AniMalcolm

“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.

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 …”

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?”

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 …”

“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.

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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. “They are the top animal in a zoo.”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

“And when we got there – to the monkey house …”

“Monkey house, yes,” said Grandpa.

“He was really excited!”