Monty Story Series: Episode 3 - The Colour Of Flombles

The Colour Of Flombles

It was a blustery evening outside the Gristling Inn Bed & Breakfast. Monty, the green-furred, short-nosed alligator of a boy-monster sat in his pyjamas on the old featherbed in room number nine. Across from him sat his grandad, a similar but much older monster whose fur was more grey than green. Between them sat Monty’s new pet Fuzz, an apple-sized creature called a flomble. Its dusty pink swirls of shaggy fur twitched as it busily nibbled the end of a stick of black liquorice. 

“Grandad, look at him. Is it the light, or does Fuzz’s fur look a bit more orange than pink right now? Almost like it’s glowing,” Monty said, stroking Fuzz’s cat-like ears. 

“Hmm...” Grandad leaned in and pushed his large glasses up his own short, spotted alligator snout. “Well, some animals’ fur changes with the seasons. Though I’m no expert on flombles, mind you.” 

“Yeah. Me neither,” said Monty. “I know exactly two things about flombles. One is the funny sound they made, popping in and out of holes in your old garden. And two, that ol’ Snort thinks the only good flomble is a dead flomble.” Monty put his hand on Fuzz’s soft back and reassured him. “Don’t worry, boy. My grouchy ol’ boss won’t ever know you’re here.”

“Speaking of sounds,” Grandad said, “there’s been a thumping coming from Snort’s room next door. Sounds like the wind is blowing his window shutters again.”

“Snort is down in his office. I can pop in to his room and close them,” Monty said, grabbing his ring of room keys. He scoot-stepped out on his one leg and one wheel. 

At Snort’s room, number seven, Monty pressed his ear to the door. Oddly, when he did this the thumping seemed quieter. Monty unlocked the door and peeked into the room. He was surprised to find Snort’s bedroom window was latched shut.

“That’s weird,” Monty said. He closed the door, locked it and scoot-stepped back down the hall. As he reached his own room, number nine, he paused. 

“Wait a second.” He turned and scoot-stepped back to Snort’s room, this time counting his scoot-steps. 

“It shouldn’t be so many steps, Grandad,” Monty said, coming back into their room. “There’s too much distance.” 

“What are you on about?” Grandad said as he followed Monty into the bathroom and watched him open the small closet door.

“I wonder if there is something in between our rooms...A-ha!” Monty pushed their hanging robes aside and shined his torch on the boards behind. 

Monty gave a push and - pop! There it was. An opening just big enough for Monty to scoot through. “It’s a small, secret room, Grandad! And look - that’s where the noise is coming from.” 

Grandad watched Monty cross the tiny room and latch the shutter on the small window. The noise stopped and Monty looked around. The room had just enough space for what it held: a little dusty rocking chair and antique chest of drawers with a tiny lamp on top. 

“It’s incredible, Grandad! And Snort doesn't even know about this. It’s our secret!” Monty said. Then his eyes lit up. “You know, this would be the perfect place to keep a flomble you didn't want a certain someone to find.” 

Within minutes, Monty had dusted and swept the little room, and lined the top dresser drawer with a nice cosy blanket for his pet to sleep in. 

“Here you go, Fuzz. Now you’ve got your very own room, just in time for bed, too.” The flomble blinked its little tired eyes and nuzzled into the woolly cloth. Monty pulled the chain on the tiny lamp.

“Gosh, yeah. Your fur really does look more orange tonight. Huh. Well, night-night, Fuzz.” The flomble squeaked and closed its mousy eyes. 

The next morning, Monty scoot-stepped into the Gristling Inn kitchen to pick up the boxes of Frosted KornKrinklers®.

“Monty!” Ol’ Snort sneered across a large pot of purple PricklePorridge® he was stirring. “Whatever were you doing last night - cut it out! I hardly slept. There was a strange squeaking sound coming from next door!” 

Monty gulped and thought, “Fuzz must have been sleep-squeaking in the secret room. Maybe flombles snore. I must’ve slept through it. Oh, my.” 

“Sorry, sir. It must have been, uh... my wheel. Yeah, yeah. Oh, it needs a bit more oil in the colder weather. I’ll make sure to fix that right away,” Monty said, scoot-stepping out of the kitchen and making squeaks under his breath as he moved. 

“Phew! Oh, my. Do flombles even snore?” Monty asked himself, as he uncorked the jugs of YellowMelon Zingaling® at the end of the buffet table. “I’d better do some research if I’m going to take care of my flomble properly. I don't want to think what would happen if Snort discovers Fuzz.”

Monty went to the Gristling Inn’s library room. Despite its small size, the shelves were stuffed with every kind of book you could ever want. He took out an encyclopaedia labelled with the letter F and flipped through the pages. 

“Fangwhistlers... Fernmunchers... Fizznuts... Here we go - Flombles.” Monty’s lips moved slightly as he read the sentences beneath the picture of the flomble popping out of a garden hole. Then Monty’s eyes went wide.

“Oh! Oh, my!” Monty closed the book, slid it back into place and went back to his grandad upstairs in room number nine.

“Hi, Grandad,” Monty gulped.

Grandad looked up from his reading chair.

“Why the concerned look, Monty?” Grandad asked.

He followed Monty to the new bathroom closet opening. Monty entered the secret room and paused with his hand on the top dresser drawer. Faint squeaks could be heard coming from inside.

“OK. Um, I learned something interesting about flombles,” Monty said, as Grandad tilted his head curiously.“ So... it turns out only girl flombles change fur colour.” 

“Huh. So Fuzz isn’t a he. She’s a she! Isn't that lovely?” Grandad said and smiled.

“Well, yes. But the girl flombles change colour—” Monty said, pulling the drawer open,“—when they're about to have babies.” 

There was Fuzz, nuzzling her new litter of baby flombles...all six of them.

Grandad laughed, “Oh, Monty. Heh, heh! I had a feeling myself.” Then Grandad held up the book he’d been reading. Monty read the title out loud:

The Monster’s Guide to Raising Flombles

The End