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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2106771-Startle-the-Christmas-Turtle
Rated: E · Fiction · Holiday · #2106771
Is history moving too fast? Startle knows. He walks a long road to his Christmas Party.
The invitation was postmarked, "November 27, 1923." Startle reeled back on his heels, spinning ever so slowly in a wide circle, that expressed a turtle's highest level of elation. In a few minutes he began to take on the appearance of an old-fashioned top, looking for a final resting place. Startle was on his back in Miami, Florida, his hometown, but his heart was in the sky.

"Well, that was certainly a wonderful flash dance, Startle!" smirked Mother Turtle. "Would you like me to give you a hand or do plan to start a break dance, (even though that's not been invented, yet)?"

"Just give me a moment, Mom. Please?" respected Startle. "Rocking chair, rocking chair, rocking chair,...and...FLIP...alley oop! Okay, Mom, I'm back on my feet! You'll never believe what just happened!"

"What, Startle? What?" asked Mom.

"I have been invited to go to the annual Turtle & Human Christmas Party in New York City on December 20, 1923!" exulted Startle.

"How will you get there in time, Son?" Mom barely got the words out of her mouth, before...

"...But there's more! We get to ice skate at Rockefeller Center!" thrilled Startle.

"The Rockefeller Center hasn't been built, yet," observed Mom.

"No worries, Mom!" assured Startle. "By the time I arrive, Christmas ice-skating will be an annual event. Gotta run,...in a manner of speaking."

"Remember to take your galoshes!" Mom urged. "It might rain on the way."

"With all due respect, Dear Mother, I would like to leave them," requested Startle. "We are turtles, after all. We practically live in the water."

Mom helped Startle to pack his bag, and soon he was on his way. "New York City, here I come!" Startle exulted as he waved to his Mom, mere inches away.

The trip was truly an adventure.

Startle trudged along day after long day, learning the names of every blade of grass he passed on the way, while inventing new ways to win in foot races with the snails and the worms, all the while he remained fascinated with the speed of the world, spinning around him.

Some days felt very cold to Startle's skin and he had to burrow into the soft pluff mud, waiting until it was safe to continue.

Some days felt very hot to Startle's skin and he had to burrow into the soft pluff mud, waiting until it was safe to continue.

Some days Startle saw humans, who seemed very sad, wearing ragged clothing, and he wished he could cheer their hearts.

Some days Startle could hardly see for all the dust, going back into the water and swimming for a long way, until the woods were thicker and the dust was thinner.

Some days Startle had to really be careful, since large machines seemed to be building some sort of large highway, ("Interstate" he thought they called it.) He often lived up to his name on those days, since the huge tires would catch part of his tail and send him spinning out-of-control, until he landed in one of the marshes a couple hundred feet from the new highway in the Georgia coastal plain. The cool water helped him to catch his bearings, becoming refreshed for the journey ahead.

Some time later Startle came to a place with a lot of people and many apparently important buildings. "This must be the seat-of-Government, but who are those strange people with headbands to keep their long hair in place, with the flowers in necklaces around their necks, with funny smells coming out of their mouths,...ICK,...not mention the awful smells coming from their bodies. Hey! There's plenty of water out here! By all means feel free to take a bath,...PLEASE!"

Trudge, trudge, trudge, but no worries. Startle was made for trudging. That meant he was having a wonderful time! WHEEEEEEEE!!! He spun slowly into tomorrow.

One day Startle saw many people on the streets of a new city. They were all wearing patent-leather shoes, pinstripe suits and power ties. Strange as it may seem, that meant everyone he saw was doing the same thing.
The men were in patent-leather shoes, pinstripe suits and power ties.
The women were in patent-leather shoes, pinstripe suits and power ties.
The boys were in patent-leather shoes, pinstripe suits and power ties.
The girls were in patent-leather shoes, pinstripe suits and power ties.
The dogs and cats were in patent-leather shoes, pinstripe suits and power ties.

Everyone was carrying briefcases and looking at numbers on a digital teletype machine.

"Apparently, they are looking for food and homes," thought Startle. "There's plenty of pluff mud out here in the river. I am more than willing to share. Yet, no one came because none of the humans spoke turtle.

Finally, Startle found a city, without marshes, without many trees, with very little grass. The buildings looked like trees. The people looked like grass or ants or swarming bees,...until...he...saw...HER!!!

The HUGE LADY was actually standing out in the middle of the water. She appeared to be as tall as a giant and as stiff as a statue. She carried what looked like a large torch, but it wasn't burning. "I'll bet that thing is pretty heavy by now," quipped Startle. He waved at the lady, but the lady didn't wave back. So, he just kept on swimming.

When he finally made it to land, he asked the nearest police officer the directest route to Rockefeller Center. "Ya take Park Avenue to 34th. Turn left on 34th, and then a right on 5th Avenue. Go straight on 5th, and you're there in a couple of blocks," dictated the officer without batting an eye.

About a week later Startle arrived at Rockefeller Center. He slogged inside and looked for the concierge.

"May I help you, sir?" Winston, the Concierge was rather turtle-like as humans go. He was short and squatty. He didn't have much of a neck, but he spoke in a slow and affable manner. Startle felt right at home.

"Am I late for the party?" asked Startle.

"Probably not," replied Winston. "When is the fête scheduled to begin?"

"At 7:00 P.M. on December 20..." replied Startle.

"Well, then you are thirty minutes early!" announced Winston, apparently pleased with himself.

"...1923," completed Startle.

Winston was crest-fallen. "Maybe we should send 'regrets,' since you are just a little bit late."

"...But you just said I was early," retorted Startle. "What made the change?"

"Mr. Turtle, I am afraid I must inform you, that this is not the year you have imagined," soothed Winston.

"What year is it, pray tell?" intreated Startle.

"O, Dear Sir, it is the year, 2016, if you please," comforted Winston.

"Be at peace, my friend," offered Startle. "It would seem I've been celebrating Christmas for 93 years straight, now, wearing this same Santa hat. Not to mention the fact, that I'm still a very young turtle, since we turtles live for 300 years. I think 'regrets' would be moot, since the humans, who invited me, are long gone, no doubt. Condolences would be more in line with reality, if we could even find their descendants. I guess I should probably return home...at any rate."

"Would you like me to arrange more expeditious transportation, Sir?" Winston queried.

"I think not, Mr. Concierge," quipped Startle. "I believe you humans live fast and die fast. I think the next 93 years will be better spent smelling the pluff mud, swimming in the cool water and sharing the road with the furry squirrels, the armored alligators, the shrill mockingbirds and the colorful butterflies along the shores between here and Miami."

"...But wouldn't you like to arrive on time for some Christmas party in your hometown in December of 2017?" enthused Winston.

"What makes you think I have been missing any Christmas party?" directed Startle. "When one has Christmas in the heart, every day has music, every night has light and every tomorrow has Hope!"

"You are a blessed turtle, indeed, Sir," blinked Winston.

"I am at that, Sir Winston," smiled Startle. "May all of your days be Christmas bright, filled with the Joy of Hopeful tomorrows, supported by The Creator, Who makes us each what we need to be!"

Word Count: 1401

by Jay O'Toole
on December 29, 2016
© Copyright 2016 Jay O'Toole (777stan at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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