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starsficHarold and the Purple Crayon is written and illustrated by Crockett Johnson. (You can see a 1969 animated version here if you like!) Apparently I miss Casey. Thanks for all the good Whinnie wishes (updates 1 & 2) ♥ I love you!
For previous scenes tagged "straight up,"
click and scroll down (reverse chronology).
drawing home
"He had a fine view from the balloon," Ziggy said, "but he couldn't see his window. He couldn't even see his house!"
He took the moment while he was turning the page to look out over the kids' heads, sure someone had come in while he was reading--and there was Casey, standing at the back of the room. Smiling? That was a good sign, right?
Ziggy caught his eye for a second, waiting for a signal that would tell him his morpher wasn't working and giant robots were attacking the city. Casey lifted his hand in a tiny wave, shaking his head. No robots, then?
"So he made a house," Ziggy continued, trying to stay alert in case he'd misinterpreted Casey's "all clear" gesture. "With windows. But none of the windows was his window."
One of the girls was leaning against his knee, which was really cute and he tried to remember not to wave his arms too enthusiastically for fear of hitting her. "He made some more windows. He made lots of buildings with windows. He made a whole city full of windows, but none of the windows was his window.
"He couldn't think where it might be," Ziggy told them, and seriously, he had no idea why no one else wanted to visit schools. These kids were adorable. "He decided to ask a police officer."
"Why didn't he ask a Power Ranger?" one of the boys wanted to know. There was general murmured agreement with this statement, and Ziggy considered it carefully.
"I think it was probably because he didn't know how to draw one," he said at last. "I mean, those uniforms aren't easy."
"And his police person isn't very good," a little girl with black braids pointed out.
"Well, he's using a crayon," Ziggy reminded her. "He probably couldn't get in all the details."
"If I got lost, I'd want to have a green crayon," the girl leaning against his knee mumbled. "So I could draw you."
He beamed. "And I would be happy to tell you which way to go," he said, thumbing the page to see how close they were to the end of the book. He'd promised the teacher it wouldn't take more than fifteen minutes. "The police officer pointed the way Harold was going anyway, okay? So he kept going.
"He walked along with the moon, wishing he was in his room and in bed."
"Why?" This from another boy, emboldened by the question about Power Rangers. "What's so great about his room?"
Ziggy knew that one. "It's where the whole adventure began," he said. "Adventures aren't really adventures if you don't have something to come back to afterwards, right?"
The boy paused. "I guess," he said at last.
He was pretty sure none of their parents would thank him for expounding on the differences between mob life and Rangering, so he let it go. "Suddenly, Harold remembered," he said instead. "He remembered where his bedroom window was when there was a moon: it was always right around the moon!"
Turning the page, Ziggy made sure all the kids could see Harold drawing his own window around the moon that had accompanied him since the beginning of the book. Curtains and all. "And then Harold made his bed. He got in it, and he drew up the covers."
The last page showed Harold, his purple crayon finally set aside, sleeping peacefully in a home of his own making. "And Harold dropped off to sleep," Ziggy told them. "The end."
Fourteen and a half minutes, if his watch was right. Well, Dillon's watch. He didn't know why Dillon even wore a watch, since it wasn't like the one in his pocket didn't tell time. But he did. He could usually be convinced to lend it to Ziggy when he had somewhere to be.
The kids had more questions, of course, but it was almost time to go. Casey came up and loomed a little, which worked about as well as when Dillon did it--the kids immediately started to ask him questions too. The teacher was totally on top of it, though, and they were ready to go when the bell rang. Casey and Ziggy walked out just ahead of the kids.
"That's RJ's favorite story," Casey said, waving over his shoulder at them. "Harold and the Purple Crayon. We have the video and the mp3 and everything."
"Really?" Ziggy forgot to ask what he doing here for a moment, pleased as he was by the idea of another Ranger reading kids' books. "I always liked it. I mean, choose your own adventure, right? Create your own life."
He could hear Casey grin. "Yeah, that's what RJ says. I'm sure the color of the crayon is just a bonus."
The noise in the hallway stunted the conversation, but Ziggy was eventually reassured there hadn't been any new disasters since he'd left the garage. Casey just said it was weird being around Dillon and RJ at the same time, which was a strange thing to say but he didn't seem to want to talk about it, so. They passed the walk back trading stories about invasions, Pandora's Box, and team life in general.
"You ever think one of your teammates was going to die?" Ziggy blurted out, a few minutes after the garage came into view. It wasn't actually tall enough to see from a distance, but the zord bays around it were high and distinctive.
Casey didn't answer right away, and Ziggy wasn't sure that was comforting. No matter what he eventually said. "Maybe," Casey said at last. "No? I'm not sure. I mean, they probably thought I was going to die a couple of times, but... I don't know. It sounds bad, but--I was the new guy. I didn't have to worry about them as much."
"Even RJ?" Ziggy asked.
Casey laughed. "RJ's invincible," he said, and his tone had a fond certainty that Ziggy barely recognized. "The one time we lost RJ, we ended up on the other side of death and RJ came back clean-shaven and smiling."
He blinked. "Clean-shaven?" he repeated.
Casey waved his hand in a gesture of unfathomable exasperation. "Wow, I went two whole days this time. It just goes to show, you can't tell stories about someone without mentioning their gender somehow.
"I've gotten so careful," he added, when Ziggy just stared at him. "When I'm talking to someone who doesn't know, I only use her name. Or I make her tell it. She always makes it sound plausible."
"Uh," Ziggy said cleverly. "So she's not... uh, she's not a chick? Woman? Sorry; chicks, bad. Summer keeps trying to get it into my head, but I'm conditioned, you know?"
Casey ignored this. "She used to be a guy. Kind of a long story. But no, I've never thought she was going to die."
"Oh no," Ziggy declared, turning around to walk backward so he could get a better look at Casey's face. "You can't just throw something like that out there and then be like, 'oh, my bad, you were saying?' Your girlfriend used to be a dude?"
Casey gave him an irritated look. Maybe the first one since he'd shown up--definitely the first one Ziggy had seen directed at him. "Is that a problem?"
"No, no." Ziggy held up his hands quickly, glancing over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't about to walk into something. "That's totally cool. I mean, we used to think Dr. K was a dude. At least, most of us did; she didn't exactly go out of her way to act human. I think Dillon could tell, though. I don't know how, except that he has superpowers and also a kind of gigantic crush on her ever since--"
He winced as he suddenly realized how that would sound. "I mean, not that he couldn't have had a crush on her if she wasn't a she. He totally would have; Dillon flirts with anything that walks, so--"
"Ziggy." Casey stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, and Ziggy froze where he was.
"Yeah?" he said carefully.
Casey nodded over his shoulder. "You're about to walk into a streetlight."
Ziggy glanced back again, then took a step to the left. "Yeah, okay. Anyway, sorry."
Casey actually smiled at that. "Not your fault," he said. "It's weirder than it sounds, and it's been a little stressful. I didn't mean to snap at you."
"No, sure, it's fine." Ziggy frowned. "So, you're a Power Ranger. And all that stuff, the box and the fear guys and all that--the being on the other side of death? And you never worried that maybe something would happen?"
"Something always happens," Casey said. "That's what it means to live. If nothing happens, you're doing it wrong."
"Yeah, but what if you don't live?" Ziggy insisted. "What if you screw up and someone dies?"
"Everyone makes choices," Casey told him. "If you take responsibility for someone else's choice, you take away their power. And that's not helpful at all, is it."
Ziggy squinted at him, but he had to admit, "Not really, no."
"I've become one of the cryptic ninja masters I always complain about," Casey said, like it was a revelation. "Don't tell RJ. She already makes fun of me for the whole 'running the order' thing."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Ziggy informed him.
"Yeah, neither do I," Casey said ruefully. "Look, you can't go out there thinking about everything you could lose. You have to think about what you want to win. It isn't about death. It's about life. It's about what you do while you're here, like this."
Ziggy considered that, and, cryptic ninja master or not, he thought he kind of got it. "What about other people?" he asked at last. "How do I make them see what they do? What they've got?"
"You don't," Casey said. "Sorry. Everyone has to find their own reasons... to stay or to go. All you can do is make sure they know yours."
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. "Huh," he said after a moment. "Okay. Thanks."
"If that actually helped you," Casey said with a grin, "you should write it down and give it back to me so I can use it again."
"I'll let you know," Ziggy promised thoughtfully. "If it does, I totally will."
For previous scenes tagged "straight up,"
click and scroll down (reverse chronology).
"He had a fine view from the balloon," Ziggy said, "but he couldn't see his window. He couldn't even see his house!"
He took the moment while he was turning the page to look out over the kids' heads, sure someone had come in while he was reading--and there was Casey, standing at the back of the room. Smiling? That was a good sign, right?
Ziggy caught his eye for a second, waiting for a signal that would tell him his morpher wasn't working and giant robots were attacking the city. Casey lifted his hand in a tiny wave, shaking his head. No robots, then?
"So he made a house," Ziggy continued, trying to stay alert in case he'd misinterpreted Casey's "all clear" gesture. "With windows. But none of the windows was his window."
One of the girls was leaning against his knee, which was really cute and he tried to remember not to wave his arms too enthusiastically for fear of hitting her. "He made some more windows. He made lots of buildings with windows. He made a whole city full of windows, but none of the windows was his window.
"He couldn't think where it might be," Ziggy told them, and seriously, he had no idea why no one else wanted to visit schools. These kids were adorable. "He decided to ask a police officer."
"Why didn't he ask a Power Ranger?" one of the boys wanted to know. There was general murmured agreement with this statement, and Ziggy considered it carefully.
"I think it was probably because he didn't know how to draw one," he said at last. "I mean, those uniforms aren't easy."
"And his police person isn't very good," a little girl with black braids pointed out.
"Well, he's using a crayon," Ziggy reminded her. "He probably couldn't get in all the details."
"If I got lost, I'd want to have a green crayon," the girl leaning against his knee mumbled. "So I could draw you."
He beamed. "And I would be happy to tell you which way to go," he said, thumbing the page to see how close they were to the end of the book. He'd promised the teacher it wouldn't take more than fifteen minutes. "The police officer pointed the way Harold was going anyway, okay? So he kept going.
"He walked along with the moon, wishing he was in his room and in bed."
"Why?" This from another boy, emboldened by the question about Power Rangers. "What's so great about his room?"
Ziggy knew that one. "It's where the whole adventure began," he said. "Adventures aren't really adventures if you don't have something to come back to afterwards, right?"
The boy paused. "I guess," he said at last.
He was pretty sure none of their parents would thank him for expounding on the differences between mob life and Rangering, so he let it go. "Suddenly, Harold remembered," he said instead. "He remembered where his bedroom window was when there was a moon: it was always right around the moon!"
Turning the page, Ziggy made sure all the kids could see Harold drawing his own window around the moon that had accompanied him since the beginning of the book. Curtains and all. "And then Harold made his bed. He got in it, and he drew up the covers."
The last page showed Harold, his purple crayon finally set aside, sleeping peacefully in a home of his own making. "And Harold dropped off to sleep," Ziggy told them. "The end."
Fourteen and a half minutes, if his watch was right. Well, Dillon's watch. He didn't know why Dillon even wore a watch, since it wasn't like the one in his pocket didn't tell time. But he did. He could usually be convinced to lend it to Ziggy when he had somewhere to be.
The kids had more questions, of course, but it was almost time to go. Casey came up and loomed a little, which worked about as well as when Dillon did it--the kids immediately started to ask him questions too. The teacher was totally on top of it, though, and they were ready to go when the bell rang. Casey and Ziggy walked out just ahead of the kids.
"That's RJ's favorite story," Casey said, waving over his shoulder at them. "Harold and the Purple Crayon. We have the video and the mp3 and everything."
"Really?" Ziggy forgot to ask what he doing here for a moment, pleased as he was by the idea of another Ranger reading kids' books. "I always liked it. I mean, choose your own adventure, right? Create your own life."
He could hear Casey grin. "Yeah, that's what RJ says. I'm sure the color of the crayon is just a bonus."
The noise in the hallway stunted the conversation, but Ziggy was eventually reassured there hadn't been any new disasters since he'd left the garage. Casey just said it was weird being around Dillon and RJ at the same time, which was a strange thing to say but he didn't seem to want to talk about it, so. They passed the walk back trading stories about invasions, Pandora's Box, and team life in general.
"You ever think one of your teammates was going to die?" Ziggy blurted out, a few minutes after the garage came into view. It wasn't actually tall enough to see from a distance, but the zord bays around it were high and distinctive.
Casey didn't answer right away, and Ziggy wasn't sure that was comforting. No matter what he eventually said. "Maybe," Casey said at last. "No? I'm not sure. I mean, they probably thought I was going to die a couple of times, but... I don't know. It sounds bad, but--I was the new guy. I didn't have to worry about them as much."
"Even RJ?" Ziggy asked.
Casey laughed. "RJ's invincible," he said, and his tone had a fond certainty that Ziggy barely recognized. "The one time we lost RJ, we ended up on the other side of death and RJ came back clean-shaven and smiling."
He blinked. "Clean-shaven?" he repeated.
Casey waved his hand in a gesture of unfathomable exasperation. "Wow, I went two whole days this time. It just goes to show, you can't tell stories about someone without mentioning their gender somehow.
"I've gotten so careful," he added, when Ziggy just stared at him. "When I'm talking to someone who doesn't know, I only use her name. Or I make her tell it. She always makes it sound plausible."
"Uh," Ziggy said cleverly. "So she's not... uh, she's not a chick? Woman? Sorry; chicks, bad. Summer keeps trying to get it into my head, but I'm conditioned, you know?"
Casey ignored this. "She used to be a guy. Kind of a long story. But no, I've never thought she was going to die."
"Oh no," Ziggy declared, turning around to walk backward so he could get a better look at Casey's face. "You can't just throw something like that out there and then be like, 'oh, my bad, you were saying?' Your girlfriend used to be a dude?"
Casey gave him an irritated look. Maybe the first one since he'd shown up--definitely the first one Ziggy had seen directed at him. "Is that a problem?"
"No, no." Ziggy held up his hands quickly, glancing over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't about to walk into something. "That's totally cool. I mean, we used to think Dr. K was a dude. At least, most of us did; she didn't exactly go out of her way to act human. I think Dillon could tell, though. I don't know how, except that he has superpowers and also a kind of gigantic crush on her ever since--"
He winced as he suddenly realized how that would sound. "I mean, not that he couldn't have had a crush on her if she wasn't a she. He totally would have; Dillon flirts with anything that walks, so--"
"Ziggy." Casey stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, and Ziggy froze where he was.
"Yeah?" he said carefully.
Casey nodded over his shoulder. "You're about to walk into a streetlight."
Ziggy glanced back again, then took a step to the left. "Yeah, okay. Anyway, sorry."
Casey actually smiled at that. "Not your fault," he said. "It's weirder than it sounds, and it's been a little stressful. I didn't mean to snap at you."
"No, sure, it's fine." Ziggy frowned. "So, you're a Power Ranger. And all that stuff, the box and the fear guys and all that--the being on the other side of death? And you never worried that maybe something would happen?"
"Something always happens," Casey said. "That's what it means to live. If nothing happens, you're doing it wrong."
"Yeah, but what if you don't live?" Ziggy insisted. "What if you screw up and someone dies?"
"Everyone makes choices," Casey told him. "If you take responsibility for someone else's choice, you take away their power. And that's not helpful at all, is it."
Ziggy squinted at him, but he had to admit, "Not really, no."
"I've become one of the cryptic ninja masters I always complain about," Casey said, like it was a revelation. "Don't tell RJ. She already makes fun of me for the whole 'running the order' thing."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Ziggy informed him.
"Yeah, neither do I," Casey said ruefully. "Look, you can't go out there thinking about everything you could lose. You have to think about what you want to win. It isn't about death. It's about life. It's about what you do while you're here, like this."
Ziggy considered that, and, cryptic ninja master or not, he thought he kind of got it. "What about other people?" he asked at last. "How do I make them see what they do? What they've got?"
"You don't," Casey said. "Sorry. Everyone has to find their own reasons... to stay or to go. All you can do is make sure they know yours."
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. "Huh," he said after a moment. "Okay. Thanks."
"If that actually helped you," Casey said with a grin, "you should write it down and give it back to me so I can use it again."
"I'll let you know," Ziggy promised thoughtfully. "If it does, I totally will."
no subject
Date: 2009-06-03 02:59 am (UTC)Poor Ziggy! Poor RJ too!
I loved this line:
"What about other people?" he asked at last. "How do I make them see what they do? What they've got?"
"You don't," Casey said. "Sorry. Everyone has to find their own reasons... to stay or to go. All you can do is make sure they know yours."
no subject
Date: 2009-06-05 04:28 am (UTC)Yay you! ::hugs:: TY; I love you so much! ♥
no subject
Date: 2009-06-03 03:15 am (UTC)I missed entire universes of stories, didn't I?
Aside from me being rather confuzzled, I really like this. Especially Ziggy with the kids. (And RJ picking the story because it's a purple crayon!)
no subject
Date: 2009-06-05 04:30 am (UTC)Hooray for kids and purple crayons! ::charmed:: TY!
no subject
Date: 2009-06-03 02:32 pm (UTC)Yes! I know this feeling. I hate when people ask for advice, I just, well, I am very good at making BS sound real. It always shocks me when it works for them.
And this line just makes me go "Awwwww, that's so sweet!"
Love the story, love Casey trying to explain RJ, that was funny.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-05 04:31 am (UTC)