The Auspicious Adventures of Dr. Winthrop P. Alexander

Dr. Winthrop P. Alexander (also known as “The Professor” by his students and colleagues) stared in disbelief at the notes on the table before him. As a renown (well, formerly renown) naturalist specializing in the study of camouflage this was a most remarkable discovery. He flipped through the pages again, just to be sure. It was, indeed, remarkable.

   He pursed his lips, frowned and pursed his lips again, turning his fluffy mustache into a wiggly caterpillar. As of late, few colleagues took his discoveries seriously. In fact, most encouraged him to take up the mantel of his secondary degree in the field of visual arts. I do enjoy painting. But this…this was just too exciting to ignore!

   Lightning struck the antenna outside, traveling down the pole into the house, and sparking an idea in the professor’s brain.

   Would it be possible to combine my two favorite pastimes?

   With renewed purpose, Dr. Alexander set aside his copious notes, clearing ample space on the work table. Next, he opened the cabinet and pulled out tray after tray of paints. Bright colors, dark colors, pastel colors, neon. Earth tones, water tones, cosmic tones with glitter for stars. Colors of forests, of…(well, you get the idea). He was quite proud of his collection. As giddy as a school boy, he set up his supplies and began work straight away. Mixing this chemical and that, making notations as he went along; in practically no time at all, he had a finely tuned system going. 

   Some of the results were rather disappointing, producing a mild puff of smoke or no reaction at all. (This is to be expected in science.) However, other experiments were quite exciting. (He only singed his eyebrows once.)

   He continued his experiments day after day, week after week, making minor adjustments each time, until finally several months passed by. The doorbell ceased ringing. The phone became quiet. Letters, unpaid bills and other mail piled up in front of the door so that he needed a shovel to move it away in order to retrieve his grocery deliveries. Eventually, came a period where he forgot to order groceries (he also forgot to eat) and began ordering paint instead. By the gallons. All colors. 

   Had he taken a moment to consider the rest of the world at all, he would have realized everyone thought him quite mad. He might have thought himself mad were he to look from their perspective. Dr. Winthrop P. Alexander, however, was not mad. In fact, he was elated!

   He could hardly hold the pencil still as he drew mural after mural (life-sized, mind you) on the walls of his attic work space. One wall held the image of an igloo with penguins and polar bears. (Hmmm. Perhaps not polar bears.) He quickly erased that and added a seal instead.

   Another wall contained a coastal landscape. (He was very careful not to make the waves too high.)

   His favorite drawing, however, the one he was most proud of, looked straight out of a photograph of the Amazon jungle. Vines, trees, coconuts… A vibrantly colored parrot stared at him from its perch on a branch. (Well, it was vibrant in his imagination.) 

   One bright sunny day (Of course, the professor didn’t notice it was a bright sunny day as his head was still in the clouds.) Winthrop pushed back his sleeves, pushed up his glasses and smiled. 

   “That’s it, then,” he said to no one (for no one else was there).

   It was finally time to test his theory. He could hardly contain his excitement as he pushed away from the table. Very carefully, so as not to spill a single drop, he added just a bit of his newly discovered formula to each of the paints on his palette and gently stirred. 

   He decided to paint the parrot first. It demanded color. Stroke after stroke, feather after feather, with great care he brought the image to life. (No, really. He brought it to life.) No sooner had he put the finishing touch on its beak than it was squawking at him and swooping around the attic.

   Dr. Alexander nearly dropped his paints in delight. (Paints, not pants. What ever were you thinking?) After several messy incidents which enticed the professor to study the underside of his table, the parrot returned to its perch. Remarkable! Winthrop took up his paints again, desperately working to bring more of the images to life.

   Around the room he went, day after day, painting each mural with great care (also choosing carefully which images received the most formula, given the obnoxious personality of the parrot), only stopping to refill his palette. (And occasionally to take a sip of water or use the restroom). An unknown length of time had passed when he finally set down his brushes and sighed. At last, he peeked out the attic window (You missed summer, professor), and was surprised to see his backyard had become a jungle as well. The grass certainly seems to grow fast these days.

   The parrot squawked, flew around the room and landed on Winthrop’s shoulder where it had taken up residence some time ago. Its talons poked holes in the plastic poncho Dr. Alexander now wore over his lab coat—just in case.

   “What say you, Reginald?” (He had named the parrot Reginald after the one colleague who had not entirely given up on his mental status.) “Shall we have an adventure?”

   “Squawk,” said Reginald, tugging at the professor’s spectacles.

   Dr. Alexander spent the next few days putting his notes in order and copying the most crucial into a brand new leather journal he planned to take with him. He also made sure to put a few pencils (and an eraser—mistakes do happen on occasion) into his knapsack along with the remnants of his special formula. (Perhaps you should add some food, too? Just a thought.)

   Finally, he declared himself ready, donned his safari hat (This is a safari of sorts, after all.) and stepped into the Amazon jungle. (Well, halfway).

   He teetered on the precipice for a moment, stepped back into his attic to see if he could, then fully committed. Upon taking that fateful step, he found himself completely surrounded by hot humid jungle. His attic had disappeared. He tried stepping back the way he’d come but only landed in a mud hole. A mud hole occupied by leeches. This was not a pleasant discovery.

   “Well, bugger,” he grumbled while ripping a leech from his pant leg. “I suppose I shall have to go forward since I cannot go back.” 

   So began the auspicious adventures of Dr. Winthrop P. Alexander of 365 Mystery Lane.