by ERVIN LAZAR
“What do you mean, you can’t make a living from football? You could make a living and then some!” said Poor Johnny.
“From what? From this game?” Tig-Tag was sceptical.
“Absolutely. I’m telling you, you lot play so well, you could beat any team in the world.”
“OK, but where does that get us?” argued Tig-Tag, the notorious robber. “We win game after game, but what do we live off?”
“You’ll be living the high life,” said Johnny. “You’ll get piles of money for playing.”
“Pull the other one,” said Tig-Tag, the notorious robber.
Poor Johnny wouldn’t be put off. He kept on explaining until they began to twig that he was right.
“You just have a good wash and shave, and get some more respectable clothes on, and leave the rest to me,” Poor Johnny told them.
The robbers squeezed themselves into their top hats and tails and marched into the nearest town with Johnny.
“This is my football team,” Johnny told the townspeople. “They can beat any team you name.”
“Come now,” smiled the townspeople. “Don’t you know that our town’s team is World Famous FC? They’d get a dozen goals past your rabble, soon as look at them.”
“OK. I bet you a thousand gold pieces my team wins,” said Poor Johnny.
“You’re on,” said the townspeople.
“Oh dear,” said Arnica. “Where are you going to get a thousand gold pieces from if Tig-Tag and his team get beaten?”
“Don’t worry,” said Poor Johnny, “our boys have talent coming out of their ears.”
“But they’re not in training,” Arnica argued.
Poor Johnny smiled. “Not in training? They’ve been running from the police forces of seven countries. They’ve had all the training they need in both long-distance running and sprinting. You’ll see, they won’t have any problems in that department.”
The match was fixed for the following afternoon. The stadium was packed, the spectators crammed in like sardines. World Famous FC ran out onto the pitch, the players puffing out their chests. Those thousand gold coins were as good as theirs already. Tig-Tag and his team ran out too. The Chief of Police was sitting in the stands. He narrowed his eyes as he looked down at Tig-Tag.
“That centre forward looks very familiar to me,” he said to the Deputy Chief of Police.
“Looks familiar to me too,” said the Deputy Chief of Police.
The match got under way. Well, World Famous FC had never seen the like! Without losing the ball once, the robbers powered ahead like an express train. The spectators gaped slack-jawed at Tig-Tag’s expert sidesteps and feints. The notorious robber and his team won 9–0. Tig-Tag alone had five goals to his name. After the match, as the thousand gold pieces were counted into his hand, he couldn’t believe his eyes.
“We never got this much, even from our best and biggest robberies,” whispered Tig-Tag happily to Poor Johnny. “You won’t catch us going back to crime after this!”
And that’s how Tig-Tag, the notorious robber, became Tig-Tag, the notorious centre forward.
“Tell me, what’s your name?” he asked Poor Johnny.
“Poor Johnny,” said Poor Johnny.
“Great!” said Tig-Tag, the notorious centre forward. “We’ll name our team after you, as an expression of our gratitude. From this day forward, we’ll be known as Poor Johnny FC.”
And that’s what happened. When you’ve learned to read and you’re looking through old, yellowed newspapers, you’ll find that Poor Johnny FC beat every football team in the world and easily too; they won the European Cup, the World Cup, the Seven Seas Cup and they also won the Cup of Cups.
“If Tig-Tag and his men could play football so well, why did they become robbers? Why didn’t they become footballers in the first place?”
“Because they didn’t know that they could play football. Poor Johnny noticed how good they were and then he helped them.”
“So people don’t always know what they’re good at?”
“Very often they don’t, no. They spend their time doing something else, rather than what they have a talent for.”
“But everyone does have a talent for something?”
“Yes, they do. Everybody.”
“Really?”
“Really truly.”
“What about me? What do I have a talent for?”
“That’ll become clear as you get older.”
“So there’s no talent of mine becoming clear right now?”
“Oh, yes there is. You can ask very good questions.”
“Then, what I’m asking now is, when will Arnica and Johnny finally find the Seven-Headed Fairy?”
“They can find her if you want, but then it would be the end of the story.”
“Let’s not have it be the end just yet, OK?”
“My thoughts exactly, because they’ve still got to meet Victor Coppermine.”
“Who’s Victor Coppermine?”
“He’s a small, plump man with glasses. He lives in the middle of a great meadow full of flowers, and keeps watch to see if anyone is coming his way. But people generally give him a wide berth.”
“Why, is he wicked?”
“There’s not a wicked bone in his body. It’s just that he takes offence at everything.”
CHAPTER SIX
In which Victor Coppermine takes offence many times, but they get the better of him
Poor Johnny made his way along cheerfully, and Arnica, tucked under his arm, was cheerful too. They were happy that they had managed to arrange a better life for Tig-Tag and his gang.
“The countryside is getting prettier all the time,” said Poor Johnny. “I’m sure the Seven-Headed Fairy lives somewhere near here.”
“Yes, we must be nearly there,” nodded Arnica. “Look at this lovely meadow. It’s full of flowers.”
The meadow was so lovely that just walking through it made you feel happy. All around, flowers were bobbing and swaying, their scent wafting in the breeze, and there were emerald-green lizards flickering through the grass.
“It’s strange that there’s no one else coming this way,” said Poor Johnny. “I’d think just being in this place and breathing as much as you want of this wonderful smell would be sure to put anyone in a good mood.”
Just at that moment there appeared, rising from out of the grass, first a mop of tousled hair, then a pair of black-rimmed glasses, and behind the black-rimmed glasses, a melancholy black-rimmed face.
“And what about me?” it said. “I don’t count as a person then?”
“I beg your pardon,” said Poor Johnny. “I didn’t see you there.”
The person with the tousled hair let out a cry of pain.
“Oh yes you did! You saw me when you were a long way off. You just didn’t want to meet me, you wanted to avoid me!”
And there, in the corner of the person’s eye, glistened a fat crocodile tear.
Poor Johnny could only gape at him.
“How could I be trying to avoid you? I don’t even know who you are.”
“That’s right, pile it on! Go ahead, claim that you don’t know who I am, that you don’t know I’m Victor Coppermine, and that everyone goes out of their way to avoid me.”
It made no difference what Poor Johnny said to him; Victor Coppermine just puffed and pouted and moaned and groaned and hung his large, tousled head. Oh boy, was he offended!
Johnny spent an hour trying to console him. He spent two more hours trying to console him—no luck. The truth is, Johnny could console Victor Coppermine all he liked, Victor Coppermine would still be inconsolable.
Unsurprisingly, Johnny got fed up with all this consoling. He moved aside and whispered to Arnica, “Let’s leave this Victor Coppermine to it. We’re just wasting our time. We’ll never get to the Seven-Headed Fairy like this.”
“Now then, Johnny, giving up already?” chided Arnica. “We can’t leave him here all sad and sorrowful and moping and m
iserable. We’ve got to cheer him up.”
They tried all day, but by evening he wasn’t any more cheerful.
“Maybe by the morning he will have forgotten about being offended,” thought Poor Johnny, and they lay down to sleep.
When the sun rose in the morning, it rose very cheerfully. The whole world was cheered at the sight of it.
“Maybe Victor Coppermine will feel more cheerful when he wakes up,” thought Poor Johnny. This just showed how little he knew Victor Coppermine. For barely a moment after Victor Coppermine opened his eyes, there was Victor Coppermine’s finger jabbing at Poor Johnny.
“You wanted to leave me here. You wanted to cut and run,” accused Victor Coppermine, and was so offended all that day too, that Poor Johnny tried in vain to cheer him up from morning to night.
And so it went on, day after day. Poor Johnny didn’t know what to do. “We’ll never get to the Seven-Headed Fairy!” he sighed to himself.
Poor Johnny’s hair even started to turn grey. First one hair, then two. And Victor Coppermine just crouched and grouched.
“What on earth are we going to do?” Johnny asked Arnica. Victor Coppermine’s head shot up.
“Aha!” he said. “You’d rather talk to your duck. I knew it! I knew it! You think I’m a quacking good joke, don’t you?”
And there he was, affronted all over again for a whole day. After one more night, Arnica whispered something to Poor Johnny.
“Do you think it’ll help?” asked Poor Johnny. He looked haggard.
“Let’s hope so,” said Arnica fervently.
The next morning, when Victor Coppermine opened his eyes and wrinkled up his brow and thought, “Now what shall I take offence at today?” Poor Johnny beat him to it.
“Aha!” said Poor Johnny. “I see you scowling at us. You’re fed up that I’m still here with my duck. You can hardly wait till we’re gone.”
He gave Victor Coppermine a hurt look.
Well, Victor Coppermine had never been in such a tricky situation. Someone had actually taken offence before he could.
“No, really,” he explained. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scowl at you. I truly am glad that you’re here and glad that your duck is here too.”
“A likely story! No need to explain. I can see you hate us.”
Well, poor Victor Coppermine just fell to pieces. He’d never experienced anything so awful. He was not the one offended; someone else had taken offence at him. Dear oh dear! He looked agitatedly this way and that and tried to cheer Johnny up. He couldn’t grasp what had happened.
“Johnny got the better of Victor Coppermine this time.”
“He certainly did.”
“Is there anyone we know who takes offence at the drop of a hat?”
“There certainly is.”
“And why does that person take offence at the drop of a hat?”
“Because he thinks the world revolves around him, that he’s the only one who can be fed up, that he’s the only one who can be having a difficult time. It’s all him, him, him. It never occurs to him that other people have their troubles too.”
“But Victor Coppermine will realise that, won’t he?”
“Oh yes, he certainly will.”
“But Poor Johnny wasn’t really offended, was he?”
“Of course not. He only took offence in the interests of education.”
“And do you sometimes take offence in the interests of education?”
“Yes, I do.”
“And do you ever take offence for real?”
“Yes, I do, unfortunately.”
“So you think the world revolves around you, too?”
“There are times when I do, of course. But you shouldn’t forget that it is also possible to feel really offended.”
“And if we feel really offended, then it’s all right to take offence?”
“In that case, yes.”
“And when that happens you’re not thinking that the world revolves around you?”
“Not then, no.”
“So the world doesn’t revolve around me either?”
“Not you either.”
“Then who does it revolve around?”
“No one… Or rather, everyone.”
Victor Coppermine went on and on pleading with Poor Johnny, until at last Johnny very condescendingly agreed to forgive him.
“It’s all right, Victor. I’m not cross any more,” and, hastily, not wanting to give Victor Coppermine time to get offended again, he told him their story; how the Witch of a Hundred Faces had cast a spell on them, and how they were looking for the Seven-Headed Fairy.
“Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place?” cried Victor Coppermine, rather shrilly.
“How could we, when you were always crouching and grouching like a bad-tempered turkey-cock?”
“I see your point,” said Victor Coppermine, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. But, you see, I actually know where the Seven-Headed Fairy lives.”
“Where?” Poor Johnny’s heart jumped.
Victor Coppermine pointed into the distance.
“You see that shingle-roofed palace on the horizon?”
“Yes, I can make out something like a building.”
“Well, that’s King Ayahtan Kutarbani’s palace. Behind it is where the Land of Wonders begins. That’s where the Seven-Headed Fairy lives.”
“Well, that’s really kind of you to tell us. Thank you, Victor! You see how kind and clever you are when you’re not taking offence.”
“Are you saying I’m a kind and clever person?”
“Yes, I am, because it’s true. Only when you’re not offended of course.”
“But, what can I do when people go out of their way to avoid me? When you get to the Seven-Headed Fairy, please ask her to help me.”
“You don’t need the Seven-Headed Fairy for that,” said Poor Johnny. “Just don’t take offence all the time. If someone looks at you with a sad face, don’t stick your nose in the air. Ask them what’s wrong. You never know, you might be able to help them.”
“Me? Help them?”
“Why not? You’ve helped us, haven’t you?”
Victor Coppermine gazed at them in amazement. His black-rimmed eyes were no longer dark, but shining. When Poor Johnny and Arnica left him, he stood waving for a long time. Then he began to shout, “Hey, everyone! Everyone! Come to my meadow!”
The people were suspicious at first. “Watch out! Don’t let him take offence at anything,” they thought to themselves, but when they did in fact get closer and closer to him, and saw that he wasn’t taking offence, they began to talk very happily with him. Victor Coppermine talked happily too, and even told a few jokes.
“Well!” they said to him. “Who’d have thought it? You really are quite a nice fellow!”
And Victor Coppermine’s joyful shouting reached even Poor Johnny and Arnica.
“Well!” he was shouting. “Who’d have thought it?! I really am quite a nice fellow!”
CHAPTER SEVEN
In which Poor Johnny and Arnica meet the twelve very-much brothers and Arnica gives them a proper telling-off
Poor Johnny’s heart was bursting with happiness, partly because Victor Coppermine was shouting so joyfully, and partly because in no time at all they’d be in the Land of Wonders, appearing before the Seven-Headed Fairy.
“But if they’re heading to the Land of Wonders, then they’ll be bound to meet the twelve brothers.”
“Which twelve brothers?”
“You said once that there were twelve brothers living near the Land of Wonders.”
“I said that?”
“Of course! Don’t you remember? You said they were very-much brothers!”
“Ah, the very-much brothers! I know. Well, of course Poor Johnny and Arnica will be meeting them.”
Poor Johnny and Arnica were perhaps halfway between Victor Coppermine’s flowery meadow and Ayahtan Kutarbani’s shingle-roofed palace, when they spied a little
tumbledown thatched cottage.
“I’m really thirsty,” said Arnica. “Let’s ask here for a glass of water.”
Poor Johnny went into the house, calling out a polite greeting as he did so, and saw that there were eleven grumpy-looking men sitting round a table. They looked so alike that it was clear they were brothers. Johnny was just about to ask for a glass of water, when all the eleven brothers cried out as if in pain, and each of them grabbed his own leg. The funny thing was that they all did it exactly at the same time, as if someone had ordered them to. Then all eleven of them proceeded to jump up from the table and hop about on their left legs, clutching their right legs as they did so.
“The idiot! The numbskull! The clumsy oaf!” they shouted.
“What’s going on? Have you gone mad?” asked Poor Johnny, looking at them, astonished.
“Gone mad? Gone mad? Hang it all! It’s that cack-handed clodpole—he’s only gone and dropped the tree on his leg.”
“Who has?”
“Our twelfth brother. He went off into the forest to cut wood and, bam! Ow, ow, how it hurts! He dropped the tree on his leg, the idiot.”
“But how do you know?” asked Poor Johnny.
“There’s a curse on us, didn’t you know? If something hurts one of us, it hurts the rest of us too. Oh, oh, it’s a horrible thing! Just imagine it, young man, just imagine how terrible our lives are. Not long ago this good for nothing fell into the river. He can’t swim, so there he was in the water, struggling against the current and gasping for breath, and there we were all gasping for breath on the bank.”
“Look who’s talking! Yesterday you stuffed yourself silly and we all had a stomach ache all night! You greedy pig! Why do you have to eat so much?”
“Oh yes? You can talk! What about that time you got lost in the forest? We were starving and shivering for three days all because you never can be bothered to remember the way.”
