Free Fleabrain Loves Franny by Joanne Rocklin

have rather an agenda tonight. Have you any other plans?” Fleabrain asked.
    â€œPlans?” It seemed to Franny she hadn’t had “plans” in a long, long time and wouldn’t have any in the near future, now that winter had arrived. “What kind of plans?”
    â€œI would like you to meet another friend of mine. You’ve actually met, but I’d like you to get to know one another on a different level, both literally and figuratively speaking. And”—with a front leg, Fleabrain covered his mouthparts shyly—“I’d like you to meet some adopted members of my family,” he said.
    â€œOh, no!” cried Franny.
    â€œForgive me, forgive me,” said Fleabrain. His tibiae shook with embarrassment. “I’ve been too forward. OK, I won’t subject you to my family, adopted or otherwise. This is our very first conversation, and already I’m treating you as an intimate. But I do feel as if we’ve been friends forever.”
    â€œIt’s not that,” said Franny. “I would love to meet your family! I mean no offense, Fleabrain. But if my mother finds out there’s been another flea infestation in the house, she’ll start spraying again with Be-Gone-with-Them.”
    Fleabrain leaped with joy. “You’d love to meet my family? Huzzah! Franny, I give you my word of honor. I am the sole flea in this house, as far as I’m aware. My ‘people’ live elsewhere in the neighborhood. If you’ve no other plans, we can leave right away on our adventure. To celebrate your toe and foot wiggles this evening!”
    Franny giggled. “ ‘Leave right away’? Haven’t you noticed? I still can’t walk.”
    â€œNot a problem,” said Fleabrain. “We’ll bring your wheelchair.”
    Franny giggled again, then began to laugh harder. She fell back onto her pillow, gasping for breath. It felt wonderful to laugh like that. She was happy to know she still could.
    She felt a bit light-headed, and suddenly she realized she was levitating several inches above her sheets, then floating sideways. She seemed to be headed toward her wheelchair, parked at the side of her bed.
    Franny dropped gently into a seated position in the wheelchair. The yellow afghan from her bed drifted toward her, then wrapped itself around her shoulders and across her lap.
    â€œI’ll be right back,” said Fleabrain.
    Floating snake-like above her head, Franny’s red winter cap and matching scarf soon appeared, which Fleabrain had retrieved from the hall closet.
    â€œThere!” she heard him say, his tinny voice slightly muffled by the scarf as he wound it around Franny’s neck. “Comfy?”
    â€œHow … ?”
    â€œ
Was mich nicht umbringt, macht mich stärker,
” said Fleabrain. “ ‘What doesn’t destroy me, makes me stronger.’ Not to belabor thepoint, but one could also opine: ‘What fire doesn’t destroy, it hardens,’ in the words of my favorite Irish playwright and author, Oscar Wilde, born October 16, 1854, died November 30, 1900. I’ll explain in greater detail soon. Whew! My exertions have left me a bit out of breath. And I still have to get you out the window.”
    Fleabrain hopped to the sill, raised the large window, then jumped down to the floor beneath the wheelchair. Franny grasped the arms of the chair as she was lifted, chair and all, and carried over the windowsill to the other side. She and the wheelchair landed on the lawn with a gentle thump. Alf followed.
    The night sky blazed with red and orange flames from the J & L Steel Mill on the banks of the Monongahela. Street lamps glowed up and down Shady Avenue.
    â€œWe’ll go for a little jaunt around the neighborhood. Follow the dog!” Fleabrain yelled from Alf’s tail.

A Ride in the Night
    T heir route was winding and hilly. Fleabrain alternated his position