This is Ria, welcome to Little Stories for Tiny People.
It's very hot in my studio.
It could be because the window is open, and it's a sunny mid -spring afternoon.
It could be because I just ran a mile to pump myself up for this story.
Or, it could be that my fireplace, the one I have here in my studio with me, is currently crackling with a blazing fire.
I can't figure it out.
Anyway, I was planning to tell you a story about a snail who runs a marathon and wins 37th place, but because it's so hot, I decided to throw that one out the window and tell you this other story about our dear friend Lambden.
Let's hear it it's called chill out on the sleep railroad.
Take it away Zoe and Zach Remember, there are no pictures.
You'll have to imagine the pictures in your mind.
You can imagine them however you want.
OK, here we go. Knitting needles have a fascinating history.
It was a Tuesday in late spring, and Lambton was in history class.
His teacher, Mr. Hoofish, was giving a lecture.
You might think, but they're so simple, aren't they?
Lamdon leaned back in his chair and stared up.
For the thousandth time that day, he observed that there was no ceiling fan in the classroom.
In truth, the history of knitting needles is, well, it's nothing short of riveting.
Normally, if a teacher fell asleep, it would be cause for hushed celebration, the perfect opportunity to draw funny faces on the chalkboard or to break out a deck of cards.
But it was not a normal day.
The students, Lambden included, wilted in their seats, joining Mr. Hoofish in his afternoon doze.
You see, for the last four days, the region had been engulfed in a heat wave. The school had no air conditioning.
The windows were open, but there was no breeze, just stagnant, scorching air.
It was too hot for shenanigans.
Even recess offered no relief.
It was usually the best time of day, an opportunity to escape the doldrums of schoolwork and frolic outdoors, to clomp up the slide and get scolded for it.
How many times must we remind you, you may only go up the slide children, I mean down.
This week, instead of frolicking, the young sheep elbowed one another for the small patches of shade.
Hey, I was here first. The students secretly hoped to be invited over Wallace's house, as he was the only sheep known to have a pool.
But as soon as Hooftey, an especially sweaty classmate asked him about it directly, Woolis, is there any chance we can come to your pool?
I'll trade you whatever you want at lunch for the next month.
The dream, disintegrated.
My dad had our pool drained yesterday.
Bears were swimming in it to cool off.
Draining it was the only way to get them to leave. On this particular day, the final school bell rang out, startling Mr. Hoofish and the students awake.
Lamdon dragged himself from his seat and plodded out of the building.
Slowly, his mind woke up after the rest of him, and his mood brightened despite the sun on his back, because he had something to look forward to.
As hot as it was, every evening, Lamdon basked in the perfectly chilled cabin of his beloved sleep train, the magical locomotive that took him on relaxing rides at bedtime.
The temperature on the train was always ideal...
cool in the summer, and toasty in the winter.
This week, as he slowly roasted each day, Lamdon realized how much he'd taken this for granted over the years.
He was more and more grateful to clump up the steps and be hit with refrigerated air.
He trotted home confident that he was in for a deliciously cool evening ride.
After a few hours spent pacing back and forth in front of his family's sole oscillating fan, Lambden nearly fainted when he heard his Mother mentioned they were having soup for dinner.
He worried the heat had melted her brain, until she clarified that it was cold soup.
Gazpacho, a delightful medley of onions, tomatoes, peppers and spices.
As he spooned it into his mouth and his internal temperature dipped, his mind cleared, and he had an extraordinary idea.
He would board the sleep train, early!
He'd race to bed, press his button, and hit that wall of chilled air well before departure.
As a rule, Lambdon did not rush at bedtime.
He saw no need to drop into the train tunnel before the boarding process was nearly finished.
The one time he had arrived early, he learned that prior to the official boarding window, one could take a comfortable seat and hear calming music piped through the speakers that was frequently interrupted by advertisements.
If you are a truly serious sleeper, you'll want to scamper, fly, or scuttle down to your nearest blanket palace this weekend for their biggest sale of the year.
Drop by for deals on some of Blanket Palace's bestsellers, like their sumptuous chenille.
On a typical evening, Lambdon did not find this to be a reasonable price to pay simply to get his pick of seats.
But tonight, it would be well worth it.
After shoveling the rest of his soup, he kissed his mother, father, and sister goodnight, and clumped up to his bedroom.
He was about to take a detour to the bathroom for a cursory toothbrushing session when he saw raccoons there were two of them on his bed engaged in an argument I'm gonna tell him you will do nothing of the kind oh yeah what are you gonna uh excuse me Lambden said feeling a pit settle in his tummy it was never a good sign to discover unexpected creatures looming over his pillow it was also hotter upstairs than it had been in the kitchen.
Lambdon itched to press his button.
Lambdon shoop, one of the raccoons said, stepping forward with an ingratiating smile.
It's sheep, obviously, said the other raccoon, rolling his eyes.
Lambdon sheep. Allow me to introduce myself, the first raccoon said, leaping to the floor.
I'm Rutherford Raccoon, and I've been sent by my employers." The sleep crew slammed and said, scratching the wool on his chin.
Precisely. The operators of none other than the magnificent sleep train.
Now, I usually work behind the scenes, but there was a bit of a scheduling snafu, so here I… Sorry, what are you doing in my bedroom?
Yeah, why don't you tell them?
The other raccoon said with a sly grin, he had exceptionally long whiskers and enormous eyes, the combination of which gave him a mischievous appearance.
Rutherford sneered at the long whiskered raccoon before fixing Lambdun with a smile.
Excellent question!
I have come to inform you of some truly spectacular upgrades to this evening's train ride.
Really? The long -whiskered raccoon plopped down to a seated position beside Lambdon's pillow and crossed his paws over his chest With an expression that said this will be good indeed for example ice pops Ice pops under your pillow.
You will find a coupon for a complementary ice pop Rutherford looked pleased with himself uh -huh I also left you a beautifully crafted paper fan oh no Lambdens mind was muddled by the damp heat in the air but he had a strong sense something was wrong and it will be a fully open windowed ride open windowed to get a breeze blowing Rutherford exclaimed at this the long whispered raccoon leaped up and down on the bed.
You tell him the truth.
You tell him the sleep train's chilled air machine is.
A furry blur torpedoed from the floor to the bed as Rutherford pounced on the long whiskered raccoon.
What followed was a frenzied wrestling match with the one raccoon attempting to shout something.
The machine is. And the other raccoon smothering his words with a paw.
Lambden did not have time for this.
He needed to escape the heat.
He strode forward and grabbed Rutherford, the sleep crew employee, and sent him flying.
He landed in a heap by the window.
Ouch. Lambden pointed at the other creature.
What's going on? I'm Martin, the raccoon said, panting from the tussle and the heat.
I'm from the sleep group.
Ah, the company that ran the sleep railroad.
The sleep train's competitor.
What are you doing here?
He should not be here!
He has no right to...
I'm here to make sure you're aware that the sleep train is as hot as this bedroom!
Huh! Lambdyn glanced at Rutherford, who looked irritated but who did not even attempt to deny it.
So it was true. The train's chilled air machine is malfunctioning.
Temporarily! Our team of engineers will .
. . But the sleep railroad is perfectly chilled this evening.
Look! In one swift motion, Martin peeled back Lambdon's pillow and tossed it aside.
Lambdon stepped forward to get a better view.
There was his sleep train button.
Beside it were two items, a crinkled coupon for an ice pop and a paper fan.
It did appear to be beautifully crafted.
Near the button was the sleep railroad knob.
It was sweltering in the bedroom but, curiously, a little cloud of cold mist emanated from the knob.
Lambdon imagined fanning himself on a steaming hot sleep train with a paltry breeze drifting in the windows and an ice pop melting onto his wool.
He could sense Rutherford getting to his feet behind him.
Raccoons, he knew, were wily creatures.
He had no interest in giving this one a chance to delay him any longer.
Are you sure it will be cold on the sleep railroad?
So cold you'll want a blanket.
Not that we have any of those but you'll get socks and a neck pillow.
Martin said cheerily gesturing at the knob.
Wait I have more coupons, you can have as many ice pops as you want.
While supplies last of course.
But Rutherford was too late.
Lambden reached forward through a wall of heat and turned the icy sleep railroad knob.
A great puff of sparkling powder burst upwards.
It was marvelously cold.
Lambden coughed as the room and the raccoons, one triumphant, one frantic.
What about two fans?
Would two make a difference?
Disappeared. In a sparkly haze.
Lambdon tumbled blindly through space, landed on his back with a bump, and went sliding.
How do I always forget this part?
But this time, he welcomed the stream of rushing water.
After he sloshed out of the slide and toppled to the ground, he clicked through the turnstile.
Hair dryers descended from the ceiling, and Lambden braced himself for a rush of hot air, wishing he could return to the cold water of the slide.
But this time, the dryers blasted him with chilly air.
Within minutes, he was dry.
As soon as the dryers ascended into the ceiling, a trio of bats appeared, holding bright -blue pajamas.
Is it possible not to be unnerved by bats swooping at one's face?
Lambdon flinched, despite knowing what they came to do.
In a swift blur, they whooshed around him then flew away, carrying his rumpled clothes.
He set off, wearing his new pajamas, down the tunnel.
Five minutes later, Lambdon was aboard the sleep railroad.
Even with the tussle in his bedroom, he'd arrived early.
There was no line, just the towering moose's identical twin sister settling into position at the entrance.
Hello. Good evening.
Step aboard, please.
There you go! Lambdon had his choice of seat, as he was one of the first few passengers.
He selected one in a row midway through the cabin, an aisle seat so he'd have a good view of the lectern.
But more importantly, most importantly after the day he'd had, the air was frosty, as promised.
He settled in and closed his eyes, listening to the soft music piped in through the speakers.
Until the towering Moose's identical twin sisters voice cut in.
This weekend, make a trip to Neck Pillow Necessities for their annual spring sale.
Neck Pillow Necessities is the Sleep Group's official neck pillow supplier.
Walk, amble, or swim to Neck Pillow Necessities today, or tomorrow, or the following day.
Lambden chuckled to himself.
I'm gonna pass on that.
Passengers trickled in, found seats, and opened their reading materials.
They seemed chipper and more awake than usual.
The railroad filled quickly and soon Lambden had a seatmate to his left. A porcupine who cracked open a thick reference book about weeding.
Looks like someone will be ready to give a speech," Lambdaen said with a laugh.
Actually, I'm reading this for book club," the porcupine said.
If I'm picked, I'm giving a speech on roofing materials.
The train rumbled to life and rattled down the tracks.
Socks! Neck pillows!
The porcupine rested his reading book in his lap.
Yes, please, he said, reaching up to the giraffe who handed him the items. I do love these socks.
No, thank you, Lambden said to the giraffe who swiftly moved on to the next row.
Lambden did not want anything, not even a sock getting between him and the delightful chill in the air.
Unfortunately, I don't have a neck, the porcupine said solemnly, so I used the pillow as a book -rest. He shoved the pillow beneath his book and went back to reading.
We have used our lottery system to select the first volunteer.
Will Willoughby S. Marmot please make your way to the lectern?
Lambdon glanced out the railroad's windows.
The sky was a milky grey, brighter than usual.
The moon was nearly full, and there were plenty of stars.
He imagined what was taking place in the sleep train.
Giz, hello! As you likely know, perspiration is one of nature's greatest gifts, ridding us of impurities and refreshing the mind.
Now sit back and fan yourself as we approach our next performance on tonight's sleep train sauna." Lambdon chuckled.
He would gladly board the sleep train once the heat wave subsided.
Until then, he was grateful to have an alternative, even without the magical performances.
He watched as a reddish brown marmot loped down the aisle and took his place at the lectern.
Hello, I am Willoughby and I will be discussing the proper technique for dusting furniture.
Mmm. Very good. Wonderful topic.
Dusting furniture is more complicated than many creatures appreciate.
That's what my grandma always said.
You must approach each piece of furniture with a targeted plan that takes into account the size, surface area, and reachability of the furniture.
It's just true. Mhm.
Lambdon smiled and nestled in his seat.
He'd come to love these boring speeches.
Then you must consider your dusting tool.
My personal favorite is a classic feather duster.
My feather duster is made from high quality Vermont goose feathers.
When using this feather duster, I simply swish it back and forth.
Ahem! The towering mousse's identical twin sister stood up from her stool at the front of the railroad and cast a meaningful look at the sign posted on the wall.
It listed a number of rules.
Number 14, she said, referring to the line that read, speeches may not include any onomatopoeia such as sizzle, whoosh, or swish.
Oh, sorry. When using my feather duster, I simply...
move it back and forth.
The moose smiled and returned to her seat.
Willoughby gave a few more dusting tips.
Typewriter keys can be tricky.
Personally I dust each key individually so that...
Then came a small chime, Willoughby, please return to your seat.
Lamdon watched the marmot slip down from the lectern and amble down the aisle.
Beside him, the porcupine was still reading.
The animals in nearby rows perused magazines, filed their claws, and scratched their ears with hind feet.
It occurred to Lambdon that these passengers were the most active he'd seen on an evening ride.
All week, he'd been falling asleep in class due to the sweltering heat, the damp in the air.
It put the students into a kind of trance.
But here, on this frigid train, the animals were entirely alert.
Lambdon himself was wide awake.
He had not yawned once.
Instead, he shivered.
The cold is keeping us awake, he thought to himself.
Huh. But he had little time to consider this because...
Lambdon sheep, you have been selected by our lottery as our next speaker.
Lambdon sheep, please make your way to the lectern and begin.
because he had to give a speech. Lambdyn rose from his seat, feeling a mix of reluctance and resignation.
This was part of what he'd signed up for by boarding.
He made his way down the aisle, took his place at the lectern, looked out at the rows of extremely awake passengers, who stared back at him, and felt every idea fly out of his head.
Uh— Good evening. Yes, I'll just stall a bit.
This is fine. It's good to be with all of you.
Lambdon could feel the moose's eyes on him.
The passengers began shifting in their seats.
But his nerves subsided, and his mind was clear, thanks to the chill in the air.
The perfect topic for a boring speech came to him then, courtesy of his history teacher, Mr. Huffish.
Knitting needles have a fascinating history.
Lamdon began. The passengers exchanged pleased looks.
He sensed the moose settling into her seat.
Throughout the centuries, knitting needles have been made of various materials.
Metal, wood, ivory, fishbone.
It was especially cold by the lectern.
The passengers seemed content, enjoying the dullness of his speech, but he heard nary a yawn.
Most knitting needles have a single point, but double pointed needles have been around for centuries as well.
We now have the benefit of circular knitting needles to use in making woollen socks, for example.
The passengers blinked up at him with placid expressions.
Usually, this type of detail would put several of them to sleep at once.
How will any of us get to sleep like this?
Lambdon thought of Martin the racoon's comment in his bedroom.
So cold you'll want a blanket.
Not that we… have any of those, but you'll get socks and a neck pillow.
He was right about that.
Lambdon looked out at the sea of animals.
They shivered and stared up at him, blinking.
Of course, Lambden went on, circular needles did not become popular until...
Just then there came a loud popping sound.
P -p -what was that pop?
cried a dramatic swan, breaking the onomatopoeia rule.
Then came a hiss. What was that hiss?
Cried a baffled toad, flagrantly breaking it again.
It took Lambda a second to realize what had happened.
But only a second because almost instantly the chill in the air lost its bite.
The dramatic swan figured it out too.
The chilled air machine!
It's not running anymore!
Gasp's flew up all over the place.
The moose nearly pushed Lambdon out of the way as she raced to address the passengers.
Ah! Return to your seat.
Everything is under control!
Lambdon cradled his elbow and clomped to his seat, amidst the growing commotion.
Uh, gasps, remain calm.
It seems our chilled air technology IS BROKEN!!
This is a disaster!
The sleep train rumbled down the tracks.
Through the windows, Lambden could see the moonlit countryside passing in a blur.
Inside the rail car rapidly warmed.
Passengers started ripping off their socks.
My feet is burning!
You mean your feet are burning.
And sending their neck pillows flying through the air.
My neck, it's on fire.
Uh, guests, uh, it seems that our chilled -air technology has been overtaxed.
Our team of engineers is working tirelessly to bring it back online.
Lambden could see the moose's eyes shifting wildly above her slight smile.
How will I ever get to sleep?
How will any of us get to sleep?
It was then that a small creature several rows back began to chant.
SPEECH! SPEECH! SPEECH!
SPEECH! It sounded like a mouse, a tiny mouse, who, despite the heat and the chaos and and the uncertainty wanted to hear another speech. Other passengers here and there joined in.
Until the majority of the passengers joined in.
Lambdon joined in. Speech. Speech. Speech. At the head of the train, the moose looked flummoxed, but she swiftly conferred with the uniformed ape, straightened and said, Ahem, we have selected a speaker using our lottery system.
Will Lumeta be skunk, please approach the lectern and begin.
A number of passengers stood on their seats shocked!
Thank you! The riders fanned themselves with paws, claws, and wings as Lumeta shuffled down the aisle to the lectern.
Tonight I will discuss the art of folding towels.
At the word towels, the passengers gave a collective sigh.
They shook their heads in wonder at the dullness of the topic.
Different types of towels must be folded with different techniques.
Folding a bath towel requires precision.
Specifically, one must ensure that the corners of the towel are perfectly lined up at each step of the process or the end result will appear amateurish and sloppy.
There is a chorus of yawns as the passengers slouched into their seats.
Sleep Group employees ran up and down the aisles, opening the windows to let in some breezy air, but it did little.
The Sleep Railroad was practically an oven, nearly as hot as Lamdon's classroom that day.
Hot enough to put the passengers into a kind of trance.
For the first time since boarding, Lambdon felt his eyelids grow heavy.
If a sloppily folded towel is placed on a shelf in a linen closet, the entire stack of towels will be negatively affected.
If a guest in your home peeks into your linen closet and sees the sloppy towels, your reputation will be negatively affected.
Passengers dropped off to sleep one by one.
Lambden's mind became hazy, and soon, washcloths present a particular challenge due to their small size.
It is imperative it quieted, all together.
LAMBDEN BLINKED HIS EYES OPEN IN BED.
AND SAT UP, TO THE SOUND OF BIRDS SINGING IN THE TREE OUTSIDE.
HE FELT AMAZING. SO WELL -RESTED FROM THE RIDICULOUS RIDE AND THE SLEEP RAILROAD, AND THERE WAS SOMETHING ELSE.
SOMETHING WAS MISSING, WASN 'T IT?
That's when he noticed.
He was not, drenched in sweat.
The air in his bedroom was mild.
A breeze came through the open window.
The heat wave was over.
Lamdin bounded up from his bed, ready to take on the day.
More ready than he'd been in a whole week.
It turns out it was the fireplace.
That's why it was so hot in here!
You see, while I was telling the story I accidentally knocked my water pitcher over, it splashed into the fireplace, put out the fire, and low and behold, it's rather nice in here now.
I hope you loved the story.
Little Stories for Tiny People is written, performed, and produced by me, reapector.
My in -house tech director Peter Kay runs my website and puts my stories on the internet for all of you to enjoy.
Thank you to Zoe and Zach for the super important reminder message at the beginning, and thank you to the many premium subscribers who supplied sound effects used in this story.
Thank you to Hana, Maxwell, Jeremiah, May, Arden, Marin, Matthew, Talia, Lucy, Violet, Clancy, Arlo, Abby, Henry, Margie, Hadley, Charlotte, Izzy, Felix, Skylar, Finn, Lucas, and Penny.
And thank you, as always, for listening in.
They say the same thing.
Same reason. Same reason.
Same reason. Same reason.
you
