I’m asleep, I think. I must be dreaming because I’m flying high in the sky and far below in a vast corn field is a crop circle shaped like a squirrel being chased by a dog. Uh oh, I think, I’m in Fleegle World again. This is confirmed when I look up and see the Chocolate Rockies looming ahead, a mountainous wall of brown fur with wagging tails that beat the clouds in the sky and anyone in it like whisks in a bowl of whipping cream. Last time they knocked me clear out of the dream.
Fleegle suddenly streaks out of the sky, dive bombing from the sun, and swoops passed me, then circles back and zooms up alongside me. He’s much better at flying than me. Maybe it’s his ears. They seem much bigger in Fleegle World.
“Back to give it another try?” he asks. “Not everyone can cross the Chocolate Rockies.”
“I guess so.”
“You mean you don’t know?”
“I can’t control what I dream.”
“You can’t?” Fleegle looks surprised. “You can’t scent smell, you can’t hear unless shouted at, you can barely see at night, and now I find out you can’t control your dreams. The more I learn about life as a two-legger, the more I realize just how limited it is to be one. Wobbling all over the place on those spindly legs. I’m surprised all of you don’t live on top of horses, now they have legs to be proud of.”
“Is this your dream or mine?” I ask.
Fleegle laughs. “Unless you want another mouthful of fur, you’re going to have to fly higher to get over the Chocolates,” he says and zooms skywards toward a distant cloud.
I attempt to follow.
“Higher, Raud, you must fly higher,” he calls down from above. “Look out for that tail.”
The air around me rumbles with thunder and turbulence as a tail the size of the Sears Tower sweeps passed me, sucking me into the vacuum of its back draft. Fleegle dive bombs me again, grabs me by the shirt collar and pulls me clear of the turbulence.
Fleegle lets go of my shirt. “What would you do without me?”
“Phew, that was close,” I say.
“But well worth it now that we’re across. Look ahead.”
We’re passed the tails and are now flying along the backs toward the heads. Each giant Lab is eagerly lapping up frothy mouthfuls from a vast ocean of muddy brown water. As we fly beyond the heads, with their tongues the size of many city blocks churning the water, Fleegle begins a slow descent.
“Just wait until you taste it,” he says excitedly.
“What’s it called?”
“The Chocolate Sea, of course.” He laughs. “And I bet you thought it was mud. You see, in Fleegle World, a dog can eat as much chocolate as he wants.”
Next Negotiating with Cookies: Fleegle’s Gods
Previous Negotiating with Cookies: “Fleegle, Stay Still.”
Gnawing the Bone 