Twice upon a time Part two
By peterelbee
- 411 reads
“I spy with my little eye something beginning with G,”
The early morning downpour had ceased and sunshine now peeped through the parting clouds as Petra chewed thoughtfully on an energy bar. She had fallen asleep in front of the fire the previous night waiting for Curtis to return from his “bush” emergency and by the time she had awoken he was already snoring back in the tent, his determination to stay awake well and truly spent.
“Something beginning with G?” she muttered, surveying the clearing for a brief period before stating the obvious “Grass”
“Na,” relied Curtis smugly, reaching for another slice of banana cake “But you’re kinda close...in a way”
“Grasshopper?” she embellished, though she doubted that eyes even as young and sharp as Curtis’s could see something so small.
“Keep trying, Pets.”
Playing eye-spy with Curtis frequently resulted in the most unexpected of solutions. Unlike his older and less creative siblings he would pick something obscure, such as “H for hungry kitty”, or “A for Aunt Gabrielle’s wedding present”.
“Something green?” she suggested.
“Getting warmer,” he encouraged, his voice muffled by undigested cake.
“Don’t talk with your mouth half full, Curtis. Fill it up.”
The Chick-chock-eerdle-eart-aners of a nearby Tui and the babbling river lent the clearing a tranquil ambience, making it a perfect tramping pit-stop. A time to rest weary feet and refill grouchy tummies, especially ones afflicted with short term memory loss. She often pictured her cousin as a portly hobbit in the midst of the Shire with Merry and Pippin scoffing breakfasts, second breakfasts, elevenses and lunches and the like.
“Mmmm.” said Curtis, swallowing the cake quickly with indifference to Petra’s safe-chewing instructions. “Me, want more!”
“You’ve had more than enough, sweetie. Don’t want you too bloated to walk.”
Curtis’s eyes suddenly widened. He hastily gathered a handful of loose stones, then with a loud battle cry, ran to the edge of the river and threw them. The stones pelted the rapid water like machinegun fire, though clearly missing a small plastic bottle that was riding the current.
“That’ll learn ya!” he cried, leaping in the air and waving his a clenched fist victoriously before scavenging for more ammo. Stone-throwing games were always in vogue.
“That’s enough,” cautioned Petra, snatching the lower back of her cousin’s sweat shirt as he ran passed. “You’re going to fall in the river if you’re not careful.”
“Am not!” retorted Curtis, stumbling slightly but managing to keep from falling. He turned to her and scowled. “Sides, there be pirates on board. They must be stopped.”
“You might hurt the bottle.”
“Spock saydid “Needs of many out-wait needs of the few.” Bottle must be scaficed.”
“King Zerocole used to say the same before the “Can attack”.”
“King Zerocole?” probed Curtis’s curiously, letting the stones slowly spill through his fingers.
“King Zerocole was the cruel and unjust ruler of Bottleland.”
“Bottleland…no such place,”
Petra released his sweatshirt and recounted a tale she had recently been working on. Daytime stories were a lot easier and quicker to tell as Curtis was less inclined to interrupt as he had done the previous night.
“Twice upon a time there was an Island called Bottleland, where all sorts of bottles lived. There were big ones, small ones, fat ones, shiny ones and even one or two square ones.
“Each week a ship would make its way to Bottleland and rich merchants would collect the bottles they desired. They generally favoured the gleaming glass ones and seemed to ignore those made of plastic. Thus a class distinction arose, with coke bottles as the hierarchy and the plastics as peasants.
“The plastic bottles were looked down on and the glass bottle parents began forbidding their children to mix with plastic scum (as they cruelly referred to them). Whenever something went wrong or a bottle was unexplainably smashed the plastics were the first to get the blame.”
“That’s like me,” interjected Curtis “I always get blameded when it’s not even my fault.
“It’s never your fault Curtis. You’re a perfect little angel…sometimes. Anyhow, one day the leader of Bottleland, King Zerocole, decided to have a parade to celebrate his 34th birthday (which was quite an age for a bottle in Bottleland). Everyone was invited, except of course for the plastics; they had to stay behind and dust and clean the Glass bottles’ houses.
“King Zerocole led the procession playing a trumpet. Behind him were brass bands, jugglers, Fanta Clowns, and lime juice bottles handing out memorial bottle tops to the young sprites. The bystanders were delighted and clapped their caps with glee. They loved it and said how they would like to see these sorts of events more often.
“Then it happened!”
“What happened?” urged Curtis, enthralled in the story.
“A siren sounded and a hush fell over the crowd. Not a word was uttered but they all shared the same dreaded thought. A messenger ran through the crowd and knelt before the King.
“Your majesty, I have terrible news,” said the out of breath messenger. “Captain Uncanny approaches with his crew of killer cans!"
“They all rushed to the beach and sure enough, in the distance, sailed the mighty pirate-ship “The Ten-Ton-Tin.” It moved swiftly through the water, cannons aimed at Bottleland
"Steady as she goes me hearties!" ordered Captain Uncanny as he looked through his telescope "We're in for a smashing good time."
“When they were in range Captain Uncanny gave the orders to attack and cannons thundered firing out can after can. The glass bottles ran for their lives, as the hurtling cans began to smash them.
“Into their houses they fled, most falling victim to Captain Uncanny’s wrath. Even King Zerocole whom normally kept a cool head in disastrous situations had no idea what to do and panicked with the rest of them.
“Unable to be stopped, the pirate cans boarded life rafts, sailed ashore and charged into the main city center, smashing helpless bottles at will. Then, just when it seemed all was lost, the Plastic Bottles rushed to the rescue!
""Think you're pretty tough huh?” they taunted “Well try us out for size."
“Bravely the plastics stood their ground deflecting the cans without injury until the remaining glass bottles were safely inside their houses, and King Zerocole and his army had been secured in the special shelters, which had been made to protect them in such an emergency.
“The plastics jeered at their frustrated enemy then started organizing themselves into tactical groups. The first group collected all the hoses they could find and the second group connected them to taps. A third group calculated distances.
“The Plastics had their own leader, Rea-psych de Plas, though his authority went mostly unrecognized by the upper-glass snobs. He gave a special single known only to his loyal comrades and the taps were turned on full bore. Water shot out and saturated the enemy.
“In no time at all the cans began rusting and it was now their turn to fee in terror, rowing the rafts as fast as they could and hastily climbing back on board the Ten-Ton-Tin. Captain Uncanny, knowing that he had been out-smarted, shook his fist at the plastics and quickly turned the ship around. He sailed away from Bottleland as fast as he was able, vowing never to return.
“The glass bottles came out from hiding and gave three hearty cheers for the plastics and King Zerocole declared that from then on both Plastic and Glass Bottles should live together in harmony. And to this day you will find both plastic and glass bottles sitting side by side in every store you visit, of course the cans still keep their distance.”
“Go the plastics!” cheered Curtis, giving the thumbs up to the plastic bottle, which had become wedged on some rocks. It been remained there throughout the story as if keen to listen to the legends of its ilk. “And boo to Cat-tin uncanny.”
“Well, I think it’s time we started off again. We’re already ten minutes behind schedule.”
“Can we take Bottle with us?”
“It’s too far away from shore and the river current too strong to retrieve it. We’d best leave it where it is.”
“But it’s all lost and lonely.” Muesli
“Perhaps it’s just out for a swim, sometimes bottles do that you know. It’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive,” she affirmed, lightly swatting the back of his head with her open palm “Come on, let’s pack up and get going.”
Curtis gazed longingly at the bottle for a few more seconds then sighed and began repacking.
“Grey skies?” guessed Petra “That begins with
a “G.””
“You’re not wrong,” replied Curtis, crouching down and threading his arms though the straps of his backpack “But not the “G” I spied.”
Clouds slowly regrouped as Petra and Curtis started trudging beneath the canopy of native trees, following a twisting track. Bell-birds joined the Tuis and Starlings, serenading sweetly while ever now and then a fantail would flutter down and hop beside them, then disappear back into the bushes.
“Oh I give up!” grumbled Petra in a frustrated tone. ”What did you spy with your little eye that started with G?”
“Gee, what a beautiful place to have a rest.” he replied, grinning impishly like a Cheshire cat. “Starts with G, aye Pets?”
Petra was not amused.
(Continues)
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