The Gigantic Giant Goof-up

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  For Layla

  Chapter One

  In which there may be a Vorpel.

  “Gurgling Goblins. Venomous Vorpels. Monstrous Murgs,” Grandma Maud told Eliza. “It could have been any of them.”

  They were standing in the yard behind Old Tumbledown Farm. Grandma Maud was scowling as she pointed her stick at a sweater on the clothesline. Well, it used to be a sweater. Now it was more of an oversized flannel. Both its sleeves and most of its body appeared to have been eaten overnight.

  “It could have been Gertrude,” said Eliza.

  “Gertrude?”

  “That ate your sweater.”

  “Nonsense, child!” said Grandma Maud. “That goat would never touch anything of mine. She’s far too fond of me.”

  Eliza stole a look at Gertrude, their goat, who was sitting nearby. Very nearby. And calmly chewing. As Eliza frowned at her, Gertrude froze.

  “I’m sure it was something much more dangerous,” Grandma Maud went on. “When it returns, I daresay that will be the end of us.”

  “Well, not if I have anything to do with it,” said Eliza.

  She’d been practicing with her new bow and arrow for days. Now she held up her bow, placed the arrow, pulled back the string, shut one eye, aimed at her target—a piece of parchment tacked to a nearby tree—and let the arrow fly.

  The arrow soared through the air, toward the tree, past the tree, on a bit, then climbed high into the air, before finally plunging down into the woods beyond the end of the yard. There was an unfortunate squawk.

  “I wouldn’t bother with your bow and arrow, dear,” said Grandma Maud. “If a Vorpel decides to eat us, it will simply eat us.”

  Hmmmn. If something did come to attack the farm, Eliza didn’t want to end up as its dinner, or even its predinner snack. There were plenty of man-eating creatures in the forests of Squerb: Diabolical Dragons, Grofulous Ghouls, the Dread Vole of Gweem, the Very Surprising Caterpillar, the Even More Surprising Slice of Ham—and Eliza wasn’t going to let them get her or her family. So she spent the rest of the morning practicing with her bow and arrows. Soon the yard was dotted with arrows. There were arrows in barrows. Arrows in marrows. Arrows in the nests of worried-looking sparrows. In fact, there was only one place where there weren’t any arrows—and that was in the target.

  Meanwhile, Grandma Maud was reading aloud from one of her favorite books: Five Hundred Signs That the World Is About to End. Occasionally, she beckoned Eliza over to read out a particularly frightening entry.

  “Venomous Vorpels,” Grandma Maud said excitedly, “are highly dangerous creatures that will appear before The End of Time. They can be identified by their long gray tendrils—Quick!” she shrieked. “There! A Vorpel! Fire!”

  Eliza looked up. Beyond the hedge at the end of the yard, there was a long gray tendril floating in the air. She aimed, fired, and, for the first time that day, hit her target.

  Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, her target turned out not to be a Venomous Vorpel. Or even a Vaguely Villainous Vorpel. It was just Nora, an old lady who lived in the local village, The Middle of Nowhere.

  “Morning!” Nora waved cheerfully. She appeared not to have noticed the arrow that was now nestled in her hair. “Are you coming to hear the news?”

  “Grandma, should I say something?” asked Eliza under her breath.

  “Not at all, that would be most impolite,” Grandma Maud murmured. “What news?” she asked more loudly.

  “There’s a royal announcement happening in the village,” said Nora.

  “I’ll see you there, Nora,” said Eliza.

  “Royal news,” said Grandma Maud, shaking her head. “It’s probably nothing important.” Then her eyes lit up. “Unless it’s The End of the World! Could well be. After all, it is written that the world will end on a cloudy day.”

  “Um, where is that written, Grandma?”

  “It is written in a notebook,” said Grandma Maud. “A notebook that I just wrote it in.”

  Personally, Eliza didn’t really care about the royal family. It was Eliza’s sister, Lavender, who loved that sort of thing. For a moment, Eliza wondered where her sister was. For Lavender was very, very far away …

  * * *

  At last, Lavender thought. At last she was where she belonged. Once, she had been just a poor, humble, and incredibly talented young girl who lived with her family on a small farm in The Back of Beyond. But now, finally, Lavender was exactly where she deserved to be. She was standing in a ballroom, gazing into the eyes of her one true love.

  “Prince Magnus the Magnetic,” she whispered as they began to waltz across the ballroom. In that moment, Lavender felt as if she was floating on air. He dances so elegantly, she thought, in spite of all the nails, horseshoes, and iron chains stuck to his chest and arms. As the dance drew to a close, Prince Magnus the Magnetic smiled, leaned toward her, and whispered:

  “LAVENDER?! LAVENDER! LAVENDER!!!”

  Lavender looked up.

  Suddenly, the ballroom vanished, and Lavender found herself back in the yard behind her home. Instead of the fragrance of roses, she could now smell a distinct whiff of mud. And goat. And in front of her, instead of the handsome, smiling face of Prince Magnus the Magnetic, was the frowning, intensely irritating face of her sister, Eliza.

  “Lavender, were you daydreaming again?” asked Eliza.

  “Er, no,” said Lavender.

  “Have you washed Gertrude yet?”

  “Er, yes,” said Lavender.

  “Really?” said Eliza. “Because she looked muddy this morning, and she looks even muddier now. Also, were you waltzing with her?”

  “Er, no.”

  “And why is she wearing a crown?”

  “Is she?” said Lavender. “I didn’t notice. How strange.”

  Eliza sighed. “Well, do you want to come and hear the Village Crier? Apparently, he has some royal news.”

  “ROYAL NEWS!” said Lavender. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I just did,” said Eliza.

  “Well then, why are you holding us up?”

  “I’m not,” said Eliza.

  “You are! You are holding us up with all this conversation! We should be running, not talking!”

  “But you’re the one who’s talking.”

  “But you’re the one who started it!”

  “But does that even matter?”

  “NO!”

  Then Lavender was off, skipping all the way to the village. While she skipped, she sang. Like many of her songs, this one had many words, and no tune whatsoever.

  “A palace is my destiny,

  That’s where my prince will wait for me.

  He’ll bring me joy and scones for tea,

  Our happiness will spread you see,

  Just like jam—or leprosy

  (But it won’t be quite so itchy).

  And we wil
l sing in harmony

  In a perfect key

  (That’s not rusty).

  The key of eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

  eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

  eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

  eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

  Because a palace is my destiny.”

  As Lavender skipped and sang and villagers fled from her, shaking their heads and clutching their ears, Eliza ran along beside her, smiling contentedly. She loved it when her sister sang, because it made her feel proud. Proud of her latest invention: gobbets of candle wax that she put in her ears so she couldn’t hear a single note of Lavender’s hideous singing.

  Chapter Two

  In which there are tears.

  By the time Eliza and Lavender reached the village square, Steve, the Village Crier, was already crying.

  “Oooooohhh! Urghhhhhh! Warghhhhhh!!!!” he bawled. “Urghhh! Ooooww!! Auuurghhh!!!!!” He wept, bawled, wailed, and blubbed until everyone had arrived. When the whole village was gathered, he blew his nose, looked up, and beamed.

  “Good morrow, fine citizens of Squerb!” he said. “Today I bring wondrous news from our fair capital, Letters. This morning, a royal wedding has taken place!”

  Lavender’s eyes widened. She gripped her sister’s hand. She adored royal weddings. One day, she was going to marry a prince and have a royal wedding of her own. It was going to be a simple, tasteful affair, with only her family and a few close friends, dignitaries, ambassadors, and emperors (both human and penguin).

  Eliza, on the other hand, just frowned. She had hoped that the announcement would at least be about something vaguely interesting—like the day Prince Nigel the Intrepid had announced that he was off to hunt the Dread Vole of Gweem. Or the day after that, when Prince Nigel had announced that the Dread Vole of Gweem was just fine, and anyway, it only ate people on Tuesdays, so really, it was perfectly all right to leave it just where it was. And no, he wasn’t scared of it. Of course not. Why would anyone think that?

  “My friends,” Steve declared, “this very morning, the world’s third-biggest—and only—Mass Surprise Royal Wedding has taken place! On this happy morn, all fifty princes of Squerb and the surrounding kingdoms were married, to forty-nine princesses, and one very lucky sheep.

  “After the ceremony, Princess Kristina, one of the brides, walked among the crowds, sharing her special story. ‘It was wonderful,’ she said. ‘I love my new husband, and there is no way that I married him just because he is a prince. I definitely remember his name. I could easily find him again, among all these other princes. Actually, has anyone seen him? He’s named … um … er. He looks … kind

  of … royal-ish?’

  “And so, dear friends, there will be no more royal weddings in Squerb for many, many years to come, for now all the princes and princesses in the realm are happily married.”

  As the villagers burst into cheers, and Steve, the Village Crier, burst into tears (again), Eliza turned to her sister and noticed that she had turned pale. She was even paler than this page.

  Unlike this page, Lavender didn’t have words written on her. But if she had had words written on her, they would have been words like:

  WHAT?

  and

  NO!

  and

  ARGHHHHHHHHHH!!

  “Lavender,” said Eliza. “Are you all right? Maybe you should sit down.”

  “Shhh!” Lavender replied. “I’m listening!”

  Because now the Village Crier was reading out all the names of the princes who had gotten married. “… Prince Harry the Invincible; Prince Larry the Vincible; Prince Aethelred the Unready and his brothers Prince Aethelred the Nearly Ready and Prince Aethelred the Hang On, I’ll Be There In Just A Sec; Prince Nigel the Intrepid; Prince Magnus the Magnetic—”

  “No!” Lavender cried.

  “… Prince Roland the Incontinent; Prince Antarctic the Continent; Prince Vlad the Impaler; Prince Brad the Impala; Prince Alice the Pretender…”

  When he got to the end of the list, Lavender beamed. “There’s still a prince that I can marry! He hasn’t mentioned Prince Ian the Princely! I will set my heart on him.”

  “And in other news,” said the Village Crier, “Prince Ian the Princely has given up his title and run away to paint ducks. After a short and moving ceremony, the artist formerly known as Prince Ian the Princely said: ‘I hated being a prince. I’m off and you’ll never find me! ’Bye!’”

  Then Steve gave the traditional signal that the royal announcement was over. “The royal announcement is over,” he announced.

  As the other villagers started to wander away, Lavender stood there, completely still, as if time had stopped. Actually, as if time had stopped, sat down, had a cup of tea, and another one, and then gone for a bit of a snooze.

  Chapter Three

  In which there is a fairy tale.

  “Um … Lavender?” said Eliza. “Come on, let’s go home.”

  But Lavender didn’t move an inch.

  “Who needs princes anyway?” said Eliza. “Princes are boring! They spend all their lives opening monasteries and visiting leper colonies. And they never have any fun, because there are always scribes following them around, just waiting to make illuminated manuscripts of them if they catch them doing anything embarrassing.”

  But Lavender did not respond.

  “You weren’t really ever going to marry a prince, were you? Realistically,” said Eliza. “Statistically, you’re more likely to be run over by a cow. Or catch the Black Death.”

  If this was supposed to cheer Lavender up, it didn’t work. She continued to stare into space.

  “Anyway, who says that living in a palace with lots of rooms and dresses and servants is better than living here, in a falling-down house with a roof that’s collapsing, and Vorpels that might come out of the forest and attack us at any moment?”

  Still nothing from Lavender.

  Eliza frowned. “That didn’t come out quite how I meant it to,” she said. “But the point is—this is your home. And we’re your family. You belong here. You don’t need to be rescued by a stupid prince. So really, everything’s fine.”

  Lavender started walking slowly off along the path, in the direction of their home. But she still didn’t say a word.

  * * *

  That afternoon, while Eliza practiced vanquishing imaginary Vorpels with her catapult, Lavender was still completely silent. She didn’t even cheer up for Grandma Maud’s “End of the World” tea party.

  “It’s coming!” said Grandma Maud with an enormous smile on her face. “The end is nigh! Go on. Have a tea cake while you can.”

  But Lavender didn’t have a tea cake. She just sat there looking glum and only nodded blankly when Grandma Maud announced that she was off to find a lovely spot to watch The End of the World. And she’d be back in a couple of days. Or not at all, depending on how The End of the World went.

  After supper, Lavender still hadn’t spoken. So, as she sat by herself in the yard, Bonnet decided to go and try to cheer her up by telling her a story.

  But wait! Bonnet? Who is this person, “Bonnet”? Is he a man? Is he a type of hat? Is he a hero?

  If you haven’t met Bonnet before, here are a few things you should know about him. To start with, he’s scared of many things—exactly 3,173 at the last count—including werewolves, spiders, caves, tortoises, heights, Thursdays, pigeons, sandwiches without cucumber in them, and the color mauve.

  Secondly, though he was small and shaped roughly like a scone, Bonnet was actually a giant. He was just not the same size as his brothers and sisters.

  He was not fond of hitting things, or smashing things, or biting things like his brothers and sisters were. But he definitely was a giant. His giant family had always told him so. “Ha, ha, ha, ha—you’re such a bad giant!” they used to say, while affectionately hitting him over the head with a very large club.

  Thirdly, having left The Land of the Giants, Bonnet now lived with Lavender, Eliza, Grandm
a Maud, and Gertrude, in The Back of Beyond. They had taken him in when he was lost and lonely, and they were all very fond of him. Lavender and Eliza made him feel at home by being his friends. Gertrude made him feel at home by eating his socks. And Grandma Maud made him feel at home by saying things like: “Pass the milk, would you, Bucket?”

  So, that’s Bonnet.

  “Hello, Lavender,” Bonnet said, sitting down beside her.

  “Hmmn,” she said.

  Hmmn wasn’t much. But it was something, Bonnet thought. So he kept going.

  “Maybe I could, um, cheer you up, with a fairy tale?” said Bonnet. He knew that Lavender loved fairy tales.

  “Hmmmnn,” said Lavender with a shrug.

  “Once upon a time,” Bonnet said. “Once upon a time, there was a … door. It was a happy door. And it was … green. The End.”

  He decided to start again.

  “Once upon a time, there was a beautiful bird. It was magical—so magical that it could fly! Er, just like … er, most other birds.”

  This really wasn’t going well. Bonnet looked down at his hands. He twiddled his thumbs. He decided to try one last time …

  “Once upon a time, there was a tiny girl,” he said, “a girl as small as a thumb. She had magical powers, and she lived in a muddy yard—”

  “No she didn’t!” Lavender suddenly replied. “If she was magical, she DEFINITELY did not live in a muddy yard. Let me tell it. Once upon a time, there was a girl who was tiny and magical. She lived in a fairy kingdom, just like in ‘Thumbelina,’ and she met a tiny prince who was just the same size as her, and they fell in love and—that’s it!”

  Lavender leaped to her feet.

  “That’s what?” said Bonnet.

  “That’s the answer! Thanks, Bonnet!” said Lavender, planting a kiss on his head and a daisy in the grass—that’s how excited she was.

  “Wait—what’s the answer?” asked Bonnet, but Lavender had already skipped away.