The Sanders Went Down to Georgia

Butterscotch had heard about the high ceilings, the paper airplanes and basketball games made possible by those ceilings; he’d heard about the baseball games in the front yard, the trips to the Loom City Creamery for Cake Batter ice cream, and the walks to the Fox Hill tower. Butterscotch had heard about all these things as he prepared for his trip to Eliot’s house, which is why he was so disappointed to learn that Eliot, and his brother, Gareth, had colds. There would be no basketball or baseball; no walks to the Fox Hill tower. There would be orange juice instead of ice cream and carrots instead of candy bars. Nope, Butterscotch said to himself, not like I imagined at all.

Butterscotch, Eliot, and Gareth sat on the sofa—hands and paws in lap, legs and paws crossed, faces long and droopy, and noses running.

“Thanks for giving me your cold,” said Butterscotch.

“Don’t thank me; thank Eliot,” said Gareth.

“I didn’t plan on catching a cold,” Eliot said. “I wash my hands at least twelve times a day. I use Listerine. What more can I do?”

“All this is giving me a fur ball,” Butterscotch said.

Two hours later, Butterscotch, Eliot, and Gareth had fallen asleep on the sofa with their mouths open. Their long breaths, in and out, became one big in-and-out breath. From the back of the room, their three bodies breathing looked and sounded like a big accordion stuck on one bass note.

And then something strange happened. Maybe it was the breathing. Maybe it was the fur ball Butterscotch had left on the carpet. Maybe it was the extreme disappointment, the boredom, or the colds. Butterscotch, Eliot, and Gareth dreamed the same dream.

In this dream, Eliot had become a lion. Gareth had become a tiger. And Butterscotch had become a little boy with freckles and red hair. The three of them wrestled in a field of ice cream trees and when they were tired, they played basketball on a rubber court that made them jump so high, each of them could slam dunk the basketball. Of course, Butterscotch now had the upper hand in basketball as he had actual hands instead of paws. Eliot and Gareth, now with paws instead of hands, had to pick up the ball with their mouths and jump head first to the basket where they slammed it home. After Eliot dunked the basketball, he roared so loud that the ice cream fell off the trees.

“Ice Cream!”

You know what they did next.

The lion, tiger and little boy called Butterscotch ate so much of the ice cream that their stomachs started to ache. They lay down in a triangle on the grass and all three closed their eyes. From a faraway place, they heard Eliot’s mother singing a song:

My little monsters, close your eyes
My little monsters, don’t you cry
My little monsters, I adore you
Sleep now, monsters
Sleep, sleep, sleep.
Sleep, my little monsters.

This morning, Wednesday, December 7, 2005, Butterscotch, Eliot, and Gareth woke up at the same time. Their eyes popped open and they all three stood up and started to speak.

“I dreamed I was a little boy,” Butterscotch said, “with smooth skin and hands that could grasp a basketball.”

“I dreamed I was a tiger,” Gareth said, “and I growled my cold away.”

Eliot frowned. “I dreamed I was a lion,” he said, “I roared and roared, but my throat still hurts.”

Butterscotch leaned over and whispered something in Eliot’s ear. Eliot smiled, then nodded. Eliot got down on his hands and knees and roared like a lion.

And then it happened: he choked and gagged and breathed. Nothing. He did it again. Choked, gagged, and breathed. Still nothing.

“We need to help him,” Butterscotch said to Gareth.

So Butterscotch and Gareth got on their hands, paws, and knees. They roared with Eliot. Their roaring was so loud that you couldn’t hear the sound of choking, gagging, and breathing. What you couldn’t hear, however, you could see: the fur ball that had been stuck in Eliot’s throat popped out of his mouth and landed on the carpet.

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