Mrs. Tickle's Catastrophe by Donna M. Marbach
Tuesday, May 6, 2003
This is a light-hearted tale for almost and beginning readers. Based on the children's party game "Telephone," the story plays with words. It tries to show, in a humorous way, how half-heard information (or information heard with a particular bias) can get twisted and distorted as people pass it on to others. It shows how gossip and rumors can completely upend the truth.
It all started in the morning. The sun was warm and the birds were singing. So Mrs. Tickle put on her gloves and a big straw hat. She picked up her tools and went to work in her garden.
Mrs. Tickle had a lovely garden. Orange mums grew beside pink arnations. Purple pansies mixed with yellow daisies. Best of all, big red roses filled the air with a rich, sweet smell that wrapped itself all around her house. Mrs. Tickle loved her garden and was very fussy about what grew there.
She was on her hands and knees among the pansies when her next door neighbor walked by. Mr. Flutterbee was on his way to buy a new net. He collected insects and liked to watch all the pretty bugs that flew in and out of Mrs. Tickle’s garden. He especially liked the black and yellow honeybees that hummed among her roses
“Good morning, Mrs. Tickle,” said Mr. Flutterbee.
“Good morning, Mr. Flutterbee,” she said, wiping mud across her nose as she scratched an itch.
“And how are you this fine day?” asked Mr. Flutterbee.
“Fine,” said Mrs. Tickle. But then she wrinkled her face and frowned a very big frown. “Except that I have weeds in my bed!” Mrs. Tickle thought dandelions had no place next to roses.
Mr. Flutterbee shook his head. “I am sorry to hear that. I know they can be annoying sometimes, but they do have their good points too.
Mrs. Tickle looked a little puzzled, but thanked Mr. Flutterbee for his concern and went back to working in her garden.
Mr. Flutterbee walked to the corner store where he met Mr. Barker, who raised prize poodles. Mr. Barker had his nose buried in the latest issue of Doggie Doings.
“Hello, Mr. Barker,” said Mr. Flutterbee. “I just talked to Mrs. Tickle, and the poor lady has a bit of a problem.”
“Oh, and what is that?” asked Mr. Barker, barely look up from an article on how to train puppies in five easy steps.
“She has bees in her shed,” said Mr. Flutterbee and he shook his head.
“Oh dear,” said Mr. Barker. “That can be bad! I hope that she gets rid of them soon.”
Later that day, Mr. Barker telephoned his wife who was not feeling very well. “Did you hear about Mrs. Tickle’s big problem?” he asked her. “The poor woman has fleas in her bed!)
“Oh dear!” said Mrs. Barker. “That is so unhealthy!”
Mrs. Barker coughed into her handkerchief and took a sip of water. She then told Tilly her housekeeper about poor Mrs. Tickle. “She has a sneeze in her head!”
“I am sorry to hear that,” said Tilly, who was down on her hands and knees. She was scrubbing Mrs. Barker’s kitchen floor with a stiff bristled brush. “I do hope she feels better soon.”
Then Tilly told her boyfriend Bob the handyman about Mrs. Tickle’s problem. “Poor Mrs. Tickle,” sighed Tilly. “Her knees have bled and I am worried sick.”
“What?” said Bob who was very upset by this news. He liked Mrs. Tickle very much and often visited her. In fact, he had just helped her straighten up her garage. Together, they had sorted all her gardening supplies and tidied all her husband’s sporting gear. “Are you sure? That is terrible!” Bob sniffled and snuffled until a big tear rolled off the end of his nose.
“Why dear,” said Mrs. Floss who met Bob as she was returning home from the dentist. “What is making you so sad?” Mrs. Floss put her arm around the handyman’s shoulders.
“I guess you haven’t heard,” he sobbed. “Poor Mrs. Tickle has had an accident. And it is all my fault. She got hit by some skis on her head!”
Just then there was a terrible racket as an ambulance, two police cars, and a fire truck tore down the street. Curious neighbors followed the noise and flashing lights right into Mrs. Tickle’s front yard. Mr. Flutterbee and the Barkers showed up. So did Tilly, Bob, and Mrs. Floss. Word was out. MRS. TICKLE HAD HAD A CATASTROPHE!!
“Where are the thieves who stole the bread?” asked one of the police officers, slamming the door to his black-and-white car.
“We’re here to put out the fire the breeze caused in her shed,” said the firefighter on the hook-and-ladder truck.
“Oh no,” said the driver of the ambulance. “Mrs. Tickle was hit by a tree and may be dead!”
Now that could be a catastrophe! Poor Mrs. Tickle looked up from her gardening. She was quite alive and quite surprised. How had this happened? Where had all these terrible stories come from?
Everyone began talking at once. Weeds to bees, knees to trees. Beds to shed and head to dead! Suddenly, everything was very clear.
“Oh my,” said Mrs. Tickle. “All of this is because of a few dandelions in my rose beds!” Boy! Was everyone embarrassed! Mrs. Tickle had a good laugh, and then invited everyone in for a cup of tea and a chat.
Or was it to see her best hat? To feed her new cat?
