Wexley’s Secret Salad Switch — Every day, Wexley packed three crunchy lettuce leaves into his crooked reed basket before the beetle tram clattered through the hollow log depot. Read the full story →
Every day, Wexley packed three crunchy lettuce leaves into his crooked reed basket before the beetle tram clattered through the hollow log depot. He liked the snap of the stems, the peppery smell, and the way passengers shouted, “Leaf chips!” before the wheels even squeaked to a stop.
Until one day, a silver pantry slug slid from the ticket crack wearing a crumb mustache. “Emergency,” she whispered. “The conductor’s snack box is full of soap flakes.” Because of that, Wexley peeked inside the tram and saw six beetles sniffing suspicious white squares. Because of THAT, the conductor sneezed so hard the bell rope tied itself in a knot, and the whole tram wobbled toward the mud puddle siding.
Wexley grinned, lifted his claws like he was making a grand announcement, and tossed his best leaves through the window while nobody watched. The slug swapped the soap flakes into a mop bucket with a guilty slurp. The tram rolled on, the beetles munched, and Wexley kept only one torn leaf for himself. If you spot a crooked basket at a log stop, listen for snap, snap, snap.
