#mgpam

I was feeling nosy and checked it out. Bull Sharkowski was watching nearby. I asked him what happened, and he said that Teddy was being transferred to another school. "Already!?" I asked. Bull didn't know why. Either way, I was gonna miss Teddy. He told the best jokes back in class. The school of hard knocks, ha ha ha! He sure had a better run than the last new kid, the aye-aye. Then he uh, kicked the bucket. Guy was a drag, but he didn't deserve that. Somebody had him taxidermized, though, and the results were uglier than it sounds. Lemme tell you, they ain't stuffing me like it's Build-a-Boar when I'm gone! I've seen the lion in Gripsholm Castle.

Then, Teddy went from cool to creepy. The fellas still weren't out by the time our busses left. I was feeling impatient, and ready to pass out, so I just skateboarded back without them. Along the way, I checked the news on a TV in a display window for this electronics store. They were covering a school bus that drove off a cliff. The vehicle was twisted metal, but the driver hopped out in time. Her passenger climbed on her back, Teddy. The lady was catatonic, and the way she looked over at Teddy in the footage told me why might've made her swerve. Yeah.

I woke up past five, when the fellas finally returned to our exhibit. I told them the whole story. Carmine couldn't make heads or tails of it, either. They hadn't seen or heard Teddy that day. Then, Garson popped up to give his two cents. No surprise, the dude was eavesdropping on us, under the excuse it's technically his job. Bobby was with him, being zookeeper's lackey like he does.

"That dummy might be haunted," Garson said flatly, "but it's just a dummy. You animals can't tell the difference because you interacted with puppets as cubs and well, seems a few wires in your heads got crossed."

He was right. Two were used on us. A lion named Leander and a lioness named Leonce. We hadn't thought about them in years, but remembering them hit us like a soccer ball to the face... Bobby noticed and had to comment.

"Aw, are the cubs missing their old puppets?" he teased. We collectively snarled, but couldn't pounce him with Garson right there.

Won't waste precious lines on Bobby. Leander and Leonce were played by Garson's old helper, this Indian chick named Naisha. Some woman she is. She started off as an intern. Most don't survive the first week, but Naisha is no ordinary human. She's trained in all kinds of martial arts. Standard stuff like karate, some style some India, and a couple I've never heard of. They helped not only survive, but thrive at the zoo. Wrangled animals Garson could never. So, less than two weeks later, he promoted Naisha to his helper (last one cracked from the pressure and bailed months earlier).

We have a long story with that lady, that I don't feel like writing. This happened over seven years ago, so she's pushing thirty now. Girl resigned two years ago in pursuit of fighting competitions and stunt acting. She enjoyed the zoo, but it wasn't her true calling. That was fair. I wouldn't waste my talent in this zoo, either.

But man, could she puppeteer! Leander and Leonce themselves were bland—heir alter egos were the real show. Even had alternate outfits for each one. Leander had a librarian in glasses who taught English, and lion puns. A robed gentleman who told stories and histories. A wisecrack with the best jokes, especially about humans. Leonce had a caregiver who taught lion etiquette. A huntress who made us the apex urban prowlers we are. A nutty professor who taught math without boring us to sleep, with what she called psychomath.

We woke up to them. Spent meals and weekends and breaks with them. Good times, and wild times. Too many to list, but what made them matter most was how much smoother they made our first years at this zoo. We took the puppets of the grownup lions, or Gregory the tattletale toddler, any day.

So yeah, we knew they were just puppets. Not cause Garson told us, it'll make sense later. We still grew attached to them, and turns out it never left. The moment our memories were jogged, we were nostalgic. What makes the older zoo animals have midlife crises. Like Leslie Lamb's dad, who sheared his wool to (try to) look younger. Pretty sure he copied my mohawk, and I feel old already, reminiscing.

It might also be making us visit the zoo storage buildings. Ever since that chat with Garson, we've all been wanting Leander and Leonce back, badly. Of course, Garson mentioned not seeing them since we were like, ten. Neither does Shin-chan, or whatever his name is. We also don't have Naisha's new number. So, we've been going through boxes blind. No luck so far, but there's plenty more containers, and buildings to check. We ain't flipping out, yet... I get the feeling Maurice knows something, for no reason.

Thinking back, I think I saw Teddy before he attended CDMS. Maybe Windsor brought him to school once? But I'm not following around freaking Windsor, and I'm still so tired, so goodnight.

---

There's this sixth grader named Dickie Sugarjumper, whose parents must've regretted him to name their child that. He's this obnoxious transfer student from the UK. I know, because we get zoogoers from there, with his accent. Dickie's a class clown, just not how he hopes. Just cause his comedy isn't one-note like Lippy's impersonation doesn't make him entertaining. His tapdancing sure doesn't.

So, why am I mentioning this kid? Cause his accent, and school outfit, became the trend of the week. And uh, it might've been our fault...

It started last Friday. Springtime just roll in. When it does, us animals dress to impress. Maurice says it's instinctual? But normally, we avoid the fads. We're undefeated in soccer, talent show kings, and the freshest-dressed in our grade. We don't need to trendhop. But sometimes, we just like the weekly trend. Like, if they involve fashion. Also, the dress-up culminates in a runway show through the halls. Since it's out last year here, we wanted to go big.

First, we needed ideas. So, we lapped the city, snatching clothes magazines. The good ones. After flipping through a dozen, we actually found some fetch duds. Next, we had to narrow them down. John suggested we pick one each. Yep, he didn't get the memo. We always wear matching outfits for stuff like this! Otherwise, we'd look whack. So, John was banned from voting, even if that put us on an even number.

Carmine and I took a minute, but we settled on something. These white suits with fedoras. They looked retro, the kind Maurice will wear to look old school, trying to impress us. Well, I guess he was onto something, because these suits were perfect. We'd even seen these getups in a display case at the mall. One of the fancy clothes shops.

But even the high end establishments have crap security. Me and the fellas cooked up a plan to nab those suits in minutes. We swung by during downtime hours. Carmine distracted the cashier with compliments on her threads. He called it a struggle and no kidding. Girl looked like shed showered in Nick slime. But he diverted her attention ling enough for John and I to snatch the suits and hightail it out. Carmine caught up a couple minutes later.

The suits were just our size! The pants were tight around our lions legs, but we always make it work. The outfits even came with black undershirts that didn't stick out, and matching bling! Including this huge necklace that I was sure Carmine would call dibs on immediately. But he thought it was too heavy, and opted for the smaller one. John didn't get one, but he's never liked jewelry, anyway.

Our stuff needed washing, cause they'd been on those mannequins since the school faculty was dancing to disco. I handled that, cause the fellas get the settings wrong sometimes. They'll use bleach, hot water, and/or mix the whites with blacks. Spelling it out to Carmine and John embarrassed them and they got all defensive. Whatever, they'd thank me later. Even if the show went sideways.

When the big day rolled in, we spent that entire morning grooming and practicing. We sealed our clothes in plastic to prevent anyone or anything from messing them up. Carmine and John took the bus, but I skated. I needed the fresh air before school, anxiety was getting to me. Always at the worst time!

I felt a little better by the time we hit the boys' locker room to change. Carmine and John noticed me being anxious, and gave me some words of encouragement. "You already show them up with just the mohawk." "Maurice said you're a natural." "See how nobody turned up? They know you'll kill it." Wasn't a lie. It was just us, like last time. The other carnie boys (carnivores) mock us for being the only boys in the show, but I think they're just jealous. They wish they had the confidence to walk the runway.

A few minutes later, it was time. We headed back upstairs and joined the other contestants. We lined up behind some curtains hung over an entryway. I saw the spotlights shining through the fabric, and other student chatting outside. All about to be on us. My newfound confidence was ebbing already. Also, because right in front of us, chatting up a storm, were the Pretties.

We're still separated, but we're also still on good terms. Even chatted with them the other day. The show hadn't come up, so I guess we figured they weren't participating. Well, we were wrong, and the girls were dressed like serious competition. Their suits were different colors and styles, but all so fetch. Margaret's threads were poofy and that vibrant shade of pink she always uses. It's grown on me, won't lie. Hey, pink ain't that bad! Latanya rocked this fuzzy purple suit, with a necklace identical to mine. Carmine didn't like it on him, but he loved it on her. Dude was eyeballing the thing. Joanie worse something sea green and sporty, and that second detail earned a two-thumb approval from John the jock.

In other words, they wore their usual colors on different clothes. They were still big contenders. We were so preoccupied by that, we neglected to notice they wore the same fedoras as us. That, and the girls' turn came up quick. They stepped out, and we heard Jake Spidermonkey over the mic. Of all the students who could've hosted the show. We could work with it, though.

Carmine heard the girls moving forward outside. That was the cue to step out. I took one of the deepest breaths I've had since the time our first week of middle school, when we were placed in CDMS' night classes. The one with all the skunks. Good thing we could switch to day classes. But, we assumed the positions we went over in the locker room and marched out. I saw a good few opening eyes on us as Jake introduced us and we struck the pose. Even contrarian Kaku seemed impressed. I'd say we killed it.

Then, the Pretties noticed us. As in, the fedoras. "Hey! Them's our fedoras!" Latanya called out as they spun around and confronted us. She didn't notice our matching necklaces right away, though. I couldn't tell her even if I meant to. None of us got to answer, cause Lupe swooped in a second later, screeching that someone stole her bling. Like anyone would copy her. But in the moment, we all got defensive. We'd never use the girls' idea without their permission! And if Lupe wanted to accuse them of that, she had it coming! So next thing we knew, we were brawling in the hallway, churning up dust.

The same hallway with Principal Pixiefrog's office. He saw the commotion and he wasn't happy. We didn't notice until his voice blared through the intercom, announcing that next week would have three horrible words...

Mandatory school uniforms!

My skin crawled. To us lions, conformity is disgusting. Even worse, whatever uniforms they'd pick were bound to be lamer than the Spiffies' dress code. Nobody would like it, and everyone would know who to blame. Us.

"Guys, what have we done?" I asked panickedly.

We couldn't process it right away, because Carmine and John started arguing with their girls, and Margaret scolded me. About the announcement, the fedoras, and us scuffing their outfits. In situations like that, Carmine would be going off. But uh, Latanya. Lupe was also still trying to attack us, but John swatted her away like a fly.

"Come on, Latanya!" Carmine pleaded to her. "I might copy homework, but I'd never copy off you without asking!"

"Yeah," I chimed in, "we didn't even know you'd be in the show this year!"

"Um, we were in it the last two years?" Joanie reminded.

"So were we!" John shouted. Yep, this wasn't a one-time thing. You bet we killed it in sixth and seventh grade, too.

That exchanged made Carmine connect the dots. He put himself in front of everybody to speak. "Aw, man. I know what this is. It's us forgetting the other existed until Adam paired us!" he explained. We really did. Hope that never puts a strain on our relationship.

The Pretties laid off after Carmine figured it out. They were feeling sorry for jumping to conclusions. We felt we'd gone too far, too. Except with Lupe.

"Sorry, though," I apologized. "We'd never to you girls dirty. What are we, Adam?"

That got a laugh out the others. The Pretties aren't exactly cool with Lyon, either. Not since their false date. Remember when Adam mislabeled Margaret as a rare rhino? He tried breaking the truth that lunch. Only, it backfired. So badly, the Pretties thought he'd asked them on a date. Adam finally told the truth during said date, in one of the animal-friendly restaurants. Marge, of course, took it terribly, but Latanya and Joanie had her back. They had a falling out over the deception, but the Pretties are like us. We fight a lot, but nothing can break us apart. Not for long. Especially not over a fluke date. So, they made up.

“Alright, boys, we believe you,” Latanya admitted. Thank goodness. I pointed out us having the same necklace. She wasn’t even mad. In fact, she begged me to have mine. I could just steal another, so I let her have it. 

“Us having the same hats is still weird,” Margaret said. “Where’d you boys get the idea?” Well, I mentioned the magazine we got it from. The Pretties actually read that one all the time. Also, I didn’t tell the boys this, but I read it, too. I might’ve coaxed Carmine into picking that one during voting. Marg and I spent a while talking about all the cool outfits we’d seen in that mag. Until we had to get to class. 

And just like that, we were cool again. So were John and Carmine with their girls. Glad we could rebound. They didn’t seem as mad about uniforms. They certainly weren’t while wearing them. Just not how I expected. None of us could’ve predicted that. 

That weekend, Maurice visited our exhibit. First, he asked what sparked our fight with the Pretties. We swore we all made up. Maurice gladly believed us, and didn't punish us, while teasing about our feelings for them. But that he sympathized. We knew where it stemmed from. He still has his sights on that mystery woman. Whose identity remains a complete mystery to us. No, Maurice, we haven’t been nosy. Honestly, we don’t care. 

Second, he remarked how we looked under the weather. We answered with the uniforms we made happen, but there was an ulterior reason. The puppets. We still hadn’t found them yet, even after a half dozen searches through storage. It wasn’t something we wanted to discuss with him. Not on that day, anyway. 

Maurice found it funny that we mentioned the uniforms. That was cause he’d brought ours. Wonderful. They came in those white boxes they use for clothes. And they smelled different. How, we couldn’t pinpoint until we begrudgingly opened them. Inside were just, the exact same clothes Dickie wears to school. White dress shirt and sweater with a black tie. Blue coat and hat. Grey trousers and black dress shoes with white socks. The scent was of the British. 

To say we messed up was an understatement. 

We were all less than thrilled. Carmine flipped out over the hat. He got the letters across his custom made. Dude loves his cap. Being unable to wear it to school left him a grumpy cat, even more after seeing the blue hat. I just couldn’t stand looking at any part of that thing. I knew it was gonna be awful, but not that awful! John just stared at it funny. Which makes sense in hindsight. 

Because we never wanted it to arrive, that dreaded Monday rolled in quickly. I couldn’t avoid the bus, or the scowls I thought we’d see for our mistake. Even skateboards were banned alongside non-uniform clothes! So, we took our sweet time getting to the front of the zoo, where our school bus picks us up. The moment the other kids came into view, we detracted our claws, ready for a fight. 

What we got instead was them ignoring us and chatting like British schoolchildren. In other words, they’d become Dickie. 

I heard he wore those back in Britain and never stopped wearing them here in the States. Yep, that’s on brand for him. Also on brand that PF outsourced the uniforms from a random country to cut corners. Maybe it was the other kids suddenly finding them cool, or they were haunted by the souls of dead Brits, but these uniforms were just influencing everybody. I mean, they weren’t hunting us, but honestly, I’d take that over whatever this was. 

“We messed up,” I sighed to John. 

“I don’t know, chap,” John answered, also in a British accent. “Seems fun to me, innit.” Carmine and I whipped our heads to him and there he was, smilingly acting like nothing about this was out of whack.

Yeah. Usually, John is immune to the bad trends. Usually. Every now and then, he’ll randomly bandwagon. Whether or not we snap him out of it depends. John is stubborn like a mule. More than the actual mule kid. Or is he a horse? What’s the difference? 

The bus pulled up a few minutes later. John sat towards the front with the bulk of the kids. Carmine and I weren’t up for dragging him with us, not this early. He and I just hid in one of the backseats, trying to remain invisible. We sneaked our headphones in our manes, and tried drowning out the Dickie-chatter as best as our speakers could. Risking it for those fancy surround-sound headphones from the electronics store seriously paid off. 

Speaking of Dickie, he was sitting across from us. To my surprise, he looked beyond disappointed. Guy was NOT loving the trend. Maybe he found it offensive? I could relate. Occasionally, some idiot assumes us lions listen to stereotypical jungle music. I mean, sometimes we do, but mostly cause our parents introduced it to us as cubs. 

The fun was just getting started. At the school, even the faculty were in on the gag. Mrs. Tusk wore some kind of maid outfit, handing out British tea and British food. The outfit could’ve been worse, but not even the best clothes could make that lady look pretty. Is her husband blind? And how does Mr. Hornbill have the hots for her, according to his diary? 

Yes, a diary, and Maurice ain’t making him use it. 

This trend kept pushing our buttons. Carmine and I sought the Pretties in desperation. We thought they’d hate this stuff, too, but we were dead wrong. There they were, knee deep in acting like English schoolgirls. As much as we wanted to break them free, we didn’t wanna make them mad. Not after the runway incident. So, we just chatted with them a bit. Margaret handed me tea and something called a crumpet. They were okay, I guess. I’m a carnivore, and those things were all grain. The girls’ accent grated us quickly, so me and Carmine used the first bell as an excuse to bounce. 

This trend was ruining everything it touched. We were looking forward to music class. Then, we got there and found all our instruments had been closeted for orchestral stuff. The teacher found them un-British. For crying out loud. “You guys are not British!” Carmine reminded everyone. 

That fell on deaf ears. The rest of the class just practiced with these instruments, including John. Dude didn’t miss his drum seat at all. Any other day, he’d flip if he didn’t get to use them! We were flipping out internally, though. Carmine and I pretended to play these dumb woodwinds and strings while cancelling out the noise with headphones. Thank goodness, the teacher never called on us. 

Later, beans. Beans in places they shouldn’t have been. Inside lockers, filling nests in the trees around the school. One of them plopped on me. In pencil sharpeners. Whole cans up John’s sleeve. A whole wad manifested in Carmine’s hat. We had to shower twice that day, once for gym and twice for the beans. Speaking of PE, we couldn’t even play soccer! Just some boring sport called lacrosse! Soccer ain’t even a culture-locked thing! The whole world plays it! 

The school became so British, it attracted actual British people! We were sitting in our advanced hunting class during free period. John kept on waffling about beans on toast. We’d had enough of beans for one lifetime and tried to shut his mouth. That only made John counter with a line we can’t remember. I pelted John with these crumpets that were laying around until he fell. 

It was so British, it summoned this British human couple. One, a woman in a swimsuit with the UK flag and a fake crown. The other, a man dressed like George Washington. They helped themselves into the classroom through an open window, that we'd crack to air out the smell of beans. The two weirdos entered and strutted like they weren’t trespassing. And because of what the school had become, the faculty wouldn't make them leave.

“Naw, the British are coming,” Carmine said, “back from the dead!” So true. 

“Aw man, what are those things!?” I joined in. 

“Why, we’re the Mingeworthys!” the man introduced themselves in what I guess was 1700s British talk. “We’re just a normal British couple—” Turns out, he was wearing false teeth. They popped out mid-sentence. 

“Who heard this school adopted proper British values!” the lady finished. Won’t lie, she looked fine. What was she doing with that busted cosplayer? 

“Yeah, from decades ago,” Carmine said back. 

“Oh, darling,” the lady said pitifully to her husband. “I believe these lions have a throat condition.” 

That pushed Carmine over the edge. Do we talk a little funny? I don’t know, but Carm takes digs at his voice very personally. He’s a rapper, after all. So, what she said had him snarling, leaping from his seat and growling at these Mingeworthys on all fours. 

We couldn’t have Carmine mauling humans, so I had to pull him out of the classroom. John stuck with the Brits, singing off-key songs. “This is what normal British people do!” “British people are better people!” That was all I caught before convincing Carmine to cut it out and the both of us finding another class to hide in. 

While we were headed down the hall, though, we ran into my last straw. That gray wolf with the long snout talked in front of a camera, like he was some British radio host. He mentioned something about the weather over a Heligoland—probably because Britain, rains a lot—before saying we were in for some rain also. “Southeasterly veering southwesterly four. Rain later. Rising temperature. Pressure building. Wild speculation. Good,” he reported. Next second, we heard thunder and saw lightning. Right above me was a dark cloud that drenched me in a downpour. One that was violent enough to flatten my mohawk. I look terrible when it’s down. Not as bad as it looked before I styled it into a mohawk. But some kids nearby noticed and started howling at me. Somehow, Carmine dodged being soaked.

Everything in that moment felt so annoying, on top of a day that had already been annoying. So, I snapped. I marched off, then had to run off, because that cloud was following me. I'd had it at that point. They took my music, my sports, and my mohawk. But worst of all, they took John! For how long, we had no idea, but this trend was already moving at that snail student’s pace. 

Once away from that stupid cloud, I was like you know what? I haven’t been too absent this semester. Until that crap blew over, I was gonna skip school. Because those shenanigans wouldn’t let me sleep the day away.

You might be wondering why I’d write that, since Maurice reads these. He’ll let our antics slip, sometimes. Like when we played hooky because our advanced hunting sub wasn’t teaching. Or us stealing, as long as we don’t attract unwanted attention. I think his leniency stems from his childhood. He had a falling out with his dad and ran away from their home in Kentucky. Spent the next decade couch-surfing and riding the hippie train across the states. Which shaped him into what he is today. Maurice and his dad made up, though. By then, Maurice had taken an interest in spiritual counseling. He struck a deal with the zoo to counsel our school and his dad is fossilized—I dunno how he reached his son—so, they just let him stay with no strings attached. Maurice is open about all of this. 

So, at the time, I assumed the dress code insanity meant I could opt out. So did Carmine. I made a quick trip to my locker to change clothes and grab my skateboard, and hairdryer. Heard footsteps behind me and assumed it was one of the hall monitors, so I bailed. Then, Carmine said it was him. He wanted to skip, too, so he’d already lost his uniform. He told me, “this is top five dumbest trends we’ve had.” Couldn’t agree more. 

I asked about John, but Carmine just started running and said he was still a lost cause. John's dumb laughter, infected by the virus this uniform started, echoed from down the hall, along with those Mingeworthys. Wasn’t up for shaking him out of it anymore, so I just followed Carmine to the nearest fire exit. 

Once off school grounds, we wondered where to go. Carmine suggested the mall, cause he wanted to buy something (we don’t always steal). I thought why not, and he thought why not race there? I took the lead, because well, I had the skateboard. Then, Carmine whizzed past in a cab, laughing out the window. There were no rules on how we reached the mall, so uh, he won. At least Carmine didn’t rub it in. 

While in public, we gotta monitor humans around us. Some who we freak out call the zoo, which we couldn’t afford that day. Usually though, humans don’t, not on some lovable lions like us. Species bias is real, and those music shop employees are far from a unique case. Also, I don’t think most humans even know we attend school?

When we provoke them, it’s always Carmine or John’s fault. John can’t keep his hands to himself. He sees something he likes? He'll touch it, and fuss when he can’t. Carmine has zero patience for humans. I don’t blame him, but it can be a big problem. Last month, we were in the food court and Kerry Anderson, one of Adam’s old schoolmates was there, fawning over us. She’s not the worst human I’ve met. But Kerry called Carmine a good boy, and he HATES pet names. He went off, they had this catty argument, threw stuff at each other, and John and I had to drag Carmine out before security showed up. 

Carmine shut his mouth this trip. Only since we were purchasing something. Can’t buy if you spook the cashier. I didn’t ask where we were headed until we entered a portion of the mall devoted to utilities. Where it’s mostly old humans. Noplace I have business being. I asked Carmine what we were getting. He answered, “a crowbar, to pry open those storage buildings. The ones we haven't checked.” 

So, the zoo keeps a lot of its stuff in a storage zone full of small buildings, not far from the zookeeper’s lodge. One half’s for stuff like rations, staff equipment and clothing. Things they need on short notice. The other half is for lesser used equipment, or us zoo resident’s old belongings. A section that our puppets fall under. Those buildings they were placed in have extra lockage, since the items are precious. We'd held off on them, because a lot of random stuff finds their way to the first half, because the zookeepers are slackers. But we'd just gone through that whole section and nothing.

Wasn’t planning to return to the zoo, mid hooky, but figures Carmine did. Like I told you, he’s really emotional deep down, and was missing the puppets most. So badly, it was bleeding into his rap lyrics. Won’t share those, cause it’s personal. I was also kinda afraid of busting open those storage locks, cause they leave behind damning evidence. But remembering the puppets had made me emotional, too. So, I changed my mind. Getting them back was worth getting caught. This month has blown.

Buying the crowbar with Carmine behaving was easy. So was sneaking back into the zoo. Garson was busy routing zoogoers, and the zookeeper’s lodge and surrounding structures are in this whole forest that covers that slice of zoo grounds. Cracking through and sweeping those buildings was the real challenge. None of these buildings are labelled, so we went in blind. Also, the doors use these giant padlocks. Carm thought ahead, thank goodness, and sneaked identical locks and from someplace. Next time Garson used them, he’d just blame the lousy interns. They really do suck that badly. So, the fear of evidence wasn't an issue to us anymore.

We got distracted for a moment. Thought we heard something moving in the trees. Nobody was around. We just passed it off as a wild bird and pried our way into the first building. Carmine and I have used crowbars before, to enter abandoned buildings, so he had experience. 

One of said lousy interns wasn’t so lousy—somebody had organized these boxes, and it wasn’t Garson. We expected a scene that, speaking of abandoned buildings, resembled those old homes of human hoarders. The posse and I actually broke into one a couple years ago. Long story short, we shouldn't have ignored the condemned signs outside. So, shoutout to whoever took time out their unpaid day for sorting those boxes.

Each box had been labeled with a black marker. That was a godsend. But that building definitely wasn’t the one we were looking for. All those boxes contained zoo equipment for animal performances. Saw one for those flaming hoops they put lions through. Wanted to crush that box so badly. We’ve seen Naisha train Bobby with those things before. Which also reminded me of this other lion boy named Robert. Naisha didn’t actually select him for the exercise. He just wanted to try it. Just as you might’ve guessed, Robert got himself hurt pretty badly. Even Nurse Gazelle got squeamish, and she's been syringing us beasts up for years.

Those B.A.A.A. activists caught wind of what happened and went livid. They protested outside the zoo for weeks. Robert wasn’t related to anybody here, so Garson made some calls. Had Rob transferred to another facility that houses us talking animals. As tempting as it was to replicate, we don’t wanna complicate our situation any further.

We went through two other buildings. Neither had what we were looking for, either. Just more old tools and typical zoo or office supplies. Carmine said he heard more noises outside, and I followed him to look around again. Still, nothing. We should’ve known what was up, but we became super focused on getting Leander and Leonce back. Our inner grade schoolers had taken the wheel. 

On the fourth building, we started seeing boxes labeled with the names of zoo animals. They were of the adults, but the kids’ had to be with them. Sure enough, we started seeing the names of the youngest. Then, we spotted the names of middle schoolers, like Henry. Which actually made it better. Henry was also a transfer student. Came from Greenland to replace a certain obnoxious meathead who won’t be named. Just in case it makes him return. He’s Kaku’s cousin, so that kid gave him hell before he left. But Henry’s stuff being here meant the boxes had been touched recently. That’s how they do it. 

Eventually, we found boxes with lions’ names on them. Just not ours. Instead, Gregory and his family, plus Bobby. None for Robert. He never gave us trouble, so we didn't open his. But we had to paw through Greg’s box. Its contents were kinda boring, like him. There were a bunch of crayon drawings on paper. Some of us all as grade schoolers. Mostly us playing with cub Greg, everybody smiling. That was weird. We've never close with Gregory.

Carmine and I were even more excited to crack open Bobby’s box. That one was disappointing, also. Anything embarrassing that was once inside, Bobby had relocated. His box, like the weightlessness implied, was half empty. Just contained ordinary toys for a lion cub, a dozen sports and entertainment trophies, and a photobook with snapshots of him and his high school buddies. Like Greg's older half-brother, Gavin, or Bull's older sister, Euripides, or Donald Deer's older brother, Farley. And it wouldn't be a Bobby album with photos of he and his handler, Naisha, around the zoo. Him performing for zoogoers, with her as overseer. I nearly hurled a hairball, flipping through the pages. 

“Suckup,” I couldn’t help but tell Carmine before we returned the book and resealed the box. A sweet palette-cleanser appeared, though, in the form of our boxes. 

There they were, side-by-side, a bit further away from the rest of the lions’. One for me, another for Carmine and John each, and a fourth for general belongings that didn’t belong to us individually. No shocker, they never told us about that box. Garson probably forgot it existed. Before we dug in, we checked outside one last time, to ensure the coast was clear. We smelled and saw nothing that we could notice. So, we slipped back inside. We didn’t touch our own boxes, already knowing their contents. Like our tacky cub clothes, which were before we started dressing cool. But most importantly, the puppets would have been in the general box. They were crafted for all of us. 

Carmine and I spent a moment just on our knees, silently staring at the box. Just looking at it made me anxious, and the tenseness on Carmine’s face said he felt the same. But we were feeling way more impatient for those puppets. If this was it, why wait? So, we lifted the box lid together with fingers crossed. Not literally, because our hands aren’t as opposable as humans’. Still opposable enough to pluck the string of a guitar or twirl a drumstick. 

The first thing we noticed inside was the enrichment toys. There are these balls called boomer balls that are just sturdier than plastic or sports ones. Traffic cones we’d doodled up with cat faces. Feathery sticks. It took us back to when the zookeepers would play with us and bring these things out. John enjoyed them most, obviously. Carmine, the least. I was somewhere in the middle. Like how I’m the middle child of our posse. Sure feels like it half the time.

There were our own drawings in there, too. I guess we made these together, but we couldn’t tell who drew what. Most were just of us messing around, or pulling pranks on Bobby or Garson or other people who got on our nerves. At the bottom of the stack was a drawing of Mrs. Warthog, Pixiefrog’s assistant, as a big fat meanie. We got distracted, laughing our tails off at that. The sketch aged like fine wine! 

When we looked for any we missed, all we saw where the papers once were was a wooden briefcase. The exact same one Naisha kept Leander and Leonce and their alters’ outfits inside. 

There wasn’t a lock to the case, just a part to clip it shut. We didn’t stop and stare that time. Carmine just pulled the case up, and I helped him undo the clips to open the thing. 

But there was no sign of the puppets. No sign of their outfits, either. Just in case they got swapped, we started going through our own boxes. Everything we expected to be in them was accounted for, and nothing that shouldn’t have been. Then, we started scouring the whole entire building, wanting so bad to learn the puppets misplaced. We carefully checked all over that space, but Leander and Leonce were just gone without a trace. 

We were fearing the worst. Important items have been tossed before. I pictured our puppets in pieces, scattered and buried across the city landfill. Or worse, compacted into dust. Either way, our odds of tracking them down were less than zero. There’d be no sniffing them out in the freaking dump. The chances were as low as our hearts that were sinking. 

We spent probably a half hour in there after, thinking of anyplace else the puppets could have been. Noplace came to mind. Eventually, we just gave up. Carmine and I just sat there in silence on the floor, next to the unopened box. I drowned myself in more memories with the puppets. That was all it was looking I’d have at that point. Carmine was definitely doing the same, among other memories of his parents. All we could utter was how John wasn’t gonna like this, either. It goes without saying he’s the most childish of us three. There’s nothing wrong with him in the head—he’s just more brawn than brains. He cries the least of us, but he has his triggers. Like if something happened to his last old toy. That would send John rampaging throughout the zoo. I’m surprised Carmine didn’t lose it when we opened those empty cases. 

“All that time and money for nothing,” I did hear him snarl while we were still in that building. 

Eventually, we remembered we couldn’t stay inside all day. And we had to replace the locks. I volunteered to do that while Carmine went on lookout. He didn’t complain, being the type to wallow in his thoughts. John and I might comfort him when he’s under the weather, but his body language said he needed space and would be sulking for a minute. I kinda wanted that, too. I just let him be as I relocked the buildings with the new padlocks and shoved the broken ones into a plastic bag I found. 

Just when it couldn’t get any worse, Carmine spotted someone in the trees. Well, standing on them. He got spooked and leapt back, so I followed his eyes. Perching in a treetop right above us was Maurice with this miffed look on his mug. 

To be honest, I never thought mandrills were tree-savvy. Maurice has a stump on his office that I’ve seen him stand on, but that was it. His sneaking up on us was weird, because he converted his rickety old car into a freaking sleeper. No clue where he salvaged the parts, but it’s a literal rocket fused to a family vehicle. You can hear it breaking the sound barrier from far away. Apparently, we didn’t when he pulled up to the zoo. Guess we were that engrossed in finding those puppets. 

Carmine and I shared a groan. I was almost finished resealing the storage buildings. What can I say? Maurice caught us redhanded. We could only stand where we were while Maurice scaled down the tree. 

“There you are,” he told us. His tone suggested he knew exactly where to find us. Carmine and I hadn’t just yet considered how Maurice found us. Like I said, we told no one about the puppets, and Garson doesn’t observe us enough to expect those kinds of moves out of us. 

Carmine figured it out first, and his fronted head shot right up. “Aw, I know who ratted us out!” he growled. “He’s here with you, isn’t he?” 

“You, calling me a rat?” Bobby’s voice replied from somewhere behind us. “When you were the ones digging through boxes.” We spun around and there he was, chilling on the roof of the building with our boxes, with that wide, ugly grin. 

Bobby the brute managing to make hardly a sound out there was an achievement. Still, neither of us couldn’t believe we missed it! Bobby was right there with Garson when he reminded us that the puppets exist. He never passes up on using that type of ammo. But like I said, getting those puppets back had us tunnel-visioning, and Bobby didn’t make that big a scene. 

“You guys made it so obvious,” Bobby gloated as he hopped off the roof. “All I had to do was check here every free period, and what do ya know? I found you two, breaking into storage...” He walked over to Carmine and confiscated his crowbar. “With a tool I know you don’t have permission to use here. I’ll take that.” 

“Hey!” Carmine shouted, trying to snatch it back. “I spent eighteen bucks on that!” But the thing was lost to Bobby’s iron grip. 

“I missed the part where that’s my problem,” Bobby dismissed him, pushing Carm away. 

There was something else that I puzzled together first. “So, you let us go through your things?” I asked with a wince. We shut the door behind us. He must have cracked it open over the sound of moving boxes and stuff. 

“I don’t keep embarrassing stuff in my box,” Bobby said. He’s a little smarter than he looks. “And before you say it, I haven’t and didn’t have to crack open yours to know you have some. Clowns. You wish you had soccer trophies like mine!” 

Maurice cleared his throat and stepped in. “Right. Well, thank you, Bobby, for making my hunt easier,” he told the big oaf. 

“No prob,” Bobby said as he finally saw himself out. But not before slipping in one more thing. “Don’t worry, Carmine. I’m sure Garson will let you use the crowbar as an uh, enrichment toy.” Carmine hates those words in that order, too. But he had the sense not to lash out, and kept his mouth shut. “Alright, Maurice, they’re all yours.” Finally, he sauntered out, whistling while twirling Carmine’s crowbar. Bro genuinely believed he performed some noble act. 

Maurice started by asking what we were doing, breaking into the storage units. Bobby had definitely already spilled the beans about the puppets—can’t believe I said that—so, there was no dodging the question. We told Maurice everything. Garson making us recollect Leander and Leonce. Our reminiscing of the days Naisha would play them for us. All the good times they brought us, and all the nostalgia we’d been having about them. And that we hadn’t found what we were looking for. 

Maurice took a moment to absorb it all and let out a breath. “That lines up with what Bobby told me,” he reconfirmed sympathetically. 

Like, genuinely. I tend to ignore him because he ain’t the greatest listener, but this was feeling like an exception. By not a listener, I mean Maurice does try to hear the kids out. But his execution is weird. Maurice is aware of it, by the way. That’s why I’m bringing it up. He gets a gold star for trying.  

“You boys have no excuse, but I truly understand why you did it,” he also told us. “Losing something so precious hurts.” Still note to self, say nothing about the posse and I around Bobby, ever again. 

Carmine had nothing else to say in the moment. “Should’ve known the stupid zoo staff tossed them out,” I muttered. Really should’ve seen it coming. I can think of just what’s going through those peoples’ minds when they toss our belongings. ‘Oh, they don’t get attached to items like us. They won’t miss this.’ ‘That one’s too damaged to be worth fixing.’ ‘Forget it. They’d chew it up, anyway.’ Okay, maybe they’re right about that last one, but. 

Then, Maurice broke it to us. “Then, you’ll be pleased to hear, they actually didn’t.” And our eyes went straight back to him. 

He beckoned us to follow him back to his car. We tread along a trail of churned dirt and overturned objects to not far from those woods. He’d diluted time to drive there, alright. Maurice routed us around to the trunk while he took out the key. He unlocked it, popped the thing open, and there they were. The puppets, their costumes and all. 

This is gonna sound freaky, but Leander and Leonce looked so outta place inside Maurice’s trunk. The interior hadn’t been spruced up, so it’s pretty dingy. Even has moss and a few plants growing from the fabrics. We never saw the puppets anyplace else besides our old exhibit, the Zookeeper’s Lodge, or Nurse Gazelle’s station veterinary station. And their paint had faded some with age, but the color was mostly intact. Actually, they’d been kept in good condition all around, after all that time. It was a miracle!

Carmine still got suspicious. “Thanks, but how long have you had these?” 

“A few years, believe it or not,” Maurice pleasantly recalled. Me and Carm were at a loss for words. “I was catching up with Naisha over the phone. We landed on the topic of the puppets and how much your coalition loved them. Naisha said she enjoyed playing them for you.” 

“And you’ve had them ever since,” Carmine finished annoyedly. He also might’ve predicted Maurice to be a wild card. Neither of us put stock in it. 

“You’re right about one thing, boys,” Maurice agreed. “Sometimes, the zoo staff have disposed of items here in storage, unaware of its values to the owner. My gut told me you might seek these puppets someday. So, after I got off the phone with Naisha, I pulled them for safe keeping.” 

As nice as the revelation was, it raised a new question. “Why’d you leave the boxes then?” I had to ask. 

“Because I had something better to keep them in,” Maurice answered with a smile. 

“Naw! Maurice, please tell me it wasn’t the trunk,” Carmine fretted. 

“Of course not,” Maurice promised. “Windsor Gorilla had a surplus of ventriloquist’s trunks.” 

What, did he talk to himself through Teddy when no one was looking? Might also be a risk putting this in here, but Windsor has always been uh, quirky? Dude literally just says the word sigh, instead of actually sighing. And I suspect a lot of his technobabble is compensation. I don’t wanna hear anyone make fun of how us lions talk anymore. 

“They’re not haunted too, right?” I also had to question. The last thing I needed was a haunted Leander or Leonce spooking and swerving me while skateboarding, into oncoming traffic. Glendale ain't no LA when it comes to their roads, but it gets nasty. 

Maurice chuckled, “can’t recall anything strange happening in my exhibit. Of the spiritual kind. And they were there for years. They should be alright. Though I understand why you might have asked,” Maurice assured us while glancing at Carmine. 

Carm was reluctant to take the answer for his own reasons, but he couldn’t be mad at Maurice. Neither could I, because well, the credit was due. Had Maurice not pulled Leander and Leonce from storage, chances were they really would’ve been tossed. Garson barely cares about his career these days. He did in the past, but that human died a long time ago. I give him a year at most before he’s out. 

“I suspect there was another reason you boys skipped school today,” Maurice suspected. After he delivered, we were kind of obligated to tell the truth about that, too. Carmine and I mentioned the new dress code. How the school went crazy in less than a day. How it had turned John into a monster. The demented British couple—or just a demented couple cosplaying as British. And the spontaneous beans. 

“In my defense,” I ended it with, “I thought you wouldn’t care this time.” 

“Unfortunately, Frankie, I do this time,” Maurice explained kindly. “Having a teach talk funny isn’t the same as a teacher who teaches nothing.” Maybe he had a point. Rolled a bad number with that die. 

“John told on us, didn’t he?” Carmine assumed.  

Which made our situation no better, because Maurice responded with, “actually, John didn’t even know you two had left the school.” Sometimes, Carmine has a mouth as big as Gregory’s. “I am sympathetic towards you kids here, but that will count towards a strike two.” 

That was new. We’d never heard of Maurice using a strike policy with students before. Judging by us being on strike two, we figured the first was us messing with Lyon. The thing that got us into this whole diary thing. Yeah. I’m gonna have to remind myself, and the fellas, to really try to avoid a strike three. 

He didn’t stress it much, though. We gave the extra thanks we owed him, and Maurice patted us on the back, saying it was nothing. Glad that ended on a good note. 

The rest of the school day wasn’t too bad. By the time we rocketed back, the new dress code had just been removed, and the Britishness went along with it. Lyon and Dickie pulled a stunt with a trenchcoat, a mustache, and fake letters that some other school was accepting the students. Pixiefrog didn’t like losing his students, or should I say, funding? So, he caved instantly. As irritating as Lyon and Sugarjumper are, they can come in handy. 

We stopped outside the front entrance to fix our hair. You know, from flying at light speed. As we did, that British couple stormed out, screaming and soaking wet. Someone tripped the sprinklers. That was a sight to see. What wasn’t was John running out seconds later, laughing while in his birthday suit. I know some of the school doesn’t wear pants, but our eyes burned. 

Nobody followed John. Someone would tip off Garson, and he’d retrieve him. We just hid in the counsellor’s office, where Carmine and I spent the rest of the day catching up on schoolwork, and hiding from the birthday party. Everybody shed their uniforms when the dress code went. Once school was out, it was straight to detention. We’ll have it until next Friday, but it was all still worth it. 

It was just us, since everyone else left. So, when the sprinklers were finally shut off and the room was dry, Maurice brought Leander and Leonce in to sit on our table. Garson dropped John off at the school, with some clothes. The moment he stepped into the room and saw the puppets, he got excited and tried putting his hands on them. Carmine made sure he didn’t break something. He did touch Maurice with a bearhug while giving his thanks. Then, the three of us just did the last of our work and sat quietly, losing ourself to the past.

At one point, Maurice said, “I’d try to play the puppets, but I don’t know the people behind them. I never asked Naisha about them, since they’re personal.” 

About that. Leander and Leonce’s alter egos weren’t made-up. They’re based on each of our parents. The librarian and huntress and Carmine’s dad and mom. The gentleman and mathematician are John’s mom and dad. I know, right? He couldn’t be any different. The wisecrack and caregiver are my dad and mon. Dad loves making humans uncomfortable. My mom’s more optimistic about them, but you can tell who I took after more. 

Yeah, we all have some cool parents. We can’t see each other as much as we want, but we have to be here. The puppets made the first years in Glendale more bearable. It was Naisha’s idea to have them created. That girl went through a lot to get them right. She even took a trip to meet our folks and study them. That was sorta creepy, but boy, did it pay off. Sometimes, it was like our parents were actually talking to us! Like we were back home with the folks, in Carmine’s dad’s tiny library, John’s dad’s studio, or my mom’s rec room she made for us cubs... 

We’ve been navigating this city just fine the past few years, but having those puppets back? As childish as it sounds, I think it’ll make the distance between our families a bit less painful. Because Maurice is full of surprises. If you see this, mom and dad, I love you. The fellas and I will make a name for ourselves here in Cali. Hopefully, in a good way. 

And to those Mingeworthy freaks—who ain’t normal in any country—let’s not meet again. 

Was writing this outside our exhibit, when I passed by Windsor’s place. Spotted him using Teddy in front of a mirror, talking to himself. Guess the cops returned the dummy. I don’t know which of those two is weirder.

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A/N: Shoutout to Brandon Rogers and Georgina Leahy. The Mingeworthys are theirs. Was rewatching Normal British Series around the time of writing this, and half the entries in this archive are crossovers, and this episode was big British, so I was like fuck it why not.