A Fly On The Poll

A Fly On The Poll

Chapter One

Judy knew this day would come. Herb’s days as mayor were numbered; a new election would be held in another month, and he would step down. He was currently studying cultures abroad, taking note of the best ways to serve his city as a private citizen. But the press conferences he held regularly as a means of sharing his findings with the public had continued to cement his status as mayor to all and friend to many.

Judy was one of those friends, as was Hannah Snowshoe Hare—who, Judy surmised, was likely feeling as much trepidation about the transition as she was. Giving Hannah a call, she decided, would ease both of their minds.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Hannah.” The hare seemed somewhat out of breath, so she asked, “Is this a bad time?”

“No—the phone just startled me,” Hannah replied, laughing it off.

“Well, anyway…” Judy began. She was going for casual, but couldn’t stop the trepidation from creeping into her voice. “I was calling about…”

“The election,” Hannah said without hesitation. “The thing that’s been keeping me up all night for weeks.”

Hannah, too, had been thinking, dreaming in flashbacks of the Mayor’s press conferences: his calm, clear explanations, his warm smiles, his unwavering optimism. Even from millions of miles away, his charisma was palpable. It was the reason why she, perennial despiser of politics, attended every one of them, and intended to for as long as they were held.

“You’ll miss him, won’t you?” Judy asked.

“I s-sure will,” Hannah answered, her voice trembling with emotion.

“I will, too,” Judy sighed. “I really hope we get someone who’s easy to work with.”

“Like that’s the reason,” smirked Nick, who was kicking back in his chair a few feet away, idly flipping through the paper. But then his tone changed, to one of genuine interest. “It looks like you just might get your wish. Zipper is on the ticket.”

Judy’s eyes went wide. Nick couldn’t see her from his chair—her back was to him—but he wasn’t surprised to see her fist punch the air. “Yess!” Suddenly, she became aware of the silence on the other line...which was soon shattered by a loud crash. “Hannah, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she answered, sounding a bit breathless, “but my mug isn’t.”

“Aww. Are you home alone? I’ll come over and help you clean up.”

“Really? Thanks, Judy. You’re the best.”

“I can’t believe it,” Hannah said without preamble when Judy arrived. “My Zipper. My sweet lil’ fly-sized dynamo...Running for mayor.”

“He never told you?” Judy asked as she swept up the debris.

“No,” Hannah replied, still incredulous. Then, she sighed. “He was probably afraid I’d try to talk him out of it. Not that I doubt his choices, but I’m super-protective of him.” Judy nodded.

“He’s very lucky to have you looking out for him. With that kind of support, I wouldn’t be surprised if he wins.” Hannah’s eyebrows went up. That was easy for Judy to say; she was used to shirking the status quo...Hannah, not so much. She wanted to, but in order to do so, she needed to a.) take stock of the situation, and b.) be reasonably confident about the outcome. As of right now, she hadn’t had a chance to do either...yet. She would fix that by the end of the day.

Chapter Two

After Judy left, a weary Hannah retired to her room—not only to rest, but also to talk things over with Zipper. Crossing the room to the dollhouse on the windowsill, she lightly tapped the door with a claw. Zipper answered, smiling as soon as he saw her. “Hey, Zip!”

“Hi!” He flew up to give her a hug; Hannah’s heart melted.

“Aww—I love Zip-Zip snuggles. Do you have a minute?”

“Mmm-hmm,” he nodded.

“So...I hear you’re running for mayor.” Zipper’s tiny brow furrowed.

“Who told you?!” he demanded.

“Easy, Zip. A little birdie...er, a little fox.”

“Nick!” Zipper squeaked, indignant. “He has a big mouth!” Hannah found herself grinning as she chuckled in agreement.

“All the better to house the silver tongue he uses to schmooze his way around town.” They both laughed.

Hannah sighed before speaking again. “My point is...Are you sure you’re up to it?”

“Absolutely!” Zipper assured her.

“It’s just that...I know you’re qualified for the job, but campaigning is a lot of work.”

“I got this,” Zipper told her. “Wanna be a cam’pain staffer?” he asked hopefully.

“Zip, you know I won’t touch politics with a 10-foot pole!” The fly nodded, sighed, and shrugged, then his shoulders slumped.

“I tried.”

“I’ll tell you what: I promise I’ll make a real effort to wear any and all swag you give me. Good compromise?”

“Yippee!”

While it was true that Zipper’s excitement made running for office look easy, it certainly wasn’t. In fact, he was reluctant to tell anyone that, although he’d only just announced his candidacy, he’d already been put through the ringer.

Chapter Three

In the weeks leading up to his announcement, Zipper had been taking lessons in ‘Eloquent Enunciation’, courtesy of former assistant mayor and general civic champion Phinneas Fairchild. Since returning to civilian life, Phinn had been offering this service as a “side hustle” (in Nick’s parlance), but when he heard of Zipper’s intentions—and the fly’s determination not to reveal them—he offered to tutor him gratis. Good thing, too, because Zipper was “paying for it” in emotional turmoil, sweat and tears. He could take it, but the toll had caught him off guard.

He was reminded of his early days as a Rescue Ranger. Time and time again, whenever he tackled a task, the energy he’d expended would leave him panting pitifully. Yes, he did the best he could given his size, but he was often made to feel that he cost the team more than his presence was worth. It took him years before he bulked up enough to contribute his fair share, but even then, he’d learned to pull his weight by leveraging his key strength—speed--and otherwise using his flaws to his advantage.

But that was then, and it’d been so long since he’d endured any kind of regimen. Luckily for him, one of the few things that didn’t tire him out was talking. But Phinn was a meticulous mammal when it came to this matter; his teaching style could best be described as firm but fair, strict but soft. The trouble was that he was so passionate in his instruction that one never knew which he’d be and when.

Thus far, they’d successfully worked on conversation, projection, and elocution. Now all that remained was enunciation, for which the lessons were named—and this was because it was Phinn’s favorite part of the process. With a typical student—say, a tiger with dreams of theater, or even a rhino raring to be a CEO—he would insist that they recite Shakesbeare, whose twists and turns, from comedy to drama, prose to poetry and back again, would keep anyone on their toes.

But, for Zipper, he felt that was too much too soon. He could get there, someday, perhaps, but he’d need to work his way up, ease his way into it. For the purposes of Zip’s lessons, Phinn had come up with something different. Shorter, but no less intensive: Tongue twisters.

He started easy: “Repeat after me: The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain.”

“The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain,” Zipper replied, pleased with himself. His friend, mentor, and “foster father”, Lory Birdton, was a stickler for precise pronunciation, and had taught Zip well. He’d be proud.

But Phinn refused to let Zipper rest on his laurels. “Repeat after me: She sells seashells by the seashore.”

“She shells seashells by the seashore.”

“You’re just about there,” Phinn said with an encouraging smile. “Again.” Zipper took a deep breath, focusing on his performance even as he tried to ignore his annoyance.

“She sells seashells by the seashore.”

“You’ve got it!” Phinn grinned. “Well done!” But there was barely time to celebrate before… “Now, moving on...Repeat after me, three times fast: Unique New York.”

“You-neek you-nork…” Zipper stopped himself short; even he had to laugh at that. But,

“Rookie mistake,” snapped Phinn. “Try again.”

“You-neek noo york, You-neek noo york…”

And so it went, on and on, until poor Zipper was exhausted.

Chapter Four

It was after one such lesson that Phinn sat him down, offered him some water, and looked the fly in the eye. “Zipper, I fail to see how you can master my lessons completely. Forgive me for being short-sighted. It’s why I wear glasses,” he quipped. “Truthfully, you are excellent at my isolated drills; you’ve learned my quirks and have managed to outsmart me. But it seems that you lack the ability to juggle all those aptitudes at once. I’m afraid I’ll be of no further help to you.”

“Aww…” Zip sniffled, and a lone tear ran down his cherubic cheek.

Phinn smiled sympathetically. “Don’t fret, dear Zipper. I still have some ideas left in me...So chin up, my friend.” Zipper did look up, with those wide, hopeful eyes of his.

“How?” Phinn chuckled. One of the most important things he’d learned from Zipper—the thing, in fact, that he admired most, was the fly’s ability to say so much in so few words. He made every word count. And that, Phinn knew, would serve him well.

“You remember what it’s like to be part of a team, don’t you? Everyone does their part with what they have to offer.”

“Uh-huh,” Zipper agreed. “But there were five of us. Now, if I win, it all comes down to me.”

“Maybe so,” Phinn acquiesced, “But no one ever gets to where he’s going without some help. Mayor Horse taught me that. And if you keep it in mind, there’s a good chance you’ll win.” Zipper blinked at him in disbelief.

“Really?!”

“Really.”

“How?” Phinn outright laughed this time.

“There it is again, that wonderful word, brimming with possibility,” he beamed. “What you need is an advisor.” Zip was puzzled.

“Isn’t that what the assistant mayor does?” he asked. Phinn shook his head.

“No, sir! The assistant mayor has to be good at juggling—many more concerns than just the mayor’s. I failed miserably at it, remember?” he added with a wink. Zip waved him off.

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad…”

“Oh, I assure you, it was. And the only reason I got through it is because Herb—and Sam, and even Olivia and Emmett—trusted me. I went with my gut, but they knew I was doing the right thing...even when I wasn’t entirely sure. So, you see, Zip, as the old saying goes: ‘Teamwork makes the dream work.”

“So how do I choose an advisor?”

“I don’t know. But the trick to this politics thing is: Don’t be afraid to make it up as you go along—provided you trust your conscience, of course.”

“Has there even been an advisor to the mayor before?”

“Nope—not the way we’re thinking. Let me put it this way: You’re a celebrity, right?” Zip blushed and shrugged. “Don’t be so modest. Surely you’ve had a personal assistant before…?” Now that he mentioned it…

“Lory!”

“Birdton? Oh—that seems about right. Was he good at his job?”

“The best!”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Hmmm…” Zipper thought it over. The best thing about Lory was his attention to detail. No, it was his willingness to take chances. Actually, it was his willingness to be a team player. Maybe it was his kindness to others. Wait...it was all of those things.

He told Phinn as much. “Fantastic! Now, all you need to do is think of someone who does all that in the field of public service, and you’re good to go!” Zipper was excited; it sounded so easy when Phinn put it that way. But it wasn’t. Or...Just this once...Was it?!

Zipper wracked his brain, wondering, pondering, meditating, deliberating and debating until he was sure smoke would come out his ears. And then, he got it.

Chapter Five

When Judy saw Zipper at the next press conference Herb held, she was a little surprised. Sure, with his candidacy to consider, he may have wanted to increase his visibility. But, still, he was here—out in the open, without his literal travel cup that Hannah used to keep him safe.

Granted, the hare and the cup were only a few feet away, and Judy was glad to see Zipper out and about. Still, it was strange. Especially when he came up to her right before the event was due to begin. “Hi, Judy!”

“Hi, Zipper! Good to see you!”

“You, too! Can we talk?”

“Sure!”

“I’ve decided that, if I win, I’ll need an advisor in my cabinet. Someone who I can trust to get my message across when I can’t actually be heard.”

“That’s a great idea! Need some advice on picks?”

Before Zipper could answer, the lights dimmed, the Mayor’s smiling face appeared on the screen, and he began his address. “We’ll catch up after, okay?” Judy whispered to Zip.

“Okay,” he whispered back.

“In closing, as always, I’d like to open the floor for any questions, comments, or concerns you may have. As a reminder, these can be about something I’ve mentioned, or something I haven’t. Any takers?” Mayor Horse scanned the room with such precision, you’d think he was actually in it. Zipper had stayed in the front row with Judy, anticipating exactly this.

He flew up, so he was both closer to the screen and able to be seen by the other spectators. Then, he raised his hand and spoke loud and clear: “Excuse me, Mr. Mayor?”

Mayor Horse squinted, then grinned as he caught a glimpse of who had spoken. “Zipper, is that you?”

“Sure is!”

“The floor is yours, my friend.” With that, Zipper spoke; not just to the mayor, but to the crowd as a whole.

“Earlier, Judy Hopps and I were having a conversation about who can best serve as my advisor if I win. My advisor’s job will be to get my message across when I can’t actually be heard. After much consideration, I’ve selected my top contender for the position, and I felt that my choice might be of interest to the mayor, as well as all those assembled here.”

“Thank you for sharing, Zipper; it certainly is. Be my guest,” smiled Mayor Horse.

“I would like my advisor to be...Officer Judy Hopps.”

Ever-tactful, Mayor Horse knew better than to display delight at Zipper’s specific statement. Instead he smiled, offering a simple, sincere, cheerful, and vague, “You heard it here. Take care.” With that, he signed off.

Meanwhile, Judy’s mind raced. When Zipper approached her an hour or so ago, she’d had no idea he’d proffer a cabinet position. With the event over, everyone began trickling out of the City Hall conference room-turned-auditorium; she offered to walk Zipper home so they could talk—she did some of her best thinking while in motion. He accepted; Hannah volunteered to tag along, but Judy assured her it would be no trouble. Hearing this, the hare quipped, “Oh, well—I guess I’ll have to race ya home another day, Zip. Unless...I win by default!”

“Hey!” came the playful rejoinder. Hannah burst out laughing, her paw shaking as she gave Zip’s travel cup to Judy.

“See ya, guys!” Hannah added as she zoomed away.

“Hop in,” Judy told Zipper, “and maybe we can catch up.” She winked. Once Zip was secure in his cup, the lid locked tight, she spoke into the opening, calm and casual, as though she were using a phone.

“Thank you. The fact that you would even consider me means so much.”

“You’ve earned it!” Zipper assured her, adding sagely, “Your reputation precedes you.” That was true. Zipper didn’t know Judy that well, but was well-aware that she was among Hannah’s tight-knit circle of friends. Not to mention, he’d seen Weaselton’s documentary and had a good sense of what she was capable of. If Hannah—and Chief Bogo—could trust Judy, then so could he. Even now, as he studied her from inside his cup, he noted the careful way she held it, and the way her ears tilted toward him as he spoke, ensuring he could be heard. His instinct had been right; Judy was exactly what he needed.

“I appreciate that, Zipper. I’ll be happy to think about your offer, but I’ll admit, I have some doubts.”

“Such as?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“I love my job. As you know, it’s been my dream since I was young. I worked so hard to get there—after all that, it would be hard for me to leave, no matter how tempting the opportunity.” And it was tempting, indeed. From what Zipper had told her earlier, her responsibilities would extend only to the public speaking front—delivering speeches on his behalf. He’d have staff catering to his every other need, allowing her the kind of flexible hours she hadn’t had in...ever.

As a kit, she’d always had some job or other on her family’s farm; if she wasn’t out working, she was helping her mother sell produce, or babysitting her younger siblings so her parents could get some work done. After that, she’d endured the daily grind of the Police Academy—which, while satisfying in the long term, wasn’t all that pleasant on a day-to-day basis. Then she’d met Nick, and...there was a time when their lives had been entwined with work—it was how they’d forged a relationship in the first place!--but now they had kits of their own to raise, and that was their priority.

Zipper smiled as she explained all this to him. “I understand.” And he had a plan. What if, he posited, he allowed her to advise him on a trial-only basis throughout the campaign? If he won, they would reconvene, and then she could decide.

“That sounds amazing!” she exclaimed, and then, in a more measured tone, with a smile creeping across her face… “I accept.”

You might’ve heard that old Zootopian fable about the tortoise and the hare. It’s not that different from what transpired between the fly and the bunny that day: Both realized that ‘slow and steady could win the race’, even as they were eager to make big moves, as quickly as possible. Only time would tell what they could accomplish together, but from where Zipper sat—in his cup, smiling up at an equally ecstatic Judy—the odds were looking good.