Mr Viscous finally said, “Pray tell me some more about these, hmm, witches.”
“That’s all I know – really!” Jimmy lied, fearing he had said too much already.
Staring at Jimmy, his hard beady eyes burning into him, the factory owner remained silent for several more minutes. Then, with a twirl of his hand, he said, “You are so funny, Jimmy, telling us such amusing little stories…”
“Stories?” Jimmy asked, confused by the sudden change of tack.
“Yes, stories,” he replied, laughing some more. “What say you, Mr Voracity, Madam Poulfarriy?”
The Madam and the Mr, hoping for a taste of the dainty morsel after the factory owner had finished with it, nodding their agreement said, “If ever there was a natural born storyteller, it is most certainly he.”
“I concur,” Mr Viscous continued. Turning to Jimmy, he said, “Do you think me so stupid as to believe in such rubbish? Witches, indeed!”
“But!”
I said to buts – or ifs, remember?” he warned. “Would you like to see them?” he asked.
“The horses?” Jimmy replied, nodding enthusiastically.
“Mr Voracity, Madam Poulfarriy,” he ordered. “Follow me, and bring the storyteller along with you.”
Leading the way, the factory owner guided them through the maze of pipes levers, gauges and mechanisms that were an intricate part of the factory’s operation. Reaching the far side of the building, where the air was fresher, close to the half-open roller door, they breathed easier. Leading away from the roller door was a walkway bordered on both sides by a fence similar to that of the holding pen outside. Seeing this, Jimmy instinctively knew it was where the horses had entered the munching machine.
Pointing along the walkway, to a door on the side of the munching machine, the factory owner said, “We are almost there.”
Despite struggling, trying to break free, Jimmy found it impossible to wrest himself from the Madam and the Mr’s steel like grips. Sweating, dreading that which was most certainly coming Jimmy prayed to his God that his friend, his lifelong best friend, Eric, was somewhere nearby...
Step Inside, Jimmy
Opening a gate in the fence bordering the walkway, Mr Viscous passed through it as if he did not have a care in the world; he was so relaxed he actually began whistling ‘Tiptoe through the Tulips.’ “Oh I do like a good whistle,” he said cheerily, all the seriousness he had so recently displayed, gone.
His eyes following the factory owner, but his feet refusing to budge, Jimmy protested, “I’m not going up there! Whatever you are planning to do with me, do it here!”
Laughing nonchalantly, Mr Viscous replied, “Planning? I have no idea what you are talking about.”
Jimmy, however, was having none of it, and he protested all the louder, “I’M NOT GOING UP THERE!”
“But, that’s impossible,” the factory owner insisted, “you must come up here.” Pointing along the ramp, to the door at its top, he added, “If you want to see the horses – you do want to see them, don’t you? – you must pass through that door.” Mr Viscous awaited Jimmy’s reply. None, however, was forthcoming. Nodding to the Madam and the Mr, he said, “Please help him along.”
The Madam and the Mr began dragging the troublesome child along the walkway. Struggling, trying so hard to break free, Jimmy yelled, “Let me go! LET ME GO!”
“I promised to bring you to see the horses,” Mr Viscous chided, “and so I shall.”
Despite his best efforts, Jimmy found it impossible to break free, to stop the Madam and the Mr from moving him on. With their superior strength, Mr Voracity and Madam Poulfarriy found it all too easy to lead him up the increasingly steep incline. ‘How on earth did they manage to get the horses up here?’ Jimmy wondered, slipping and sliding his way begrudgingly along the precipitous walkway.
As if he had overheard Jimmy’s thoughts, the factory owner said, “It’s amazing what you can do with a little persuasion…” With that, he resumed his whistling rendition of ‘Tiptoe through the Tulips.’
Outside, a strange looking creature camouflaged with twigs and branches, having made its way unnoticed across the neatly manicured lawns, to a gate at rear of the building, cut its way through a brand-new padlock with a bolt cutter it had retrieved. Following the walkway, the camouflaged creature approached the fence bordering the yard where the two boys had discovered the horses. ‘Why are they so quiet?’ it thought, Eric thought. ‘‘Last time we were here, the horses were whinnying like mad!” he whispered. It was true; in fact, the entire place had a different feeling about it. At first, Eric was unable to put a finger on it, what this difference might be. However, when he did, when he realised it was the sound of the machinery inside the factory, whirring, buzzing, slashing, chopping – and munching like there was no tomorrow, he became worried, so worried that the horses might already be goners. “I hope that doesn’t mean what I think it does,” he said, looking hesitantly under the partially opened roller door, into the factory.
‘Pull yourself together, Eric!” he said. “Don’t let your imagination run riot! They might still be in the holding pen. Yes, that’s it…they’re still in it.”
On climbing the fence, however, Eric found the pen empty, absolutely and utterly empty. “Where are they?” he bemoaned. Shaking a fist in the air, he said, “If the factory owner has done them in, so help me, I’ll brain him!”
Just then, Eric heard the sound of someone shouting, protesting. Despite the noise of the machinery whirring, buzzing, slashing, chopping – and munching, he could hear it quite clearly. “I know that voice,” he said excitedly. “It’s Jimmy, and by the sound of him he needs my help!”
Opening the door at the top of the ramp, Mr Viscous motioned for Jimmy to go through it.
“Not on your nelly! “ Jimmy replied, yelling, kicking and thrashing even more. The Madam and the Mr, however, easily containing his paltry efforts at resistance, dragged Jimmy through the doorway, into the munching machine.
It was dark and incredibly noisy inside the munching machine, so dark Jimmy was unable to see the Madam and the Mr standing on either side of him. Despite not being able to see them, Jimmy had no problem hearing their slow, laboured breathing, breathing that reminded him of wolves he had once seen in the zoo. “Where’s Mr Viscous?” he asked. “Isn’t he coming, also?”
They laughed; the Madam and the Mr laughed so loudly Jimmy’s ears hurt. Moreover, they continued to laugh, baying at an unseen moon.
Outside, Eric, abandoning his makeshift camouflage of twigs and branches, slipped under the roller door, and into the factory…
Steering his mind away from the whereabouts of factory owner, to the unfortunate animals he had gone there to save, Jimmy asked, “Where are the horses?”
In unison, the Madam and the Mr laughed, saying “You will see them soon enough.” With that, they bayed once again at a moon that none of them could see.
“What is it, with you two?” Jimmy asked. “That you see so funny?”
“See?” the Madam replied, laughing some more. “I can’t see anything, and it’s breaking me up!”
“Breaking you up,” said the Mr, butting in, “That’s a good one!” Poking Jimmy in the ribs, he ordered, “Come on, move!”
“Stop that!” Jimmy protested. “I can’t see an inch in front of my face, let alone where you want me to go!” However, his words fell on deaf ears. Poking him some more, the Mr ordered, “WALK!” Stumbling through the inky blackness, Jimmy edged his way forward.
Listening to the sound of talking, Eric followed the trail. Jimmy was alive, that was good. However, he was in need of his help, and that was bad. Opening the gate leading on to the walkway, Eric made his way surreptitiously along it, to the door above. Carefully, quietly opening it, he listened...
Poking Jimmy in the side, Mr Voracity said, “Come on, child, we are almost there.”
“Yes,” the Madam concurred, “we almost there, at the top.”
“The
top? The top of what?” Jimmy asked, in angst at the situation in which he had landed himself.
Instead of replying, telling him what they meant, the Madam and the Mr began laughing some more. Poking Jimmy yet again, the Mr said, “Come on, move!”
When Eric opened door leading into the munching machine, the din almost scared him to death, and he slammed it shut without daring to enter. Slapping himself on the cheeks, he said, “Come on, Eric, Jim needs you.” With that, he took a deep breath, pulled the door open and stepped into the inky blackness of the machine’s noisy interior. As the door closed behind him with a bang, Eric jumped. Hearing the sound of people talking somewhere in the darkness, he followed it, hoping to find Jimmy.
Feeling a might braver, Jimmy said, “You never did tell me why it’s so dark in here.”
At first, neither of his two captors offered a reply. Indeed, they remained so tight lipped Jimmy had all but given up on getting one when she spoke, when out of the inky blackness, Madam Poulfarriy said. “So as not to alarm our food – I mean the horses.”
“Food? Horses?”
“Enough! You have said enough!” Mr Voracity warned her. “In through the door with you,” he said, pushing Jimmy with a renewed vigour.
“Door?” Jimmy asked. “What door?”
“That one,” he replied, pointing to a door as wide as a horse, opening before them. Pushing Jimmy through the doorway, the Madam and the Mr followed him out, into the light.
“Where are we?” Jimmy asked above the incredibly loud noise around them.
This time neither the Madam nor the Mr answered Jimmy’s question, perhaps they never heard him, then again, perhaps they never intended to answer.
Opening his mouth, to press them for an answer, Jimmy found himself suddenly diving for cover, as the door they had just passed through came crashing down, broken to pieces. Then a body, a familiar looking body came flying through the opening, attacking the Madam and the Mr with a vengeance.
“Eric!” Jimmy cried out, quite in surprise. “It’s you!”
“You can bet your bottom dollar it is,” he replied, letting rip at his stunned antagonists. “That’ll teach you,” he said, “to be kidnapping my best friend”
For a while, with the element of surprise on his side, Eric found himself winning the battle. Staring down at the Madam and the Mr, with the wind knocked out of them, he laughed, “Hah, that’ll teach you to go kidnapping my best friend.” Turning his attention to Jimmy, he said, “That wasn’t too hard, now, was it?” Jimmy, however, began shaking with fright. “What’s wrong, Jim?” he asked. “Has the cat got your tongue?”
Pointing behind Eric, Jimmy cried out, “Eric – look!”
“Look? – Look at what?” he asked.
He never looked; Eric never had the time to turn round, to see the figure of a man, striking him squarely on the back of his head. No. He never saw him as he fell to the ground, unconscious.
It’s the Top of the World, of Course
“Now look at what you’ve done!” Jimmy yelled, the very second Eric regained consciousness.
Rubbing his soreness, trying to get a handle on what had transpired while he was unconscious, Eric mumbled, “What happened?”
“Well you might ask!” Jimmy snapped angrily in reply.
Clambering to his feet, Eric said, “Jim, what are you talking about?”
“Look, can’t you see what happened, can’t you where we are?”
With those unsettling words ringing in his ears, Eric looked, saw and realised the predicament they were in. “We’re in a cell!” he gasped.
“Give the boy a dollar,” Eric said sardonically.
“But how did we get here? One minute I was winning the battle.”
“And the next, you were losing the war,” Jimmy snapped angrily again. Approaching Eric, poking him in the ribs, like the Madam and the Mr had done to him, earlier, Jimmy said, “You big galute, coming in with all guns blazing, without bothering to look, to see if someone was following you.”
The penny having dropped, Eric mumbled, “Oh… Mr Viscous?” Jimmy nodded a yes.
“So,” Eric began, after Jimmy had brought him up to speed with all that had transpired while he had been unconscious, “it looks like we’re up the creek, and without a paddle.” Scratching his head, mulling it over, he added, “At least they didn’t finish us off.”
“For the moment,” Jimmy replied pessimistically, “for the moment...”
Just then, Eric remembered the horses, and he shouted, “What about the horses!”
“Probably being rendered into glue as we speak,” Jimmy replied, pacing the floor, his annoyance with his friend all too obvious.
Pulling, tugging on the door handle, trying yank it open, in utter frustration at the danger he had put them both in, Eric pounded it, shouting, “Let us out! LET US OUT!”
“You’re wasting your time,” Jimmy griped, “I’ve already tried that, and believe me it doesn’t work.”
Abandoning the door, Eric asked, “Why have they put us in here, anyhow? Why haven’t they just finished us off?”
“It’s that Mr Viscous,” Jimmy explained. “It was his idea. He’s one weird cookie.”
Retreating to a corner, Eric sat upon the cold, hard floor. “Then it looks like it’s all over,” he said ever so quietly. “He has won…” In despair, he lowered his head into his lap.
“Yes,” said Jimmy, even quieter, “it sure does…”
A light, suddenly an intense burning light appeared, enveloping the cell and everything within it. It was so bright the two boys had to shield they eyes from it. “What’s happening?” Eric asked, all in a muddle.
“Dunno,” Jimmy replied, struggling, trying to see what it actually was.
“It’s the factory owner, I bet it is,” Eric bemoaned, “having a last laugh at our expense…”
It was not the factory owner. No. It was someone altogether more welcoming than that. Materialising before their very eyes, the familiar, rotund figure of Mr Smith came into view. When he had finished materialising, he began speaking, he said, “It looks like you boys could do with a bit of a hand.”
“MR SMITH!” the boys cried out, surprised and relieved it was he. “Is it really you?” they asked.
“How did you do that?” Eric asked.
“What was that light?” Jimmy asked.
Chortling good-heartedly, Mr Smith replied, “There will be time for explaining, later. First, we must get you out of here.”
“It was that Mr Viscous,” said Eric. “He put us in here.”
“With the assistance of Madam Poulfarriy and Mr Voracity,” Jimmy added, for good measure.
The smile disappearing from his face, the old man said, “The Madam and the Mr, you say?”
“Yes,” said Jimmy, surprised by what he had just said. “How did you know they are called that?”
Tapping the side of his nose, Mr Smith said, “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”
“Who’s Horatio?” said Jimmy, thinking the old man had perhaps suffered an injury during his extraordinary entrance.
“Yes,” said Eric, “who is he? The only Horatio I ever heard of was a ship’s captain, and that was an awfully long time ago.”
“Ah,” said Mr Smith, “a ship’s captain, how interesting…”
The boys waited for the old man to continue, to explain what he had meant by it. However, instead of explaining, he told them to stand close together, and do everything that he told them.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
Nodding, Jimmy and Eric said they were.
Waving a wand (neither Jimmy nor Eric had any idea where it had come from), Mr Smith said, “Be away with you.” The same bright light that heralded the old man’s arrival, reappeared, consuming them. They were gone.
“Where are we?” asked Eric, turning round and round, marvelling at the myriad starry lights surrounding them.
Smiling sanguinely, Mr Smith said, “We are atop the world, of course.”
“The top of the world?” Jimmy asked, wide-eyed in wonder.
“The North Pole!” Eric excitedly said.
“If you prefer to call our position by that name,” Mr Smith replied, “it is your choice.”
Tugging at the Mr Smith’s jacket sleeve, trying to get his full attention, Jimmy said, “What are we doing here?” Leaning down, Mr Smith whispered a few words into his ear. “Oh,” said Jimmy, “I see…”
“Atop, as in above?” Eric asked, thinking about it some more.
Nodding, Mr Smith said, “Yes, suspended within the stars of transition, we are floating high above the earth. Look, look down and see.” With that, he waved his wand, saying, “Neaifa.” The stars encircling them, parting, revealed a wintry wonderland, far below.
“It’s beautiful!” Jimmy gasped, studying the snowy scene beneath their very feet.
“It’s a long way down,” Eric mumbled. “What’s keeping us up?”
Tapping the side of his nose, My Smith said, “There are more things in heaven and earth-.”
Cutting him off, the boys said, “Yes, we know, we know, than are dreamt of in your philosophy, Horatio.”
Feeling safer, Eric asked, “Can we go down there?”
“No. Whilst encircled by the stars of transition, we cannot,” he replied. “Perhaps later...after you have saved the horses.”
“Mr Viscous must have rendered them into glue by now,” Eric answered despondently.
Gazing at his timeworn old face, Jimmy asked, “Mr Smith, do you really think there is a chance they are still alive?”
“Alive?” he replied. “Why, I am sure of it!”
“But, how do you know, how can you be so certain?” Eric asked.
Lifting his finger towards his nose, Mr Smith was, however, unable to speak. Butting in, the boys said, “It’s that Horatio, again, whoever he is!”
With a wave of his wand, Mr Smith said, “Bieba.” With that, the stars of transition reformed, obscuring the wintry scene below. Then, in a flash of bright light, they were gone, having deposited Jimmy and Eric outside the cell door. Mr Smith, like the stars, was also gone.
“Oh no,” Eric groaned, “look where he’s left us!”
“I might,” Jimmy strangely replied, “then, again, I might not…”
“Might, but might not? What on earth are you talking about?” Eric asked, carefully watching for guards. “Has it got something to do with what he, Mr Smith, whispered to you?”
Evading the question, Jimmy said, “We are here, yet also somewhere else…”
Scratching his head, bewildered as to what he could mean, Eric said, “Okay, big shot, if you are so clever, tell me where we are!”
“Atop the world, of course,” Jimmy confidently replied.
“The top of the world?” said Eric. “We’ve just left it, I think.” Thinking about it some more, he asked, “If it is the top of the world, then where is the snow?”
“It’s on the ground, of course,” Jimmy replied. “Where do you think it is, in here?”
“Well...no,” Eric answered, uncomfortable that his own question was turned on him.
What on Earth is Going on, Jim?
What on
Jimmy, The Glue Factory and Mad Mr Viscous Page 17
