Even More Pongwiffy Stories

by Kaye Umansky

  ‘Certainly. He can find anything, can’t you, Willy?’

  ‘Yup,’ growled Willy, adding, ‘Ain’t no critter can escape ma eagle eye.’

  ‘It’s true,’ nodded Sharkadder proudly. ‘He’s quite a legend in the mountains. Show them your scars, Willy.’

  The legend needed no encouragement. He rolled up his sleeve and pointed to his forearm.

  ‘See this here? This here’s where a mad ole grizzly took a chomp outa ma arm. An’ this here’s a gorilla’s teeth marks. An’ this here’s where a fork-tongued poison-drippin’ rattler sunked its fangs in ma wrist. Last bite that there varmint ever took. Ever eat rattlesnake? Tastes kinda scrumpchuss, all slaaaced up with a messa beans.’

  At this, Slithering Steve gave a little shudder and quietly headed for the sanctuary of Bendyshanks’s cardigan.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Racoon,’ said Sourmuddle briskly. ‘I’m sure you’re very experienced with wild animals. But this missing Pantomime Horse is quite another kettle of fish. I’ve tried all my strongest spells, but –’

  ‘Magic! Ha!’ Willy Racoon spat contemptuously on the floor again. ‘Wildmen don’t have no truck with that there sissy Magic. We got our own methods. I does it by sniffin’ the wind with ma trusty conk an’ inspectin’ the ground with ma keen peepers. Ain’t no critter can escape –’

  ‘Your eagle eye, yes, you said. But there’s another thing.’ Sourmuddle peered sharply over her glasses. ‘You call yourself a bounty hunter, so I take it you won’t be offering your services for free. I’m afraid the funds won’t run to –’

  ‘Ah! That’s the beauty of it!’ cried Sharkadder. ‘He’s got no use for money, up there in the wilds, have you, Willy? He’ll do it for beans! That’s what you wildmen live on, isn’t it, Willy?’

  ‘ Yup,’ nodded Willy. ‘An’ snake. When we can git it.’

  Bendyshanks’s cardigan gave a convulsive little heave.

  ‘You see?’ crowed Sharkadder. ‘Beans, that’s what he likes. Normally, he charges two big sacks, but seeing as I’m family, we get a discount. One bag of beans and a free ticket to the pantomime. I’ve told him all about it and he’s terribly excited. He’s never been to a pantomime, have you, Willy?’

  ‘Nope,’ agreed Willy, adding hopefully, ‘Will there be dancin’ gals, did ya say?’

  ‘Zere certainly vill!’ burst in Hugo, thumping on the table in his excitement. ‘Dancink girls and princesses and vicked Scotsvimmin and posh fairies, no less! Bring back my mistress and ze missing Pantomime ’Orse by tomorrow night, Villy, and ve vill give you a pantomime you vill never forget! Am I right?’

  ‘Durn right!’ came the excited chorus.

  Wildman Willy’s accent was catching.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The Powwow

  That,’ said Slopbucket’s disembodied voice, ‘was the worst night of my life.’

  From all around came grunts of heartfelt agreement.

  There were five Goblins in the cave. You couldn’t see them, of course. Only their voices gave a clue to their whereabouts.

  ‘We’ll be for it when them Witches catches up with us,’ moaned Eyesore. ‘They’ll tan our hides for sure. If our hides ever come back again,’ he added mournfully.

  ‘It were scary, weren’t it?’ remarked Hog, with a shiver in his voice. ‘Gettin’ caught red-’anded like that.’

  ‘Not as scary as comin’ over all invizdibibble,’ whined Lardo. ‘I don’t like this ’ere invizdibibbility. Dunno what people see in it.’

  There was a pause.

  ‘They don’t see nuffin’ in it,’ Eyesore’s voice pointed out. ‘That’s the ’ole point.’

  ‘All right, all right. I’m just sayin’. I miss meself. I wants me body back, even if it is a mass of bruises. You should see ’em.’

  ‘ ’Ow can we see ’em?’ remarked Eyesore. ‘They’re invizdibibble.’

  ‘That don’t stop ’em ’urtin,’ said Lardo.

  It was true. In fact, all five of them were in a bad way. The long trek home on the previous night had been bad enough with the snow and the darkness to contend with, let alone the added handicap of invisibility. Not knowing where they began or ended meant that they continually misjudged distances and were forever bumping into trees, falling into snowdrifts and tripping over each other’s invisible feet.

  Goblins, however, have a built-in, primitive, pigeon-like homing instinct which comes to their aid at times of crisis. It works by overriding their brains. Just as well. They would never have got home if they’d relied on those. Even so, it had been well after midnight when they had finally made it back to their cave, where they had fallen in an invisible pile and instantly gone to sleep, hoping that everything would be better in the morning.

  And now it was morning and everything wasn’t.

  ‘Wot I can’t unnerstand is, ’ow did it ’appen?’ said Hog for the hundredth time. ‘One minute we wuz runnin’ away an’ the next, we wuz like this. ’Ow come?’

  ‘Magic, innit?’ said Slopbucket. ‘Gotta be. Issa nasty ol’ Witch spell.’

  ‘Nah,’ argued Eyesore. ‘Wot’d be the point? The Witches wants to catch us, don’t they? Now then. If you wants to catch sumfin’, you don’t make it vanish, do you? That makes it harder to catch, don’t it?’

  This was sound reasoning, for a Goblin.

  ‘Who then?’ pondered Hog.

  There was a pause while the Goblins thought about this.

  ‘P’raps it wuz that geezer in the pointy ’at,’ said Stinkwart after a bit.

  ‘Wot geezer in the pointy ’at?’ enquired Eyesore.

  ‘Remember when we was running across that glade? An’ I wuz in front? There wuz a geezer in a pointy ’at come runnin’ outa nowhere, straight into our path. I gotta kinda feelin’ we mighta mowed ’im down. I didn’t stop to check, mind, ’cos that’s when I comed over all invizdibibble, an’ everyfin’ got confusin’.’

  ‘Sounds like a Wizard,’ observed Eyesore knowledgeably. ‘Wizards wear pointy ’ats. ’E prob’ly done it outa spite, ’cos we mowed ’im down.’

  There was a long pause, whilst the Goblins took this latest suggestion on board.

  ‘P’raps we should find this ’ere Wizard an’ throw ourselves on ’is mercy,’ suggested Hog after a bit. ‘ ’E might take pity on us an’ give us a wassit. You know. Wot yer mum gives you when you eats poison ivy.’

  ‘A thump?’ ventured Stinkwart, whose mum wasn’t known for her bedside manner.

  ‘Nah, nah. There’s a word for it. Summin’ what reverses the spell. You know. An anti – anti – ’ang on, it’s comin’ – anti –’ You could almost hear his brain struggling – ‘dot. Antidot!’ he finished triumphantly.

  ‘I got an Aunty Maureen,’ remarked Stinkwart unhelpfully.

  ‘Not the same,’ explained Hog.

  ‘I gotta niece,’ chimed in Eyesore, not to be outdone. ‘She’s called Denise. I gotta nephew too.’

  ‘What’s ’e called?’ asked Stinkwart.

  ‘Denephew.’

  ‘No good,’ said Hog. ‘It’s gotta be an Aunty Dot.’

  ‘Why?’ argued Stinkwart. ‘What can she do that my Aunty Maureen can’t?’

  ‘ ’Ow should I know?’ said Hog irritably. ‘It’s just somethin’ I ’eard.’

  ‘This isn’t gettin’ us anywhere,’ said Slopbucket. ‘All this talk of Wizards’ aunties. When ’ave Wizards’ aunties ever ’elped out Goblins? Let’s face it, lads. We’re on our own. We’ll just ’ave to sit tight till the spell wears off.’

  ‘Well, let’s ’ope it’s soon,’ put in Lardo. ‘I’m ’ungry.’

  ‘Tell yer sumfin’ else wot’s botherin’ me,’ said Hog suddenly. ‘Where’s Plug an’ Sproggit? They ain’t turned up, ’ave they? I thought they was followin’ us.’

  ‘They was!’ cried Eyesore. ‘I could ’ear ’em gallopin’ along be’ind us, crashin’ into bushes an’ shoutin’ at each uvver. I fink they was ’avin’ trouble gettin’ their legs sorte
d. An’ that daft carthorse, ’e was comin’ too, ’cos I ’eard ’im neighin’. An’ then – an’ then we was invizdibibble an’ I dunno wot ’appened to ’em after that. I ’ad enuff problems of me own.’

  ‘Fink we should get up a search party?’ asked Slopbucket.

  ‘Why?’ said Lardo.

  ‘Well – I dunno. Supposin’ they’re still stuck in the ’orse suit? They might be stufflecated by now. They might be in deadly peril, upside down in a snowdrift with their little legs wigglin’.’

  The Goblins thought about this.

  ‘Ah, they’ll turn up,’ said Eyesore after a bit.

  ‘But wot if they don’t?’ persisted Slopbucket. ‘Shouldn’t we go lookin’ for ’em?’

  There was an even longer silence. Then: ‘Nah,’ said Stinkwart. ‘Cold out there, innit?’

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Up a Gum Tree

  Well!’ said Pongwiffy disgustedly. She spoke with difficulty, on account of being suspended high in the air from a branch hooked into the back of her cardigan. ‘This is a fine pickle you’ve got us into, I must say. Now we’re really up a gum tree.’

  They were too.

  You may be surprised to hear that there are gum trees in Witchway Wood. But there are. There are oaks, ashes, elms, larches, sycamores, pines and gum trees. The gum trees are tall and thin and tend to be sticky.

  The three of them had been up this particular gum tree for quite some time. The Goblins were still hopelessly trapped inside the horse suit. Plugugly was perched perilously astride a bendy branch which he gripped like a vice with his knees. Sproggit was lying stretched out behind him, belly down, hands hooked firmly on to Plugugly’s belt, hanging on for dear life.

  Above them dangled Pongwiffy, boots feebly paddling the air and hat over one eye.

  Down below, Romeo circled the tree, swishing his tail and giving encouraging little whinnies. You could almost see the hearts coming out of his ears.

  ‘Look at ’im!’ groaned Plugugly. ‘ ’ E don’t give up, do ’e?’

  ‘ ’ Ow can I look?’ wailed the muffled voice of Sproggit. ‘I ain’t got no peep’ole. All I can see is your fat bum. Wot’s ’e doin’ now?’

  ‘Grinnin’,’ said Plugugly, with a little shiver. ‘Grinnin’ up at us wid ’is spooky great teef. ’E loves us, Sproggit. ’E wants to go steady.’

  ‘Shout at ’im,’ suggested Sproggit. ‘Tell ’im we ain’t ready to commit ourselves to a serious relashunship.’

  ‘Oi! Dobbin! Go ’ome! You ain’t our type!’ bellowed Plugugly, not very hopefully.

  Romeo looked up and blew horsey kisses. Right now, his beloved was playing hard to get – but that was girls for you.

  ‘It didn’t work,’ Plugugly informed his rear end.

  ‘Well, I suggest you think of something that does,’ ground out Pongwiffy from above. ‘I’ve got to get down from here. It might have escaped your attention that I’m being strangled.’

  ‘I ain’t goin’ down dere,’ said Plugugly with a shudder. ‘Not wid ’im down below, any rate. Catch me goin’ down dere? Brrrr!’

  ‘You got us up,’ snapped Pongwiffy. ‘You get us down. I really can’t afford to hang around here any longer. I’ve got an important show to put on. I need that horse suit.’

  ‘I’s not gettin’ down till ’e goes,’ repeated Plugugly firmly. ‘An’ if it comes to it, why don’t you get us down? Cast a spell or summat.’

  ‘That just goes to show how little you know about Magic,’ sneered Pongwiffy. ‘You can’t just snap your fingers and hope it’ll happen.’

  (Actually, this is quite untrue. Any Witch worth her salt can snap her fingers and be sure it’ll happen. All you need is a good memory and a headful of useful spells. The trouble is, Pongwiffy doesn’t have either.)

  ‘Call yerself a Witch?’ jeered Plugugly.

  ‘Certainly I call myself a Witch,’ snapped Pongwiffy. ‘It’s just that I haven’t got any of my stuff. At the very least I need my Wand. And how am I supposed to make a brew when . . . Oh. Oh dear.’

  Suddenly, her voice changed. It now held an element of dread.

  ‘Wot now?’ said Plugugly.

  ‘I think it’s coming on again.’

  Plugugly looked down and braced himself.

  ‘She’s right,’ he said. ‘ ’ Old tight, Sproggit. We’re fadin’!’ And he closed his eyes.

  Things are getting complicated, aren’t they? Pongwiffy, Plugugly and Sproggit are stuck up a gum tree and now they are becoming invisible. Perhaps we should take a step back to the night before and find out what led up to their current predicament.

  There they were, racing through the Wood, with the Pantomime Horse running flat out and Pongwiffy bouncing about on top, grimly hanging on to the ears. When she had first taken that wild leap on to its back, it had been with the intention of stopping it. Now, with the besotted Romeo thundering along behind them, eyes rolling and steam issuing from his nostrils, she changed her mind.

  ‘Faster!’ she howled. ‘Run, you idiots! Run!’

  Luckily, the empty costume cart was proving to be a bit of a handicap to their pursuer. It kept getting stuck between trees, thus slowing him down a bit, otherwise they wouldn’t have stood a chance.

  Desperately, Plugugly and Sproggit pounded across the same glade that the advance guard of Goblins had raced through less than a minute previously. So great was their panic, and so limited was Plugugly’s vision in the horse suit, that he didn’t even notice Ronald, who was just picking himself up from his first little encounter.

  Pongwiffy didn’t spot him either, because her hat was currently down over her eyes.

  Yes, they mowed him down. And yes, as you might expect, they got sprinkled with the remaining drops of Invisibility Serum!

  Good, you might think. What could be better, at times of crisis, than to become invisible?

  Ah. If only it was as simple as that.

  The trouble lay in the serum. There just wasn’t enough of it. The first wave of fleeing Goblins had received a thorough drenching. Second time round, though, there was only a very little bit left – hardly a big enough dose to work effectively on one person, let alone three.

  Pongwiffy, Plugugly and Sproggit didn’t know this yet – but they soon would.

  When invisibility first descended upon them, so blind was their panic that they hardly noticed. Plugugly and Sproggit had got so used to running that their legs just carried on pistoning up and down automatically for a bit. Then Pongwiffy became aware of a sudden, indefinable change. For a moment, she couldn’t work out what it was. Then she looked down at herself – and saw fresh air!

  ‘Hold it!’ she screamed. ‘Something’s happened! We’ve vanished!’

  At exactly that same moment, both halves of the Pantomime Horse became aware that something strange had occurred. They could see through the horse suit! They were still wearing it, they could feel it, but it had become transparent!

  Even worse – so had they!

  ‘Ahhhh!’ shouted Plugugly, screeching to a stop. ‘Where am I? I’s gone! I can’t see meself!’

  Sproggit’s invisible head once again thudded into the small of Plugugly’s invisible back.

  ‘Oooof!’ remarked Plugugly conversationally as all the breath was knocked out of him. Down they both went into the snow, bringing Pongwiffy with them. All three flailed around, confused and completely unnerved.

  ‘Where am I?’ bawled Plugugly. ‘Are you dere, Sproggit?’

  ‘ ’Course I’m ’ere. Where’s Pongwiffy?’

  ‘I’m here. Stop kicking me, will you?’

  ‘Can you see me? I can’t see me. I can’t see you. Can you see you?’ wailed Plugugly.

  ‘Of course we can’t see you!’ snapped Pongwiffy. ‘You’ve vanished. I’ve vanished. We’ve all vanished!’

  ‘It’s scary!’ gibbered Sproggit. ‘Wot’s ’appenin’?’

  As if things weren’t bad enough, at that point Romeo came careering around th
e corner. He had finally shed his cart. One of the wheels had become wedged in a ditch and the traces had broken, leaving him free to pursue his darling to the ends of the universe. Further, if necessary.

  He came to a halt, looking puzzled. Funny, there was no sign of her. Where had she gone?

  ‘Ssssh,’ hissed Pongwiffy warningly. ‘It’s him! Don’t move!’

  They sat in the snow, not daring to move a muscle, as Romeo stood hesitantly looking around. At one point, he stared directly at them – but after a heart-stopping moment or two, he gave a baffled little snort and began to move off into the trees.

  ‘Phew!’ said Pongwiffy, feeling invisible sweat break out on her invisible brow. ‘That was close. Come on. Let’s go while we get the chance.’

  Shakily, they clambered to their feet – and at that point, without any warning, they began to fade back in again. First, there was fresh air. Then there was the ghostly image of a transparent Pantomime Horse and a see-through rider. Finally they were back, as solid as before.

  ‘Hey!’ shouted Plugugly. ‘I’m back! Hello, me!’

  ‘Quiet, stupid!’ hissed Pongwiffy. ‘D’you want him to hear?’

  It was all too much for Sproggit, who finally lost his grip and began to scream.

  Romeo stopped in his tracks. His ears pricked up and he looked back over his shoulder.

  There she was! His beloved! How come he’d missed her? With a wild neigh, he wheeled around – and once again the chase was on. The only difference was that the Pantomime Horse and rider faded in and out like a faulty television set. For a few minutes they would disappear completely, then they would materialise back again. And all the time, Romeo was gaining on them.

  ‘Faster!’ bellowed Pongwiffy. ‘Go, go, go!’

  ‘Plug!’ screamed Sproggit. ‘ ’ E’s right be’ind me, Plug! I can feel ’is breath! I’m gettin’ a stitch! I can’t run no more!’

  Desperate situations call for desperate measures. Plugugly saw the giant gum tree looming before him – and knew that this was their only chance.

  ‘Quick, Sproggit!’ he howled. ‘Up de gum tree!’

  And somehow – they never knew how – they made it.