Orangina′s Travels

by Charlotte Ramsey

A Wet Cat

A wet cat is a miserable cat. Orangina woke and stretched, sending droplets of dew flying off his spiky orange fur. "Wherrre is my ship?" He asked, only it sounded more like, "ooo est mon ba-turrr," which is how cats speak in France. He didn't expect an answer, but he got one. "It floated off, mate, in the night. Say, you're mighty wet, huh? care to dry off?"

An Australian accent was the last thing Orangina expected to hear on the banks of the river Seine. He looked left, then right.

″Down here, mate!″ Orangina blinked, and struck out with his paw, trapping the strange little human-shaped creature like a mouse.

″Ouch! Hey, that′s no way to treat a bloke,″ the tiny man complained. He was only a little taller than Orangina′s paw, and wearing the most ridiculous outfit the cat had ever seen: A tan explorer′s suit with pockets everywhere, tall brown boots, and a wide-brimmed hat with orange feathers sticking out. ″You want the gold don′t you? They always want gold. Well, I′ve got something even better than gold, feline friend!″

Big Bruce Barley

″My name issss Orangina, mon ami!″ the cat said, lifting his paw to let the strange little man stand up.

″Great! I′ll call you Orry.″ He brushed himself off with a blade of grass, then shook one of Orangina′s claws. ″I′m Big Bruce Barley.″

″Big Bruce, did you say?″ Orangina growled a little with amusement. ″As in grand?″

″You got it.″ Big Bruce ducked as a bee buzzed past. The bug was bigger than his head! ″So... want to hear my proposal, mate?″

But Orangina was gazing down the river bank, searching for his boat.

″When I find that barge,″ he purred, ″monsieur will be triste, so sad! He′ll say, 'Orangina was the most handsome, skilled, and clever cat I ever knew′!″

″You′re clever, Orry?″

″Cleverrrer than you.″ Suddenly, Orangina caught a whiff of barge smoke and took off running down the bank, whiskers twitching.

He didn′t see the large, dark hole in the ground until it swallowed him up--tail and all!

Tunnels in the Dark

″Oof,″ Orangina complained, twitching his sore tail. Cats are supposed to land on their feet, but it never seemed to work out that way. If there′s one thing he hated more than being wet, it was being down at the bottom of a dark hole.

″No worries, mate! We′ll be out in a jiffy!″ sang a happy voice.

So Big Bruce had somehow fallen in the hole, too. Merveilleux! Orangina knew his barge was up there, moving farther and farther away. Perhaps ″Big″ Bruce could help him out.

″This is my hole, mate. Leads all over the world. See?″

Suddenly, the air flared into light and Orangina could see his newest ″mate″ holding up a tiny lantern with a firefly trapped inside.

Around the two of them, tunnels branched off in every direction. A sign pointing up said ″Paris.″ One across the way read ″Hong Kong,″ another ″New York,″ and a third ″Arctic Circle.″ There were too many signs to pay attention to all of them.

″Care to see the pyramids? A cave full of crystals? What about Mount Fuji?″

″No thank you, petit monsieur, I must return to Parrr-ee!″ Orangina meant ″Paris″ but he pronounced it like the French cat he was, poking around frantically with his nose for a way back up.

″Wait!″ Big Bruce swung his firefly lantern right in the cat′s face. ″I came to Par-ee looking for someone cleverer than I. Will you help me?″

Orangina didn′t answer. He was thinking of his comfy home in the captain′s cabin of his barge, his baturrr...

″Ahhh, I think you will.″ Big Bruce reached into a pocket and pulled out a book that somehow grew three times its size when the tiny man opened it up.

Orangina peered at the bookmarked page, and froze, hair standing on end.

Magic and Mystery

There, in Big Bruce′s book was a simple watercolor painting. Orangina blinked his yellow eyes and looked again at the most beautiful cat he had ever seen in his entire life. Her eyes were luminous green, her fur was deep and dark as the river Seine, and her whiskers curled delicately at the ends.

″Who isss she?″ Orangina purred, all thoughts of the barge forgotten.

″A witch,″ Big Bruce explained, ″Ahhh, I mean, the good kind. And a good friend, until... See, I wasn′t always this size. There was an accident involving a beehive, three butterflies, some pumpkin seeds, and a shooting star...″ as he spoke, Bruce lead the way through the twisting tunnels. Orangina followed, in a daze. The book was shrunk again in Bruce′s pocket, but the cat-witch′s face was burned in his memory.

″So you see,″ said Bruce, and Orangina realized he′d missed most of the story. ″All we need to do is get past the butterbees and choose the right pumpkin.″

Butterbees? Orangina wondered. They passed a sign reading ″Danger!″ and Orangina kept walking. Soon after, were three signs: ″Turn Back!″ ″Not One Step Further!″ ″We Mean It!″ After a lot more twisting and turning, a final sign was posted on a small wooden door: ″Don′t Tell Us We Didn′t Warn You.″

Big Bruce reached for the door knob.

Attack of the Butterbees

On the other side of the door, a field of brilliantly colored tulips basked in the warm sunshine.

″What is so dangereux about flowers?″ Orangina sniffed at a red and orange tulip.

″Shhh!″ Big Bruce held a finger to his lips. ″The butterbees′ll hear you!″

But it was already too late.

The air filled with angry buzzing. The creatures had colorful wings like butterflies, but stingers like monster bees. They swarmed the travelers in a cloud bigger than Orangina′s lost barge!

Big Bruce cowered behind one of the cat′s legs. ″Let′s scram! Otherwise, we′ll never make it.″

″Neverrr say neverrr.″ Orangina batted at the bugs with his paws and tail as the wheels of his clever brain turned.

″Can you chirp comme un oiseau, like a bird?″ Orangina asked.

″What kind of a mad, larky idea is that?″ Big Bruce′s voice shook. ″Ow! It bit me!″

Orangina smacked three more butterbees away from his little friend and growled. ″Take out the book! How big can it grow?″

″Not sure...″

Big Bruce took out the book and Orangina caught a glimpse of the beautiful cat′s face peering out from between the pages. ″Ah, ma cherie, I will rescue you!″ Orangina purred. 

As the cat and the tiny man cowered, swatting away stingers and colorful wings, the book swelled in size until it was big enough to hide underneath.

But Orangina′s plan wasn′t to hide. He had a much more interesting idea.

Into the Pumpkin Forest

Orangina flipped the book open so the pages fluttered, then poked his head under to lift it onto his back like a pair of strange-looking wings.

″Chirp!″ Orangina ordered as the storm of colorful, buzzing butterbees dove for his back, screeeing in surprise when they landed on paper instead of fur.

″Tweet. Tweet. Tweet,″ said Big Bruce.

″Louder, petit monsieur!″ Orangina said as he arched his back, making the ″wings″ flap like a bird.

″Tweeeeet! Tweeeeet!″

Flap flap.

Butterbees scattered every which way, hovering just out of reach, then when the flapping and tweeting didn′t stop, they buzzed off into the bright blue sky.

″Whooop!″ Big Bruce cheered. ″We got ′em! Orry, you really are the cleverest bloke I ever did see.″

″Wherrre is she?″ Orangina asked with a faraway look in his eyes. He had shrugged the book-wings off his back and stared into the beautiful painted cat′s green eyes.

″Ahhh, right this way, mate.″

Past the field of tulips, the cat and tiny man found a cobbled path leading into a dark, mossy forest. Curling and twisting around the ancient tree trunks were bright green pumpkin vines and huge pumpkin leaves. Here and there, pumpkins the same shade as Orangina′s fur grew bigger than the large dogs that sometimes chased cats through the streets of Paris. Orangina was safe from them on his barge, though. Safe and happy.

Suddenly, Orangina wondered what he was doing here. Where was the beautiful cat in the book? How was he supposed to find her in this dreary forest? Would Big Bruce Barley ever turn big again? And how, oh how, would he get back to his barge?

What happens next?