Now, first of all, you’ll want to hear what Poolwana looked like. Well, he had three tiny blue legs, each with a very tiny blue foot. Instead of two arms he had four, each with a very tiny hand, and these arms and hands were green. His body was green, too, but of a lighter green, and it looked like a very, very small pea, though this was only when Poolwana was hungry; after he had had a meal his body didn’t look so very, very small, and it was pale brown in colour. Poolwana, you see, fed only on honey—there was plenty of honey in the orchid; I’ll tell you more about this in a minute—and so after a meal his body not only became very slightly larger but also took on the colour of the honey he had eaten.
The orchid in which Poolwana lived was a rare orchid—so rare that it didn’t even have a long Latin name as most orchids have; nobody had found it yet to give it a name. It was shaped like an old man’s head—and looked like an old man’s head, but an old man without a face. It hung all by itself on a long grey stem—a stem covered with shiny yellow bumps which were the eggs of some fine red-and-black ants. On each side of this orchid jutted what looked like a withered-up ear, and from the top part, right down the back to the bottom part where the stem joined it, the orchid was covered with a silvery down something like an old man’s hair. Where the face of the old man should have been there was a cave, and the walls of this cave were blue. Thin, strong bright red prongs like teeth formed a sort of barricade before the inner part of the cave so that Poolwana, who lived in the inner part, could never at any time get out. The truth is Poolwana was a prisoner in the orchid.
Poolwana, however, didn’t grumble because he was a prisoner. He had never known what it was like to be outside of his cave, so did not worry about what he had not seen, and, in any case, he was not a curious or adventurous creature. He was quite content to remain in his cave and watch other creatures going past. Apart from this, it was always very pleasant in the cave. Rain never fell, and when Poolwana looked around him he saw nothing but bright blue. At night he went to sleep without having to count sheep, because the sides of the cave gave off a wonderful perfume which not only smelt sweet but sent Poolwana to sleep in a few seconds. Another thing, too, was that the floor of the cave held many pools of honey—pools that never ran dry, no matter what the weather—so Poolwana was never without food. And not being a boy but only a creature-boy, he needed only calories—ask your schoolteacher what are calories; honey has lots of calories—to keep him alive. If the honey was poor in vitamins—ask teacher about vitamins, too—as most days it was, it never troubled Poolwana, because Poolwana didn’t need vitamins.
Sometimes the sun sent shafts of light through the prongs like teeth that guarded the inner part of the cave, and the pools of honey would gleam like bright new pennies, for they were round pools. Other creatures were often attracted by these pools, and stopped to look enviously at Poolwana. Some of them shook their heads and said that it was not right that one creature alone should have so much honey. Some of them shook their fists at Poolwana and threatened to hurt him if he didn’t give them some honey, but Poolwana only laughed, because he knew that he was safe from them in his cave; in fact, that was one of the reasons why he didn’t mind being locked in as he was.
One day a creature called a jee happened to stop at the orchid to hide from a larger jee that was chasing it. It was a little pink jee with black legs—six legs—and two green arms, and had a body shaped like a banana, though the banana part was pink and not yellow as a banana should be.
“You don’t mind me hiding here, do you, Poolwana?” asked the little pink jee whose name, I ought to mention, was Joomeel. Joomeel and Poolwana were friends, and sometimes when the day was very hot and Joomeel was not too busy looking for honey—that was Joomeel’s work, to look for honey and take it home—Joomeel would drop in at the orchid to have a chat with Poolwana.
“Not at all, Joomeel,” Poolwana replied. “Hide if you want to, but what are you hiding from?”
“A big red jee caught me stealing his pollen jam and he’s after me. He says he’s going to strip me and eat me if he catches me.”
Poolwana laughed. “I can hardly blame him for saying that. I’ve always told you you look very eatable-ish, Joomeel.”
“Don’t poke fun at me, Poolwana. I’m in danger. It isn’t good taste to poke fun at creatures in danger. If you weren’t my friend I’d be annoyed.”
Poolwana laughed again, and waved his four arms about. He tried to dance in his glee, but one of his three legs tripped him up and he nearly fell back into a pool of honey.
“I’m sure pink bananas must taste nice,” said Poolwana, not laughing so loudly but still laughing.
Joomeel laughed, too. “And what about you and your pea-body tilled with honey?” he said. “I’ve heard many a creature say they’d like to eat you. Honey is scarce outside your cave. Do you know that we creatures out here have had our ration cut since the rains began? We only get one drop a week now.”
“That’s too bad,” said Poolwana. “I wish I could give you some of what I have in here, but I simply can’t.”
“You always say that,” said Joomeel. “Why can’t you? It’s yours, isn’t it? All yours.”
“No, it isn’t,” said Poolwana. “It belongs to the pools.”
“That’s a silly thing to say,” said Joomeel. “Don’t the pools belong to you?”
Poolwana shook his head, and said earnestly: “No, they belong to the orchid. I’ve told you that before, and it’s true. You must believe me, Joomeel.”
“And doesn’t the orchid belong to you,” said Joomeel.
“Of course it doesn’t,” replied Poolwana. “I only live in it: If anything, I belong to it. You really must believe me, Joomeel.”
“Who told you you belong to it?”
“I grew up feeling so, and a lizard once told me I must always believe what I feel. Lolopo is the name of the lizard, and he’s a very wise lizard. He drops in sometimes to give me good advice.”
Joomeel grunted. “Anyway,” he said, “all the creatures I’ve met out here say you’re a selfish creature to keep all that honey to yourself. They say that one day some bad creatures might raid you and capture your orchid, and then they’ll kill you and take all your honey.”
“I never listen to such talk. Lolopo said I must never listen to talk.” Poolwana looked sad, and after he was silent a moment he said: “And, in any case, how can I help being selfish if I’m a prisoner in this cave? You other creatures ought to be sorry for me instead of talking about raiding me and capturing my ‘orchid.’ ”
“Ssh! Wait!” cried Joomeel, in a soft voice. “I think I hear the red jee coming.”
“Huddle up close against the bars and don’t breathe!”
Joomeel huddled up close against the bars and didn’t breathe, and the big red jee, after a while, went past with a loud jeeing sound. It did not even glance in at Poolwana’s cave. Poolwana and Joomeel could hear him muttering to himself in a deep drone.
“If only I catch that little pink jee,” said the red jee, “how I’ll strip the skin off him, and eat him up!”
When he had gone, Poolwana laughed and said: “Did you hear what he said, Joomeel? Oh, I can just see him smacking his lips over you.”
Joomeel snorted. “He’s a big silly fat apple of a jee—and over-ripe, too! I hate apples—especially red, over-ripe apples!”
“Oh, is that so!” cried a deep jeeing voice.
Poolwana and Joomeel gasped in surprise and alarm, for there at the entrance of the cave stood the big red jee.
“Thought I wouldn’t catch you, eh?” said the big red jee whose body was shaped like a cherry—not like an apple as Joomeel had said. Joomeel had only said that to be spiteful. The big red jee’s body was the size of a cherry, too, and he had two strong small legs and five strong small arms, all black and shiny (every morning he had to hav
e them polished; he was a rich jee and had servants to do this for him).
“Thought you were being clever by hiding in here, eh?” said the big red jee whose name was Bumbleboom. “I have sharp ears, my little pink friend. I heard Poolwana laughing soon after I passed, and Poolwana never laughs unless he has visitors. But for Poolwana I might never have caught you!”
Joomeel shivered in all his limbs, and his body grew speckled with fear. Bumbleboom stepped quickly forward and seized him by two of his legs.
Joomeel cried out and struggled, but Bumbleboom was strong and merely laughed.
“You little thieving pink jee!” said Bumbleboom. “I’ve always wanted to strip you of your skin and eat you, and now I’m going to do it!”
“Please, Mr. Red Jee, I won’t steal your pollen jam again,” said Joomeel, frightened to death and growing limp all of a sudden, and a paler pink.
“My name is Bumbleboom,” said Bumbleboom. “Don’t call me Mr. Red Jee. I’m a very important jee, don’t you know that? For calling me Mr. Red Jee I’m going to strip you very slowly so that it hurts you more than if I’d given you a quick stripping.”
“Please, Mr. Bumbleboom! Please let me go!”
Poolwana, very grieved to see his friend in such a plight, decided to do something to save Joomeel’s life. “Mr. Bumbleboom, I’m sure Joomeel didn’t mean to steal your pollen jam when he left home. He must have seen it through a window and felt tempted. Won’t you spare his life if I ask you very nicely?”
“Oh! So! So that’s it, eh? You’re pleading for his life, eh? Why don’t you come out of that cave of yours, Poolwana, and give other creatures a chance to get at all those pools of honey you have in there?” Then a sudden gleam of cunning came into his eyes. Still gripping Joomeel’s two legs firmly and sitting on the four other legs, Bumbleboom said: “Well, now, I’ve just thought of something. What about striking a bargain since you’re so concerned about my sparing the life of your friend? Suppose I say I’ll spare his life, will you agree to give me three pools of honey?”
“Oh,” said Poolwana, his eyes very wide.
“Oh, eh?” said Bumbleboom. “Is that all you can say in reply?” Bumbleboom began to laugh, his eyes twinkling in such a way that there could be no doubt that he was a big bad jee—and a greedy one, too.
“But, Mr. Bumbleboom, the honey in the pools is not mine to give you.”
“No? Then to whom does it belong?”
Poolwana sighed. So many times before he had had to answer this question! It was really tiresome. Anyway, Joomeel’s life was in danger, so for the several thousandth time Poolwana said: “All the honey in here belongs to the pools and all the pools belong to the orchid, and the orchid doesn’t belong to me. I belong to the orchid.”
“That’s how you explain it, eh?” laughed Bumbleboom, sitting more firmly still on Joomeel’s four legs and gripping the other two legs so tightly that Joomeel squealed with pain. “A very nice way to explain your sly selfishness, Poolwana. Yes, it’s a sly selfishness. I believe you have more sense than we creatures out here imagine. But I won’t change my mind. Unless you give me three pools of honey I’m going to strip this little friend of yours and eat him. And I’ll do it right here before your eyes.”
“Ha! A crisis!”
This voice came from the entrance of the cave, and glancing round, they saw that it was Lolopo, the lizard. He was a very wise lizard, as Poolwana had said, and was well-known among the creatures for his comments. Making comments was his hobby, and he never charged for it. He liked using big words.
“What’s a crisis, Mr. Lizard Lolopo?” asked Bumbleboom, and his voice was mocking, for he did not like Lolopo. Lolopo had once advised him to get rid of his servants and do his own work, that it was not right to let some creatures do dirty work while other creatures lazed around and did nothing, not even clean work.
“Don’t you know what is a…crisis, Bumbleboom?” said the lizard.
“I don’t,” said Bumbleboom. “When I was young I was too busy getting rich to go to school. You tell me what is a crisis.”
“Well,” said Lolopo, the lizard, “as I was more lucky when I was young and learnt a lot of lessons, I’ll tell you what a crisis is. It’s when something happens and you’re not sure what’s going to happen after.”
“Oh, is that what a crisis is?” said Bumbleboom. “Well, you’re wrong in thinking that this is a crisis, because I’m sure what’s going to happen after what’s happened already. I’m going to strip and eat this little thieving pink jee if Poolwana doesn’t give me three pools of honey. That’s exactly what’s going to happen—and you’re not so wise as I’d thought you were.”
Lolopo smiled and said: “Perhaps I’m wiser than you think, Bumbleboom.
“How can you be sure of what will happen when you don’t know whether Poolwana will give you the honey or not? If Poolwana gives you the honey you won’t strip and eat little Joomeel, and if Poolwana doesn’t give you the honey you will. So don’t you see I’m right, after all? None of us here really knows what’s going to happen—not even Poolwana, for I can see he is in two minds whether to give you the honey and save Joomeel’s life or not give you and let Joomeel die.”
“But, Lolopo,” said Poolwana, in a very worried voice, “I’ve told everybody so often. It isn’t my honey to give. Who knows what might happen if I give away the honey in these pools? The orchid might get offended and close up and crush me to death. Would you like to see that happen?”
“I wouldn’t,” said Lolopo.
“Poolwana is a stupid creature,” said Bumbleboom. “How could the orchid get offended and close up and crush him to death? The orchid is not a living creature. It’s only an orchid.”
“An orchid,” said Lolopo, “but you don’t understand, Bumbleboom, that Poolwana believes in his orchid as though it were a living thing, and if he believes it would be offended it might be offended.”
Suddenly, a wind began to blow, and the orchid swayed and shook.
Poolwana cried out in fear. “Did you see that? Did you see that? The orchid can hear what we’re saying. It’s just given us a sign that it can. I believe it’s a sort of creature, and even though it doesn’t talk it can hear what we say. And perhaps it can kill us all if it wants to.”
“I’ve always thought you were a stupid creature, Poolwana,” said Bumbleboom, sitting more comfortably on Joomeel’s four legs, and tucking Joomeel’s two other legs more securely under his arms.
“Is it stupid to believe in something?” asked Poolwana.
“It’s stupid to believe in an orchid,” said Bumbleboom. “Why don’t you believe instead in lots of rich honey as I do? When you have lots of honey as I have in my great palace-nest you can keep lots of servants and lots of wives, and other creatures say yes to everything you say. That’s something to believe in. Not a silly orchid.”
Poolwana shivered, and looked up at the bright blue walls of the cave, expecting them to collapse upon them because Bumbleboom had called the orchid silly. But nothing happened. The orchid didn’t even shake and sway as it had done a moment ago.
Poolwana was about to scold Bumbleboom for calling the orchid silly when a squeaky voice at the entrance said, “Poolwana, what’s happening today in your cave? You seem to have a lot of visitors.”
They looked and saw that it was a blue mosquito. Her name was Memba. And almost all the creatures had heard of and heard her, because she was a famous singer, and gave concerts regularly, especially during the long rainy season. She had the best voice in the jungle, and no other creature could take a note as high as she could.
“I’m worried, Memba,” said Poolwana. “Very worried.”
“It’s a crisis,” said Lolopo.
“Don’t say that word, please,” said Memba. “I don’t like it.”
“Why don’t you l
ike it?” asked Lolopo.
“It makes me remember what I used to be called before I became famous.”
“What were you called then?”
“They used to call me a cry-sister. A cry-sister is a singer who can’t sing well. In fact a cry-sister is an awful singer.”
“I’m quite sure you’re not an awful singer, Miss Memba,” said Bumbleboom, who had been staring with shining eyes at Memba from the instant she had come into the cave. “I think you’re a very fine singer—and a very beautiful creature. For a long time, I’ve been wanting to ask you up to my palace-nest.”
“Oh, indeed!” said Memba stiffly.
“Please don’t misunderstand me!” cried Bumbleboom hastily, wriggling so much that Joomeel squealed in pain. “I meant to sing for me and my family and—and my household. Only that I meant.”
“I’m glad you only meant that, Mr. Bumbleboom. Anyway, nobody has explained to me what’s happening here. Why are you sitting on that little pink jee, Mr. Bumbleboom? Has he done anything?”
“It’s a crisis,” said Lolopo, then caught himself and gasped: “Oh, I’m so sorry! I was forgetting your little idiosyncrasy!”
“What’s that?” cried Poolwana and Bumbleboom in chorus, staring.
“Yes. What’s that?” asked Memba. “I’ve never heard such a long word in all my life. Are you cursing me, Mr. Lolopo?”
Lolopo smiled. “If you’d gone to school as I’ve done,” he said, “no long word would puzzle you, because you’d know that all you have to do when you hear a long word is to take it in slowly one syllable at a time.”
“Never mind about going to school,” said Bumbleboom a little irritably, because he never liked to be reminded that he had never gone to school. “Just tell us what the word means.”
“It means,” said Lolopo, “something queer that belongs only to you.”
The Big Book of Modern Fantasy Page 8
