shapes like the sun, like an orange blossom, like a squelching puddle of mud. (To Marmalade, this - in particular - was the height of beauty.)
Marmalade’s brain fizzed and popped with the enormity of this new discovery. It was as though the purpose of her hippo life had presented itself to her in one magnificent swoop. She was destined to be a synchronized swimmer. She was destined to be a star.
Beginning on this quest was, as you might imagine, not exactly a roll in the mud. Marmalade first took it upon herself to learn to swim in great, graceful arcs in the hippo pool. Her massive belly and her thick hippo legs sent out ripples that made the pool choppy. Her practice session splashed the hipposcotch gang until they all were feigning a mildly-furious boredom while remarking back and forth to each other in the crisp, staccato tones of displeasure.
She next decided to practice the fancy patterns. She moved her hippo feet back and forth, creating imaginary flowers and puddles with the angles of her legs. In her imagination, she was surrounded by a circle of other swimmers, echoing her movements and filling out the rest of the pattern puzzle. It didn’t take her very long to realize that, all alone, she simply looked like a hippo who had rather lost her marbles.
Determined to transform herself into the exotic vision in her head, she ignored the zookeepers’ puzzled head-scratching, and the sideways looks from her snooty fellow hippos. Once and for all – she though to herself – I will show them exactly what I can do. She floated to the shallowest part of the hippo pool by the leafy tree, and trudged, step by sticky step, out to the mud pool and around the side. Firm ground was not friendly to her hippo legs, which supported all of the weight of her barrel-shaped body. But she was a stubborn hippo, and the aches and pains in her knees did nothing to deter her from reaching the shore by the deep end of the pool by the glass window. By now, a huge crowd had gathered around it, curious to witness the unusual motion and commotion at the pool. Little creatures rapped on the glass, and bigger ones furrowed their brows and smirked as she waddled to the edge. But Marmalade simply closed her eyes. She sniffed at breeze, wafting an orange-blossom (and vaguely rhino-dropping) scent in her direction. She drew herself up as tall and as proudly as she knew how. And then… she leaped.
(continued)