FATHER CROCODILE’S CHRISTMAS HIGH

RUSSELL HOBAN

 

ß BACK

 

‘What’s Arthur doing in the shed?’ said Father Croco­dile to Mother Crocodile.

‘I think he’s working on our Christmas present,’ said Mother.

‘O God,’ said Father.

‘I know what you mean,’ said Mother. ‘My ribs still ache from when we hit that tree on those motorized tandem skis he made for us last year.’

‘Ribs!’ said Father. ‘If it were only my ribs! Sometimes I wish we’d never given him that toolbox.’

‘At least he doesn’t smoke,’ said Mother. ‘That’s something.’

On Christmas morning the Crocodiles opened their presents. Arthur’s sister Emma gave Mother and Father the sweaters she had knitted for them and they gave her a camera. ‘I can’t wait to take pictures of what comes next,’ said Emma. Mother and Father gave Arthur bin­oculars and a bird book. ‘Now I can watch you through the binoculars and look you up in the bird book,’ said Arthur. He opened the door of the shed.

‘It’s a beach umbrella with wheels and a fan,’ said Mother.

‘We should be so lucky,’ said Father. ‘It’s an aeroplane.’

‘It really flies,’ said Arthur. He got into the seat, pulled the starter cord, took off, flew once round the house, and landed. He showed Father how to steer and how to make the aeroplane go up and down. ‘It’s all yours,’ he said.

‘Better not,’ said Mother to Father. ‘Remember the motorized skis.’     

‘It looks like fun,’ said Father as he pulled the starter cord and took off.

‘Stay over the river!’ shouted Mother. ‘It’s a soft land­ing and you can always swim home.’

‘This is wonderful!’ shouted Father from high up in the air. ‘How do I get down again?’

‘Lean forward,’ shouted Arthur.

When Father leaned forward he saw how far down the ground was. He leaned back quickly, the aeroplane climbed sharply and Father stepped out of it into the top of a tall pine tree. He hugged the tree trunk as hard as he could while the aeroplane flew away.

‘Come down !’ shouted Mother and Emma and Arthur.

‘I think I’ll just stop here and be quiet for a while,’ said Father.

Father stopped in the tree well into the evening. As the moon came up Jimson Crow came along, yawing a little as he flew. ‘Hassy Cripmas!’ he said to Father.

‘Happy Christmas,’ said Father.

‘What are you going in this wart of the porld?’ said Jimson.

‘Just getting away from everything for a bit,’ said Father. ‘You know how it is.’

‘Have a drink,’ said Jimson, pulling out a hip flask.

‘Thanks,’ said Father. ‘I don’t mind if I do.’

‘Harpy Crumpus!’ said Jimson.

‘Harpy Crumpus!’ said Father.

 

ß TOP