Fleabrain Loves Franny Read Online Free PDF Page B

know German, Franny had never read
Die Verwandlung
, the book Fleabrain had deemed “buggist” and overrated. But she did know it for its strange and deliciously horrifying book jacket. She decided to build up the courage to face the frightening jacket by first leafing through the French texts from her parents’ college days. Many of the books in the bookshelves had underlining and circled phrases and cryptic comments in the margins. But the French texts contained the love notes.
    Je t’adore, Muriel
.
    Je t’adore, Sammy
.
    Sammy. Mon cher. Muriel
.
    Mon petit choux
.
    There were lots more mushy-sounding notes scribbled in the margins of the books. Franny’s parents, Muriel and Sammy, had fallen in love during university French class. They’d given their daughters French names, Minot and Francine, to commemorate their love. Franny enjoyed discovering those notes. They made her think of chocolate-covered caramels and lacy valentines. Although sometimes she wished her parents had written on a variety of topics in order to practice their French. Then they could have passed on that fluency to their offspring.
    Finally, her hand trembling, Franny reached for the small, thin book with the faded red spine.
    DIE VERWANDLUNG
. Franz Kafka.
    What did
Die Verwandlung
mean, anyway?
Die? Wand? Lung?
    There were penciled exclamation marks scattered in the margins, and someone had scribbled
Kafka has the answers
in a margin. Another person had excitedly responded,
HE DOES! HE DOES!
    The book had been purchased in a used bookstore by Sam Katzenback, but he’d never read it, having dropped German literature and conversation for French literature and conversation after his first day of class, in order to meet the lovely Muriel, he said. Franny wished he’d remained in the class so that he’d be able to translate this strange book for his future daughter. Of course, if he’d remained in the German class and never met Muriel, his future daughter wouldn’t have been Franny.
    Franny forced herself to carefully examine the Kafka book jacket again.
    A giant-size insect lay on its back, waving its scaly tentacles. Its eyes were unseeing mounds in its forehead. Its mouth was a grimacing circle of sharp fangs.
    But what made the illustration peculiarly horrifying was that the giant-size insect was lying on a four-poster bed, covered by a blue and white checkered quilt. A man’s brown leather slippers, toes touching, were by the bed, waiting for a man’s feet to slip into them. Newspapers were scattered on the patterned rug. A jug of water sat on a night table, and a white shirt and brown suspenders were draped over a chair.
    Horrifying! Deliciously, shiver-inspiringly horrifying. Almost funny.
    And yet.
    So, so sad.
    Why was the bug lying in bed? Why did the bug own human clothes?
    Franny stared intently at the illustration. The more she looked at it, the more fascinating and interesting it became. The bug’s fanged mouth opened wide, then snapped shut. Franny blinked.
Open, snap!
As if the bug were trying to answer her questions!
    â€œOh!” cried Franny, startled. The book dropped from her hands to the floor. Straining forward to reach for it, she toppled to the floor herself.
    â€œFor goodness’ sake, girl!”
    Nurse Olivegarten raced down the hall from the bathroom, where she’d been smoking a cigarette. She probably thought noone knew, but Franny sure did. Franny could smell that cigarette no matter how much lilac perfume and peppermint mouthwash Nurse Olivegarten used.
    â€œI told you to wait by the bathroom door,” said Nurse Olivegarten into Franny’s ear. She pulled her back into her wheelchair, squeezing Franny’s shoulders, hard.
    â€œWhat was that thump?” asked Franny’s mother, emerging from the kitchen, Alf bounding behind her. “Franny, are you hurt?”
    â€œI’m fine.” Franny quickly hid
Die Verwandlung
behind her