← Koala Moon: Kids Bedtime Stories & Sleep Stories for Kids Podcast
Koala Moon: Kids Bedtime Stories & Sleep Stories for Kids Podcast
Potato & Beans: The Walkaway Boots 👢🐱 Soothing Bedtime Story
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Narrator
Foreign hello and welcome back to Koala Moon, a podcast of original children's bedtime stories and meditations designed to make bedtime a dream. Firstly, I'd like to wish a very happy belated birthday to Oliver, whose birthday was on May 9th. Her happy birthday, Oliver. Also, we're saying hi to Franny from Minneapolis and she plays the ukulele just like Coco. I wonder if hers is purple also. Hi and welcome to the Koko Club. Bennett, Aaron and Zoe, we love having you here. Thanks for joining us guys. Before we begin, a quick message for the grown ups. If you'd like to support our podcast, enjoy ad free listening, unlock four bonus stories per month and much, much more. You can join Koko Club. Subscribe in just two taps via the link in the show notes. But now here's a quick word from our sponsors. It is estimated that over 4 million people have been abducted by alien life forms, but only one of them asked for it. This is Elio of Earth. If any aliens are listening, come and get me from Disney and Pixar. Yes, it's really happening. He'll go where no one has gone before. Welcome to the community. What is this, please? These are the lava tunnels, Gordon. I am not fireproof. Disney and Pixar parental guidance suggested now playing only in theaters. Tickets available now. Hey there, Koala Moon listeners. Do you love mystery stories like the ones we solve with our very own sleepy sloth sleuth? Then we think you'll love the podcast Mysteries about True Histories or math for short. And guess what? Season two is out now. Max and Molly are two clever kids who use math, history, geography and problem solving to travel through time. And this season they're facing off against a sneaky new villain called the Power Hungry Pogs. Their mission? To rewrite history from ancient Egypt to Charles Darwin in 1875. Max and Molly jump to wherever in time they're needed. Next, with spies hiding in plain sight and secrets around every corner, it's full of fun twists and just about the right amount of mystery for curious kids. You can find mysteries about true histories right now on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you like to listen. Happy sleuthing and sweet dreams. Ok, don't do this now, but if you are a Potato and Beans fan, and I know there are a fair few of you out there, but you need a name. By the way, just remember to go back a few episodes and listen to the actual story of how Potato Met Beans. It's on the Koala Tots podcast and it's called Nap Time at Kitten Kindergarten. And it is so sweet if you're a diner kid or a bean sprout or a pea beanie. Right, that's all my efforts. Over to you. You will love hearing about the day that they met and they first played diners together. It's like their origin story. Go back and check it out. Back to today. Now though, down there in the middle of nowhere at the roller skating diner, Detective Hash Brown is confused. There is another mystery afoot. Quite literally, it's a meandering case of missing footwear and it requires a brilliant bit of patience, dedication and teamwork. Before we get stuck into it though, let's make sure you're ready to listen, lie back in bed and have a little stretch and a wriggle like usual. Maybe take a few calming breaths to clear your mind. Just clear it of everything except the thought of a hot summery day in the desert. Imagine you're surrounded in every direction by sand, cacti and sky. It's a dazzlingly hot day and one for just taking it easy and listening to stories. So it's time for me to begin. Potato and Beans the Walkaway Boots by Susannah McLoughlin Potato and beans were halfway through their afternoon shift at their roller skate diner when the door swung open and their old friend Detective Hash Brown stepped in. They saw the detective often, as he usually wasn't all that busy. The middle of nowhere was a peaceful place where things weren't often lost, no one played tricks, and mysteries didn't pop up all that often. The truth is, Detective Hash Brown spent most of his days playing mini basketball in the sheriff's office with Sheriff Opossum batting rolled up balls of paper through a little hoop in the corner and chatting about the dryness of the season or the fluffiness of the clouds or the size of the cacti in his garden. He often came into the diner for an afternoon milkshake, a morning coffee, or a slice of blueberry pie. But today he had a look of determination that meant only one thing. He wasn't here for milkshakes or coffee or pie. He was here because he was on a mission. The dog strode through the diner to the counter where Potato and Beans were mopping up a spilt soda. It had been knocked over by Turnip, the pot bellied pig waiter. As he was flailing his arms, laughing too hard at a joke Potato made about two strawberries going into a smoothie bar. Hash Brown tapped his hat at the two cats and gave them a howdy. Hello, Detective Hash Brown Bean said. Are you on a case today? Why, yes I am, the dog replied. And I'm in need of you two, you see. I need your feline wild. This one has me stumped. The detective sat down on one of the swivel chairs at the bar and swung around as he told them the situation. It concerned Dallas Cassidy, the local cowboy, a kind, wild, sandy haired man who spoke like he was from the 1800s, and he may well have been, as rumor had it, he could time travel by turning the spur on his left boot. The previous night Dallas Cassidy had returned to his ranch, kicked off his boots at the door, and sat down with a plate of pretzels and his favourite TV show, American Idol. He was so swept away by the singing contest, cheering on the underdog and wiping off a tear when they finished a particularly stirring song, you know, the main one from the Lion King, that he didn't notice a thing outside his front door. But sure enough, when he woke up the next morning, his boots were gone and the only clue was a single set of footprints setting off into the dust. Dallas thought about following the prince, but he hadn't got his boots and he knew that he did not want to accidentally step on a cactus. The cats shuddered at the thought. The detective said that he went and followed the Prince himself, but admitted that he found them too hard to follow. At one point they twisted and turned and walked in circles and he got so confused he started chasing his own tail. He thought he'd better return with his very best deputies at his side. Potato and Beans puffed out their chests and dipped imaginary hats. At your service, they said, taking off their aprons and kicking off their skates, slipping on their own cowboy boots in their place, calling See you later to everyone in the diner. The two cats followed the detective, tail swishing out into the parking lot. The warm sunshine was drumming down on the tarmac and Potato turned her white furry face to the sun, feeling her shoulders relax and beginning to purr. Detective Hash Brown's ruthless Cadillac was waiting, and in they hopped. The engine rumbled to life and off they went down the long straight road that led slap bang through the middle of nowhere. Whilst the detective drove, Beans turned on the radio and Potato twiddled with the buttons until their favourite country singer, Doggie Parton, a famous Pomeranian, was crooning out of the speakers. All three of them sang along as the car pulled off the road and trundled down a dirt track over the plains, up into the canyons and around the bend to the dry, grassy flatlands where Dallas Cassidy's ranch sprawled. Dallas was sitting on his porch, stroking his horse. True to Hash Brown's words, he was bootless in his socks, woolly cream ones with a hole his big toe poked through. The cowboy waved at the cats and the detective in greeting. As the cats climbed out the car and headed over to the cowboy, Hash Brown rooted around in the glove compartment, eventually pulling out a big magnifying glass that he used to peer at the dirt. Do you have any idea where your boots have gotten to, Dallas? Potato asked, patting the cowboy on the shoulder. He chewed on a long floppy blade of wheatgrass and sighed. It's hard to say, he said. Those boots were made for walking, after all. Sometimes that's just what they do. I caught them pacing around the porch before, but they've never left the ranch before on their own. Potato laughed, head flung back until Beans shot her a quick look. I don't think he's joking, Potato, she said. Are you? Do you mean the boots actually walk on their own? Dallas sighed and nodded. He pointed towards the spot where Detective Hash Brown was on all fours, studying the ground. Yup, he said. And it looks like they went thataway. The two cats thanked the cowboy and promised they'd do their best to track down the mysterious boots. They joined Detective Hash Brown and peered down at the perfect big pointy footprints sunken into the red dirt. The three detectives began their journey, tracking the steps. The cats soon saw how Detective Hash Brown had gotten stuck in a loop on his first try. The footsteps wove this way and that span and leapt and at one point even turned backwards and seemed to moonwalk for 20 metres. But with three pairs of eyes on the ground, they managed to follow the prince off the ranch and through a giant cactus patch that stretched as far as they could see. They all agreed it had been a good idea for Dallas Cassidy to stay behind, what with all the spiky, spiny plants around. Potato, who had a surprisingly keen interest in botany, named the plants as they went by. She pointed to a huge bush of flat cacti with short spines and named it as a cow's tongue prickly pear, then a giant spiky ball of leaves balancing on its trunk, which was a yucca. She showed them agave, which was like a huge ginormous cabbage of thick, waxy leaves. Then the boot prints led them out across a rickety bridge slung between two orange rock canyons. The three detectives crossed in single file, enjoying the slight bounce to the bridge and calling Yee Haw. Into the canyon. They paused for a moment, hearing their voices echo around and around, bouncing between the orange rocks. Down below was a rare stripe of lush plants and trees fed by the water funneled down into the canyon gap. The trio crossed the bridge and followed the prince across a dusty plain. Just when the cat's paws were getting tired and Detective Hash Brown was starting to pant, there was a clip clopping sound and a huge horse came galloping up behind them. Beans recognised the horse straight away. It was Betsy Dallas Cassidy's biggest, strongest filly. Hey, Betsy. She called. Betsy neighed in response, skidding to a stop at their side. Hey, friends, the syrupy voiced horse said. Dallas sent me. He thought y' all could use a ride. The cats and the dog nodded gladly. To tell the truth, they were already tired of walking. Betsy was so big she could carry them all easily, and so one by one they used the stirrups on her sides to heave themselves up and onto Betsy's back until the three animals were all aboard. Potato in the front, Beans in the middle, and Hash Brown at the rear. As Betsy clip clopped across the plains, the animals relaxed. It was much better to travel by horse in the Texan desert. The views even looked better from horseback. What's even better is that in Betsy's saddlebag were three tall bottles of peach iced tea. Potato leaned back into Beans's arms and looked up at a singular white cloud, still and unmoving amongst the rich blue of the afternoon sky, just hanging there in the sky like a tuft of lamb's wool stuck on a fence. Beans was taking in the vastness of the landscape, the huge wide expanse of red dust dotted with rocks and cacti and spiny trees. A mirage shimmered on the horizon, a perfect oasis in the middle of the dry desert, one that Beans knew didn't actually exist. It was just a trick of the light of the heat that rose from the ground that made it look like water was wobbling on the horizon. As for Detective Hash Brown, he'd turned around and was looking back at where they'd come, marvelling at how far they'd walked in just one afternoon and secretly thanking the boots for leading them on an adventure. A slow spinning ball of tumbleweed passed behind them, rolling around and around as it crossed the plain, and Hash Brown tipped his hat as he would to a passing animal. As the sun began its slow descent into the evening and pink smudges began to ripple across the sky, a small town appeared, growing steadily bigger and bigger. The boot tracks were definitely headed that way soon they arrived in the tiny town, if you could call it that. It was just a collection of 20 or so buildings, really, lined up in a long high street on either side of a dusty track. The moment Betsy came to a stop at the edge of the street, the cats and the detective sprung off. They trotted a loop around the town already, and there were no other tracks heading away from it. The boots must be here somewhere. Potato looked at the ground and screwed up her nose. What, were they line dancing here today or something? She said. There are so many prints going this way and that way and shuffling and skipping. We'll never find our tracks amongst all this chaos. We'll just have to do what we do best, detective Hash Brown said. Investigate. First they went into a small grocery store where a goat sat behind the counter, head slung back and mouth wide open as she snored. She wore blue jean overalls and had a half eaten carrot in one hand. Potato went sniffing around the shelves. The research, she said, though Beans knew she just loved looking around the grocery store. She was smelling bell peppers and squeezing cantaloupe melons and sorting through the candy station. Already. Hash Brown woke up, the sleeping goat apologising when she startled and threw her carrot up into the air. Sorry, ma' am, the polite dog said. I'm just here looking for some walk away Boots. Wondered whether you might have seen anything peculiar like that around these parts. The goat shuffled in her seat, rubbing her eyes and waking up before nodding. Why yes sir, I saw some self walking boots but a few hours ago, she said. First I thought it was an invisible cowboy. Then I realised there was probably no such thing. Must be some self walking boots, I thought. The trio jigged excitedly and asked where the boots went and the goat extended a hoof towards the north of the street. Why, to Old Coat's cobblers, o course. Potato looked confused. The only cobbler she knew was a dessert, but Beans quickly explained that it wasn't a peach cobbler they were talking about. This was a human cobbler. What you called someone who repairs shoes? The animals thanked the goat and left the store with a jingle of the bell, pausing only whilst Potato purchased three apples and a pack of tortilla chips before heading to the cobbler down the street. There Old Colt was standing at the counter polishing a shining dress shoe. He was a kindly old man, one of the few humans about these parts, with twinkly eyes surrounded by crinkly lines and white floppy hair as soft as Betsy's mane. Colt took one look at Detective Hash Brown and pointed at him with recognition. Well, you good sir, you'll be here for those there self walking boots, won't you? Hash Brown nodded, wagging his tail excitedly where it poked out of his uniform. Colt raised an eyebrow. You tell Dallas Cassidy that he better bring them to me earlier next time before they get so dirty and threadbare they have to walk over here themselves. Potato and Beans gave him a quizzical look. You mean they came to you to be fixed? Beans said. Colt nodded. They had to be waxed and polished, re sewn and patched. I almost didn't recognize them myself. And it's me who made the things. Colt chuckled. I wondered what Dallas would have said when they came back looking like new, strolling back all shiny and gorgeous. Well, there they go now. Colt pointed at the floor and a floorboard creaked as the boots tiptoed behind the trio of detectives heading for the door. Detective Hash Brown grabbed the boots before they could take another step. You mean these guys walked all the way here and were about to walk right back again? Colt nodded. He explained that he believed all shoes needed regularly polishing and stitching and looking after. He said, just like our boots look after our feet, we should look after them. So his shoes always came with a guarantee wherever they were in the world, if they got too shabby or too dirty or had a hole in the sole, they'd bring themselves back for some tlc. Potato and Beans were inspecting the boots. They did look marvellous, not one bit like the dusty old things that traipse dirt through their diner on the cowboys feet a few times a week. The leather was now chocolate brown and gleaming, supple and smooth, and the embroidery shining gold. There was a new heel that made a satisfying clack on the floorboards and the spurs that shot back from each ankle were polished and gleaming. Dallas is going to be so happy to be reunited with his boots, potato said. And they truly do look marvellous. They thanked Colt and told him they'd be bringing their own boots and shoes and trainers his way for a bit of TLC too. Then, boots in hand, the trio strode back outside and mounted. Betsy. The strong horse began to trot away from the tiny town across the plain, following the old footprints and not minding as she mixed her own hoof marks in with them. The stars had begun to twinkle in the sky. Just three at first, then 5, 10, 12, and soon too many to count. Detective Hashbrown pointed out the constellations to them as the horse clip clopped, clip clopped over the dusty ground beans laid back against Hash Brown's back and potatoes lent against beans until they were all comfy, slumped together and looking up at the stars. Twists of constellations seemed to move and dance as they journeyed. The sky grew darker from inky blue to indigo to black, and the way was lit by fireflies and a full, gleaming white moon. Eventually they made it to Dallas Cassidy's ranch, where the cowboy was waiting eagerly on the porch as he had been all afternoon long. His face lit up when he saw the boots cradled in Detective Hash Brown's lap. It looked like relief and love, and indeed, when he took his boots from the detective, he wrapped them up in a big hug. He was overjoyed to be reunited. What's a cowboy without his cowboy boots, after all, he didn't even seem to notice their look. Only when they explained what had happened did a look of understanding settle on his face. I guess I love my boots so much I didn't notice when they were looking a little worse for wear, he said. Sorry, Boots. I'll take better care of you in future. I promise you that. The cats bid Dallas Cassidy goodnight and joined Detective Hash Brown in his Cadillac. The dog went to push the button that made the roof unfold and cover the car, but Beans stopped him. Can we leave it down? She said. Then we can see the stars. Hash Brown giggled and left the roof open, letting the engine purr to life and navigating back to the diner. They rounded the bends, followed the dirt track, and zoomed back along the long road that cut slap bang through the middle of nowhere. Above, the stars twinkled and shooting stars shot across the sky. The diner was already cleaned and closed when the cat stepped through the door. They headed up to their apartment above the diner and got ready for a much needed sleep. Tiredness had begun to tiptoe in, tugging gently at their whiskers and weighing down their eyelids. They each took a warm, relaxing shower to get ready for bed. Bubbles frothed between their paws as they scrubbed away the dust from their fur wrapped snugly in their cloud like dressing gowns and sipping warm mugs of milk. They padded about with slow, heavy steps. The hum of the hairdryer filled the air, and by the time their fur was fluffed and dry, they looked like two sleepy pom poms in matching pink pyjamas. They brushed their teeth with tiny, careful circles, then brushed their fur, pausing only to blink another yawn away. And when each of them pulled their curtain closed, one pour on the fabric, the other covering a little yawn they felt sleep tugging just a little stronger before curling up. They paused by their windows, noses pressed gently to the glass. The stars were still dancing, the moon still glowing. As they tumbled into their beds beneath soft heaps of blankets, wrapped in warmth and sleepiness, the two best friends exchanged their last words. Good night, Potato. Goodnight, Beans. And then, wrapped up in their blankets, they drifted into peaceful, dreamless sleep.