Further Adventures of Pelle No-Tail

by Gösta Knutsson

  ‘Good!’ called out Old Maja. ‘The most important thing of all is to be fair.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Måns. ‘And that’s why I’m going to make certain everything runs fairly and in an organised fashion. Then, there’ll be a sound, or rather a noise, if anybody gets the answer wrong. This is how it will sound, if a cat with a tail says the wrong answer or doesn’t know the answer.’

  Måns tipped a small tin upside down, making a noise that sounded just like a parrot.

  ‘And this is what it will sound like when the cat with no tail gets it wrong.’

  Måns tipped another tin upside down, and this time it sounded like a sheep baaing. Everybody laughed.

  ‘Why do I get the sheep?’ whispered Pelle.

  ‘That’s none of your business,’ hissed Måns. ‘Well, ladies and gentlemen,’ Måns continued aloud, smiling engagingly at the audience. ‘So, let’s start. Ladies first, as they say, and so, I would like to ask Frida, please, to come forward first. Now I’m going to pick out a question card. Here is the first question: Is the herring a bird, a fish or a fruit?’

  For several days, Frida had been going around learning that a herring is a fish, but now she grew nervous and completely confused, the little silly-billy, so she said: ‘The herring is a bird!’

  Oj, how the audience laughed! Murre’s relatives from Skogstibble, who weren’t very refined and didn’t know how to behave appropriately in public, somersaulted for joy. But Måns looked furious.

  ‘Think about what you’re saying,’ he whispered to Frida. ‘Seeing as you’ve had all the questions in advance, you’d think you’d be able to give the correct answer. Sit down, you dumbom!’

  Poor Frida sat down and licked her nose, feeling downcast.

  ‘Now it’s over to Fritz. Name a body of water whose name sounds like “cat”!’ said Måns.

  ‘The Kattegat Sea!’ said Fritz quickly. The audience applauded, and Måns looked satisfied.

  ‘One point for Fritz!’ cried Måns. ‘Now it’s Pelle’s turn.’

  ‘May I choose the question card myself?’ asked Pelle.

  ‘Oh no!’ said Måns. ‘I’m the one who chooses here. And this is your question: What is a cat’s greatest pride and joy?’

  11

  What is a cat’s greatest pride and joy?

  There were loud giggles from the audience.

  ‘Well?’ repeated Måns. ‘What is a cat’s greatest pride and joy? You have ten seconds to answer.’

  Pelle was quiet for a moment and thought about it with his head tilted to one side. Then he said: ‘I don’t know what your greatest pride and joy is, but my greatest pride and joy is my red bow.’

  ‘That’s not such a foolish answer at all from the boy!’ called out Old Maja the Cathedral Cat, and she started a round of applause.

  ‘It was the wrong answer,’ said Måns furiously. ‘The correct answer should have been “The tail”! Everybody knows that. No point for Pelle.’

  ‘He should get a point!’ shouted Old Maja, brandishing her paw and hitting Gullan from Arcadia in the head, who was sitting on the bench in front of her.

  ‘Give him a point!’ shouted the whole audience. ‘It was an excellent answer!’

  ‘Down with the umpire!’ came the cry from every corner.

  ‘Oh well, he gets a point then,’ said Måns, angrily. ‘But it wasn’t right,’ he muttered to himself. ‘Who’s next?’ continued Måns, the quizmaster. ‘It’s Rickard from Rickomberga’s turn to have the next question. It’s a music question. Little Kryssen from Erikslund will play a piece of music, and then Rickard will guess what it was.’

  Everyone thought it was very exciting. Little Kryssen from Erikslund came onto the stage, bowed and sat down at the piano. Then he played ‘Baa, baa, black sheep, have you any wool?’ He played it with one paw only; you can play it with two paws also, but Little Kryssen hadn’t yet learnt how to do that.

  ‘The boy doesn’t play badly at all!’ shouted Old Maja, who rarely kept quiet.

  ‘It runs in the family,’ said Big Kryssen, who was Little Kryssen’s papa. Big Kryssen started clapping and all the others joined in.

  ‘Well,’ said Måns to Rickard. ‘What piece was that?’

  ‘That was “There’s a fishmonger who lives in town”,’ said Rickard emphatically.

  ‘Yes, that’s the one,’ said Måns.

  But now the audience booed. And Old Maja stood up, hitting Gullan from Arcadia in the head again, and shouted: ‘The umpire’s wrong. He played “Baa, baa, black sheep”.’

  And it was quite right; Little Kryssen from Erikslund had indeed played ‘Baa, baa, black sheep’. The fact of the matter was that Måns and Little Kryssen had agreed that Little Kryssen should play two pieces: first, ‘There’s a fishmonger who lives in town’ and then ‘Baa, baa, black sheep, have you any wool?’ and that was what Rickard and the others had been carefully trying to remember. But Little Kryssen had forgotten the order they had agreed on and so he started with ‘Baa, baa, black sheep’. But Rickard thought it was ‘There’s a fishmonger who lives in town’, and that’s why he said: ‘There’s a fishmonger who lives in town’.

  ‘It looks as though there’s been a mistake here,’ said Måns, looking uncomfortable. ‘Anyway, let’s continue. Next question is for Murre from Skogstibble.’

  Go Murre, go! Tibbles will shine through!

  Go Murre, go! One point to you!

  … came the chant from the Skogstibble relations.

  ‘Well, we’ll see about that,’ growled Old Maja the Cathedral Cat.

  ‘Here on Murre’s question card it says something very unpleasant,’ said Måns. ‘It says: Name a type of dog!’

  A few low snarls were heard from the audience. Bill and Bull felt indisposed and had to leave.

  But Murre answered. ‘A play hound,’ he said.

  ‘He means a greyhound,’ said Måns. ‘That’s one point for Murre.’

  ‘Absolutely not!’ shouted Old Maja. ‘If it’s wrong, it’s wrong! It’s called a “greyhound”, and he said “play hound”. Gentlemen, there’ll be no cheating here!’

  ‘No cheating!’ shrieked the whole audience.

  ‘There are poodles too. And dachshunds,’ said Gullan from Arcadia, who wanted to show she could name a few too.

  ‘That’s the first round finished,’ said Måns and hit the gong. He was in a thoroughly bad mood now.

  ‘Let’s hear the scores!’ called out Old Maja.

  ‘Jaha,’ answered Måns. ‘Fritz has one point – and then it seems that nobody else has any.’

  ‘Ah jo! Yes, he does. Don’t you try anything!’ said Maja. ‘Pelle has one point too, if you please!’

  ‘Ja, because he’s so dashing in his red bow,’ said Gullan from Arcadia.

  12

  Måns gets found out

  The second round is about to start,’ said Måns, and he banged the gong. ‘Can Frida please step forward once again!’

  Everybody was very excited to hear what the question would be. Here it came.

  ‘Spell “rat-tail”!’ said Måns.

  Once again, poor Frida was nervous and confused.

  ‘R – O – T,’ she started. And then she went back to the beginning. ‘R – O – T – A …’

  ‘You dumsnut,’ said Måns. ‘And here I was, spending days and days trying to teach you to spell “rat-tail” with an “R”, an “A” and two “T”s.’

  ‘What’s all this?’ called out Old Maja. ‘Has Mister Umpire been going around telling everybody the questions in advance?’

  ‘No, of course not!’ said Måns, and tried to look unconcerned. ‘See, I just mean, at school, she learnt how to spell “rat-tail”… Well, now it’s Fritz’s turn again. Please welcome Little Kryssen from Erikslund, who’s going to play another piece for us.’

  And Little Kryssen trotted up to the piano and played ‘There’s a fishmonger who lives in town’ arranged for one paw.

  ‘Yes, well, that was “Baa, baa
, black sheep, have you any wool?”’ said Fritz.

  ‘Nooo!’ howled the audience. ‘No! Wrong!’

  ‘But that was the one he was going to play next,’ said Fritz, and he looked questioningly at Måns.

  ‘Be quiet, you!’ said Måns.

  ‘But you said that “Fishmonger” would come first, and “Baa, baa” next,’ said Fritz.

  ‘There’s something not right about all this,’ said Old Maja, wrinkling her forehead.

  But Måns hurried to call up Pelle, took another question card and read out: ‘Name ten cities in Bulgaria and ten rivers in Romania and, in addition, please state the dominical letter for the year 1956.’

  Poor Pelle stood there looking unhappy. That question was simply impossible to answer.

  ‘Well?’ said Måns, with a wicked smile. ‘Well? Am I going to get an answer? You have ten seconds left!’

  But do you know what happened next? Jo, well, Old Maja the Cathedral Cat snorted with fury and once again swiped poor, innocent Gullan from Arcadia over the head before trotting up to the stage and looking Måns straight in the eye.

  ‘There’s something crooked going on here,’ said Maja, growling.

  ‘Crooked?’ said Måns. ‘How could there be anything crooked? All the question cards are lying face down, and I’m choosing them at random.’

  ‘At what?’ said Maja.

  ‘At random,’ said Måns.

  ‘Ha ha ha!’ said Maja. ‘Random? Let’s look at Pelle’s last card … Jaha, exactly as I thought. Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to declare that the gravest injustice has just taken place here. Måns has made a mark in the bottom corner on the back of the cards meant for Pelle, and on those cards, he has written the most impossible questions, just like that one about the ten cities in Romania.’

  ‘Bulgaria,’ said Pelle.

  ‘And the ten rivers in Bulgaria,’ said Maja.

  ‘Romania,’ Pelle corrected her.

  ‘And what’s more, it has been obvious to me the whole time,’ continued Maja, ‘that the other participants had learnt their questions in advance, except that they were too stupid and confused to remember the correct answers.’

  ‘Out with the umpire!’ shouted Gullan from Arcadia.

  ‘The umpire must go!’ cried the whole audience, except for Murre’s relatives from Skogstibble, who were tight with their money, and they shouted: ‘We want our money back!’

  And the audience looked so menacing that the umpire thought it best to disappear. Måns took a huge leap off the stage and out onto Upper Slottsgatan, followed by Fritz and Frida and Rickard from Rickomberga and Murre from Skogstibble all in a row behind him.

  But Old Maja the Cathedral Cat took Pelle by his paw and held it aloft, saying: ‘Here’s the true winner of the quiz. Three cheers for Pelle! Three cheers for him!’

  And all the cats cheered hip hip hooray! Everybody except Murre’s relations from Skogstibble, who shouted: ‘We want our money back!’

  13

  Pelle and the seven dwarfs

  And so Christmas came around again. Pelle received three Christmas presents. The first one was an elephant. Not a real one, of course, it would have been too enormous, but it was a sweet little toy elephant that used to belong to Birgitta. It looked very smart with its peppercorn eyes and its big enormous ear flaps and its long trunk and its right tusk (the left tusk had unfortunately broken off.) But the best thing about the elephant was that you could wind it up with a small key and off it went with heavy steps, looking just like a real elephant, which perhaps you might have seen at the circus at some point.

  Pelle thought it was a rather fun Christmas present but when Birgitta had wound up the elephant for him and it started marching along the floor, Pelle smacked it over with his paw and there lay the elephant, its legs flailing around. Pelle thought this was terribly funny and he sat, pleased, watching the elephant lying there, unable to move, just like an upside-down beetle.

  Bit by bit the elephant stopped his waggling; then Pelle carefully poked the elephant’s leg with his paw and there was a little more waggling but then it stopped. Pelle nudged at the trunk and the ear flaps and the legs, but the elephant lay perfectly still. Until Birgitta came back with the key and wound it up.

  ‘You mustn’t flip him over, Pelle,’ said Birgitta. ‘Let him walk instead; it looks much funnier!’

  ‘Excuse me, is it mine or yours then, this elephant?’ Pelle wanted to say but he didn’t because it probably wouldn’t have sounded very nice. In any case he couldn’t help but turn the elephant over one more time.

  ‘I wonder if any other cats have ever turned an elephant upside down,’ thought Pelle, so pleased with himself that he had to purr. And what’s more, it seemed as if the elephant was purring as well. In any case, there was a great deal of buzzing, while its legs waggled about.

  But then came Christmas present number two. In fact, there were really three presents because it consisted of three fresh herring wrapped in red tissue paper.

  ‘Better than the usual Christmas cod,’ thought Pelle and that was what he had for Christmas dinner.

  By the time Pelle had finished the herring, he had left not the tiniest little bone and had even licked the red tissue paper carefully clean. Oh no, when it came to herring, nothing must go to waste.

  But now I must tell you about the third Christmas present that Pelle received. It was quite a big parcel and on it was written this poem:

  Here’s a present from Birgitta

  To young Pelle from his sister.

  It’s a painting just for you.

  Tell me if you like it? Do!

  That’s you there with seven dwarfs,

  Snow White’s friends – now clap your paws!

  Yes, Pelle was rather pleased. Inside the parcel there was indeed a painting that Birgitta had painted all by herself in the most beautiful colours. It was a picture of a fairytale forest and on the green grass sat all of the seven dwarfs. And sitting among them was none other than Pelle No-Tail, dressed in a blue velvet jacket and yellow velvet trousers and you could tell it was him because there was no tail sticking out through the trousers.

  Pelle tilted his head sideways and peered at the picture. After looking at it for a while, he approached it cautiously to see if there was anything on the back. But there wasn’t.

  ‘That’s a beautiful picture you’ve painted,’ said Birgitta’s Papa, and he put on a pair of glasses so he could see better.

  ‘Well, I copied the dwarfs, of course,’ said Birgitta.

  ‘And the cat,’ said Olle.

  ‘I did not,’ said Birgitta. ‘I came up with him all by myself. I thought it’s become a bit boring always seeing Snow White together with the seven dwarfs, so that’s why I put Pelle in, and he looks quite at home, don’t you think?’

  ‘The blue has smudged into the yellow there at the edge,’ said Olle.

  ‘Now Olle, let’s be nice on Christmas Eve,’ said his mother.

  Pelle was very pleased with the painting. Those seven dwarfs looked so terribly kind and friendly with their round, red noses and cheeks – well, one looked a bit grumpy admittedly, but he was probably friendly too, otherwise he wouldn’t be allowed to be with the others. And the forest looked welcoming, too. Even the cottage, which you could see in the background, seemed very inviting. ‘There are usually rats to be found in those old cottages,’ thought Pelle, and licked his nose twice.

  ‘Do you want to hear the fairytale about Snow White and the seven dwarfs?’ said Birgitta to Pelle later on Christmas Eve.

  ‘Miaow,’ said Pelle because it would have been impolite to say no. Fairytales were not his favourite thing particularly, but he still listened politely as Birgitta told him the story of how the princess Snow White had arrived at the seven dwarfs’ hut deep in the forest. And how the evil queen, who wanted to be the most beautiful in the land, turned herself into an old woman who came along with a poisoned apple and tricked Snow White into eating it. But luckily, along ca
me the prince and brought Snow White back to life and the evil queen was duly punished. It was a bit of a shame, though, for the seven dwarfs, thought Birgitta, being left all alone in their hut again, especially as they had grown used to Snow White baking gooseberry pies for them, but they had to console themselves with the fact that Snow White had promised to visit them every year.

  ‘And I hope that did make them feel better,’ said Birgitta. ‘Don’t you hope so too, Pelle?’

  But Pelle had fallen asleep with his right paw over his pink nose.

  14

  In storage unit number 12

  As Pelle took his Christmas morning walk on Upper Slottsgatan, it started to snow. Heavy flakes stuck to Pelle’s whiskers so that every now and then he had to stop and shake himself to get rid of them. It’s most unpleasant to have snow in your whiskers; it tickles terribly.

  But snow was better than rain, thought Pelle, except that snow makes you rather wet and uncomfortable too. And so, when Pelle came to Fritz and Frida’s basement door, he slipped in there. ‘I could always go in to wish them a merry Christmas through the worst of the snow,’ he said to himself. At heart, Fritz and Frida were not as mean as many of the other cats in Måns’ big gang. Admittedly they quite liked to tease and they also liked to scratch a lot if you let them but Pelle had often noticed that they really were quite good natured.

  It was as black as a sack in the basement but Pelle could see just as well in the dark and he trotted purposefully up to storage unit number 4, which was where Fritz and Frida lived. But there was not a cat to be seen. Pelle sniffed his way along the walls. This was most peculiar.

  ‘Hello there!’ called somebody from the other end of the basement.

  ‘Hello!’ answered Pelle and headed towards the voice. It was Fritz who had called out.