IntroductionA story translated for you by “
http://www.poltran.com/” from the pens of the creators of “The Giant Rabbits and Mr Miggins”.
DisclaimerThis story is not true and may not make any sense. We accept no responsibility for anything. PP is not an abreviation for Peter Pavlova.
Chapter 1Although it was mid August, the village of Bleeksi, Polska (Poland) was covered in a blanket of deep snow and a bitter wind blew across the barren eastern European ramshackle of a village.
In a far corner a small boy of about 7 years of age, with large ears and a mop of black hair emerged from a hut, fighting his way across the village square to get to the store in order to buy provisions for his sick grandmother. He was dressed in a long black coat with a Rupert The Bear scarf wrapped 1000 times around his neck. A croaky decrepit voice shouted after him…
“ Oh my little PP! Do not be forgetting my incontinence pants now!”
PP sighed: “No Babka”
….”And my steradent tablets….”
PP sighed more heavily “No Babka”
As PP continued his struggle against the wind and snow, suddenly a black cap fell out of the sky onto the floor in front of him. He looked around him to see if somebody had dropped it but nobody was to be seen. His curiosity getting the better of him he picked it up and looked it over. There on the inside was a note pinned to it which read:
“The lucky wearer of this cap
is blessed with powers each time they clap
and tap my top three times and say
“tappity tap, tappity tap, tappity tap
oh Magic Cap, oh Magic Cap, oh Magic Cap
make my wish come true clap clap!” .
Young PP’s heart raced. Looking around once more to make sure he wasn’t being observed he placed the cap on his head. If anyone had seen him at that moment they would have laughed hard and heartily. The cap was far too big for his child’s head, and his ears protruded like the handles of the European Cup. Fortunately, there was nobody looking at that precise moment as the entire population seemed to have gathered around the Village Post Office at the far end of the square.
Satisfied that he was alone and unobserved, he took a deep breath and raised a hand to his head. He tapped once and nervously began to repeat the words he just read:
“tappity tap, tappity tap------“
“PP! And don’t forget my Wodka!” interrupted his Grandmother’s bellowing voice
“No Babka!” He shouted back, slighlty irritated,
He quickly moved to the shelter of another hut which was out of site of his ‘babka’. Looking around nervously again he tapped the hat once more and began to repeat the words again:
“tappity tap, tappity tap, tappity tap
oh Magic Cap, oh Magic Cap, oh Magic Cap
make my wish come true clap clap!”
At once a brown paper bag appeared in his arms. He quickly peered inside and to his utter amazement he found incontinence pants, steradent tablets, vodka and a signed picture of Pope John-Paul 2nd. He quickly removed the cap and hid it away in his coat pocket. It had really worked, but he was keen to test it again.
At that moment PP noticed there was a lot of laughter coming from the entrance of the Village Post Office. He looked over and saw that a large crowd had gathered around the revolving doors where it seemed a beefy Nigerian gentlemen had become trapped. The crowd was laughing as the Nigerian attempted in vain to free himself. PP whipped the hat out and placed it on his head once more
“tappity tap, tappity tap, tappity tap
oh Magic Cap, oh Magic Cap, oh Magic Cap
make my wish come true clap clap!”
At that moment the doors sprung open and the stout Nigerian was propelled out into the snow. The crowd soon dispersed, and after recovering what little dignity he had left, Brigadier Armitage Shanks wiped the snow from him and marched off, tightly clutching a large parcel in his arms. PP could not believe it. A Nigerian in Bleeksi? And the hat had granted his wish again.
PP could not sleep that night. Mainly because his ’babka’ had downed a cocktail of Vodka and Steradent and was singing traditional Polish folk songs at the top of her voice, but also because the two earlier incidents n the Village Square were by far the most exciting to have ever happened in Bleeksi. A Nigerian man in the village? For what? And the hat! What adventures were out there awaiting him?
Chapter 2
That morning PP got out of bed earlier than usual, his ‘babka’ had finally fallen asleep in the early hours of the morning and was now snoring loudly in the next room. Although he was tired, he couldn’t sleep any more and anyway he was too excited. She would be asleep for a while, PP thought to himself, which gave him lots of time to try out his new cap.
He quickly got dressed, grabbed some stale black bread from the kitchen table and slipped on his shoes. Checking the cap was still in his coat pocket he quietly left the house out onto the snow covered streets of Bleeksi. The roads were empty, they would be for some time. The people of Bleeksi only come out during the snow season if they have provisions to buy or people to laugh at. It was an odd village, PP thought to himself, maybe he could use his cap to explore other places. He’d always wanted to see the rest of the world, to see what else was out there. His heart was beating faster and faster and his head was spinning so much that he didn’t notice where he was walking.
“Watch out boy!” a voice shouted, he crashed into someone and was sent sprawling into the snow. PP looked up to see an out-stretched hand offering to help him back up.
“Are you ok?”
“Ye… yes sir.” PP replied brushing the snow off his coat.
“You should really watch where you’re going, you might hurt yourself.”
“So… sorry sir.”
“Say, you look like a local. Could you direct me to the nearest bush?”
PP was puzzled, the man in front of him was bald, had dodgy fake tan, sported toe-less sandals
made by the Crocs company on his feet and was wearing what could only be described as a white table cloth wrapped around his body. Wasn’t he cold? Why a bush? Where on earth did he come from? Things were turning weird in Bleeksi, too many things were happening at once. Was this because of the cap? Maybe it didn’t drop out of the sky. Maybe it did belong to someone. Two many things were whizzing around young PP’s mind, it was making him dizzy. PP became aware the man was still looking at him and weakly pointed down the street.
“That way, sir.”
“Thank you my boy, be careful now. You never know what might happen.”
“I... I will.”
“Some things aren’t always what they appear to be my young friend, you’d be wise to remember that. Farewell, may our paths cross again one day.”
What did that mean PP thought to himself, was it a warning? He was very confused and decided that it would be best not to use the cap for a while. The stange mas comments had dampened his earlier excitement. Maybe it was best to only use it when really needed. Anyway, what would happen if the real owner saw him use it? He was always told never to steal by his ‘babka’, he didn’t want to be a thief but there was something about this black cap which made him want to keep it. Something that made him want to keep it close, safe, secret.
“PP!” a familiar voice brought PP out of his daydream and remembered that his ‘babka’ would probably need help going to the toilet after a night of vodka and steradent. PP dreaded this moment every morning. It wasn’t helping her into the toilet or her doing the deed that bothered PP. It was applying the cream afterwards that always made him cringe. Even washing his hands for half an hour afterwards didn’t help. But she was ill and needed his help and after all he was her precious little PP. He sighed, braced himself and started to walk back towards his home.
“PP, where are you?”
“Coming Babka, coming!” PP shouted and started to run.
“My little PP, what would I do without you!”
Suddenly for no reason at all, into his head popped an image of the parcel the Nigerian man was carrying. He wondered what had been in it and why it had been delivered here. He quickly reassured himself, instructing his thoughts to return to the tasks of everyday life, and managed to convince himself that nothing weird was happening. He was too young to be worrying about these sorts of things. That was the adult’s job.
Watching from the shadows the man stroked the albino ferret happily sprawled across his shoulders under the chin. He smiled to himself. Everything was going as planned…
Chapter 3
It may have been a coincidence, it may have been because the ferret lost his grip. Perhaps the stroke had been more akin to a push. A little too affectionate, like a small child who tries to kiss and bites you on the nose instead.
For whatever reason, the claws that had secured the ferret to his masters jacket were withdrawn, and the ferret swung down like a furry pendulum and dangled by his feet from the mans left shoulder.
Ferrets are not best known for being ideal scarves but this was a fact that had been ignored and hitherto, the experience had been one that the man would have recommended to a close friend. If he had had any. The white fur was an excellent insulation from the cold wind of Bleeksi and the additional warmth from the animals body, combined with the musky smell of it’s secretions, served to clear his nose and prevent him from exhibiting the symptoms of cold or flu.
Not that the man ever suffered from either malady. He had long since had the flu jab and was now immune from all but the most deadly of strains. Unlike the Nigerian, who had had the sniffles since his arrival in the town.
By now, the ferret was beginning to wonder whether the whole idea of being owned by the man had been a mistake. The hours were good, and there was always food delivered in payment for the services it provided, but he felt as if there was something missing in its life. Something intangible. Maybe something with longer ears.
Albino ferrets are rare. There are ferrets in Bleeksi that are completely white, as a natural camaflage, but this ferret was born of Western European stock. Both parents were dark in colour, his mother an attractive chocolate brown and his father a rather more masculine black. His uncle had been born with red hair so had been kept away from the rest of the family, and only invited for the more important events in the ferret calandar. The ferret that was now precariously dangling by one foot was the only one in his family born white and had been rejected almost at once. However, as bad as it was in ferret society to be an albino, amongst humans he found that he was valued. He embarked upon a career that now brought him close to acceptance from his species.
One barrier remained. The ferrets of Bleeksi spoke Polish. When they shouted “Dobry rano (poranny)”, he was unable to respond in the appropriate manner. He hadn’t the slightest clue whether they were throwing insults as all his family would have done, or merely calling out a cheery “Good Morning” as an ice breaker.
Reluctantly, he re-established his grip, climbed back and adopted the earlier position. The man didn’t even seem to have noticed, and it was not for the first time that the ferret had felt insignificant and exploited. Little did he know that when the story of TT and his magic black cap would eventually be told, there would be a whole chapter dedicated to ferret ambition.
To be continued...
