“Who is that?” called the cat, who had picked up a little from the mockingbird about imitating voices. “Is that the mailman?”
“No, it’s your favorite superhero,” cried Little Red Robin Hood, and flew through the doorway into his grandmother’s bedroom.
There he stopped. “My word, Grandma,” he said, “you’re really not feeling well, are you?”
“No,” said the cat, “I’m quite poorly, bless my whiskers.”
“I never noticed you had whiskers before,” said Little Red Robin Hood.
“It’s a symptom of this dreadful flu,” said the cat. “Instant whiskers. Most embarrassing for a bird of downy cheek, as I have always prided myself to be.”
Little Red Robin Hood came a little closer. “My, Grandma,” he said, “this must be a very bad flu. What great big pointy ears with little tufts of fur in them you have.”
“The better to hear you with, my child,” said the cat. “You know, your hearing goes when you get old, so the bigger ears are a help.”
“Grandma,” said Little Red Robin Hood, “what great big slanted eyes you have!”
“The better to see you with, my dear,” said the cat, “especially when I’ve misplaced my bifocals again. I think I left them on the bus last week, coming back from my senior citizens’ support group meeting.”
“Grandma,” said Little Red Robin Hood, “what a great big tail you have poking out from under the bedsheets!”
“Surprise,” said the cat. “That’s not a tail; it’s a furry snake puppet, but the eyes fell off. Doesn’t it move realistically?” And that cat twitched his tail in a lifelike way, which wasn’t hard.
“Grandma,” said Little Red Robin Hood, “would you like some grubs or some wormy cheese?”
“Bless your heart, you guessed exactly!” said the cat. “But I’m too weak to feed myself. Could you just get some and put it in my mouth?”
Little Red Robin Hood obliged. He unwrapped the wormy cheese and piled some grubs on top, and flew onto the bed. “Open your mouth and close your eyes, and you shall get a big surprise,” he said.
“Someone will get a big surprise,” muttered the cat. He opened his mouth.
“My word, Grandma, what great big teeth you have!” cried Little Red Robin Hood. “Hey, wait a minute! Birds don’t have teeth! Did you get dentures? I don’t think so! I smell a scam! Help! Police! I never saw such huge teeth!”
“The better to eat you with, my fine little feathered friend!” yowled the cat, and gulped up Little Red Robin Hood, all but the mask, which he put on himself.
Then he burped a little bit and patted himself on the back. He slinked out of Grandma’s apartment, taking the TV with him.
“What a noisy little twerp!” he said as he went. “It was a pleasure to eat him!”
Just then something very solid, shaped like a brick and weighing a little more than a pound, came plummeting out of the air onto the cat’s head. It was the wormy pound cake.
“Bull’s-eye!” chuckled the mockingbird. “Take that, you miserable creature!”
But the mockingbird was surprised to see the cat belch like a gluttonous rhino. And even more surprised when Grandma Robin and Little Red Robin Hood popped out of the cat’s mouth.
“Oh, Grandma,” cried Little Red Robin Hood, “are you okay?”
“Okay? I’m awful,” said Grandma. “I’m hungry, I’m confused, and I’m missing my soaps. But I’m alive again. Surprise, surprise. And I need a birdbath like nobody’s business. Come on, let’s go home and call your mother to tell her you arrived safely. She’s apt to worry.”
The mockingbird flew away and took up a career doing comic impersonations on TV. Eventually he starred in his own sitcom, but it bombed in the first season and wasn’t renewed.
The cat recovered. On his way home, however, he was discovered by the hounds returning from the hunt. The hounds chased the cat so far away that he never came back.
After a little wormy treat, Grandma Robin called Mother Robin on the telephone and said, “All is well, dearie.”
“I had a terrible feeling something was going wrong, old darling,” said Mother Robin over the phone.
“Mothers, they always worry,” said Grandma. “Dearie, you have to learn to let go. Your boy is a very brave and obedient little bird, and he will do just fine. He’s going to stay overnight and keep me company.”
Then Grandma and Little Red Robin Hood watched the soaps and had some wormy soup and crackers, and in the evening they rented a video. It was called Super Robin Ninja Heroes. Little Red Robin Hood loved it, but Grandma Robin fell asleep and snored through the best parts.
THE THREE LITTLE PENGUINS AND THE BIG BAD WALRUS
Once there were three little penguins who lived in an igloo with their mother.
The oldest penguin liked to eat fish.
The middle penguin liked to eat fish.
The youngest penguin liked to get dressed up in a ballet costume and put on a show. This was not usual for penguins, and it worried old Mama Penguin a lot. But whenever her baby put on a show, she always applauded the loudest. She clapped so hard that she found herself wheezing and short of breath.
She took herself to the doctor, who was a walrus. He told Mama Penguin that her blood was sluggish. He said she should move to an island in the South Seas.
“I do feel a bit under the weather,” said old Mama Penguin. “Not up to my usual strength. But what will my penguin children do without me? They haven’t got a whole lot of common sense, even for penguins. They wouldn’t know enough to come out of the cold unless I called them, and do you think they would floss regularly?”
“They’re old enough to take care of themselves,” said Doc Walrus.
“Do you really think so?” said Mama Penguin. “A mother worries.”
“A mother should learn not to worry so much,” said Doc Walrus firmly. “You’ve done a good job raising your children. It’s time to let go and enjoy your happy golden sunset years. You’re looking weak and frail. There’s an iceberg leaving tonight. Why don’t you hop aboard?”
“Perhaps,” said Mama Penguin, and sighed.
She didn’t intend to follow the doc’s advice. But while she was away, the oldest penguin had accidentally left the oven on, and the middle penguin had accidentally left the oven door open, and the youngest penguin was skating around in baubles and bangles and beads, being Cleopatra the Queen of the Nile, not paying much attention. And while this was happening the heat from the oven had melted the igloo right down to the very tundra on which it had been built. By the time that Mama Penguin got home, there wasn’t much home left to come to. So old Mama Penguin called her children to her side.
“My dears,” she said, “it is time for you to go out into the world and find your own homes. As you can see, there’s not much left of mine. So your dear mother is going to go on a cruise to the South Seas and try to build up her health. I’ll send postcards. Meanwhile, some good advice. First, floss your teeth every day.”
Then she smacked the oldest penguin on the bottom with her walking stick. “And don’t leave the oven on!”
She smacked the middle penguin on the bottom, too. “Don’t leave the oven door open!”
She kissed the youngest penguin and said, “Dear, a little less lipstick and it will go much better for you in life.”
Then she hobbled onto a passing iceberg and soon was lost to view.
The three penguins were very sad. “What shall we do?” said the oldest penguin. “Perhaps we should build ourselves three homes. I will build my home out of straw.”
“I will build my home out of twigs,” said the middle penguin.
“I will make up a new dance called the Collapse of the Housing Industry,” cried the youngest penguin, and began collapsing all over the place.
“Oh please,” said the oldest and the middle penguins, and went to find housing materials.
Now who should come along but a seal driving a bobsled. Tied onto the back of i
t was a huge rick of straw.
“Straw! Straw for sale!” cried the seal.
“I’ll have that straw to build myself a house,” cried the oldest penguin, and bought the whole lot right there.
“I thought I was selling it for packing fine china in, but you can do what you want with it,” said the seal, pocketing the money and driving away.
The oldest penguin built a handsome house. It had a straw veranda, a straw balcony, and a straw tower perched on top. The oldest penguin was quite happy. With a new stove and a nice pot of fish to cook up on it, there was nothing more to want in life.
The middle penguin was wandering around when the seal came driving the bobsled back, this time with a load of twigs in it. “Who’ll buy my twigs, fine twigs for sale!” cried the seal.
“I’ll have the lot, my good seal,” said the middle penguin. “Just dump them right there, if you please. This is as good a place as any to build myself a house.”
“Suit yourself,” said the seal. “I had thought to sell them for kindling, but you know best.” The seal put the money in his wallet and drove his bobsled away.
The middle penguin built a beautiful house out of twigs. It had a twig porch, a twig staircase, and a twig widow’s walk on top. The middle penguin bought an oven just right for cooking pots of fish in, and all seemed very cozy indeed.
The youngest penguin invented a new dance called Isadora Penguin. It involved dressing in gauzy colored veils.
Along came the seal on his bobsled once again. “Coal! Lots of coal for sale!” he cried. “A very hot building material these days!”
“Who would build a house out of coal?” asked the youngest penguin. “Wouldn’t it burn up?”
“I give folks what they want,” said the seal. “You’d be surprised at recent styles. You could call it a warming trend.”
“Well, what I would like is a full-length mirror,” said the youngest penguin. “I need to see myself dance so I can know if it’s beautiful enough.”
“I can’t sell you a mirror, for I haven’t got one,” said the seal. “But I can sell you a blowtorch. You can cut a sheet of ice out of the glacier. That’ll do for a mirror.”
“I suppose you’re right,” said the youngest penguin. “Here’s the money.”
“Thanks,” said the seal. As he handed over the blowtorch, he added, “Your eyelashes are awfully long and curly for a penguin.”
“Is that a compliment?” said the youngest penguin, and practiced using the blowtorch in the seal’s direction. The seal and the bobsled sped away very quickly.
Who should come along next but Doc Walrus.
The truth needs to be told. It is bitter and it is ugly, but so was the walrus.
The cunning old doctor wanted to eat all three of the penguin children. That was why he had advised poor Mama Penguin to move to the South Seas. Her blood wasn’t really as sluggish as the doctor had said. It was all a fiendish plot to provide him with fresh penguin steaks.
Far away, as her iceberg began to melt in the heat of the tropical seas, old Mama Penguin was wondering if she had made the right decision. But didn’t all children need to grow up and leave home sometime?
The walrus waddled up to the house built out of straw. He was exceedingly hungry. He knocked on the front door and said, “Little penguin, little penguin, let me come in.”
The oldest penguin looked out the peephole. “Why are you carrying a knife and a fork and a jar of salsa?” he asked.
“I bought them at a garage sale,” said the walrus. “I’ve come to check your pulse. Your mama told me to look in on you from time to time. I need to make sure you’re flossing regularly. So let me come in.”
“Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin,” said the penguin.
“You haven’t got any hair on your chinny chin chin,” said the walrus.
“That’s what I mean,” said the penguin, and slammed the peephole shut.
“Then I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house in,” said the walrus.
The walrus couldn’t really blow the house in. He wasn’t good at huffing and puffing, just bluffing. Besides, the penguin was too busy heating up a pot of fish to pay attention.
Unfortunately, the penguin left the oven on and the door open, and the house of straw went up in flames. The penguin just barely escaped through the back door, and he ran to the house of twigs, which was nearby.
“Save me!” cried the oldest penguin.
“Oh, okay,” said the middle penguin. “Would you stir these fish while I go answer the doorbell?”
It was the walrus again. “It’s the good old kindly doc who makes house calls,” said the walrus through the screen door. “I’ve come to take your temperature. And I have to check to see if you’re flossing as you should. Your mama told me to keep an eye out for your health, and I intend to.”
“Then what are you doing with that paring knife and the sack of onions and the sprigs of fresh coriander?” asked the middle penguin.
“I’m on my way to a cooking class over at the community college,” said the walrus. “At this rate, I’m going to be late. So little penguin, little penguin, let me come in.”
“Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin,” said the middle penguin.
“You haven’t got any hair on your chinny chin chin,” said the walrus. “Come to think of it, you haven’t got much of a chinny chin chin, either.”
“That about settles it, then,” said the middle penguin, and slammed the door.
“Then I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house in,” said the walrus.
“Enough with this huffing and puffing stuff,” called the oldest penguin. But meanwhile, the middle penguin had left the oven on and the door open. The house of twigs caught fire and burned to the ground. The two penguins barely escaped with their lives.
They raced next door.
The youngest penguin had been having fun with the blowtorch. It was easy to use it to slice blocks of glacial ice into huge cubes. The youngest penguin had built a dance studio with a full wall of mirrors and a café and a lounge, complete with a jukebox all made of ice. The youngest penguin was busy perfecting an ensemble piece to go in the ballet about Cleopatra the Queen of the Nile. This number was called the Dance of the Sugarplum Pharaohs.
“Let us in!” cried the oldest penguin and the middle penguin.
“Did you come to see the show?” asked the youngest penguin. “It’s not finished yet, but I can show you what I have so far.”
“There’s a hungry walrus outside,” cried the other penguins. “Whatever you do, don’t answer the door!”
Just then there was a knock. “Who is it?” called the youngest penguin, looking through the French doors.
“It’s me, old Doc Walrus,” said the walrus. “I’ve come to give you an examination.”
“I’m fine,” said the youngest penguin. “Go away. I’m busy flossing my teeth.”
“You look as if you have a fever. Your cheeks are cherry red.”
“It’s a little blush. Arctic Evenings. Use a flesh-colored foundation and blend well. You should try some.”
“Let me in and I will.”
“But why are you carrying a meat cleaver and a hibachi?”
“I’m delivering them to my granny, who is sick in bed. She’s fading fast. Little penguin, little penguin, let me come in.”
“Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin.”
“You haven’t got any hair on your chinny chin chin,” said the walrus.
“Let me check the prop department and I’ll get back to you,” said the penguin. But by now the walrus had had enough. He was very hungry indeed. He found the blowtorch that the littlest penguin carelessly had left lying around outside. Then Doc Walrus aimed it at the dance studio made of carved ice.
“I’ll have penguin patties before the night is out!” he cried, and turned on the blowtorch.
Meanwhile, old Mama Penguin’s bad feeling about this whole business had only go
tten stronger. She had turned around. She arrived at the front door of the dance studio just in time to see the walrus start to attack the building with fire.
“Oh no, you don’t,” she yelled, and launched herself through the air.
The walrus never knew what hit him. He was out cold, with little X’s in his eyes and birdies tweeting over his head, just as in the cartoons.
“My babies!” cried old Mama Penguin, calling them to her side.
“Mama!” they said, clapping their flippers. They came sliding over the ice to her. “How did you ever knock out that old walrus?”
“My blood isn’t as sluggish as all that,” she said. “Besides, as the iceberg began to melt, I had to paddle it all the way home against the current. I built up my upper body muscles. A little exercise does wonders, my dears. But enough about me. Tell me this, my children. Has anyone left the oven on and burned up any houses lately?”
The oldest penguin and the middle penguin hung their heads in shame. The youngest penguin said, “Look, Ma, I can do a split now,” and showed her how.
“My baby,” said Mama Penguin fondly. “I guess I’ll have to move back in and do the cooking. Nobody touches the oven or I’ll spank you on your bottoms. Understood?”
“Yes, Mama,” they said.
They tied up the walrus with dental floss. When the seal with the bobsled came along, they piled the walrus on top and told the seal to take him away to the county jail. Then old Mama Penguin made some fish soup for dinner, and the oldest penguin and middle penguin told her how beautiful their houses had been.
The youngest penguin worked on a new dance, called the Ice of Spring. It was intended to be danced, daringly, in the nude, but since penguins don’t usually wear clothes, nobody especially noticed the difference.
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Leaping Beauty: And Other Animal Fairy Tales Page 6
