George's Marvellous Medicine

by Roald Dahl

  'What?' cried Mr Kranky. 'Tell me, quick! Because if we've forgotten even one tiny thing, then it won't work! At least not in the same way.'

  'A quart of brown gloss paint,' George said. 'That's what I've forgotten.'

  Mr Killy Kranky shot out of the house and into his car like a rocket. He sped down to the village and bought the paint and rushed back again. He opened the can in the kitchen and handed it to George. George poured the paint into the saucepan.

  'Ah-ha, that's better,' George said. 'That's more like the right colour.'

  'It's boiling!' cried Mr Kranky. 'It's boiling and bubbling, George! Is it ready yet?'

  'It's ready,' George said. 'At least I hope it is.'

  'Right!' shouted Mr Kranky, hopping about. 'Let's test it! Let's give some to a chicken!'

  'My heavens alive, why don't you calm down a bit?' Mrs Kranky said, coming into the kitchen.

  'Calm down ?' cried Mr Kranky. 'You expect me to calm down and here we are mixing up the greatest medicine ever discovered in the history of the world! Come along, George! Dip a cupful out of the saucepan and get a spoon and we'll give some to a chicken just to make absolutely certain we've got the correct mixture.'

  Outside in the yard, there were several chickens that hadn't had any of George's Marvellous Medicine Number One. They were pecking about in the dirt in that silly way chickens do.

  George crouched down, holding out a spoonful of Marvellous Medicine Number Two. 'Come on, chicken,' he said. 'Good chicken. Chick-chick-chick.'

  A white chicken with black specks on its feathers looked up at George. It walked over to the spoon and went peck .

  The effect that Medicine Number Two had on this chicken was not quite the same as the effect produced by Medicine Number One, but it was very interesting. 'Whooosh !' shrieked the chicken and it shot six feet up in the air and came down again. Then sparks came flying out of its beak, bright yellow sparks of fire, as though someone was sharpening a knife on a grindstone inside its tummy. Then its legs began to grow longer. Its body stayed the same size but the two thin yellow legs got longer and longer and longer . . . and longer still . . .

  'What's happening to it?' cried Mr Killy Kranky.

  'Something's wrong,' George said.

  The legs went on growing and the more they grew, the higher up into the air went the chicken's body. When the legs were about fifteen feet long, they stopped growing. The chicken looked perfectly absurd with its long long legs and its ordinary little body perched high up on top. It was like a chicken on stilts.

  'Oh my sainted aunts!' cried Mr Killy Kranky. 'We've got it wrong! This chicken's no good to anybody! It's all legs! No one wants chickens' legs!'

  'I must have left something out,' George said.

  'I know you left something out!' cried Mr Kranky. 'Think, boy, think! What was it you left out?'

  'I've got it!' said George.

  'What was it, quick?'

  'Flea powder for dogs,' George said.

  'You mean you put flea powder in the first one?'

  'Yes, dad, I did. A whole carton of it.'

  'Then that's the answer!'

  'Wait a minute,' said George. 'Did we have brown shoe polish on our list?'

  'We did not,' said Mr Kranky.

  'I used that, too,' said George.

  'Well, no wonder it went wrong,' said Mr Kranky. He was already running to his car, and soon he was heading down the village to buy more flea powder and more shoe polish.

  Marvellous Medicine Number Three

  'Here it is!' cried Mr Killy Kranky, rushing into the kitchen. 'One carton of flea powder for dogs and one tin of brown shoe-polish!'

  George poured the flea powder into the giant saucepan. Then he scooped the shoe-polish out of its tin and added that as well.

  'Stir it up, George!' shouted Mr Kranky. 'Give it another boil! We've got it this time! I'll bet we've got it!'

  After Marvellous Medicine Number Three had been boiled and stirred, George took a cupful of it out into the yard to try it on another chicken. Mr Kranky ran after him, flapping his arms and hopping with excitement. 'Come and watch this one!' he called out to Mrs Kranky. 'Come and watch us turning an ordinary chicken into a lovely great big one that lays eggs as large as footballs!'

  'I hope you do better than last time,' said Mrs Kranky, following them out.

  'Come on, chicken,' said George, holding out a spoonful of Medicine Number Three. 'Good chicken. Chick-chick-chick-chick-chick. Have some of this lovely medicine.'

  A magnificent black cockerel with a scarlet comb came stepping over. The cockerel looked at the spoon and it went peck .

  'Cock-a-doodle-do !' squawked the cockerel, shooting up into the air and coming down again.

  'Watch him now!' cried Mr Kranky. 'Watch him grow! Any moment he's going to start getting bigger and bigger!'

  Mr Killy Kranky, Mrs Kranky and little George stood in the yard staring at the black cockerel. The cockerel stood quite still. It looked as though it had a headache.

  'What's happening to its neck?' Mrs Kranky said.

  'It's getting longer,' George said.

  'I'll say it's getting longer,' Mrs Kranky said.

  Mr Kranky, for once, said nothing.

  'Last time it was the legs,' Mrs Kranky said. 'Now it's the neck. Who wants a chicken with a long neck? You can't eat a chicken's neck.'

  It was an extraordinary sight. The cockerel's body hadn't grown at all. But the neck was now about six feet long.

  'All right, George,' Mr Kranky said. 'What else have you forgotten?'

  'I don't know,' George said.

  'Oh yes you do,' Mr Kranky said. 'Come along, boy, think . There's probably just one vital thing missing and you've got to remember it.'

  'I put in some engine oil from the garage,' George said. 'Did you have that on your list?'

  'Eureka!' cried Mr Kranky. 'That's the answer! How much did you put in?'

  'Half a pint,' George said.

  Mr Kranky ran to the garage and found another half pint of oil. 'And some anti-freeze,' George called after him. 'I sloshed in a bit of anti-freeze.'

  Marvellous Medicine Number Four

  Back in the kitchen once again, George, with Mr Kranky watching him anxiously, tipped half a pint of engine oil and some anti-freeze into the giant saucepan.

  'Boil it up again!' cried Mr Kranky. 'Boil it and stir it!'

  George boiled it and stirred it.

  'You'll never get it right,' said Mrs Kranky. 'Don't forget you don't just have to have the same things but you've got to have exactly the same amounts of those things. And how can you possibly do that?'

  'You keep out of this!' cried Mr Kranky. 'We're doing fine! We've got it this time, you see if we haven't!'

  This was George's Marvellous Medicine Number Four, and when it had boiled for a couple of minutes, George once again carried a cupful of it out into the yard. Mr Kranky ran after him. Mrs Kranky followed more slowly. 'You're going to have some mighty queer chickens around here if you go on like this,' she said.

  'Dish it out, George!' cried Mr Kranky. 'Give a spoonful to that one over there!' He pointed to a brown hen.

  George knelt down and held out the spoon with the new medicine in it. 'Chick-chick,' he said. 'Try some of this.'

  The brown hen walked over and looked at the spoon. Then it went peck .

  'Owch !' it said. Then a funny whistling noise came out of its beak.

  'Watch it grow!' shouted Mr Kranky.

  'Don't be too sure,' said Mrs Kranky. 'Why is it whistling like that?'

  'Keep quiet, woman!' cried Mr Kranky. 'Give it a chance!'

  They stood there staring at the brown hen.

  'It's getting smaller,' George said. 'Look at it, dad. It's shrinking.'

  And indeed it was. In less than a minute, the hen had shrunk so much it was no bigger than a new-hatched chick. It looked ridiculous.

  Goodbye Grandma

  'There's still something you've left out,' Mr Kranky sai
d. 'I can't think what it could be,' George said.

  'Give it up,' Mrs Kranky said. 'Pack it in. You'll never get it right.'

  Mr Kranky looked very forlorn.

  George looked pretty fed up, too. He was still kneeling on the ground with the spoon in one hand and the cup full of medicine in the other. The ridiculous tiny brown hen was walking slowly away.

  At that point, Grandma came striding into the yard. From her enormous height, she glared down at the three people below her and she shouted, 'What's going on around here? Why hasn't anyone brought me my morning cup of tea? It's bad enough having to sleep in the yard with the rats and mice but I'll be blowed if I'm going to starve as well! No tea! No eggs and bacon! No buttered toast!'

  'I'm sorry, mother,' Mrs Kranky said. 'We've been terribly busy. I'll get you something right away.'

  'Let George get it, the lazy little brute!' Grandma shouted.

  Just then, the old woman spotted the cup in George's hand. She bent down and peered into it. She saw that it was full of brown liquid. It looked very much like tea. 'Ho-ho!' she cried. 'Ha-ha! So that's your little game, is it! You look after yourself all right, don't you! You make quite sure you've got a nice cup of morning tea! But you didn't think to bring one to your poor old Grandma! I always knew you were a selfish pig!'

  'No, Grandma,' George said. 'This isn't . . .'

  'Don't lie to me, boy!' the enormous old hag shouted. 'Pass it up here this minute!'

  'No!' cried Mrs Kranky. 'No, mother, don't! That's not for you!'

  'Now you're against me, too!' shouted Grandma. 'My own daughter trying to stop me having my breakfast! Trying to starve me out!'

  Mr Kranky looked up at the horrid old woman and he smiled sweetly. 'Of course it's for you, Grandma,' he said. 'You take it and drink it while it's nice and hot.'

  'Don't think I won't,' Grandma said, bending down from her great height and reaching out a huge horny hand for the cup. 'Hand it over, George.'

  'No, no, Grandma!' George cried out, pulling the cup away. 'You mustn't! You're not to have it!'

  'Give it to me, boy!' yelled Grandma.

  'Don't!' cried Mrs Kranky. 'That's George's Marvellous . . .'

  'Everything's George's round here!' shouted Grandma. 'George's this, George's that! I'm fed up with it!' She snatched the cup out of little George's hand and carried it high up out of reach.

  'Drink it up, Grandma,' Mr Kranky said, grinning hugely. 'Lovely tea.'

  'No!' the other two cried. 'No, no, no!'

  But it was too late. The ancient beanpole had already put the cup to her lips, and in one gulp she swallowed everything that was in it.

  'Mother!' wailed Mrs Kranky. 'You've just drunk fifty doses of George's Marvellous Medicine Number Four and look what one tiny spoonful did to that little old brown hen!'

  But Grandma didn't even hear her. Great clouds of steam were already pouring out of her mouth and she was beginning to whistle.

  'This is going to be interesting,' Mr Kranky said, still grinning.

  'Now you've done it!' cried Mrs Kranky, glaring at her husband. 'You've cooked the old girl's goose!'

  'I didn't do anything,' Mr Kranky said.

  'Oh, yes you did! You told her to drink it!'

  A tremendous hissing sound was coming from above their heads. Steam was shooting out of Grandma's mouth and nose and ears and whistling as it came.

  'She'll feel better after she's let off a bit of steam,' Mr Kranky said.

  'She's going to blow up!' Mrs Kranky wailed. 'Her boiler's going to burst!'

  'Stand clear,' Mr Kranky said.

  George was quite alarmed. He stood up and ran back a few paces. The jets of white steam kept squirting out of the skinny old hag's head, and the whistling was so high and shrill it hurt the ears.

  'Call the fire-brigade!' cried Mrs Kranky. 'Call the police! Man the hosepipes!'

  'Too late,' said Mr Kranky, looking pleased.

  'Grandma!' shrieked Mrs Kranky. 'Mother! Run to the drinking-trough and put your head under the water!'

  But even as she spoke, the whistling suddenly stopped and the steam disappeared. That was when Grandma began to get smaller. She had started off with her head as high as the roof of the house, but now she was coming down fast.

  'Watch this, George!' Mr Kranky shouted, hopping around the yard and flapping his arms. 'Watch what happens when someone's had fifty spoonfuls instead of one!'

  Very soon, Grandma was back to normal height.

  'Stop!' cried Mrs Kranky. 'That's just right.'

  But she didn't stop. Smaller and smaller she got . . . down and down she went. In another half minute she was no bigger than a bottle of lemonade.

  'How d'you feel, mother?' asked Mrs Kranky anxiously.

  Grandma's tiny face still bore the same foul and furious expression it had always had. Her eyes, no bigger now than little keyholes, were blazing with anger. 'How do I feel ?' she yelled. 'How d'you think I feel? How would you feel if you'd been a glorious giant a minute ago and suddenly you're a miserable midget?'

  'She's still going!' shouted Mr Kranky gleefully. 'She's still getting smaller!'

  And by golly, she was.

  When she was no bigger than a cigarette, Mrs Kranky made a grab for her. She held her in her hands and she cried, 'How do I stop her getting smaller still?'

  'You can't,' said Mr Kranky. 'She's had fifty times the right amount.'

  'I must stop her!' Mrs Kranky wailed. 'I can hardly see her as it is!'

  'Catch hold of each end and pull,' Mr Kranky said.

  By then, Grandma was the size of a match-stick and still shrinking fast.

  A moment later, she was no bigger than a pin . . .

  Then a pumpkin seed . . .

  Then . . .

  Then . . .

  'Where is she?' cried Mrs Kranky. 'I've lost her!'

  'Hooray,' said Mr Kranky.

  'She's gone! She's disappeared completely!' cried Mrs Kranky.

  'That's what happens to you if you're grumpy and bad-tempered,' said Mr Kranky. 'Great medicine of yours, George.'

  George didn't know what to think.

  For a few minutes, Mrs Kranky kept wandering round with a puzzled look on her face, saying, 'Mother, where are you? Where've you gone? Where've you got to? How can I find you?' But she calmed down quite quickly. And by lunchtime, she was saying, 'Ah well, I suppose it's all for the best, really.

  She was a bit of a nuisance around the house, wasn't she?'

  'Yes,' Mr Kranky said. 'She most certainly was.'

  George didn't say a word. He felt quite trembly. He knew something tremendous had taken place that morning. For a few brief moments he had touched with the very tips of his fingers the edge of a magic world.

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