The only one that had got on to the Apple Store was called AnimalSFX, which was one where you pressed on some cartoon animals and it would make the sounds of those animals. No one really played with it any more, except Bert – which meant that along with all the other animal noises in the house, Malcolm could also hear an artificially created donkey, cow and elephant. This just made him more depressed.
He wondered why his family never got the message about him and animals. After all, he thought, looking round the room, his walls were the only ones in the house that didn’t have animal pictures on them. Libby’s and Bert’s bedrooms were covered in cute images of kittens and puppies and seals and bears and penguins and – y’know: all the animals. His parents’ bedroom didn’t have animal posters on the wall, but they did have lots of family photographs, and every family photograph included the pets. Even Grandpa’s room had a painting in it of some dogs playing poker.
Malcolm felt quite bad about it. He knew kids were supposed to like animals. He knew people were supposed to like animals. He knew that not liking animals generally made other people think that you were a bad person.
And, anyway, he didn’t not like animals, really. He just didn’t really get animals. Most of them seemed to lie around eating and sleeping and not doing anything useful.5 He had watched Ticky and Tacky (or possibly Tacky and Ticky – even though one was mainly brown and one was mainly white, Malcolm was always unsure which was which) for long periods of time and had never seen them, for example, read a book, or make a cake, or design a fantastic computer, or do any of the things he was interested in. Even now as he looked out of the window, he could see some pigeons in the street doing that stupid pigeon thing of hanging around in the middle of the road waiting until the last moment of a car approaching before flying away. Why did they do that?
But because his family so liked animals, and had so many animals, and went on so much about animals, sometimes – like now – he felt like he really did not like animals. He sometimes wondered, in fact, if his mum and dad preferred animals to children; or at least to him, their one child who wasn’t obsessed with animals.
At those moments, he sometimes felt like he hated animals. He didn’t like to admit that, but he knew that at those moments it was true.
There was a knock on the door.
Malcolm didn’t answer.
“Malc,” came his mum’s voice, from behind the door.
“Mum!” he said.
“Sorry, M! Are you OK? Are you asleep?”
“Clearly not,” replied Malcolm.
“That makes a change,” she said.
“Can we come in?” said Stewart.
“Is the chinchilla with you?”
Malcolm heard some whispers, some scuttling and the sound of a cage door being locked.
“No …” said Stewart, eventually.
“OK,” said Malcolm.
The door opened and his family shuffled in, holding out, like peace offerings, Malcolm’s other presents.6
Malcolm, immediately forgiving them for the chinchilla, greedily opened them.
They were:
Caring For a Chinchilla: A Guide
Chinchilla Treats, 5 kg
Mini-coloured Munch Balls (for chinchillas). Five of them, all different colours
Controlling himself – quite well, at first – Malcolm looked up from these presents and said: “Thanks. No, really: thanks. I really appreciate it. Um … anything … not to do with chinchillas?”
Jackie and Stewart exchanged glances.
“Um … of course!” said Stewart, handing over another present. Malcolm unwrapped it, suspiciously. Then held up what was inside and looked at his parents.
“It’s a chinchilla,” he said. “A cuddly toy chinchilla.”
“No …” said Jackie. “I’d say it’s a … rabbit. Wouldn’t you, Dad?”
“Yes! Or maybe … a … a … big-eared hamster!”
“Right, yes. A big-eared hamster. Maybe we should call it … um …”
“Hammy Big-Ears!” said Stewart.
“LOLTT …”7 said Libby.
“Exactly!” said Jackie. “Hello, Hammy Big-Ears! Look at your cute … big … hamster ears!”
“Right,” said Malcolm. “So when you bought this cuddly toy, you weren’t sure what kind of animal it was meant to be? It had no label of any kind? It wasn’t in any particular section of the cuddly toy shop? Perhaps the CH section? Just after Cheetahs and Chimpanzees?”
“Can I eat it?” said Bert.
“I think that clinches it,” said Malcolm, tossing the toy to Bert. “It’s a chinchilla.”
And, with that, he lay back on his bed, with his arms crossed, looking up at the ceiling. “Mum, Dad,” whispered Libby. “You know why Malcolm’s like this, DC?”8 She lowered her voice to an even lower whisper, made lower still because of her bored voice, which was like someone speaking through a yawn. “It’s cos of the Monkey Moment. IKEA …”9
“No, it’s not,” said Malcolm. The whisper had clearly not been whispery enough.
Jackie and Stewart exchanged glances. “It probably is, isn’t it, Stewart?” Jackie whispered.
“Yes, darling, I think we all know it is …” Stewart whispered back. “I think because of the …”
“… Monkey Moment,” said Jackie.
“Yes, the Monkey Moment … Perhaps Malcolm still feels a bit traumatised around furry creatures …”
“The whispers aren’t working!” said Malcolm. “I can hear you! It’s a small room! And: it’s got nothing to do with the Monkey Moment! Stop saying the words ‘Monkey Moment’!”
“What ‘Monkey Moment’?” said Grandpa.
“Oh, Dad! We’ve told you a hundred times!” said Jackie.
“Tell me again,” said Grandpa. “You know how I forget things.”
Malcolm sighed, and looked out of the window at a pigeon flying away from a car bumper at the last second.
So the family told Grandpa again. Thoughtfully, they went back into the living room and left Malcolm in his bedroom, as they didn’t want him to have to relive the trauma of the Monkey Moment, even if he said he wasn’t traumatised by it.
“Well, Dad,” said Jackie, “when Malcolm was six, we went on one of our regular Sunday trips to the zoo. And he loved seeing the animals then, didn’t he, Stewart?”
“Yes,” said Stewart. “I remember him running up and down by all the cages, smiling his biggest smile.”
“So the animals he really wanted to see were the monkeys …”
“Fair dos,” said Grandpa.