Poems
Poems of Antiquity
Short stories
Nano Novel
Artography*
Home
* -- denotes soonish.
The grownup Ughs had some explaining to do. And explaining they did. They told all about how the Squeeb had found them during their town meeting, talking about the coming rainy season, and how he had begun mocking them. They wanted to know what was so funny, and the Squeeb went on to say that where he was from, little Squeebs weren't allowed to run around and play all day. Little Squeebs were shown the way of adults at a young age, so that they could be productive members of society. Somehow, in one way or another, a challenge was issued, and the Squeeb and the adult Ughs had made a wager. Basically, the adults said they would let the children alone for a certain amount of time, and then when they returned they'd see how everyone had coped. Only, the Squeeb was simply supposed to watch and make sure no adults returned to help the children. So the Squeeb started cheating right away, issuing orders and basically taking over the island. In the meanwhile, the adults had been hiding in a small cave on the other side of the island. Occasionally one would sneak half-way back and ask Jgglr if things were okay. It was agreed that Jgglr would continue guarding the flatstone mines, but beyond that, he wasn't supposed to interfere. The wager was simple: if the young Ughs had proved themselves worthy and had shown that they could get by without supervision, then the Squeeb would bring them a boatfull of black glass, which was all the rage these days. The glass, when installed in your window, would suck in the sunlight on the outside, but on the inside of the hut, it would blow out cool air. Black glass was very costly, and the Ughs thought they could get it for a steal from the Squeeb, because they had so much confidence in their children. Only, the Squeeb began cheating right away, and the Ughs didn't realize it until Grrr showed up one day, covered in scratches and looking hysterical. Grrr had been wandering the large island for several weeks, and had collapsed when they found him. After giving him food and water, he came around and realized that he was surrounded by adult Ughs. "Grrr give up! Grrr surrender!" he had shouted. But the Ughs explained that they were not going to try to fight him. That's when Grrr told them what was going on back at the village. Jgglr arrive soon after, warning the parents that something hostile might be happening back home. So they set off to put a stop to whatever the Squeeb had cooked up.
The parents were busy feeling guilty for leaving the kids, the children were busy being happy that their parents were back and that the Squeeb was captured, and Pickle and Onion were named honorary heroes of the island. They were offered their own hut, and the parents promised them that if they wished to stay on and live on Ugh Island, that they were more than welcome.
Pickle was tempted, but then she remembered her pledge to Grrr, and she said that perhaps she would return sometime soon. Onion was simply happy that everything was over. His left arm was in a cast. Not broken, just bruised, an Ugh doctor told him. He had a small gap in his smile now, where his baby tooth had been dislodged, which gave him a crooked and rugged look, Pickle thought. And his muscles were much bigger than she remembered. His white hair was shaggy and dirty, and his clothes were in tatters, and Pickle couldn't think of a time when he looked lovelier.
Onion couldn't keep himself from following Pickle around, wherever she went. He kept holding her hand and squeezing it, as if to reassure himself that she was really there. Pickle kept looking at him in such a strange way, Onion thought. It must be the gap in my teeth, he decided. So he started smiling with his mouth shut. But it was hard; every time he saw Pickle he just wanted to smile. She looked like she had really grown up over the past few weeks. He was pretty sure that she had gotten taller. How she did that eating flavorless mush, Onion couldn't fathom. Her dirty blond hair had darkened in the island sun, and her few freckles were now very obvious on her face, which made her look just perfect, Onion thought.
After a few days of rest and recuperation, the trio was prepared to set out for Grmph Island. The Ughs presented them with a boat, as a small parting gift, which the three gratefully accepted. And they apologized for letting the Squeeb escape, but Grrr said it was his fault for not tying the ropes tight enough. On the last night of their stay, the Ughs threw a big party, and everyone had a blast. Grrr found a big coconut tree, and knocked down enough for everyone to enjoy a sweet milky beverage. The miners all added a little rumleaf to theirs, and at the end they were singing songs and carrying Onion around on their shoulders. Little O approached Pickle near the end of the night, and handed her a small piece of paper. "To remember your time here," O said, then quickly ran away. Pickle put it in her backpack, deciding to read it once she had left. Then, before they knew it, the three of them were in a boat and sailing on their way to Grmph Island, which should only be a two or three day ride, depending on the wind.
As they began sailing, Grrr manning the sails and Onion trying to learn how to help him, Pickle sat on deck, looking out at Ugh Island. She was always going to remember that place. Even though some horrible things had happened, in the end things had worked out, and she had grown to love the Ughs.
She opened O's note, and read it. It said:
"Pickle, I hope this poem that I have written will help you remember your time here. I knew I was right to believe in you. I hope you remember to always trust your dreams. Love, O." Pickle's eyes began watering as she read that part. Then she read the poem:
"We all must become
What first we despise
How else would we come
To open our eyes.
We all must intake
What first we forsake
To open our eyes
We first must awake
To rise up from sleep
To banish what seems
At first we must reap
A harvest of dreams.
We harvest our dreams
By candlelit streams."
Pickle sighed, then folded the note up carefully, and put it back in her backpack. No, she would never forget O. And she would trust her dreams. They had gotten her this far. And right now, things were pretty good.
It was a good thing Grrr knew how to sail. The voyage was rather enjoyable because of it, and so Pickle and Onion got to rest. Onion's arm was healing faster than it should have, and so he was raising sails and lowering, er, sails, and doing those other things sailors do. Pickle wasn't really sure all how it worked, but Grrr seemed to know, so she let them take care of it. She enjoyed laying out on top of the boat, singing little songs to herself and sunbathing. Well, the sunbathing was not quite as fun after the first day, when her pale skin turned a rather pinkish shade. But she still went out and breathed in the salty ocean air and tried to enjoy herself. She was about as content as she could be. She was with two good friends, she was on her own, and she was helping Grrr get to where he wanted to be. Things were good, she told herself. Only, something was nagging at her. Watching all those Ughs celebrating, the adults so happy to see their kids. The kids so happy to see their parents. Even though she didn't want to go home, she still wanted to see her parents. "If only I were older, then I could be coming home from college," she thought. But she wasn't older. And if she went home, she had a pretty good idea of how her parents would react: "Where have you been young lady? You had us worried sick! Do you have any idea what you've put us through? And Onion was with you?: Well, that just seals the deal! You and Onion are to never see each other ever again! Ever!" Thank you, but no, Pickle thought. She'd take Onion and Grrr and the wide blue ocean over that any day.
Unfortunately, like cotton candy and merry-go-rounds, all good things must come to an end. Grrr said on Day Three of their voyage that he had sighted land. It was near nooontime, and the suns were out blazing. Pickle had tried to go out and rest a bit on deck, but it was too unbearably hot. She went below deck, and rested, until they got closer to shore.
The heat was so stifling that even below deck, in the cool shade of the boat, she was terribly hot. She felt the sweat pouring off of her, and she decided to go back on deck. She found Onion and Grrr standing in the shade of the sail, their shirts off, their hair dripping with sweat. Grrr's muscles were huge, of course, but my how Onion had changed. Where was the boy who used to pedal down her street with his head in the clouds, looking like he was reading a book even while he rode his bike? Where was the Onion who only talked back to Rabbit once, and when they fought, had barely been able to win? In his place, there was this ... this young man, who looked tough. Who concentrated on everything he was doing. Who had such a weird expression on his face. Oh, he was looking at her. Well, that explained that. Might as well pass the time with a little conversation, Pickle thought. Besides, the last two islands they had been on hadn't exactly been friendly.
"Boy it's chilly out today, eh boys?" Pickle said, trying to sound chipper. Onion let a small smile creep across his face, and sure enough, Pickle recognized her friend in that smile. He was still there, he was just changing, Pickle thought. Well, as long as he didn't change the good stuff: his kindness, and ability to listen, and his intelligence, then it didn't matter what he looked like on the outside.
"Grrr no like," Grrr said.
"Grrr says Grmph Island is supposed to be temperate, or at least I think that's what he meant," Onion added. Grrr nodded his small head. "Something might be wrong here. So let's just pretend we are passing explorers, not people who have come to live." Onion said the last part looking at Grrr, but Pickle felt his eyes dart over to her. Was she thinking of living on Grmph Island? I guess I really don't know where I'm going to live, Pickle thought. It was something she should probably figure out one of these days. But if Grmph Island was anything like how Grrr said it was, it might not be such a bad place.
The heat, incredibly, got worse as they got closer and closer to the island. Pickle was jealous that the boys could go shirtless. To make up for it, she went below deck and fashioned a make-shift skirt out of her old nightgown, which Onion had saved. She changed into her lightest shirt, too, a small pink one that, despite how long she had been gone, she hadn't yet worn. Working in a kitchen every day for 12 hours makes you not care what you're wearing. She bit her lip in pain as she put her shirt on. Even though she told everyone that she was okay, she still felt sore in her ribs from where that nasty old Squeeb had kicked her. There was a bruise there, too, the size of a small foot. If she ran into that Squeeb, she'd have a few choice words for him. Or, a few choice kicks, rather.
Once above deck again, she saw that they were very close to the island. There was a small docking area where a few other boats were resting. Only one looked like it had been used recently. The others were all tied up with several ropes, and had dirty told tattered sails and rotting wood. Grmphs weren't big travelers, she figured. The one boat in good shape there was very large. It looked like it could carry 100 Grmphs, if not more.
If being on the ship had been unbearably hot, being on land was even worse. Nowhere should be this hot, Pickle thought. As Onion and Grrr maneuvered the boat into an empty dock, and began tying it up, Pickle looked around. No one was going out to greet them. The whole place looked deserted, actually. She saw a small village not too far from the docks, with small adobes. Every one was closed up, blinds drawn, windows black.
"Very strange," Pickle muttered.
Onion had finished tying knots, and he had come up beside her. He wiped away the sweat that was dripping down his nose.
"Looks like everyone is gone," he said.
Pickle shook her head. She pointed to clothes racks that still had clothes on them. And a small fire pit that looked like it was still smoldering.
"Perhaps they go around at night," she said. "It's terribly hot right now."
It was hard to tell for sure, but it looked like Grrr was frowning.
"Well, let's go meet some more Grmphs," Pickle said, trying to sound cheery. But after they had disembarked and Onion took her hand in his, she felt a little more brave. Grrr followed behind them. They walked slowly through the town. All the adobes looked the same. Small wood and mud huts, close to the ground, just barely big enough for a Grmph. This was, apparently, because of the Grmphs small eyes. Each hut's doors were closed. The windows, Pickle realized as they got closer, were not simply drawn with dark shades. They were actually blackened. As if covered in paint. No, that wasn't even it. It was as if they were made out of black glass. Intrigued, she approached one, and started to touch it. But when her hand got very close, she felt an intense heat emanating from it, like an oven burner.
"Oh!" she said. "The windows are on fire."
Onion and Grmph both took a turn putting their hands near the black window, and sure enough, it felt almost like a flame.
"No wonder it's so hot here," Onion said, and Grrr garumphed in agreement. After searching the whole town, and not finding a single living soul moving about, the group decided to go in search of some shade.
"Let's get out of the sun for a bit. I'm parched," Onion said.
The trio set up camp just outside the village, underneath a large tree that looked similar to a palm tree. Only the leaves on top were much larger and shaped like canoes. Grrr told them it was a loconut tree. At the very top, small red nuts were growing, and Grrr said that if you ate several of those nuts, you would feel very funny for hours. Some Grmphs got addicted to the nuts, Grmph said, and they were forced to leave, or else they caused problems. Pickle pulled some water canteens out of her backpack, and passed them around. Then they all ate a small snack, and then, full and tired from the heat, they decided to rest for a while. When night arrived, it found them all sleeping. Pickle woke up first, because there was something nudging her side, and it hurt.
"Ouch," she said sleepily.
"Good morning," said a deep voice.
Pickle looked up. A huge Grmph was towering over her.
"Welcome to Grmph Island," it said. She couldn't tell if it was smiling. But it sounded friendly.
"Thank you," Pickle said.
"You bring magiglass?" the Grmph asked.
"Um, no, I don't think so," Pickle replied. Onion and Grrr were waking up, and then Grrr suddenly jumped up. When he landed, several loconuts fell to the ground.
"Grappa! Grappa!" Grrr shouted.
The Grmph looked closely at Grrr.
"Grrr?" it asked.
"Grappa!" Grrr said, taking the Grmph in his arms and squeezing him.
"Grrr happy!" Grrr shouted.
"Grappa happy too," Grappa shouted back.
"Come to Grappa's place," he said. Before he gave them time to reply, he was scooting them along.
"Well, this is better than being arrested, or being forced into hard labor," Onion said quietly to Pickle.
She giggled, and gave his hand a squeeze. He might look different, but he was certainly still the same Onion.
* * *
Grappa's hut was just like all the other huts. Yellow on the outside, brown walls on the inside. The glass, which had felt like a blowtorch from the outside, felt like a nice cool box of ice cream on the inside. It was still black, and so very little light got in. But Grappa had several small torches lit, and so the room was bathed in a pleasant glow. Not to mention how much cooler it felt! Pickle, who had just been woken from a dream where she was walking on coals, now found the sweat on her face chilling her. She got gooseflesh in the first 10 seconds of being inside. No wonder everyone was inside during the day. It was much nicer in here. Inside the hut, things were much nicer than Pickle would have imagined. There was a small kitchen area, which had some half-eaten fruits in it. There was the main area they were in, and then there was a room separated with a curtain that Pickle took to be the sleeping area.
Grappa made a fuss over the three of them. He found a small chair, which Pickle and Onion shared as more of a couch. And then he and Grrr enjoyed a very rare delicacy: smoking a pipe. Onion looked interested at the pipe, and so Grrr offered him a puff. But he had such a coughing fit afterwards that Pickle chose to pass. Besides, Grrr and Grappa just about split their sides open laughing at Onion, who had turned a deep red, first because of the coughing and then later because of the laughing. Then, he got them all drinks, nice cool milky white drinks that tasted like it had some spices in it. Grappa said it was the skin of the loconut, which was okay to eat in small amounts. The nut itself, however, he warned them away from.
"Gretta, she gone now," he added in explanation, and he made a circular motion around his ear. The sign for crazy. Some things are universal everywhere, Pickle thought. Even if they are two suns in the sky, and men with bodies of giants and heads of kids, and Ughs and Squeebs and flying bagels.
Grrr and Grappa then had a long conversation about Grmph Island. Pickle tried to follow it, but the coolth inside made her drowsy. Her sleep during the day had been terrible, constantly waking up covered in sweat. Now, it was night outside and she was cool and ready to doze off. Then she heard something and shouted, "Ooooh!"
All three of the men looked at her.
"Did you say a Squeeb sold you the glass?" Pickle asked.
Grappa nodded his tiny head.
"I wonder if it was the same one?" she said, but Onion shook his head no. "I don't think so, because apparently this Squeeb has been here for several weeks. Grappa said that he has been pushing the glass on everyone, but no one was interested. Why should they be? It's a paradise island, right? But then, one day it was really hot outside, and a few went over to the Squeeb's shop to check it out. It was so cool inside, that he sold several panes of the glass right then. Ever since, more and more Grmphs have been buying it, because the island is having a terrible hot spell, and now just about everyone has one. Grappa here says he finally broke down and bought two yesterday, to fill his windows with. All the Squeeb asks for are rocks. Rocks that are mined here on occasion, mainly as a hobby by some of the Grmphs. I really can't blame him," Onion added. "The island was dreadfully hot this afternoon."
Grappa shook his head in agreement, as did Grrr.
"What do the rocks look like?" Pickle asked. The hairs were beginning to raise on the back of her neck, and that couldn't be just from the cool air. Something was wrong here, she just knew it.
Grappa shuffled around through some drawers from the kitchen and pulled out a handful of small shiny rocks. He brought them over to Pickle. In her hands, they no longer were so small. They had a weird green glow to them. Pickle spit on one, pardoning herself for her behavior, and then rubbed a bit of the dirt off the rocks. Suddenly the rock glowed with a deep green luster.
"We call them greenstones," Grappa said.
Pickle gasped. They were emeralds. Huge ones. Some were as big as her hand, or bigger!
"Grappa, you have been giving this Squeeb," and she said Squeeb with a very nasty tone in her voice, "these rocks? Is that right?"
Grappa nodded his head yes in agreement. "Yes, good trade, many rocks," the Grmph said. Onion looked from Pickle to Grappa. Then cleared his throat and said,
"'Don't you dare doubt the Dipping Deeze
Keep your snout out of the Sipping Seas
Try not to tout the Tripping Trees
And never say yes to a Squeeb.'"
"Where did you hear that?" Pickle asked.
"From Mr Peckins, who else," Onion said.
"I have a feeling that this is a very bad deal," Pickle said.
"Does the Squeeb have any guards around him?" Onion asked.
"Guards? No guards need here," Grappa said. "Grmphs take care themselves."
"Well, shall we go pay our Squeeb friend a visit, then?" Onion asked.
Pickle nodded. Grrr nodded. Grappa shrugged. "Hruk. I know where his tent."
Grappa stood up, taking one last puff from the pipe and then setting it down.
"Hruk?" Onion asked Pickle quietly.
"I'm thinking it's Grmph for 'why not.'" Pickle answered.
"Ah. Hruk." Onion said.
"Hruk," Pickle agreed.
The Squeeb's tent wasn't very far away from the village, more toward the boat. Grappa slowly explained that the Squeeb had shown up on the ship several weeks back, and he kept all his black glass, or magiglass, on the boat. He apparently didn't trust the Grmphs enough to unload a large amount of it. He was always running back and forth to get more. As they walked, Pickle looked around. Even though it was night time, the moon was still out, although it was setting. But from its light, Pickle could see all the vegetation around the village was shriveling up. Or, more precisely, it was shriveling away from the village. Like the village was diseased. This gave Pickle a very worried feeling in her gut, but she didn't share it with anyone. Perhaps she was just overreacting. Perhaps it was just the light that made things look like that. Perhaps not all Squeebs were as terrible as the Squeeb from Ugh Island. Perhaps.
When they entered the tent, Pickle's first thought was, "Or, perhaps there were."
This Squeeb looked just like the other Squeeb, only it looked meaner, nastier, more wicked, and it was sweating. Even though it was cool in the tent, the Squeeb had sweat all over its face, dripping down its eyebrows and its nose and even sweat on its pointed little ears. It almost looked like a little sweaty rat.
"Hello, good friends, welcome, what a surprise," the Squeeb hissed out. "You must be looking for some of my good magiglass, to keep the heat out of your house. It is very cheap today, very cheap. Just three greenstones per piece. How many would you like?" The Squeeb was licking its thin lips the whole time, and Pickle thought it almost looked like even the Squeeb's lips were sweating. "Yes, we're interested in some glass," Onion said, somehow keeping his voice even. Just looking at this Squeeb made Pickle want to jump up and start kicking it in the side. Her side pain was flaring up. She didn't know how Onion was staying so calm. But then she looked at his face, and she didn't see Onion there, but rather someone else. The same face she saw several weeks ago, when Onion had been sent off mining and she had been put to work in the kitchens. This Onion she wasn't sure she liked.
"Marvelous, marvelous, let me show you the two sizes I currently have out back," the Squeeb said, gesturing for the group to follow. Outside were two pieces that were easily twice or thrice the size of Onion or Pickle.
"The Grmphs are wising up," the Squeeb was saying. "At first they just wanted the magiglass for their windows. But now they are realizing its full potential. They can use it to make doors, or even walls. Why, I bet that's what you want, isn't it? A whole wall of cool, cool magiglass? Yes? Shall I prepare this for you?"
"I am interested, in both pieces," Onion said. Pickle wasn't sure where he was going, but she would play along. "The thing is, you won't be here forever. What if a piece breaks. Or I want more? You catch my drift?"
The Squeeb began rubbing its hands together in a disturbing way. It made Pickle think of a rat who was eating food.
"Yes, yes, yes, of course," the Squeeb said, oozing out such a fake nicety that Pickle wanted to gag. What did her father call these kind of people, the people in his office he couldn't stand? Obsequious, yeah, that was it. Obsequious. Now she could see why.
"Yes, I had thought about this, you see," the Squeeb said, and gestured for them to follow him farther. They walked down a trail, away from both the village and the pier, and were walking nearly along with the beach. Then the Squeeb cut back in toward the land, and there was a clearing, devoid of vegetation or trees or anything, and it was here that the Squeeb gestured broadly with his arms.
"I have been setting this up during the day," it said, and for a minute Pickle didn't know what it was talking about. Then she realized what it was. The entire clearing was covered in magiglass. A whole field of the stuff, cut into pieces about as big as a sailboat. "Magiglass is very durable, as you know," the Squeeb went on. "Leaving it here, it should be safe enough. Then when you want, you can come and take a piece. It is my little gift to all the kind Grmphs of the island."
"I see," Onion said, his voice utterly lacking in emotion.
"Tell me, Squeeb," Onion went on, "are there any negative side effects of magiglass?"
"Side effects?" the Squeeb asked quickly, his face looking around quickly, realizing he was out by himself with two big Grmphs and two other people. "Not, not that I know of, no, I think not."
"Really?" Onion said. "That's odd. None at all?"
"I haven't heard of any," the Squeeb said, trying to weasel out of the conversation. "There's nothing wrong with wanting a little coolth, is there?"
"Tell me one more thing, then, Squeeb," Onion said. "How does the glass work?"
"Oh, that, that I couldn't share. It is one of my secrets. If I told you, I'd be out of business, you see?"
"Yes, I see your point," Onion said. "Can I ask you this then: what happens when a piece breaks?"
"Ah, well, as I said, magiglass is very durable. Able to last years and years and years, and able to withstand most forms of disaster. Now, if it does somehow break, then, yes, its spell is broken, and it will no longer work. But I don't think you need to worry about that. After all, they only thing sharp enough to break it on this island is greenstone. And I should be taking most of that with me when I leave."
"Fascinating," Onion said, but there wasn't single note of fascination in his voice. "And are you leaving soon, Squeeb?"
"Why, yes, as a matter of fact I am. Just this very evening. Once my business is complete. Now, shall we be getting back. I have a few more sales to finalize..."
"Yes, let's get back. I should like to make one last deal with you," Onion said. Pickle detected a threat in his voice, but the Squeeb merely said, "Marvelous," and walked with them back to his tent. Once there, Onion asked him how much it would be for the two pieces of magiglass sitting outside. "Oh, since you were so interested in the glass, why don't you take it for free?" the Squeeb was saying.
"Well, I guess I could, it's just that I had several greenstones this big," Onion said, gesturing with his hands, indicating that he had stones that were easily two or three times the size of his head. "And since I have no use for them, I figured perhaps you would like them."
"Ah, well, I suppose one last payment wouldn't hurt," the Squeeb said, and Pickle could tell by the way that it rubbed its hands together that it was very excited about the stones.
"Fine. Then I'll be back shortly with the stones and a cart for the glass," Onion said.
"Marvelous," the Squeeb said, then turned and began packing items into a chest. Once outside, Pickle leaned close to Onion and said, "Onion, what are you up to?"
Onion just put two fingers up to his lips, winked at her, and said, "Shhhh."
* * *
Things began to happen very quickly afterwards. Onion asked Grappa a few questions about the island, about the heat, and about what everyone thought about the heat. Then, he told Grrr and Grappa to go around to each adobe and to tell them that there was to be a very important meeting at the center of the village.
Most of the Grmphs didn't understand what was going on, and they were confused when a small boy began talking to them. But little by little, what he said starting making sense, and finally Onion had everyone convinced. All the Grmphs immediately dispersed, going back to their adobes, and several minutes later, they returned, carrying large pieces of the magiglass. It was cooler now that it was night, and they didn't get burned by holding it. They piled it all into several carts, and the whole group, the entire village, began walking behind Onion back out to the Squeeb's tent. Pickle was up in front of the group, with Onion, and so she saw the Squeeb's greedy little eyes light up when he saw Onion approaching with several carts, but then his eyes turned to panic when he saw that the carts were full of the glass.
"What's going on here? What is this?" the Squeeb asked, but Onion held up his hand.
"Squeeb," he said, "we have changed our mind. We would like our greenstones back. We have no need of your glass. And we kindly ask you that you take other pieces back too, the ones in the field."
"But, what? No, no, this is all wrong. We have made a deal. I have given you the glass. It is done. You cannot trade back."
"This isn't a trade, Squeeb," Onion said. "We know what else the glass does, and it was your fault for not telling us. So we are going to send it back with you, one way or another." After saying this, several of the big Grmphs behind Onion began cracking the knuckles on their large hands. The Squeeb began to squirm in his spot. He looked out to his boat, then back to the Grmphs, then back to the boat again.
"My master will be very displeased if I don't bring him these stones," the Squeeb began.
"It doesn't matter Squeeb," Onion said. "Take this glass and go."
Finally, though, the Squeeb couldn't stand it. He bolted. He rushed out the back of his tent, grabbing several bags of stones as he went. Two Grmphs went rushing after him, and caught him on the piers. Onion was waiting for him when they dragged him back.
"How do you break the glass?" Onion asked. "Like this?" He held up a large greenstone and prepared to thrust it into the glass.
"No, don't do it!" the Squeeb shouted, so Onion figured that must be it. He prepared to knock the stone into the glass as hard as he could, but when the greenstone touched the black magiglass, it melted right into it. It reminded Pickle of how the pick axe had melted into the walls of the big metal hut on Ugh Island.
The stone was sticking half way out. Then, slowly the grass began cracking. And then in one big crash, it fell to pieces, and the pieces turned to ash.
The Squeeb was sobbing, saying that its master was going to be very very mad when it found out.
"Where is your master now? On the ship?" Onion asked.
The Squeeb nodded.
"Perhaps we should go have a talk with him, too, then," Onion said. The Squeeb shook his head no vehemently. Then, suddenly, it said, "Yes, yes, that might be a good idea. He might be interested in meeting you."
Onion sent most of the Grmphs out to the field where the rest of the glass was, with orders to begin putting greenstones into each piece, until it shattered and disintegrated. Several more began destroying the stock of glass at the tent.
Onion, Grrr, Grappa, Pickle and the Squeeb walked out to the pier, where the large red boat was. There was a single light coming from the main cabin, and they headed for that. The Squeeb was strangely quiet, and Pickle got a feeling that they were being led into a trap.
She clasped her hand together, worried, but unsure of what to do. "Maybe we should talk to him in the morning?" she suggested.
But everyone ignored her, and began boarding the boat. She stood there for a minute, not wanting to follow, not wanting to be separated from her friends. Why must boys get so thick-headed at times, she thought. Onion had been doing a great job so far, convincing the Grmphs that the windows were not the solution to their island heat, but rather the problem. But now, they were boarding a strange boat in the middle of the night, and here she was standing on a pier all by herself and they could be getting into trouble right now but she didn't know what to do.
"Oh, if only I knew what to do," she said aloud.
"If only Achilles had worn better shoes," replied a familiar voice.
She whirled around. Mr Peckins was standing right behind her. He was wearing all black, and looked oddly enough like a monk. His head was bald, and his dark robes covered him completely, even his hands. But it was Mr Peckins all right. He was fumbling for something in one of the robe's pockets.
"When I don't know what to do, I flip a coin," said Mr Peckins.
"I don't see how that will help," Pickle began, but he had already flipped it.
"Heads!" he cried. "Perfect. I have just the thing." From one of his many pockets, he pulled out two hats. The hats looked terribly old and dirty, and Pickle didn't want to wear either one. "Hmm, Onion didn't like this either," Mr Peckins said, seeing her frown. "How about we turn it upside down." He inverted the hat, and suddenly it looked brand new. And rather stylish, Pickle had to admit. "Here, try it on, then let's go aboard. We don't want to miss the party," he said, winking twice at her.
He put his hat on, which even though it was a top hat, seemed to go with his robes quite well. Then Pickle put her hat on, and it fit her head just perfect. "Thank you, Mr Peckins, it's lovely. Oh, which reminds me, I have something of yours your dropped a long time ago," Pickle said, beginning to rummage through her backpack. But Mr Peckins must not have heard her, because he kept on walking, boarding the ship.
"Hey, wait up Mr Peckins," she called, and hurried onto the boat. Later, she could give him the note.
* * *
Everything was eerily quiet, she noticed. No boards creaking, no waves splashing. She couldn't even hear Mr Peckins footsteps as he walked toward the cabin. "I hope I'm not losing my hearing after all this running around," Pickle thought.
Then Mr Peckins opened the cabin door, and went in. Pickle followed. Right away, she could tell things weren't right.
In the corner was the Squeeb, cowering like a caged rat. Grrr was holding a big piece of wood and wielding it like a hammer, and he was swinging it at Grappa. Grappa had a long metal pole, and the two were dueling. Why were they fighting? And Onion, oh! Poor Onion! He was laying against the near wall, unconscious, a large welt on his forehead, and a dribble of blood mixing with his white hair. Mr Peckins had stopped to bend over and look at Onion. Onion moved a bit, and opened his eyes. Pickle was relieved to see that he wasn't hurt more. Then, she noticed another man. He was standing off to the left, and he was laughing. At least, it looked like he was laughing. He was standing there holding his large belly and his mouth was moving in a laugh-like way. But no sound was coming out. Pickle couldn't figure out what was going on. Onion stood up, dusting himself off, and didn't even seem to notice the knot on his head. Then he looked toward the laughing man, and the man made some gestures, pointing toward her. The man looked like he was trying to talk to her, but she gestured that she couldn't hear. Then Onion walked over to her, and began dragging her toward the laughing man. Mr Peckins had busied himself trying to get Grrr and Grappa to stop dueling each other. Still, Pickle could hear nothing. Onion was dragging her and she was trying to get his attention, but he was ignoring her. "Onion, stop it, you're hurting me!" Pickle shouted, but he kept pulling her toward the fat man, who was still apparently laughing. The man was wearing a business suit that must have been an extra-extra large, and even though he was fat, it was much too big on him. His sleeves hung loosely from him, and his pants flowed way past his shoes. He had a neatly trimmed beard, which was black, and curly black hair. And dark eyes. He finally closed his mouth, and Pickle figured that was a good thing. But then he opened it again, like he was trying to tell her something important. She looked at his eyes, and they seemed to swirl and blur, and become different colors. It made her feel nauseous, so she looked away. She turned to Onion, who was staring at the man, in rapt attention. Whatever the man was saying, it must have been good, because Onion seemed much too interested.
"Onion, listen to me, I can't hear anything," she tried to shout to him, but he wouldn't take his eyes off of the fat man in the loose suit.
She looked back to the fat man, and he was yelling something, and it looked like it was at her. But she didn't care. Things were all screwed up, Onion was ignoring her, and she still didn't know what to do. She looked to Mr Peckins, but all he had managed to do was grab onto Grrr's leg, while Grrr and Grappa still fought. The Squeeb still squatted in the corner, obviously too frightened to do anything.
Finally, she looked back to the fat man, and he was now talking to Onion, and he gestured to her, and Onion shook his head. Then, Onion turned toward her and put his hands out. About time he noticed me, Pickle thought. Only, his hands kept going up until they were even with her neck. And then he started moving closer to her. He looked like a zombie in one of those horror films.
"Onion, stop it, what are you doing?" Pickle asked.
But once she saw his eyes, she knew there was something seriously wrong. Even though they were open, they would clouded over, and looked almost completely white. He took two more small steps toward her, and then his hands were on her neck. Pickle was too shocked to move back. This was still Onion. He couldn't hurt her. Not ever. He would die rather than hurt her. She had seem him fight a Squeeb for her, barehanded. His hands were on her neck, and then they started to squeeze.
"Onion, stop it, you're scaring me. Onion!" she shouted. "It's me, Pickle!" His hands seemed to falter. Then they started squeezing again. "Onion, you're hurting me!" Pickle shouted. Her voice was the only thing she could hear. Onion's hands paused again, started to go slightly limp. But out of the corner of her eyes, she saw the fat man began waving his arms and moving his mouth a thousand words a minute, saying whatever it was to Onion to trick him.
Pickle decided to try one last thing, while his arms and hands were still limp.
"Onion, I love you," she cried, and she pushed his arms aside and leaned into him. She kissed him twice on his cheeks, then put her lips on his and held them there. Tears fell from her eyes and splashed onto her lips as she said over and over, "Onion, I love you. Onion, I love you. Onion, I love you."
She felt his hands move, and she was sure he was going to strangle her, but this time his arms wrapped around her, and she felt him kiss her back, and she sank into his body, crying. Onion shook her, and she looked up, and his mouth moved, and she said, "Onion, I can't hear you." And he looked confused for a second, but then nodded his head, and then turned and said something to the fat man in the loose suit. Suddenly, Grappa and Grrr stopped fighting, which was very convenient because Mr Peckins had somehow climbed onto Grrr's arm and was about to be pounded by a metal pole. Everyone stood around blinking for several seconds. Then Onion pulled Pickle toward the door, and Grrr and Grappa and Mr Peckins followed, and the last thing Pickle remembered seeing in the cabin was the fat man turning red in the face and shouting (she thought) and turning toward the Squeeb.
Once off the pier, everyone collapsed onto the ground. Mr Peckins was talking to Onion, who was talking back. Grrr and Grappa were helping each other bandage the other up. Pickle sighed. "I guess I better get used to being deaf," she said. She turned toward Onion, who looked like he was asking Mr Peckins a question. In the middle of it, he reached toward Pickle, caressed her face, and then pulled the hat off her head that Mr Peckins had given her. Suddenly, all the sounds of the night came rushing in to Pickle's ears.
"But who was he? Who is awful enough to boss around Squeebs?" Onion was asking.
"The worst kind of thing," Mr Peckins was saying. "He was a Salesman."