Angels and a Lazy Rabbit by Joan Jessee Shortridge

Author:Joan Jessee Shortridge [Shortridge, Joan Jessee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781468906226
Publisher: Booktango
Published: 2012-06-28T00:00:00+00:00

CH. 8- REBEL IS CHOSEN TO BE LUNCH

And, so Rebel’s past life goes on.

“Good Angel, why do you always get going, when going gets rough?” Rebel asked of his lady angel friend.

Good Angel gloated. She chuckled gleefully, and commented,” Trouble goes before you and behind you, Rebel. I do not partake of evil.”

Rebel shook his head, with bewilderment. He could not understand an angel. “Let’s go to Brazil,” he ordered her.

The machine headed for Brazil. It landed near a forest, where they visited the Amazon Valley. They saw more Indians. These lived in settled huts, near the forest.

“The huts are made of branches and grass.” Rebel commented.

“The ones on stilts are made thus, to keep floodwaters from destroying them,” said Good Angel. “Now, let’s go with the Indians, and watch them make rubber.”

Rebel and Good Angel helped the natives catch sap, from the rubber trees in the forest.

“Rubber is made from sap,” enlightened the Good Angel.

“That’s impossible” exclaimed Rebel. “I have a rubber rain coat and rubber boots. They cannot be made from mere sap.”

“Watch and see,” said Good Angel.

Rebel helped the natives gather taiga nuts.

“These nuts are made into oil for cooking, and into artificial ivory,” said the Good Angel.

“I want diamonds,” he scolded, and clapped his berry-stained hands together. He was pleased to hear that someone was making artificial ivory instead of using the poor animals, and especially elephants, to make ivory.

“Stay calm!” she begged, “and I will tell you a poem called, “NAUGHTY OLD FLY.” She chanted the poem.

‘Naughty old fly

Just flew by,

Hit me in the eye,

Landed in my pie,

Wish he would die,

Made me cry,

Flew through the air,

Went everywhere,

Landed in my hair,

Gave me a scare,

Chased my cat,

Ought not do that,

Give him a swat,

I cannot,

He can’t be got,

Wish he would rot.

Waved good-bye,

Took to the sky,

Made me sigh,

That naughty old fly.

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