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Chapter 7 Title Chapter 7 – page 3

"Come and bring the beasts .. ah, … snortle pop .. horses … and follow me," said Burrbear. He led them down a dirt path along the river where you could see the work the beavers were doing on the flam, as they called it. "The flam controls the flow" said Burrbear. "Fantastic!" shouts J above the roar of the overflow.

It was only about mid morning but certainly time for a little something of some sort. After walking down the winding path for about a quarter mile (like Granma’s road coming in to her place) they arrived in an open circle, oh about 100 feet wide, in the middle of the dark green trees they had seen before. Granma could now see that they were yummy avacado trees. Her eyes weren’t as good as they use to be, being 129 and all. J was licking his chops also. On the way they had passed some tall, spikey grayish-purple things sticking up out of the ground. G now saw one headed her way. It was a pineapple, carried in a platter by one of the putty-tats. She soon found out it was not called a pineapple, not in Timbuktoo, of course. . And why in the world do we call them pineapples anyway? They don’t look like apples; they don’t come from apple trees; they don’t even come from pine trees! So they aren’t really pine-apples at all!

Here they called them "sweet ‘taters. Well, they WERE sweet, and here they grew underground like ‘taters, so that was a pretty good name for them, I guess. G noticed now that they weren’t yellow inside either; they were light pink, kinda like grapefruit. They all sat around a stone table in the middle of the circle of trees. The putty tats put down platters of sweet ‘taters and avacados. Granma went to Mober and got a big papaya out of the basket, carefully, so as not to squish any Chips.

The ‘ole beavers eyes lit up. "Slurpppy poooof badooom … you’ve come from the top of Mangoes End, you have!" "Yep, yes, Your Highness, that’s where we came from all right," said G. Burrbear hadn’t seen a papaya in a Marshie’s age he said. Must be something like a ‘coon’s age’ thought G. G was pleased that she had something to share. J got out his trusty pocket knife and cut slices and put them on the platter. Burrbear carefully collected the seeds to plant them, just in case one might grow among the avacados and sweet ‘taters.

"So, Your Royal Majesty, Burrbear, what’s the name of your lovely village here?" asked G, looking at Burrbear. "Varooom plunkin" said Burrbear. G wasn’t sure if he was just trying to talk or if that was the name of the place. He didn’t say anymore, so she figured that must be the name of the place. But after a couple of avacados, he said, "FlamFlow. This place is called FlamFlow." he said as he eyed the papaya. "Go ahead, Your Majesty, the King is always first. The papaya is a gift for your hospitality," said G. Burrbear raised his bushy eyebrows, "jossss-spital …teeee?" G explained the best she could: "Your Majesty's generosity, being friendly, and all that." "Oh" he said.

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