260. A Craving for Pizza

 260.  A Craving for Pizza

“I told you so!”

The last box of ashes seemed to be empty. There was no trace of ashes and it weighed less than a baby bird’s feather. Though I was convinced it was empty, Uncle Gen said we had to strike it too, because there could be surprises.

“A ghost?” I asked my uncle.

“A mortal’s soul weighs 21 grams. That is so, no matter how the mortal scientists try to deny it.”

“They don’t want mortals to know,” added Dad. “But souls can lose weight, can’t they?”

“Yes, but we are not going to ignore this box,” said Uncle Gen. “It would be a sloppy job we’ve done if we don’t smack this one too.”

So I put the box inside the cage and positioned myself outside, next to the lock. Uncle Gen struck the box and …SURPRISE!

“I told you so! I warned you, I did! I did, did,  did!”

“Papa?!” exclaimed Uncle Gentlerain.

“It can’t be!” I cried.  “The hag was already ashes the last time I saw Grandpa! How could she have whacked you, Grandpa?”

“Hush your mouth! Your question offends me! That backwoods dust flinger would never dare touch me! I’ve shown up here because I wanted to. What she clouted was this flea! I’ve trapped it too, just like she did!”

Grandpa showed us his thumb and his index finger as if there was something between them. That something was supposed to be a flea, and it probably was.

“If she’s alive, Grandpa, please give her to me,” said my sister Heather. “I’m taking charge of all the animals the hag attacked. They’re to live in my private forest.”

“No way! Don’t be a hick yourself, girl. It isn’t convenient to harbour parasites. Besides, this one is from a flea circus. Come on, flea, time for you to return to showbusiness.”  

Grandpa released the flea that we neither saw appear nor disappear.

“And now, let me be, because I’m here to claim my cat. I warned you, ungrateful cat! I told you Jocosa had ordered a bunch of catty kids who would be my greatgrandkids or my own kids if my grandson rejected them. I told you you would be their guardian cat nanny and instead of appreciating this honour you felt jealous and threatened to leave our house. You see what happened to you? I told you something bad would!”

Little Mauel looked away as cats tend to do when they want to look indifferent. He pretended to sniff the now empty boxes of the pizzas Dad had ordered as if he were interested in them.

“Is there any left?” asked Grandpa.

“Well, no. Alpin ate twenty family-sized pies and Oberon and I shared one,” said Puck.

“Oh. My lares never bake pizzas. You would think they weren’t Roman. Well, I am feeling a sudden craving for pizza. It´s ages since I’ve had some. Have you had pizza, Arley?”

“No, I was busy working.”

Suddenly Grandpa shifted into the fifteen-year-old version of himself. And Little Mauel didn’t hesitate to leap onto his head.

“Well, since I’ve walked out of my house, I might as well drop by a pizza parlour. Do you know how to get to one, Arley?”

“I do!” said Alpin.

“But you’ve already eaten, haven’t you?” asked Grandpa.

“Never enough,” said Alpin.

“Porca miseria!” growled Grandpa. “For once I leave my house and I have to run into this kid. Go home, boy. We´ll find our way to the ristorante by ourselves.”

“Well, Arley can’t go with you, mean old AEternus. He has promised to take me to visit Prester John.”

“Call me sir, you. Prester John? And you know where to find him? I do. He is the son of my friend Balthazar, the biblical magus. Well, if you refer to the African Prester John, that is. There is also a Chinese one, also a friend of ours.”

“We’re looking for the one who fed forty sailors. Arley says according to the description those ignorant louts gave of him, he’s likely to be an African.”

“Well, then I’ll tell you how to get to Johnny Balthazar’s. But I’ll do that while we’re having pizza. Recommend an Italian restaurant, will you, Oberon? This kid eats all sorts of garbage. Who knows where he would take me? I want gourmet pizza. With anchovies. That’s Roman pizza, isn’t it? Listen kids, I want to go incognito. So don’t mind my looking like three years older than you. When I look younger than fifteen everyone asks me where my parents are and I don’t want to go into that.”

“Can Gentlerain come with us?” asked Alpin, in a rare burst of consideration. Or was it to provoke Grandpa? “He hasn’t eaten either.”

“And who is that? I don’t know him. Ah, the fellow who does things on his own. Well, he can go for pizza on his own,” said Grandpa. And suddenly, he noticed Richie had appeared and was speaking sotto voce to Bunglemore and Elucubrius.

 “The one we were missing. But what do you want? To be kidnapped again? Do you like being bound to trees?”

“That was on another occasion. A totally different story. These fellows had nothing to do with that. These ones locked me up in their boat. It wasn’t for long. And they left me a portable TV so I wouldn’t be bored. But no. I don’t like being bound to anything. But I also don’t like to see how you treat poor, candid souls, sending them to hell for being stupid. Can’t you see they don’t know what they are doing? They can’t help it! You exaggerate, Papa. You blow things out of proportion. Let them stay at the hag’s mill and try to earn a living there. They’re out of your island. What more do you want?”

“You are going to give that mill to the Badseeds,” said Grandpa, “so he will stop wandering about your plantation like a doomy wraith and your wife can stop asking herself what he is doing there. He will be the miller!”

“I can do better than that for him. I can give him one of our good outer farms.”

“The Jenny Thrush, perhaps? Yes, I know what has become of that. I sent Barnaby to buy it back from those two ruffians.”

“Your butler? Well, I was going to buy it back myself. I went for my butler, but yours got there first.”

“Look, the Badseeds gets the mill. And the scoundrels…you say they know about ships. There is nothing Prester John likes better than to receive letters. I will send my dear grandson and this other creature to him as messengers with a letter asking him to hand those two over to the captain of the next galley that reaches his shores. Prisoners condemned to work at the oar. Either that, or back to hell they go.”

“Galley rowers or hell?” Uncle Richi asked his former kidnappers. “I think you should choose hell. You see, I don’t know the first thing about galleys and if I board one, things might not turn out right. I’m rather musical and they could set me to banging the drum. But I can pluck you out of hell any time I please. They are so used to seeing me go there to fetch people that they no longer care if I come in alone and leave accompanied.”

“Galleys!” yelled Grandpa. “And so they won’t elude their fate, I will first take them with me to the pizza parlour.  It will be their last decent meal. Don’t take your eyes off them, Arley, will you?”

"Not to worry, Lord AEternus. I myself will watch these malefactors with my attentive and vigilant eyes. By the way, did you know that there was one time I played the drum in a galley? On a ship called The Flying Kaphre, if I remember rightly."

"Don't this one tempt me!" muttered Grandpa.

"Forget everything and enjoy your pizza, Grandpa," I said. "I'll deal with these three." 

I wasn't sucking up to him. I just felt that for once the man went to have pizza he had a right to enjoy it. I have pizza every Friday.