The dear reader might recall that, due to the curious handiwork of a lonely old carpenter, a freak intervention from the Evil Fairy and the activities of a slave trading grooming gang, the monstrosity that was a walking, talking wooden boy with a tail was at large in the Realm.
He went by the name of Pinocchio and, along with his talkative conscience, he had encountered Prince Charming and his loyal steed Percy.
“I am not sure what to do about this conundrum,” sighed the Prince.
“I just wanna be a real boy!” complained Pinocchio.
“I would start by amputating the tail,” observed Percy.
“No!” shrieked Pinocchio.
“And chopping off that obscenity pointing out from your midriff.”
“No!” screamed Pinocchio.
“It might be the best way,” added the conscience.
“Whose side are you on?” cried Pinocchio. “It would be extremely painful for us!”
“Well for you,” remarked the conscience. “I am merely a cognitive process.”
“I don’t think I can support or advocate chopping bits off a young boy,” the Prince shook his head. “Even a wooden one.”
“Thank heavens!” cried Pinocchio.
“That’s a shame,” said the conscience.
“I think we need to find the culprits,” said Percy. “Either the Evil Fairy or this mob who have been turning boys into donkeys.”
“Where is this place you mentioned?” the Prince asked Pinocchio. “This Pleasure Island?”
“It is south of here,” explained the conscience. “Near the sea.”
“No, really?” remarked Percy.
“Right!” declared the Prince. “Percy, let’s go!”
And with that the pair of them hurriedly departed.
“How does this help me?” said Pinocchio.
“It doesn’t,” replied the conscience. “But look at the bigger picture.”
“The bigger picture?”
Cue song.
In the following days Pinocchio wandered aimlessly around the Realm.
“Where are we going?” inquired his conscience.
“I don’t know, I want to be a real boy!”
“I know that! You never stop going on about it!” snapped his conscience. “But where’s your plan? How are you going to achieve this unrealistic and ridiculous ambition?”
“You heard the Blue Fairy!” said Pinocchio. “I must be brave, truthful and unselfish!”
“How exactly are you going to be unselfish? When you are embarking on this endeavour for purely selfish reasons?”
This perfectly salient point was lost on the wooden boy.
A few days went by and the pair encountered absolutely nobody as Pinocchio had got horribly lost in a forest.
“Forget about the ‘brave, truthful and unselfish’ pledges,” remarked the conscience. “How about learning orienteering first?”
They eventually departed the forest where they reached a country lane. After a few miles they crossed paths with a fox and a cat, both upstanding on their hind legs and wearing clothes and top hats.
“How strange!” said Pinocchio.
“They look dodgy to me,” replied his conscience.
“Why are you always so suspicious?”
“I’m not! But I am here to keep you on the straight and narrow,” the conscience explained earnestly. “I am concerned that, without me and my sage like guidance, you’d get into all sorts of strife.”
“Cor blimey!” said the cat. “A wooden boy!”
“I know!” agreed the fox. “What a thing! Walking around the Kingdom like this!”
“Says a fully dressed fox and cat,” the conscience murmured.
The two creatures suddenly huddled together where rather a lot of talking seemed to go on out of the earshot of Pinocchio and, more importantly, his conscience. Finally, after about a minute, the fox and the cat turned to Pinocchio both with crafty smiles.
“So then wooden boy!” began the fox who limped slightly. “What brings you here?”
“A wooden boy?” the cat held his paws to his face. “I can’t see such a wonderful creature on account of being blind!”
“Hang on!” pointed out the conscience. “A minute ago you seemed to have perfect sight of him!”
“There must be some misunderstanding,” said the fox who limped towards Pinocchio.
“What is wrong?” the wooden boy asked.
“I am lame,” shrugged the fox. “Not all of us have wooden limbs you see. I am but skin and flesh.”
“Who are these clowns?” asked the conscience.
“Is there someone else with you?” asked the cat.
“No,” said Pinocchio.
“Then where’s that other voice coming from?”
“That’s my conscience,” explained Pinocchio. “He advises and guides me.”
“What?” the fox guffawed. “Don’t listen to your conscience!”
“Yeah!” added the cat. “What does he know?”
“I know more than old block head here!” insisted the conscience angrily.
“This here conscience of yours,” began the fox. “Needs taking down a peg or two I would say!”
“You should come on the road with us!” the cat told Pinocchio.
“To do what?” inquired Pinocchio.
“If this is the cue for another musical number,” began the conscience. “Then stop it!”
“What would we do?” asked Pinocchio of his new companions.
“Yes, what exactly?” snapped the conscience.
“Oh, to find our fortune,” replied the fox craftily.
“What skills do you have?” asked the conscience suspiciously.
“We know the road,” shrugged the fox. “We are streetwise and smart. That’s how we make our way in the world.”
“You should tag along,” the cat urged Pinocchio once more. “You could be a hit!”
“Yes,” agreed the fox. “You’re not so different from us. A wooden boy with a donkey’s tail! We all have our disabilities!”
“You do, do you?” the conscience sneered. “Pinocchio is a genuine case! That tail is the result of a malicious spell or potion. I’m not so convinced you two are either blind or lame?”
“We are you know!” the fox exaggerated his limp.
“Yeah!” said the cat. “We should stick together! The Realm is a dangerous place for the likes of us!”
To the chagrin of the conscience, Pinocchio willingly went along with the two creatures.
“Tell us,” said the fox. “Have you got any money on you?”
“A few gold coins,” nodded Pinocchio.
Unbeknownst to his former captor Bastardo, Pinocchio had money thrown at him during a performance which he had pocketed for himself.
“Good, good,” remarked the cat. “You see…well never mind…”
“What? What?” asked Pinocchio.
“Oh, don’t tell him,” the fox nudged the cat.
“What? What?”
“Oh well,” sighed the cat. “I suppose it was going to come out eventually.”
“Don’t!” insisted the fox.
“What?” cried Pinocchio.
“Tch,” the cat sighed. “You seem like a good-hearted creature…we don’t currently have any money. We have had to beg for our supper and sleep in the wild.”
“I’ll help you!” said Pinocchio excitedly.
“Be careful Pinocchio!” warned his conscience.
“But don’t you see!” he replied. “If I help them, it would be an unselfish act!”
“And stupid!”
“It could help me become a real boy!”
“It gets very cold at night,” whined the fox.
“I will help you!” declared Pinocchio. “How much do you need?”
“How much have you got?”
“Ten gold pieces!” said Pinocchio as he reached into his pocket.
“We need money for an inn and dinner for a few days on the road,” began the cat. “Which would cost…”
“About ten gold pieces,” nodded the fox.
“What a coincidence!” smiled Pinocchio.
“Yeah, how convenient!” added the conscience.
Pinocchio handed over the gold coins to the fox who wore a crafty grin.
“We’ll be moving along then,” he nodded before tapping the cat on his shoulder.
“But…” Pinocchio stammered.
“What’s wrong?” the fox inquired.
“I thought I was coming with you?”
Both the fox and the cat paused for a moment.
“Showing their true colours now Pinocchio!” said the conscience.
“No, no,” the fox shook his head. “You are welcome to come along with us! I am sure you can be useful in some way!”
“We don’t have any bags to carry?” said the cat with an uncertain and unconvinced expression.
The three of them travelled through the forest to stay in an Inn for the night on the other side.
“So what exactly is that thing sticking out of your trousers?” asked the fox.
“I told you! It’s a tail!”
“No, that wooden thing at the front, near your groin.”
“Oh that,” Pinocchio was sheepish.
“Yes that?”
“Pinocchio got that because he lied!” explained the conscience.
“How strange,” replied the fox.
That night they, using some of the gold coins, paid for a night in the Inn and the fox and cat enjoyed a hearty dinner of roast partridge and trimmings. along with a flask of wine.
“It’s a shame you are made of wood,” the cat told Pinocchio. “You’re missing out on a splendid meal!”
They shared a room for the night.
Early the next morning Pinocchio stirred but was surprised to find himself alone in the room.
“I see our companions have fled!” said the conscience.
“But they were meant to be my friends!”
“I told you Pinocchio! They were untrustworthy from the very outset.”
“Maybe they will come back?” Pinocchio got out of bed before crying out. “Oh no!”
“What Pinocchio? The money? That would have left with them…”
“No, don’t you see? That thing sticking out from my trousers…it’s gone!”
A quick examination of his mid-riff confirmed to Pinocchio that the wooden appendage had been sawn off.
“Maybe losing that abomination is a good thing,” mused the conscience. “The tail is bad enough!”
Pinocchio went downstairs to find the Innkeeper preparing a roaring fire using a very familiar piece of wood.
“Where did you get that from?” Pinocchio demanded of the Innkeeper.
“That fox and cat you had in your room sold it to me! Cheap firewood if you ask me!”
“They are wrong uns!” said the conscience.
“What goes on in my guest rooms is your business,” said the Innkeeper. “I don’t judge.”
“To be fair Pinocchio,” said the conscience. “They might have done you a favour. At least that is one less thing for people to stare at in a state of shock!”
“You don’t have any more of this firewood knocking about do you?” the Innkeeper asked as he looked Pinocchio up and down curiously. “Cheap firewood is so helpful these days what with the cost of living crisis in the Realm.”
“Certainly not!” said Pinocchio.
Suddenly there was a creaking sound and another foot long piece of wood had appeared from the front of his tunic.
“What’s that then?” asked the Innkeeper pointing at his midriff.
“How strange,” remarked the conscience. “I thought that only happened when you knowingly told a lie.”
“Come on then,” continued the Innkeeper. “How much for the firewood?”
“No!” cried Pinocchio.
“Come on, I’ll give you a fair bargain,” the Innkeeper picked up his axe.
“But!” Pinocchio screeched out as the axe was swung through the air.
“Quite a money making scheme that,” said the conscience as Pinocchio departed the Inn. “You lie, that thing grows, you sell it for firewood. We should get into the timber trade.”
“But then I’ll never be a real boy!” Pinocchio protested.
“You haven’t thought this through! Make a fortune in timber for a few months and then, once you have amassed great wealth, take the steps to be ‘brave, truthful and unselfish’ so you turn into a real boy.”
“But won’t that be dishonest?” asked Pinocchio. “The Blue Fairy might never turn me back in that case?”
“We just won’t tell her, meanwhile there’s that ghastly tail to deal with too!” said the conscience thoughtfully. “I think we should head back to that dreadful Pleasure Island place and get your tail sorted out.”
“I thought Prince Charming and his horse were doing that?” pointed out Pinocchio.
“Perhaps,” said the conscience. “But you have a bit of money on you now. You could pay one of those charlatans on Pleasure Island to help you find a cure?”
“I suppose.”
Meanwhile the Prince and Percy were in range of Pleasure Island as they travelled across to it on a steamer boat.
“What a place!” remarked the Prince. “One huge funfair!”
“With lots of horrible screaming little boys,” added Percy.
“Like lambs to the slaughter.”
“Or donkeys sire.”
“Good point Percy.”
The steamer boat reached Pleasure Island where they departed it and walked onto the latter using a wooden pier on which lay several amusements arcades and bars.
“Little boys drinking beer?” the Prince was astonished. “What type of place is this?”
“It’s trouble, that’s what it is!”
Suddenly a carriage passed by them, in the back of which were several caged donkeys. Strangely, the donkeys were all wearing human apparel like short trousers, jackets and peaked caps.
“Percy have you seen that?”
“Yes sire!” nodded his loyal steed. “They obviously weren’t as fortunate as the wooden boy.”
They passed by several more amusement arcades and a roller coaster before they found an obnoxious man with a whip, driving some anxious donkeys onto the back of another carriage. These creatures also had on human clothing.
“Get on board!” roared the man. “You’ve had your fun and now it’s time to pay for it!”
The donkeys could speak and were all either distressed or confused.
“This is abhorrent!” cried the Prince.
“So they are tricking them, somehow turning them into donkeys and enslaving them,” concluded Percy. “Lovely.”
“We must stop them Percy!” insisted the Prince. “Even by the standards of our Realm, this is abominable.”
“What shall we do sire?” asked Percy. “It’s been a while since we brutally slaughtered anyone.”
“I don’t believe in violence,” replied the Prince. “I am a pacifist Percy!”
“Actually sire, that is a good point, I can’t remember you putting anyone to the sword all these years we’ve been together.”
“Yes Percy! Violence never solved anything! I am a pacifist!”
“Yes sire, but I’m not.”
“Good point Percy.”
Given this is a family story and one does not wish in the slightest to upset our valued readership, this correspondent won’t go into the details of what transpired next. It would be most unseemly to describe the horrors that unfolded but, in summary, within two minutes, several of the slave traders were slain and dead on the ground in a bloody mess.
However, this had not solved the problem as there were still many donkeys who needed to be turned back into little boys.
“That was quick,” the Prince said to Percy. “And incredibly violent.”
“I know sire,” said Percy. “I think I will need new horse shoes.”
“But Percy,” the Prince scratched his chin. “We have a slight problem here.”
“Yes sire?”
“You’ve just killed all the adult inhabitants running this island.”
“Yes sire.”
“And, therefore, we have nobody here to help us explain how these boys have been turned into donkeys.”
“Yes sire.”
“And nobody to help us reverse the process.”
“I imagine it’s not a spell sire,” said Percy. “But more likely a potion of some sort. Probably it was laced into the beer they were drinking.”
“Fine Percy, but you have just killed all the men capable of finding an antidote.”
It was at this point that Pinocchio appeared on the scene.
“What happened?” he gasped as he regarded the corpses littering the floor.
“Ahem,” the Prince turned to him sheepishly. “Bit of an accident. On the merry-go-round. Obviously they weren’t following Health and Safety rules. What brings you here?”
“Well,” spoke up his conscience. “We came here to pay off one of these men to find a way of curing or reversing the donkey problem.”
There was an awkward silence as they all looked at the distressed donkeys running about the place and the pile of bodies.
“You know what I think,” said the Prince after about two minutes of agonising silence. “I think we should leave this place. We’ve done all we can here.”
“What about my tail?” asked Pinocchio indignantly.
“It looks great!” enthused the Prince.
“It bloody doesn’t!” replied the conscience.
“Now come on,” began Percy. “Let’s not get fussy and pedantic. Technically, given that he was once a mute and lifeless wooden puppet, he should be thankful he can walk and talk. He shouldn’t be moaning about a tail and not being a real boy.”
“But I shouldn’t have a tail!” whined Pinocchio.
“We all have physical blemishes we wish we didn’t,” said the Prince. “I have a wart on my left toe that I don’t want.”
“And I have a wonky distal limb,” added Percy.
“And I have syphilis,” announced Pinocchio’s conscience.
There was another awkward silence.
“Anyway, Pinocchio old chap!” said the Prince. “I think it is high time we move on from here. There are plenty of other chivalrous deeds to be done around the Realm!”
And with that, the Prince hurriedly rode Percy away from the funfair leaving Pinocchio and his conscience to reflect on dozens of traumatised donkeys and a heap of dead men.
Suddenly the donkeys started grouping together and circling Pinocchio. They appeared hostile as they were stamping their hooves and braying at him.
“Err…” began the conscience. “Pinocchio, I think we might want to be getting out of here.”
“But I am one of them!” protested Pinocchio. “I have a donkey tail!”
“I don’t think they see it like that,” explained the conscience. “We need to go and quickly!”
To be continued…
Athon 