To those living on a nearby world, Planet Flub was a nighttime fascination. It could be a beautiful place, where peaceful beings live, thought one enchanted child as she gazed out her window at the blue dot in the dark sky.
As the girl looking out her window imagined, Planet Flub was a lovely place with gentle beings. Its distance from its pale-pink sun provided pleasant weather. Though Flub was mostly covered by a rippling fresh water ocean, its small lone island, Flubville, had a great deal of variety. Carved in half by a waterway, called the Flubling River, the roundish island had rich soil from which tasty fruits, vegetables and grains grew.
Scattered throughout Flubville were yellow umbrella-shaped trees that were homes for branch-bopping lime-colored birds, called bims. Under the sprawling roots of the trees lived bups—furry bunny-like critters that popped from their burrows to eat berries.
During the day, puffy clouds coasted above, sometimes grazing the foothills along the outer boundary. Most spectacular was the night sky. The clear, clean air made enjoying scores of spellbinding stars usual.
Though they had no telephones, radios, TVs or computers, the mild-mannered, polite beings, known to themselves as Flubsters, were never violent. While they sometimes said floops or flang when they flubbed-up, these words were rarely used crossly.
Using the flow of the Flubing River to turn gears and pulleys for weaving, grinding and mixing, adult Flubsters worked a few days each week to provide food, clothing and housing for all. Everything anyone needed to live was justly shared.
Because they believed every family should have a cozy cottage on an acre of land, Flubville Island had no noisy crowded apartment buildings. There were also no bunched-together stores or workplaces with hustle and bustle. Whether at home, work or play, Flubsters felt everyone had a right to calm surroundings.
Around four feet tall when adults, with hair a shade of red or brown until old age turned it white, Flubsters were not showy. Woven from shed bup hairs, they dressed in all-occasion jumpsuits, called hoxes, and comfy loafers, called lums. On chilly days, they wore fluffy hooded jackets, called pogs. On nippy nights, they enjoyed gathering around crackling fireplaces.
While nothing Flubsters built was fancy, they had put much effort into constructing Flubity Bridge. Made of tree trunks notched deep for secure interlocking and shaved level for smooth traveling, the lone bridge joined Flubville midway down the Flubling River. The often-used overpass did much more than connect two halves of an island. It helped each Flubster feel close to all Flubsters.
Standing in the middle of Flubity Bridge, two children, Nam and Toog, watched Flubee—the small moon that circled Flub—poke along high above them.
“An overhead Flubee means lunchtime,” said Nam to her best friend as they looked up.
“Wouldn’t it be flubble to see Flubville from Flubee?” replied Toog. Flubble—a favorite kids’ word—meant wonderful.
“Even better, what if Flubee passed over Bulfville after it drops out of sight? Wouldn’t it be flubble to see Bulfville?” spryly wondered Nam. Bulfville was an undiscovered island Flusters thought might be on the other side of Flub.
As they started for home, Toog, who had limped since first learning to walk, repeated what many Flubsters had imagined. “Meeting the Bulfsters who might live there would be even more flubble,” he noted.
Again, Flubsters worked hard at being nice. When a flub-up might have been unkind or unfair, they quickly and humbly bowed their heads—a gesture called a flubet that signalled they were sorry. Used to show regret for even minor flub-ups, such as interrupting someone talking, flubets helped the easygoing Flubsters make sure occasional quibbling never became mean and, above all, never caused someone to touch or even threaten to touch another in anger.
Traveling about was always courteous. While peddling their rels—three-wheel vehicles with rear bins for carrying passengers and goods, Flubsters were quick to let someone go ahead of them.
Trips over water—taken in wooden boats, called geps, were also always done safely. Between five and seven feet in length, geps were mostly rowed or sailed on the Flubling River. When used on Flub Ocean, everyone made sure an easy swim to land was always possible. To Flubsters, a means of getting from one place to another wasn’t OK if someone could be harmed.
Favorite gathering places were the parks on each side of the Flubling River. While sitting on the park benches, adults chatted as they fed bims crumbs. While standing on the parks’ riverbanks and docks, children enjoyed tossing scraps of food to the ots that swam by. Ots were friendly creatures that looked like big-snouted tortoises.
The ots entertained the children by blurting a series of ots whenever a Flubster said something to them. Unlike a parrot that learns a few words or phrases, ots replaced each syllable they heard with a blaring “ot.” If someone said I’ve got something for you, an ot would reply ot ot ot ot, ot ot.
The parks were also places where the elders held morning lessons, during which children were taught how to be good Flubsters. You see, Flubsters didn’t have laws, police, lawyers, judges or jails. Instead, they relied on just one how-to-be-nice two-word rule that was, as they saw it, a wise saying. The saying was this: Be Flubster.
Wuz, a furrow-faced elder who, like Toog, had always had a limp, was thought to be top notch at teaching the Be Flubster wise saying. Making his usual stroll to a park with a cane made from a branch, Wuz again hobbled to a tree while sipping moh—a popular tangy drink—from a mug. He then watched the sun rise over a foothill while waiting for students to show up.
Once the children arrived, Wuz again began his lesson by reviewing the wise saying. “Never forget that to Be Flubster we must explore who we are and who we can become. . . . That means humbly seeking niceness by being kind and fair,” he stressed.
“Discovering Bulfville and meeting Bulfsters one day might help us,” suggested Seer—a girl who often spoke up.
“Maybe, but for now it’s up to us to learn what it means to Be Flubster,” replied Wuz.
Nam wondered if Bulfsters could cure the limp Toog and Wuz had. “Bulfsters might tell us flubble stuff, even how to fix a hobble,” she hoped.
Also curious about Bulfsters, an outgoing girl, Pun, brought up flubdub—the Flubster word for whatever happens when someone dies. “Bulfsters may even be able to tell us something about flubdub. That would be very flubble!” she added.
“Figuring out how not to be so clumsy would also be flubble,” followed a husky youngster, Dob, after a piece of topa—a juicy, lemon-like fruit—slipped out of his hand, causing him to say “flang.”
“Maybe the Bulfsters are creators who gave us Flubee so that we’d know the time and see at night,” offered Seer.
“Maybe there’s only one Bulfster creator,” guessed Nam.
“If I met a creator, I’d ask why the creation known as Dob makes so many flang-a-do-ditty flub-ups,” said Dob with a chuckle.
“I’d ask why the creation known as Pun makes so many floops-a-doopsy-do flub-ups,” followed Pun with a giggle.
Wuz had a question. “Are we not able to discover why we flub-up on our own?”
“When I flub-up, I’m usually trying to do too much,” shyly said Toog.
“When I flub-up, I’m in a hurry,” admitted Pun.
“I still think getting help from Bulfsters would be flubble,”said a serious Seer.
Wuz again challenged the children. “But what if learning how to lessen our flub-ups is a big part of why we’re on Flub?” he asked.
p>
What does Wuz mean by that? thought the children, scrunching faces.
Wuz pinched his chin while he thought how he might better say what he meant. “Why must we keep learning how to be nice?” he pressed.
“Because growing older makes us likely to flub-up in new ways,” guessed Dob.
“Good answer, Dob,” said Wuz.
“I don’t like myself when I’m not nice,” shared Pun.
“And so it is with all Flubsters,” replied Wuz as he reached into his pog’s pocket for a crumb to give a bim that had gracefully landed on his shoulder. “Though we don’t want to be unkind or unfair, we sometimes are these things,” he told his students.
“We should keep trying to understand niceness,” said Nam, wanting to please Wuz.
“We should keep niceness what’s most flubble,” added Toog.
“I’m hearing things worth pondering,” encouraged Wuz before finishing the day’s lesson. “Keep in mind, children, we humbly flubet to put ourselves alongside, not below or over, others. When you bow your head, never bounce your chin off your chest. To do so suggests arrogance. And never slump shoulders or look away. To do either suggests shame. Always remember, we flubet to show we strive to Be Flubster,” he concluded before bowing his head to demonstrate a sincere flubet.”
Despite all the effort Flubsters had put into living in harmony, they weren’t able to prevent an event that terrified the grown-ups. On a day that started out ordinary, something no Flubster thought possible took place. Though the startling brief incident left behind no mess to clean up and no physical wounds to mend, it was devastating.
The dreadful event involved two mothers, Ban and Lih, who were sitting on a park bench combing hairs for weaving from a bup. While bending forward and accidently bumping heads, they ANGRILY SHOVED EACH OTHER as one shouted “floops” and the other shouted “flang!”
Stunned, all the mothers could think to do was hold a long flubet, tell each other they were very, very sorry and hope that others could come up with a way to excuse their unthinkable flub-up.
After learning about the shocking jostle, the other adults also became rattled and bewildered. At a hastily brought about meeting at a park, tremendous alarm was expressed. “It can’t be so!” anxiously muttered many as they paced in a circle and jiggled arms. After several minutes of chest-bulging breathing, the adults settled down enough to discuss the distressing matter.
“A nightmare has been confused with real life!” frantically claimed a gal.
“Such a flub-up is beyond belief!” fretted a fellow.
“We must think of it as The Great Flub-Up!” roared a mother.
“There’s no need to panic,” cautioned Wuz.
“Two Flubsters have touched each other in anger! Action must be taken!” loudly and urgently decided an elder.
“We must prevent another Great Flub-Up!” demanded a frightened father.
“Something must be done!” agreed several others.
Flubsters had no leader, such as a mayor or governor. Nor did they have a way of handling a crisis. So, with their faith in the Be Flubster wise saying suddenly shaken, they groped for a solution as nightfall arrived.
“Maybe it was just an awful, but fluke flub-up that won’t happen again,” weakly suggested a jittery fellow.
“Possibly they were overtired. Maybe we need to find a way to make sure everyone gets a good night’s sleep,” offered a mother as she moved near a large glowing bowl-shaped candle.
“They could have sat too long in the glaring sun. Maybe we should put all the benches in the shade,” proposed a befuddled gal while rubbing her neck.
Speaking forcefully, a fellow by the name of Vir summed up the floundering. “We’ve been trying to explain away what has happened,” he noted as he lifted a bowl-candle to his chest so that his face could be better seen. He then focused on what the mothers involved in the incident had relayed. “Ban and Lih told us that while shoving each other one said ‘floops’ and the other said ‘flang.’”
“So what?” asked someone who, like most, found what was said not important.
“We’ve always known that after flub-ups there are some who say floops and some who say flang,” pointed out Vir.
“You’re not making sense,” said a frustrated elder.
“Don’t you see? Don’t you all see there are those who prefer saying floops and those who prefer saying flang?” said Vir, making what he thought to be an important point.
Meeb, an elder ready to take charge, stepped in front of Vir. “Vir’s right!” she sternly made known as she pulled her pog’s hood off wavy white hair. “For as long as I can remember, we’ve fallen into two groups. One prefers saying floops after a flub-up and the other prefers saying flang. As I see it, there are those who play down a flub-up by saying floops and those who play up a flub-up by saying flang. I, myself, have always favored saying flang.”
Vir placed the candle he’d been holding at his feet, then explained further. “Unknown to us until now, preferring floops or flang reveals two types of thinking—two different ways of seeing things. We also now know these ways can clash and, in doing so, cause us to hide hurt that can eventually explode without warning!”
After stumbling on to a knee while hurrying to the front of the gathering, Wuz jabbed the ground with his cane to prop himself upright, then spoke to all. “To understand and heal what has happened, we must not put aside what has always united us. Now, more than ever, we must strive to Be Flubster!”
Ready to demand drastic action be taken, Meeb spoke firmly. “Because our different ways of thinking have brought about what will forever be known as The Great Flub-Up, what we all thought no Flubster would ever say must be said: Only by separating can we ensure our safety!” she declared.
A grim hush followed.
“We don’t have time to brood,” said Vir, ready to reveal a plan. “A vote to decide whether or not to create two communities separated by the Flubling River is called for—a Floopsville for those preferring floops and a Flangville for those preferring flang. Following a vote to separate, those who decide they favor floops will become Floopsters and those who decide they favor flang will become Flangsters. Along with building a barrier on Flubity Bridge, geping from one community to the other won’t be allowed,” he detailed.
A quivering Wuz called out. “Do you all realize what you’re considering?” he asked as he began to pivot, pausing each time he slid his cane and lame leg so that he could look into as many eyes as possible. “Even if the play-up and play-down differences really do exist, we are far more alike than unalike. My fellow Flubsters, we cannot separate from who we are!”
Opposition from Meeb was again prompt. She repeated the notion she felt needed to be accepted. “Do you prefer to make too little or too much of flub-ups? That is the question before us. We must choose between two wise-sayings: Be Floopster or Be Flangster!”
Wuz shook his head. “We now know we are capable of more hurt than we thought possible—hurt we all believe no Flubster should suffer. Let us work harder to understand and heal what has frightened us,” he pleaded.
“The hurt we’re faced with isn’t something to mend. It’s something to guard against,” argued Meeb. “We need protection from another Great Flub-Up! Raise a hand if you’re ready to create a Floopsville and Flangville!” she instructed.
While most of the adults saw a separation to be an extreme step, they were ready to take it. They’d been swayed by the body shiver brought about by the thought of another Great Flub-Up. Gradually, all the grown-ups, except for Wuz, raised a hand after Meeb and Vir went first.
Scattered close enough to hear the adults, the children struggled to understand what had been decided.
Nam, who was with Toog, was miffed. “Why didn’t the grown-ups listen to Wuz?” she asked.
Toog was worried. “What Vir and Meeb said about floops and flang doesn’t make sense to me. Are the grown-ups saying all Flubsters will become Floopsters or Flangsters who won’t be allowed to be together?” he wondered.
“It sounds that way,” glumly answered Nam.
After voting to divide, the adults began sorting out where they would live. Unwilling to break up families, they were quick to declare a preference for flang or floops. Soon weary from the day’s ordeal, the grown-ups gathered their children and went home. Only a drooping, disheartened Wuz remained behind.
Noon the following day, Vir reviewed to all what had been decided. “After voting to separate, half of us chose to become Floopsters and half chose to become Flangsters. Given Floopsters chose the shorter of two bup hairs, they will settle east of the Flubling River—in Floopsville, leaving Flangsters to settle west of the River—in Flangville. Once homes are swapped, a wall will be built across the center of Flubity Bridge. Also, geping from one community to the other will end.”
With tears trickling down his jaw, Wuz called out from the rear of the crowd. “Starting tomorrow, I’ll live on the Flubling River, where I’ll continue to be a Flubster. When you see me pass, remember who you were and who you can again become.”
The words of the once greatly respected Flubster caused many heads to nudge slightly downward.
“I’ve done no more than bring forth a feeble flubet,” muttered Wuz, feeling helpless.
Meeb, who had not flubeted, spoke with authority. “Do what you must do, Wuz. The rest of us refuse to live in fear of another Great Flub-Up!”
“We stand with Meeb!” declared Vir.
Hauling the belongings of those who had to swap houses so that all Floopsters were in Floopsville and all Flangsters were in Flangville took only a few hours. Taking any longer, the adults knew, would stall dreaded final good-byes. With daylight fading fast, the grown-ups passed the word to hurry parting hugs so that the wall could be erected across Flubity Bridge.
Once they’d finished blocking Flubity—the only means of walking from one half of Flubvillle to the other, the adults stood motionless. Though losing such an important way to feel togetherness left them heartbroken, they lifted sagging shoulders and fought back tears as the sun set. None of them wanted to appear weak at a time when a show of strength was expected. None of them were willing to admit much hurt was being ignored and stored.
After the grown-ups headed for home, the kids let each other know how confused they felt. Anxious to talk with Wuz, Nam scooted to him, then relayed what the children had been saying amongst themselves. “Making Flubity impossible to cross and not letting anyone gep across the Flubling River doesn’t make sense to the kids, Wuz.”
Wuz replied with great dismay. “Let’s hope the grown-ups will soon realize they can’t escape themselves.”
Shortly after daybreak, Wuz was busy at a Flubling dock. Having removed the rudders from four geps, he tied the geps in the shape of a rectangle. Using pieces of canvas he’d cut with a stone disk, he covered each gep to keep out rain. Next, after making a deck by tying planks to the top edges of the geps, he fastened a large rudder at the deck’s stern and a sturdy mast at its bow. He then used pieces of canvas to make a tent and a sail.
After bringing two sacks of supplies on board, Wuz pushed his gephouse from shore with his cane. Catching a tailwind, he sailed to the north entrance of the Flubling, where he reversed direction, then zigzagged into a headwind. When he reached the river’s south end, he again did an about face. He continued up and down the Flubling until darkness prompted him to lower the sail and anchor.
Only a day after separating, adult Floopsters and Flangsters were telling their children that their way of reacting to a flub-up was not only different but also better than the way used by those on the other side of the river.
While pulling a blanket to Toog’s chin, his mother was firm. “Never forget you’re a Floopster who knows it’s best to say floops after a flub-up, Toog.”
“I still don’t understand why I can’t play with Nam,” shared Toog, missing his pal.
“Nam’s a Flangster, son. Flangsters get too serious when flub-ups occur,” answered his mother.
“Are you saying she needs to change—to start saying floops instead of flang before I can see her again?” asked Toog.
“Their kind never change, son. All we can do is keep them from upsetting us,” warned his mother.
“But Nam never upset me,” pointed out Toog.
“You’ve heard her say flang when she makes a flub-up, right?” asked his mother, now flustered.
“I quess so,” said Toog.
“Well, that’s how it begins. Before long, she’d be saying flang every time you flub-up. She’d carry on about your flub-ups until you felt bad about them. Making a fuss about flub-ups causes more hurt. It’s what brought about The Great Flub-Up! Flangsters make trouble, son!” she told Toog before kissing his forehead, then blowing out the flame of the candle on the bedside table.
In Flangville, Nam’s father also expressed concern at bedtime. “Always be proud you’re a Flangster who knows it’s best to say flang when you flub-up, Nam.”
“But isn’t it better to be humble rather than proud,” asked a puzzled Nam.
“Things have changed. We now realize some know better than others,” insisted her father.
“I miss riding rels with Toog,” shared Nam.
“You have to make friends with those who say Floops,” reminded her father.
“But Toog and I always had fun together. What’s wrong with crossing the Flubling in a gep to spend some time with him?” asked Nam.
Nam’s father became annoyed. “We’ve gone over this! You’ve got to remember Floopsters cause problems by sloughing off flub-ups. Pretending flub-ups aren’t a big deal makes more hurt. It’s what led to The Great Flub-Up. Floopsters can’t be trusted!” gruffly claimed the father before blowing out the bedroom candle with a hardy puff.
Before anyone became a Floopster or Flangster, kids rarely heard the adults criticize others. Now, it was common to hear the grown-ups gripe.
Grouchiness began early at Nam’s cottage. “I shouldn’t have let you talk me into moving to Flangville; I miss hiking the foothills along the eastern shoreline,” Nam’s mother said to her father as they ate breakfast.
“You’re the one who keeps saying we can’t let another Great Flub-Up happen! Thanks to you, I can’t take flower-smelling strolls wherever I please,” fired back her father.
Things were no different in Toog’s home. While cleaning his rel outside a window, he, too, listened to a spat.
“Ever since we moved to Floopsville, you’ve been moping around the house,” nagged Toog’s father.
“Why can’t you appreciate how upsetting it is for me to see Flubity Bridge blocked,” snapped back his mother.
“You’re not the only one still getting used to that eyesore,” bemoaned his father.
While bickering, Nam’s and Toog’s parents displayed the brisk, insincere flubets being used by other prickly grown-ups. During a visit to a bakery that afternoon, Nam heard adults fussing about bohe—the Flubster word for bread.
“You gave me eight loaves of bohe to wrap today instead of the usual nine. Maybe you should think about becoming a Floopster. They’re OK with flub-ups caused by shirking,” said one worker to another, following his criticism with a fake flubet.
Picking up a few items at a Floopsville depot, Toog also came upon cranky adults. This time they were squabbling over hoxes put on the wrong shelf.
“If I wanted to hear whining over every little flub-up due to bungling, I’d move to Flangville,” complained one worker to another, following with a flimsy flubet.
Name-calling was catching on fast in both communities. In Floopsville, hearing adults call each other a Flangster became a common putdown. In Flangville, hearing them call one another a Floopster became a common putdown.
When everyone was a Flubster, insults of any kind were very rare. Now, the grown-ups looked down on a whole group. Worse yet, they didn’t seem to care that the flubets that followed their putdowns were phony.
Later that day, Toog went to a park with his father and an adult neighbor. While the grown-ups drank moh on a bench, the youngster went to the riverbank. Spotting Wuz sailing by, Toog tried to catch the elder’s attention by waving.
“I doubt the stubborn old fool can see you, Toog,” said the neighbor before turning to Toog’s father. “Some say Wuz said flang and some say he said floops.”
“I’d say he’s a Flangster deep down,” grumbled Toog’s dad.
“I don’t know about that. My guess is he’s more a Floopster,” disagreed the neighbor before turning to Toog. “What do you say Toog? Is Wuz a Flangster or a Floopster at heart?”
Spotting Wuz return his wave, Toog flapped his arm harder while answering. “Wuz is what he says he is: a Flubster!”
Across the Flubling, Nam found all the quarrelling in Flangville alarming. “I need to talk to Wuz,” she told the ot she’d been lobbing chunks of bohe from a dock.
“Ot ot ot ot, ot ot,” mimicked the ot before flopping into a splashing backstroke.
Looking in the direction the ot was headed, Nam saw the gephouse gliding up the Flubling. “I’ll row to Wuz late tonight!” she decided as the ot dove back toward her.
“Ot ot ot ot, ot ot ot!” said the ot, appearing to be pleased.
After pitching her last treat to the ot, Nam headed for home with one thing on her mind: a trip to the gephouse.
Late that night, Nam heard her parents flublooning—the humming that was usual when flubsters slept. After slipping on lums and looking out her bedroom window to make sure Flubee was reflecting enough light, she tiptoed past her parents’ bedroom and out the back door.
Once outside, she climbed on her rel and peddled to a park dock, where she got into a gep and rowed to Wuz. He’s awake, she thought, spotting the glow coming from the lit candle inside the gephouse tent.
After tying her gep to the rudder of the gephouse, Nam announced her arrival as she crawled onto the deck. “It’s Nam.”
“Coming, Nam,” answered Wuz, soon leaning through the slit in his canvas doorway.
“I have to talk to you!” she urgently told him.
“Come in and sit,” said Wuz.
“How have you been?” she asked as she dropped on to her knees.
“Good, though I sometimes find being a self-made outcast lonely,” answered Wuz as he also knelt.
“The grown-ups in Flangville are forgetting to be nice to each other!” reported Nam.
Wuz wasn’t surprised. “A good friend of yours left a short while ago. It seems Floopster adults are also giving up on niceness.”
“Toog was here!” said Nam with a gleam.
“Yes, he said he’d row out the same time tomorrow night with an update on things in Floopsville,” informed Wuz.
“I’ll get back to you tomorrow night, too! Maybe the three of us can come up with a plan!” replied Nam.
“The adults need to grow weary of the distress separating has brought about,” suggested Wuz.
“The kids are worrying more and more,” shared Nam.
“If just a couple of elders on each side of the Flubling would humbly say they’re ready to again Be Flubster, healing might get underway,” noted Wuz as he stuck his head through the canvas door and into the night. “Flubee is past mid-sky. Let’s get you started for home while there’s light.”
The next day, the tension in both communities worsened. It was as if a potion for becoming ornery had been put in every adult’s morning moh. In Floopsville, Toog saw two gals rudely bump each other as they reached for the same topa hanging from a tree. In Flangville, Nam saw two grouchy fellows jam each other while rushing through a doorway.
In each community, uptight parents were finding fault with their kids, bickering friends were throwing lums at walls, and grumpy workers were stomping off their jobs.
The worst of the dire day occurred after supper. In Flangville, two gals peddling rels approached the same parking space outside a depot. After a moment of hesitation, during which neither backed up, each tried to snatch the space, causing them to collide! In a flash, the drivers were standing toe to toe. One hollered “flang!” and the other, surprisingly, shouted “floops!” as a pushing match soon put both on the ground!
Around the same time in Floopsville, two fellows raced to an intersection from different directions. Then, when both tried to be first to turn on to the same road, they crashed! A few seconds later, they, too, rashly got off their rels ready to wrangle. One reler screeched “floops!” and the other, surprisingly, yelled “flang!” as jabs by both toppled them on to their fannies!
Though both reling tussles were more hurtful than The Great Flub-Up, neither brought about a flubet. Instead, those involved in the scuffles held a long glare, then rushed off to cast blame. To everyone’s surprise in Flangville, a Flangster had said floops. And to everyone’s surprise in Floospville, a Floopster had said flang. By nightfall, an emergency meeting was underway in both communities.
In Flangville, Meeb was first to speak. “The problem is clear to me,” she began as everyone stood still to listen. “Some among us aren’t true Flangsters. They’re in-betweeners—half Flangster and half Floopster. That they’re still saying floops proves they’re wishy-washy!”
A trembling father spoke next. “Given all the arguing we’ve all been doing, there must be more than a few in-betweeners,” he noted.
“I’d say about half of us,” answered Meeb.
A troubled mother, who was among those who had sometimes thought being a Floopster wouldn’t be so bad, spoke up. “So, what do we do?” she asked.
“We must again divide. Flangville must be split in two with a tall fence!” declared Meeb.
When Meeb mentioned the need for another separation, the children, who were huddled in small groups nearby, sighed in unison. Not again, they all thought as some thumped hands on heads.
Nam was too upset to remain silent. “Why are we again doing what hasn’t worked?” she questioned.
“Who said that?” bellowed Meeb, ready to confront anyone who dare challenge her.
“I did,” politely answered Nam as she stepped forward. “We need to get Wuz. He’ll know what to do.”
Meeb moved within a few feet of Nam, then looked down at the youngster. “We can’t allow ourselves to be swayed by a child who holds on to a fondness for the elder who still touts the old wise saying. To ensure our safety, we must separate once more. The in-betweeners must have their own wise saying!” she insisted.
“Meeb’s right!” jumped in a frazzled elder. “There’s a lack of loyalty in Flangville. Fickle fence-riders who won’t commit to being a Flangster are making it impossible for us to get along!”
Sure she had support, Meeb repeated her stance. “The in-betweeners must be given their own community—one fenced off from Flangville. Otherwise, despair awaits us!”
No one disagreed.
The same solution was hastily being discussed in Floopsville. Standing in the middle of the restless crowd, Vir took charge. “We now know for sure there are wholehearted Floopsters and halfhearted Floopsters. Those wavering are different in a way we can no longer pretend doesn’t matter. It is with regret that I say what you all already know: We must again divide! A high fence and a new wise saying are needed.”
Like Nam, Toog found the courage to object. After limping past several adults, he gulped, buried hands in pockets and timidly said what Vir didn’t want to hear. “Wuz can help. I’ll row out and get him,” he offered.
“We don’t have time for notions we’ve already decided are useless,” scolded Vir, refusing to face Toog.
Toog stammered a reply. “Kids don’t, don’t understand why the grown-ups are having, having trouble getting along. But we, we do know things got worse soon after, soon after Flubsters became Floopsters and Flangsters,” he pointed out.
“We can’t expect the children to understand that those with a Flangster leaning must be given their own community,” lectured Vir.
“Vir’s right! We must divide Floopsville!” howled a mother.
As in Flangville, no Floopster adult objected to yet another separation.
That night, while Flangster grown-ups were still deciding who was an in-betweener, Nam scooted to a dock far from the adults. Once there, she hopped into a gep and rowed to the gephouse undetected.
“It’s me,” she soon called while tying her gep next to Toog’s.
“Welcome,” greeted Wuz as he pulled back his canvas door. “Toog just told me a couple of gals got plunked onto their bottoms in Floopsville. Things are so bad there the adults are going to separate once more! How are things in Flangville?”
“No different,” informed Nam as she entered the tent and returned Toog’s happy-to-see-you smile. “They’re also talking about dividing Flangville!” she relayed as she, too, knelt by Wuz’s bowl-candle.
Wuz shook his head in discouragement. “It seems getting the grown-ups to wander Flub Ocean in search of Bulfville would be easier than getting them to see separating again will just make things worse.”
As all three stared at the candle’s shimmering flame, Nam suddenly sprang off her heels. “That’s the answer!”
“What is?” asked Toog.
“Finding helpful Bulfsters is the answer! You and I and maybe a few other kids will be Wuz’s crew,” she answered.
“That’s a flubble idea!” perked up Toog.
“No one has ever sailed farther than a Flubster can swim,” Wuz reminded them.
“The Bulfsters will know how to help the grown-ups!” coaxed Nam without concern for how dangerous the voyage might be.
“We aren’t sure Bulfville even exists,” countered Wuz.
“But what if it does exist?” asked Nam. “The Flangster grown-ups are staying up to figure out where to put their fence. That means they’ll be getting up late. We can leave in the morning without them knowing,” she planned.
“The Floopsville grown-ups will also be flublooning through most of the morning,” noted Toog.
“We can help you look in all directions, Wuz,” explained Nam.
“The adults no longer flubet the way you taught, Wuz. Sometimes, they don’t even try to flubet,” pointed out Toog, hoping to sway the elder.
Saddened by what he’d just heard, Wuz sat silent.
Watching Wuz drag palms down his face, Nam tried harder to convince him. “The kids are becoming more and more frightened!” she relayed.
“I’ll sail north in search of Bulfville tomorrow morning,” said Wuz as he rose, stuck his head outside, then looked up at the sky. “Flubee’s moving downward—time for you two to head back.”
“You’re taking us with you, right?” replied Nam as she and Toog started for their geps.
“It’s too risky,” Wuz told them.
“But we can watch for Bulfville when you rest,” pleaded Nam.
“I’ll drop anchor when I sleep,” answered Wuz as he held open the tent’s canvas door.
Wuz sailed from the Flubling River not long after waking the next day. Thanks to a strong current, he soon watched Flubville flatten on the horizon behind him. I might never see land again, he thought after turning to face open ocean.
Only a half-hour later, after locking the rudder and standing to stretch, Wuz was surprised to see two curious humps 50 or so yards away. Could Bulfville have always been so close? he wondered as the suspicious objects grew larger. Ots floating on their backs—that’s all I’m seeing, he told himself.
Soon, Wuz saw something he definitely didn’t want to see. What he thought to be ots was, in fact, two geps. Nam and Toog were in the gep to his right. Pun, Dob and Seer were in the gep to his left. Quickly slowing the gephouse by letting the sail sag, Wuz tossed his anchor overboard and waited for one of the children to do some explaining.
Just say what you planned to say, thought Nam before speaking. “Things are too scary for us in Flangville and Floopsville. Please, please let us help you find Bulfville. We each have plenty of bohe, topa and moh,” she told Wuz while raising a sack.
“I’m taking you all back,” Wuz quickly replied.
A brash Seer stood and spoke. “Searching for Bulfville without you isn’t what we want, but we’ll feel we have to.”
Uneasy with the willful way Seer talked to Wuz, Nam and Toog held a long flubet.
While staring into the vast ocean, Wuz decided the only way to get the children home safely was to search with them for a few hours—just long enough for them to get homesick. “OK, we’ll search together, but only if everyone agrees to go back when I think it’s best to do so,” he offered.
“That sounds fair. After all, Wuz knows best,” Toog made known, sure haggling with the elder would be disrespectful.
“Thank you, Wuz,” said Nam.
“Tie your geps to the sides of the gephouse and come on board,” instructed Wuz.
“Right away,” answered Dob, joggled into his seat when Pun began rowing to the gephouse while he was still standing.
Not long after the children joined Wuz, Nam and Toog, who were sitting by the mast, saw a darkness swiftly spreading across the horizon.
“I think we better tell Wuz there’s something up ahead. It could be Bulfville!” said Nam.
Also excited by the ballooning blob, Toog hurried toward the rudder. “We see something up ahead, Wuz!”
Wuz, who was kneeling, threw a loop around the rudder’s handle to keep it straight, then propped himself upright with his cane. “I’ve never seen a cloud billow so rapidly,” he noted, suspecting they were running into the path of a fast-approaching massive storm.
“Should we turn back?” asked Toog.
“We can’t out run it,” answered Wuz as he hurried to the mast to lower the sail.
With all eyes fixed on the invading monster cloud, the children flinched when a bright jagged flash of lightening sliced through a soon-to-arrive widening wall of rain. Then, the booming crack of thunder that followed caused everyone to shudder while ducking.
“Listen to me,” loudly ordered Wuz. “Because ocean storms can be frisky, I want each of you to quickly straddle one of the tent’s poles! Someone will need to sit at the mast!”
Four children quickly moved to the corners of the tent, leaving Toog to plop down at the mast.
“Wrap your legs and arms around the pole or mast and hold on tightly,” instructed Wuz.
After doing as they were told, the children looked up and watched, with heart-pounding awe, as blue sky quickly shrunk from sight. To them, it looked as though a humongous fiend was devouring everything in its path. Soon, as swelling waves began rocking the gephouse, rain drops pelted heads and a whirling wind slapped faces.
“We’ll get through this! Just hold tight!” shouted Wuz as he hand-mopped his face, rammed his cane between two planks, then knelt by the rudder.
Forced by the downpour to open eyes in spurts, all were clinging as tightly as cramping fingers would allow when an enormous wave tipped the gephouse sideways. Jarred hard when the gephouse soon slammed downward, the children’s geps and Wuz’s anchor came loose.
Then, when a gust of wind smacked the sail into Toog, he lost his grip. Careening backward, Toog tore through the gephouse tent as he tumbled toward Wuz. Just as Wuz grabbed hold of Toog, another erupting giant wave struck. Though the gephouse didn’t capsize, Wuz and Toog were hurled into the rampaging ocean.
Separated from Toog by the jolt, Wuz twisted until spotting him. But just as Wuz tried to lurch toward Toog, the turbulence turned the elder toward the gephouse, causing him to get more bad news: The tent’s poles had snapped, leaving Nam, Pun, Seer and Dob to also be heaved overboard.
Now, all six were bobbing and gasping. Able to do little more than keep from swallowing water, everyone could only hope for a miracle.
Suddenly, each of the hapless voyagers felt something nudge her and his chest. What ghastly creature lives out here? wondered Wuz while struggling to stay afloat. To everyone’s surprise, ots began poking their heads out of the water. In a flash, every member of the floundering crew had an ot snuggled under an arm.
As soon as the ots felt a hand grab hold, they swam to the edge of the gephouse, where they gently snout-bumped their passengers on to the deck. Every time someone was thrown back into the ocean by the storm, an ot was quick to again come to her or his rescue.
“The ots are saving us!” thankfully cried out Nam, clutching the rudder’s handle as she watched an ot retrieve Seer.
“Ot ot ot, ot ot ot,” mimicked the ot closest to her.
“Ots never sounded so flubble!” exclaimed Pun with arms wrapped around the mast.
“Ot ot ot ot ot, ot ot ot!” said a nearby ot.
Eventually, the waves were no more than a foot high, allowing everyone to stay put on the deck. Spotting an older ot propel above the water in order to lead its companions southward, Wuz wished he could have expressed his gratefulness.
Soon, the rain stopped, the wind died down and the ocean fell still. Done in by their ordeal, the kids stretched out on the deck, closed eyes and were soon flublooning as patches of blue sky began appearing overhead.
Wuz, however, stayed awake so that he could spot Flubee. Having no luck at first, he turned on a whim in time to catch the moon approach the horizon. The current appears to have kept us on course, he told himself as he looped the rudder in place, then lied down and shut eyes.
The following morning, Wuz, who was the first to awaken, pried his cane from the deck boards, then trudged to the mast.
Nam, who was next to rise, joined him.
A few feet away, Dob frowned upon realizing they’d lost their sacks during the storm. “I hope Bulfville has good topa and bohe,” he whined.
“I just want a soft bed,” fussed Pun as she sat up, then dropped elbows onto knees and chin into palms.
Nam spoke with hands on hips. “Isn’t finding Bulfsters who can tell us how to help the grown-ups get along what’s important?”
Wuz tried lifting everyone’s spirits. “Why don’t we take turns watching for land. Our lookout post will be alongside the mast,” he suggested.
“I’ll go first,” volunteered Pun.
“I’ll go next,” offered Dob as he sat by the rudder with Pun and Seer.
Still sitting next to Wuz, Nam looked down. “I’ve been hoping a creator would guide us to Bulfville.”
“Thank goodness for the ots,” said Wuz.
“Could a creator have sent the ots?” asked Nam.
“Maybe,” answered Wuz.
There was something Nam wanted Wuz to know. “Toog and I left a note for the grown-ups. Along with saying we went to get help from Bulfsters, we said we didn’t want to be Flangsters or Floopsters or anything else they think up…. We told them that, like you, we’ll always be Flubsters!”
Wuz smiled warmly.
Their second night on the ocean was especially dark. Only able to see fuzzy silhouettes of each other, most were gazing up at a glittering array of stars when Pun, who was on duty at the lookout, saw what seemed to be a radiant dome pop into sight. “Look east everybody! It’s Bulfville!” she shouted.
All eyes focused on the dazzling object.
“I see it!” said a thrilled Dob.
“Hellozeee, here we comezeee, Bulfville,” gleefully sang Pun.
A few seconds later, the distant glow was gone.
“It’ll come back!” assured Pun as everyone, except Wuz, waited for it to return bigger and brighter.
Wuz tried to console the children. “I believe we saw Flubee briefly poke above the horizon, that’s good news. It means we’re still on course,” he informed them.
“How soon will we find Bulfville, Wuz?” pressured Dob.
Toog stood up for Wuz. “Wuz can’t know when a place no one has been to will appear!”
Turning to face Wuz, Seer spoke boldly. “You should have turned us around when we first saw the storm cloud, Wuz!” she complained.
“I wish we had headed home then, too,” moaned Dob.
“We can’t help the grown-ups get their honor back if we flubdub out here,” fretted Pun.
Nam got upset. “Blaming Wuz isn’t kind or fair! Losing our honor helps no one,” she firmly stated.
They’re discouraged and homesick, thought Wuz before suprising the children. “We’ll spot land tomorrow,” he told them.
“Are you sure?” questioned Pun.
“Will pretty sure do, Pun?” offered Wuz before facing the others. “Please, everyone, ponder the notion we sometimes get what we need in an unexpected way.”
“You mean like getting rescued by the ots?” asked Nam.
“Yes,” answered Wuz.
While standing by the mast when daybreak arrived, Wuz watched Flubee arc high over the horizon.
Nam, who was next to wake up, joined Wuz. “Everybody’s going to be hungry,” she warned.
“If the current stays steady, we should see land midday. Continuing to take turns at the lookout might help pass the time,” suggested Wuz.
Around noon that day, Toog, who was taking his turn at the lookout, saw something bulge above the horizon a mile or so ahead. Wanting to make sure it was land, he turned and casually waved for Wuz to join him.
After locking the rudder in place, Wuz hobbled to Toog. “What’s up?” he asked as he sat.
“I think I’ve spotted land,” whispered Toog.
Wuz made a visor with his hands to block sunlight. “My old eyes can’t see anything yet. Let’s be sure before we let the others know,” he suggested.
“OK,” said Toog.
During the silence that followed, Wuz noticed Toog fidget. “This sure has been an adventure,” said the elder.
Toog took a full breath before replying. “Since getting flung into the ocean, I’ve been worrying about what happens when we flubdub,” he shared.
“I’ve also been worried about what happens after my life on Flub. . . . Seeing myself humbly strive to Be Flubster helps me worry less,” noted Wuz.
“I wish flubdub wasn’t such a mystery,” replied Toog.
“I’m guessing it’s a flubble place, where we continue to discover how to Be Flubster,” said Wuz.
“That we have a lot more to learn about kindness and fairness when we leave Flub makes sense,” commented Toog.
“By the way, Toog, I have a favor to ask you. Will you accept my walking stick when I flubdub?” offered Wuz.
“Sure,” gladly said Toog.
“I’m guessing you know why I’d like you to have it,” said Wuz.
“It’s a flubble way for you and me to know we’re not alone,” replied Toog.
Wuz smiled, then again shielded his eyes while looking ahead. “You can tell the others you’ve spotted land, Toog.”
Standing and turning, Toog announced what everyone wanted to hear. “Land ahead!”
The others stood, looked forward and hoped the expanding mound in the distance didn’t disappear.
“We’ve done it; we’ve found Bulfville!” soon rejoiced Dob.
“I can’t wait to meet my first Bulfster!” announced Pun while clapping.
“The Bulfsters probably have a large storm-proof gephouse they’ll let us use when we make the return trip,” guessed Seer, joining Dob and Pun near the rudder.
While standing with Nam and Toog by the mast, Wuz saw that neither was excited by the sight of land. “Waiting to see how we’ll be greeted before celebrating is probably a good idea,” he told them.
“We think we know something you know,” said Nam.
“Something that has to do with getting what we need in an unexpected way,” added Toog.
“What have you figured out?” asked Wuz.
“We’ve only made our way back to Floopsville and Flangville. Bulfville is make-believe,” said Nam, sounding let down.
After a head-scratching moment of thought, Wuz offered a notion. “Our search for a way to be helpful wasn’t make believe,” he suggested.
“But we didn’t find a way to help,” said Nam.
Wuz shrugged. “I only know I choose to Be Flubster no matter where I live,” he pledged.
“I also choose to continue to Be Flubster,” vowed Toog.
“Me, too. . . . If only we could get the grown-ups to believe in niceness again,” wished Nam.
“What we can do is never let niceness be snuffed out on Planet Flub,” said Wuz.
Pun, meanwhile, spotted those on shore waving their hands. “They see us coming!” she called out.
“I bet their topa is flubble,” whooped Dob just before the foothills, river inlet and gathering crowd began to look very familiar.
Seer loudly stated what everyone realized. “It’s Floopsville and Flangville!” Put out, she turned to Wuz with a scowl. “You said we’d find Bulfville today. Today was supposed to be the day we learned how to help the grown-ups get back their honor!”
Wuz spoke calmly. “Actually, I said we’d find land, not Bulfville, Seer. And when it comes to honor, aren’t all Flubsters free to decide to have it or not have it?” he posed, loud enough for all to hear. Wuz then turned to the others and made a request. “Please form a circle, clasp hands and close eyes, everyone. I have something to say I very much hope you’ll repeat out loud.”
After watching the children move into position, Wuz stood behind Nam and Toog, leaned on his cane and spoke slowly so that all could easily repeat each of the following phrases: “Though we believe our journey was noble, . . .we now know and accept. . .we’ve hurt others by taking it. . . . In an effort to Be Flubster, . . .we shall humbly seek healing.”
As the children released hands and opened eyes, Wuz made another appeal. “I don’t know how they will receive us, but I do know how I would like us to receive them. Will you hold a flubet with me as we dock?” he requested.
“We will,” answered Nam and Toog at the same time, soon followed by the other children.
Not far from land, Wuz bowed his head.
The children followed his lead.
Turning eyes upward to judge the greeting he and the children were about to receive, Wuz saw that everyone on shore also had chins pressed against chests. Their flubets are a very hopeful sign, he told himself while respectfully waiting for someone from the large gathering on shore to speak.
Keeping her head lowered, Meeb stepped forward and spoke meekly as Vir tied a docking line to the mast of the gephouse. “Because a storm turned back our rescue gepers, we feared the brave crew searching for Bulfville experienced flubdub. Your safe return brings us joy beyond words.”
Wuz was also humble. “Please lift your heads,” he asked as he lifted his own. “Because we know our attempt to find Bulfville has been hurtful, we ask for the chance to bring about healing.”
Wiping tears from eyes, Meeb’s words continued to be heartfelt. “We ask the returning voyagers to look down river.”
After Wuz and the children did as Meeb asked, Nam blissfully called out. “Double flubble! The wall on Flubity Bridge is gone!”
Meeb was ready with more good news. “Floopsters and Flangsters no longer exist. Because we again appreciate what is within each of us is within all of us, Be Flubster is once more the wise saying that guides us all. Though our misguided separation-flub-up has left us unworthy, we ask for the chance to earn forgiveness.”
“No one is unworthy,” assured Wuz as he looked at those on shore.“ All of us deserve the healing we are capable of bringing about.”
As Nam, Toog and the other children raced to hug family and friends, every Flubster felt magnificent togetherness.
Hearing a splash behind him, Wuz turned and saw the ot that had led the rescue. “Thank you for being ot,” said Wuz as he dropped to one knee.
The ot thrust itself upward so that it could make better eye contact. “Ot ot, ot ot ot,” it replied, happy to have been helpful.
Millions of miles away, the child who loved to imagine Flub was a peaceful paradise was again gazing out her bedroom window. “If only helpful beings would arrive and teach the grown-ups how to stop their horrible hurtfulness,” she desperately wished just before the deafening bombs of a world at war shook her bedroom, causing her to drop to the floor and dart under her bed.
1. For Flubsters, niceness meant being kind and fair. How do humans describe being nice?
2. Wuz said that separating wouldn’t help because Flubsters couldn’t separate from who they are. Do humans try to separate from who they are? Explain your answer.
3. Wuz said Flubsters were free to decide whether or not to have honor. Why are or aren’t humans also free to choose to have honor?
4. Could a Be Human wise saying ever replace all the rules and laws on Earth? Explain your answer.
5. Flubster’s made learning about niceness a big deal. Should humans make niceness a school subject? Why or why not?
6. Flubsters discovered they liked themselves less when they put others down. Why do or don’t humans also like themselves less when they put others down?