by Rachael Long
vulture took a knife and fork from its bag and began polishing them. “Ready for eating of course.”
Reginald stood up, “I am Reginald, Prince of Baboons,” he protested, “you cannot eat me!” The vulture looked at its reflection in the polished knife blade. “Okey-dokey, I'll give you a head start. If you start running now, you may just find somewhere to hide...” The vulture smiled and looked around, “but I think not...”
Carmel threw herself on top of Reginald, pinning him to the ground. “I will not let you take him! You'll have to kill me before you get my Redgie-wedgie, Princey-wincey of Baboons!”
“If you say so,” said the vulture. “I was planning on eating you first, anyway. But it looks like I won't need to chase Reggie, Princey Blah. If you lay on him much longer, he'll suffocate.” Carmel jumped to her feet and helped Reginald up. Dusting himself off Reginald said, “I think I need my blacked-out-glasses.”
At that precise moment and not a moment too soon, nor too late; a passing dormobile belonging to the Egyptian Democratic Workers Jazz Nonet Touring Party and full of convergent sand dune cats, appeared out of the heat haze and screeched to a halt. Wasting no time, especially not to discuss whether a fully laden dormobile really can screech to a halt on sand, the convergent sand dune cats leapt out and rescued Reginald and Carmel. The vulture hastily retreated to a safe distance, laughed a villainous I'll-get-you-next-time-laugh and after a hop, skip and jump, then a slightly longer run and a leap, another run, a cough and stumble, got airborne and flew away.
Inside the dormobile, Reginald stared out the window at the railway lines shimmering in the heat and the hazy outline of the disappearing vulture and wondered, did all the great pioneers suffer these problems too? Carmel passed Reginald his blacked-out-glasses. He slipped them on, sank back into the seat and exhausted, defeated and sun-bleached, Reginald, Prince of Baboons passed out.
Several days later Reginald and Carmel awoke in the back of the dormobile belonging to the Egyptian Democratic Workers Jazz Nonet Touring Party, to find they were parked in a clearing in the Lost Forest. Not a trace remained of the convergent sand dune cats. Carmel began to try and squeeze herself out of the dormobile limb by limb while Reginald pondered upon who the convergent sand dune cats really were; undercover moles? Prairie dogs? Jazz cats? Meerkats..?
Suddenly a large object crashed down onto the dormobile's roof. Not waiting to be polite and not wanting to be crushed, Reginald thrust with all his might at Carmel's rear, which seemed lodged in a very stuck sort of way in the dormobile's doorway.
High above the dormobile in a well-situated-with-good-drainage-leafy-tree sat two tree monkeys. “Did you see that,” said one to the other.
“I certainly did,” said the other, “and unless I am mistaken, it was a flying rhino!”
“Mmm...” agreed the first before adding, in an observational if-only-I-had-a-clipboard-sort-of-way, “it also had a parachute...interesting that, a rhino having the foresight to strap on a parachute before falling from the sky...be a dear and pass that coconut – yes that one just there.”
The second tree monkey passed the coconut across remarking how unusual it was to find a coconut in Africa. The first agreed, most unusual, and then threw the coconut out of the tree.
On the ground, Carson the rhino rolled off the roof of the dormobile and unbuckled his parachute harness just in time to look up as a coconut impaled itself on his horn...
The tree monkeys howled with delight. Then howled at bit more knowing they were quite safe high up in the tree. “What's he doing now?” said the second tree monkey. “He's shaking his head and wiping his horn with a hankie. This really is a well-prepared rhino. I never carry a hankie,” said the first and to prove the point wiped his nose on his arm.
“I did try carrying a parachute around once,” remarked the second, “but they can get so heavy.”
“Look, now he's pulling that Llama out of that van thing and...pop! Out it comes. Now he's talking to a gibbon, or is it a baboon?”
“No, no. That’s a camel with a stealth hump...or maybe the other way round? A llama with a strap-on hump?”
The first tree monkey thought for a moment. “Shame we haven't got another coconut to throw...”
Down below, Carson-the-butler gave a little bow, “welcome home, your highness. I took the liberty of arranging a light brunch. If you would care to step back a little.” Carson motioned to the sky. A small dark speck gradually got bigger and bigger until it became recognisable as a wooden crate dropping down on a parachute. It landed with a bump on top of the dormobile's already squashed roof, squashing it down even more.
“Carson, you think of everything,” said Reginald, Prince of Baboons. “But tell me, how did you know we were here and how did you get here?”
“Ah yes, your highness,” said Carson beginning to break open the wooden crate. “”The lab rats have constructed a bungee catapult. One of their better inventions, if I may say so. Quite an accurate device but a parachute is de rigueur as a Polynesian parrot might say.” Carson paused as he assembled a folding table and added a tablecloth, “will your friend be joining you for brunch?”
Carmel, not wishing to waste any time and never one to wait for an invitation, was already sat at the table. Reginald joined her and listened as Carson explained how he and the lab rats knew of their return:
The lab rats, Eva and Adele, were huge fans of a post colonial travelling French ballet troupe known as Les Termites and had learned that the LT's were to perform in the Lost Forest. Naturally, they wanted tickets and had been queuing to buy some when they had overheard, off the record, on the QT and very hush-hush, that a band of disguised meerkats were leaving on an undercover survey mission to extend the Lost Forest! “After that,” said Carson, “it was a small matter to arrange terms with the meerkats for your rescue. Even though they were disguised as convergent sand dune cats and insisted on remaining 'in character' throughout negotiations.”
“Very well done, Carson and Eva and Adele too,” said Reginald before adding after a little thought, “but how did you know I hadn't reached the moon?” Carson gave a little self-satisfied smile, “one likes to feel that the mark of a good butler is that he is able to second guess things, your highness.” Reginald frowned not quite understanding if this meant that Carson possessed strange, mystic powers or that he, Reginald, was predictable in his moon failures. “But what of this forest extension, Carson?” continued Reginald. “Why do the meerkats want to extend it?” Carson nodded, agreeing that indeed it was unusual to extend a forest into the desert and there were some who called it a folly, others a metaphor and one or two an annexe. He then added, “some say they discovered a lost oasis. A forest needs water as much as it needs trees and those who live within it,” Carson shrugged in a very European sort of way, “we are the forest just as the forest is us...imagine a desert covered in vibrant, verdant forest.” Reginald, Prince of Baboons nodded, not quite sure if he followed what Carson meant at all. For a moment he sat in silence, listening to the rhythmic sound of Carmel's chewing, pondering to himself. However, his ponderous musings were interrupted by the arrival of Eva and Adele, fluttering down in a double parachute.
Unlike Carson and the wooden crate, Eva and Adele managed to miss the dormobile. Landing instead on the freshly laid table. Luckily Carmel had just finished eating all the food. “RPB!” Shouted Eva, “there is no time to waste!” “Yes,” cried Adele, “we have received news of a rare tree-hugging, giant moth here in the Lost Forest!”
“But I'm not all that interested in moths,” said Reginald.
“We think you will be interested in this one,” said Adele. “It,” continued Eva, “is a moth and it is a giant!” Reginald shrugged his shoulders, noticing that Carmel having eaten everything now seemed to be taking an interest in a moss covered vine.
“RPB!” said Adele getting a little cross. “Moths are attracted to light,” she paused, adding, “and they navigate by the moon and the moon glows at night...”
Reginald looked at the two lab rats. “You mean, I could use this giant moth thing to fly to the moon!” Eva and Adele nodded. “What are we waiting for?” said a suddenly excited Reginald. “We must set off to find it at once! Carmel put down that vine, its probably poisonous. Return to the hilltop palace with Carson and get the food supplies we'll need...”
At that moment a stork carrying a clipboard walked into the clearing. “Ahem,” said the stork, announcing his presence. “I think you may be getting a little confused.”
Reginald, Prince of Baboons looked at the stork. “I know you,” he said, “you’re that infernal crane,” recalling that they had previously met in the deepest, darkest depths of the Lost Forest following another failed moon attempt. (Reginald had crash-landed in the Lost Forest and become...lost).
The stork smiled. “I’m a stork, actually. Cranes are different; they have…” the stork’s voice trailed off as he sensed no one was really interested in the differences between storks and cranes. “Look,” he said, tapping his clipboard for attention, “The giant tree hugging moth you speak of is
