Why
is that guy
looking at me like that?
Is he afraid of me?

Why
is that guy
afraid of me?
Does he think that I want to hurt him?

Why
does he think
that I want to hurt him?
I never hurt anyone!

I never hurt anyone,
unless he wants to hurt me!

So if that guy thinks that I want to hurt him,
then only because he knows:
I hurt everybody
who hurts me.

So: he must want to hurt me!

So I guess I’ll go right over there and bash him in the mouth,
so that he can’t hurt me.

Ouch!

His fist was quicker than mine!
Now here I am on the ground.
But did’nt I tell you right away
that he wanted to hurt me?

Fear Again

We’re a peaceful country
and will never attack anyone.
Unless,
someone attacked us.

Whoever doesn’t intend
to attack us,
needs have no fear of us whatsoever.

Whoever wants to try to
protect himself from us,
proves that he’s
afraid of us.

Whoever’s afraid of us,
thereby proves,
that he intends
to attack us.

So you see it’s clear
that we have to attack anyone
who prepares to defend himself.

(Translated by Kim Martin Metzger)

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But one day a few of the hard working ones said, “We’ve had enough. We grunt and sweat all day, and then the others who just lie around on their backs all day and whistle at the sun come waltzing up and want to eat our carrots.” And instead of throwing their carrots on the community pile, they kept them in their homes and stuffed themselves till they were fat.

The really lazy ones just shrugged their shoulders and kept on eating from the big pile, and of course they ate more from the pile than they themselves brought to it.

Then the semi-hard workers and the semi-lazy ones noticed that now everybody was getting less than before because the really hard working ones had always brought especially many carrots, more than they ate themselves.

Then the semi-hardworking ones said, “So we’re going to keep our own carrots too.” And they stopped throwing them on the big pile, and instead, each one made his or her own little pile at home.

And the semi-lazy ones did the same thing. “We have no other choice,” they said to the really lazy ones.

And now they all had their own piles of carrots in front of their cottages, and when they felt like eating a special variety of carrot that they didn’t have in their piles, then they had to see if they could trade with someone else.

Pretty soon people were coming and going, and after work they were busy for hours trading carrots until they all had all the carrot varieties in their houses that they needed, or thought they needed.

“That’s a fine how-do-you-do!” said the really lazy ones among each other. For them there was no longer a community pile that they could sponge off of. But each one of them learned a different lesson from this situation. Some of them said, “All right, then I guess I’ll just have to work more.” But that wasn’t quite so easy because when such a reformed lazy person found a field to plant his or her carrots, there was usually someone who said, “Hey, I’ve always planted carrots here. This is my field.”

But others just went to the cottages of the richer ones and took from the carrot piles whatever they happened to feel like eating. “We always took from the community piles. And if there are now many piles, instead of one, then they’re all just lots of community piles. In any case, we’ll take what we want from them,” they said.

Of course, the rich people didn’t much like that attitude, and some of them started building fences around their carrot piles. And soon almost everybody had to build a fence around his or her pile of carrots because the more fences that were built around the piles, the more the really lazy ones, who wanted to keep to the old ways, went ahead and took what they wanted from the piles that didn’t have fences around them.

Before long, everybody who had a pile, also had a fence around it. Now, after work, they not only had to deal with trading varieties, but also with the mending and improvement of their fences and with watching them to make sure nobody climbed over them.

Pretty soon some of them started grumbling, “We all used to meet after work at the big carrot pile and tell jokes and play leapfrog. Now after work, we’re just stuck at home, watching our carrots and mending our fences. And the next morning we’re dead tired and can’t even plant our carrots properly. For some reason, we now have a lot more to do than we used to, but the carrots aren’t getting any more plentiful.”

And some people suggested that everybody should go back to the old ways, with the big community pile. “It’s better to feed a few really lazy moochers than constantly wear ourselves out with trading and guarding and mending fences!”

But the richest ones said, “No, if we go back to the old ways, then that means mooching is allowed. Then everybody will want to mooch, and no one will plant carrots anymore, and we’ll all starve!”

“But that’s not what’ll happen,” said the others. “It’s too boring for most people to just lie on their backs and whistle something to the sun. Believe us, there are only a few people, who are really that lazy. Actually, growing carrots is fun!”

“No,” said the richest ones, “growing carrots isn’t any fun. Only having carrots is fun. You can go ahead and share your carrots with the lazy bums, if you want to. As for us, we have no intention of tearing down our fences!”

“Heck,” said some of the semi-rich, “if the really rich ones aren’t going to go along, then we’d rather keep our fences too. We really don’t have so much that we can share it with the lazy bums.”

And the semi-poor ones said, “Well, if we’re the only ones who are going to share, then everybody’s going to have too little. We can’t go along with that. We’re afraid we’re going to have to keep our fences.”

And so this time, nothing came of it. And even though most of them actually knew that everybody now had more work to do, and no more carrots, they just couldn’t manage to go back to the old ways.

But a few other interesting things happened instead. Some of those who didn’t have big carrot fields went to some of the richer ones and said, “Listen, if each of you gives me a few carrots every day, in exchange I’ll guard your piles.”

And others came up with a different idea and said, “I’ll fix the fence of anybody, who gives me carrots!”

And still others went from house to house and said, “Give me a few of your carrots, and I’ll go and trade them for you, if I can keep every fifth carrot.”

That’s how it went for a while, and then some of them started scratching their heads and said, “Actually I should now have more time, but now I have to plant more carrots so that I can pay the fence mender and the night watchman and the carrot trader.”

And once again, some people proposed that they should all go back to the old ways and tear down the fences. But strangely, it wasn’t just the richest ones who were against the idea, but the poorest too, “Do you want to take away our work?” yelled the fence menders.

“How are we going to make a living?” yelled the night watchmen.

“Do you want us to starve?” yelled the carrot traders.

Heck, and so they just went on doing things the new way.

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When he was bigger, the little prince again wanted to please the queen. He went down to the royal courtyard where there always was a puddle near the royal well, and he baked a wonderful cake from sand and mud. This he brought back to the queen. When the queen saw the beautiful cake, she said: “Eek, where do you think you are, take out that dirt immediately.”

And then she took the prince, put his clothes into the washing machine and him into the tub, and there he sat in the royal bathtub being sad.

When he grew still bigger he again wanted to do something to please the queen. He painted a really wonderful picture of a knight fighting a dragon. It took him the whole day to paint the picture, because he painted everything just real, complete with rocky cave and captive damsel and flames coming out of the dragon’s mouth. When the picture was finished and he took it to the queen, she said: “For goodness’s sake, look at yourself, how am I to get the paint out of your clothes?”
And she took the prince, put his clothes into the washing machine and him into the tub, and there he sat in the royal bathtub being sad.

On Sundays, when the other princes went on a quest for the water of life or got turned into things by fairies or played soccer and cricket, the little prince hat to put on his Sunday best and go for a walk with the king and queen and uncle Herbert and aunt Betty. And when he said: “Look, there’s a treasure cave, can I go and dig out the treasure?” the queen said: “That’s out of the question, I can see what you’ll look like after this, and we won’t be able to go to the restaurant with you.”

One day a mighty dragon came and threatened the city. He demanded to be given an ox or a bull every day for his dinner, or else he would demolish the town with his fiery breath. But once a year, for his birthday, instead of the ox he wanted a young girl!
The whole kingdom was in fear, and when the birthday of the dragon drew near, all the young girls ran away and hid, because none of them was willing to let herself be eaten by the dragon. So the young prince said to himself: “I will defeat the dragon and save the kingdom. Then the queen will be proud of me at last.”
And the prince took his sharpest sword and saddled his fastest horse, put on fireproof armour and rode to meet the mighty dragon.
“Did you bring me a young girl for dinner?” the dragon roared, when he saw the prince riding along.
“No, I bring you death” the prince called and rode up to the dragon. It was a long and bitter fight and blood was splattered all around, but in the end the young prince defeated the dragon. He cut off his head, brought it to the queen and said: “Look, I freed the kingdom from the horrible dragon!”
When the queen saw the dragon’s head and the bloody armour, she said: “Goodness me, what a mess, throw it away immediately, put it in the dustbin!”
And she took the prince, put his bloody armour in the washing machine and him in the bathtub, and there he sat in the royal bathtub being sad.

When the people heard that the dragon had been killed, they wanted to see their rescuer. And the young girls came from their hiding places and wanted to see him too. But the young prince said sorrowfully: “Whatever I do, I end up making myself dirty. So I will never get out of the bathtub again.”
But the people wanted to see him, so the servants had to carry the bathtub with him in it out on the balcony, and there he sat on the balcony in the royal bathtub and waved to the people. And when he became king, every day he had his bathtub carried into the throne-room and he ruled from his royal bathtub. And he was the cleanest king, the kingdom had ever had.

Well, wasn’t that a nice clean story?
But it is not over.
The king was the cleanest king the country had ever had. And he ordered his subjects to take three baths and change their clothes six times every day. He even had a royal travel tub built, with wheels and a steam engine. In this he travelled through the country, and wherever he came, the subjects had to stand in line at the roadside and he checked if they had washed their ears, cleaned their nails and had put on clean underwear.

But at night, I tell you, at night he had the most horrible dreams. For despite his being so cleanly during the day, in the night he only dreamed of dirt, mud, grime, slime, filth, mire, muck, garbage, trash, rubbish, waste and scum!

Illustrations by Joachim Luetke

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Maybe, in this faraway region, there’s a planet as big as our Earth, and maybe people live on this planet, people who look almost exactly like us, except that they’re blue and can fold up their ears when they don’t want to hear anything.

And perhaps a war broke out on this faraway planet, and ever so many blue people died. A lot of orphans had been left behind, and in the ruins of one of the houses that the bombs had destroyed, sat a little blue boy who was crying because he had lost his father and his mother. For a long time he sat there like that and cried, but then he stopped because he had cried all the tears that were in him. He pulled up his collar, put his hands in his pockets, and went away. When he saw a rock, he kicked at it, and when he saw a flower, he stepped on it.

A little dog came up to him, looked at him, and started wagging its tail. Then it turned around and began walking alongside the boy, as though it had decided to keep him company.

“Go away!” said the boy to the dog. “You have to go away. If you stay with me, I’ll have to love you, and I never want to love anyone again in my whole life.”

The dog looked at him and wagged its tail cheerfully. Then the boy found a gun that was lying next to a dead soldier. He picked up the gun and showed it to the dog. “This gun can shoot you to death!” he said angrily. So the dog ran away.

“I’m going to take you with me!” the boy said to the gun. “You’ll be my good friend.” And with his gun he fired a shot at a dead tree.

Then he found a flying scooter that had just been left lying around in a field. He got on it and tried to start it. The flying scooter worked.

“Now I have a gun and a flying scooter,” said the boy. “They will be my family. I could have had a dog too, but he might be killed, and then I would have to die from crying.”

He flew around on his flying scooter until he saw a house with smoke coming out of it. “Someone’s still living there,” said the boy. He circled around the house and looked through the windows. Inside, there was only an old woman, who was cooking something.

The boy parked his flying scooter in front of the house, took his gun and went inside. “I have a gun!” he said to the old woman. “You’ve got to give me something to eat!”

“Come on, I would give you something anyway,” said the old woman. “You can go ahead and put your gun away.”

“I don’t want you to be nice to me!” the boy said crossly. “My gun can kill you!”

So the old woman gave him something to eat, and he flew off.

That’s how the boy was living now. He set up a hiding place in an abandoned house. When he got hungry, he flew somewhere where there were people, and with his gun he forced them to give him something to eat.

At other times he flew over the deserted battlefields and collected parts from weapons and tanks and trucks that had been left there. He took all of these things to his hiding place.

“I’ll build a giant armored robot!” he said to himself. “It’ll be a hundred yards tall, and it’ll weigh a hundred thousand tons, and way up in its head I’ll have my controls in a cab. Then I’ll have power and no one can do anything to me.”

One day a girl came by his hiding place. The boy went outside with his gun and said: “You’ve got to go away! My gun can shoot you!”

“I don’t want to bother you,” said the girl. “I’m just looking to see if the mushrooms have started growing again.”

“You’ve got to go away!” said the boy. “I don’t want anyone around me!”

“Are you all by yourself?” asked the girl.

“No,” said the boy. “I have a gun and a flying scooter. They’re my family. And one day I’ll have a giant armored robot!”

“Don’t you have anybody real?”

“I could have had a dog. But if someone had killed it, I would have had to die from crying.”

“I don’t really have anybody either,” said the girl. “We could stay together.”

“I don’t want to have anyone who could be shot by a gun!”

“Then I guess you’ll just have to find someone who can’t be shot by a gun!” said the girl and she went away.

But the boy built a giant armored robot and got inside. He sat down way at the top in the robot’s head, where he had built the cab with the controls.

Then he set out and drove around the country in his giant armored robot.

Everywhere the people screamed when they saw him coming, and they wanted to run away. But they couldn’t escape the giant armored robot.

The boy had a microphone in his cab, and everything he said into the microphone came roaring out of the robot’s mouth. “Is there someone here who can’t be killed by a gun?” yelled the robot. But wherever he came, people just ran away from him, and he never found anyone who couldn’t be killed by a gun.

One day, however, he could see from up above in his cab where he was sitting that someone down there wasn’t running away from him but just stood there and shouted something up to him. But he was so high up that he couldn’t understand what the person was saying.

“Maybe that’s someone who can’t be killed by a gun?” the boy thought and climbed down. But it was the old woman who had cooked a meal for him a while ago. “Did you want to say something to me?” the boy asked.

“Yes,” said the old woman. “I heard about somebody who can’t be killed by a gun. I thought I should tell you about him.”

“And who is that?” asked the boy.

“He’s an old man who lives up there on the moon.”

“Then I’ll have to look for him,” said the boy, “because I don’t want to have anyone around me who can be killed by a gun.” And he pulled a switch and his giant armored robot transformed itself into a giant armored rocket and he flew in it to the moon.

Up there on the moon, the boy had to search for a long time. But finally he found the old man. He was sitting behind a telescope and looking down on the blue planet.

“Are you the man who can’t be killed by a gun?” the boy asked the old man.

“I guess so,” the old man said.

“And what are you looking at in your telescope?”

“I’m studying the people on the planet down there.”

“Do you think I could stay with you?” the boy asked.

“Maybe,” said the old man. “What’s so special about me?”

“Because I don’t want to stay with someone who can be shot to death. When my parents died, I cried all the tears that I had in me. I could have had a dog, but if someone had killed it, I would have had to die from crying. And I could have stayed with an old woman or with a little girl. But they weren’t bulletproof, and if they had been killed, I would have had to die from crying.”

“It’s all right,” said the old man, “you can stay with me. No one can shoot me dead because there aren’t any guns here.”

“Is that the only reason?” the boy asked.

“Yes, that’s it,” said the old man.

“But I brought my gun with me.”

“Too bad,” said the old man, “now you can’t stay with me. Your gun could shoot me dead.”

“Then I’ll just have to go back,” said the boy.

“Yes,” said the old man.

“Too bad,” said the boy.

“Are you sorry?” the old man asked.

“Yes,” said the boy, “I would have liked to stay here.”

“Maybe you could throw your gun away?” said the old man.

“Maybe,” said the boy.

“And then you could stay with me after all,” said the old man.

“Maybe,” said the boy. “And what would I do then?”

“You could look through this telescope. Then maybe you could find out why those people down there are always fighting wars.”

“And why do they fight wars?”

“Well, I don’t know that either. I suppose it has something to do with not knowing enough about each other. There are so many of them, and their lives are so complicated that they don’t know how their actions will affect others. I guess they don’t know where the meat that they eat comes from or where the bread goes that they bake. I suppose they don’t know whether the iron that they dig up from the earth is used to make bulldozers or cannons. Maybe they don’t know if the meat they’re eating isn’t being taken away from other people. If they could see themselves from up above, maybe they would understand many things a lot better.

“Then somebody ought to show it to them?” said the boy.

“Maybe,” said the old man, “but I’m too old and too tired for that.”

It wasn’t until then that the boy let his gun fall, and it fell down through space, down to the planet, and there it broke into pieces.

But the boy stayed a long, long time with the old man on the moon and looked through the telescope and studied the people down there. And perhaps one day he flew down there and explained to them what they were doing wrong.

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„Wouldn’t it be better if you had water in the village,” the hodja asked the farmer he was staying with.

„Oh, much better,” said the farmer. „Every day the water costs me two hours of work for a donkey and a boy who drives the donkey. That comes to 1,460 hours per year, if you count the donkey as equal to the boy. If the donkey and the boy were working in the fields during this time, I could, for example, plant a whole field of pumpkins and harvest an additional 457 pumpkins every year.”

„I see you’ve got everything nicely figured out,” said the hodja, admiringly. „Then why not dig a canal to bring the water to the village?”

„That’s not so simple,” said the farmer. „There’s a hill in the way, which we’d have to dig up and remove. If I used my boy and donkey to dig a canal instead of sending them for water, it would take them 500 years, if they worked two hours a day. I’ve got maybe thirty more years to live, so it’s cheaper for me to have them fetch the water.”

„Yes, but would it be your responsibility alone to dig a canal? There are many families in this village.”

„Oh, yes,” said the farmer, „there are exactly 100 families. If every family sent a boy and a donkey every day for two hours, then the canal would be finished in five years. And if they worked ten hours every day, it would be finished in one year.”

„So why don’t you speak to your neighbors and suggest that all of you dig the canal together?”

„Well, if I have an important matter to discuss with a neighbor, I invite him to my house, serve him tea and halvah, talk to him about the weather and the prospects for the next harvest, then about his family, about his sons, daughters, and grandchildren. Then I have a meal served to him and after dinner we have tea again. Then he asks me about my farm and about my family, and then we get to the matter at hand nice and slowly. That takes a whole day. Since there are 100 families in our village, I would have to speak to 99 heads of household. You have to admit that I can’t afford to spend ninety-nine days in a row having these discussions. My farm would go to rack and ruin. The best I could do is to invite a neighbor once a week to my house. Since a year only has fifty-two weeks, that means it would take almost two years to talk to all my neighbors. If I know my neighbors, every one would finally agree that it would be better to have water in the village because they are all good with numbers. And if I know them, every one of them would promise to join in if the others joined in too. So, after two years I would have to start all over again. I’d have to invite them to my house and tell them that the others have also agreed to join in.”

„Fine,” said the hodja, „but after four years you would be ready to start the work. And after one more year, the canal would be completed!”

„There’s one more complication,” said the farmer. „You’ll admit that once the canal has been dug, everybody will be able to fetch water from it, whether he did his share of the work or not.”

„That’s right,” said the hodja. „Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t guard the whole length of the canal.”

„Exactly,” said the farmer. „So someone who was a slacker would have the same benefit from the canal as the others, but without the cost.”

„I have to admit that,” said the hodja.

„So everyone who is good at numbers will try to shirk his duty. One day it’ll be a lame donkey. Another day someone’s boy will have a cough. And then someone’s wife will be ill, and the boy and the donkey will be needed to fetch the doctor. But in our village, everyone is good at numbers, so everyone will try to get out of doing his share. And since every one of us knows that the others won’t pitch in, no one will send his donkey and his boy to work. So the canal won’t even be started.”

„I have to admit that your arguments sound very convincing,” said the hodja. He brooded for a while, then he suddenly called out, „But I know a village on the other side of the mountains that had exactly the same problem as you have. But they’ve had a canal for twenty years.”

„Right,” said the farmer, „but they aren’t good at numbers.”

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His father brought him a leather ball. “I bought you a real leather football. Go and play football! In beautiful weather like this a real boy must be out in the open and play football!”

But Tony was afraid of the football. In the evening he came home crying and with a bleeding nose.

“What happened?” said his father.

“The ball hit my nose and then the big boys played who could kick the ball over the fence and the ball got caught in a tree and they all left!”

“You’ll never be a real boy!” said father.

“I want a guinea pig!” said Tony.

Father brought a skateboard for Tony. “Go and play with this skateboard” he said. “Nowadays all the boys play with skateboards. They do all sorts of tricks, some are real acrobats. They do tailslides and railslides and ollies and nollies and whatnot. Me, at my time, I never had such a great plaything.”

But Tony was afraid of the skateboard.

In the evening he came home limping and dragging the skateboard behind him.

“What happened?” said his father.

“I rode into a woman with a shopping bag and the eggs are broken and then I fell down the stairs near the market because I don’t know how to brake.”

“And the skateboard?”

“One wheel jams and the others are bent.”

“You’ll never be a real boy!” said father.

“I want a guinea pig!” said Tony.

Father brought a boomerang for Tony. “Go and throw the boomerang” he said, “so your biceps will grow! When we were boys, we always dreamed of having a boomerang. In weather like this a real boy is out to play red Indians or native tribes or some such thing!”

But Tony was afraid of the boomerang. In the evening he came home and silently put away the boomerang.

“Was it fun?” said father.

“Yes”, said Tony.

“Nothing happened?” said father?

“No”, said Tony.

“You didn’t even throw, right?”

“No”, said Tony.

“You’ll never be a real boy!” sighed father. “A real boy will at least break a window.”

“I want a guinea pig!” said Tony.

Father brought a guinea pig for Tony. “I have bought you a guinea pig”, he said, “you will never be a real boy. Und who is no real boy will never be a real man! Well, late I will give you a bicycle and dumbbells and things. Maybe you will be a real boy later on after all!”

And Tony took his guinea pig in his lap, fed it some salad and said: “You will have to ride the bicycle and work out with dumbbells, or you will never be a real guinea pig!”

At that the guinea pig bit him in the nose and ran away.

“It’s not true, I’m only joking!” Tony called. “I will give you salad and you can crawl under my shirt and lie close to my belly!”

But he had to stroke and tickle the guinea pig for hours and let it lie under his shirt close to his belly until he convinced it that he really did not want it to be a real guinea pig.

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Or they say: Oh, but didn’t we have a laugh today when Sammy and the cat…

But no one, no one ever comes to breakfast in the morning and says: Well last night, after going to bed, I had a fantastic time doing - well, that.

The poor boy got more and more depressed and even frightened: Maybe something was wrong with him? Maybe he was ill? Maybe he was abnormal?

So as not to show his fears and misgivings he began to behave very cool and arrogant. And to keep others from suspecting him of doing that, he began to joke about people who do that. And when he thought someone was doing that, he jeered and made fun of them.

Oh, if he only had known that most everybody does it. Boys do it, girls do it, grown-ups do it, even the married ones, teachers and doctors and lawyers do it, grandfathers and grandmothers do it, everybody, well almost everybody does it.

What?

You still don’t know what I’m talking about? Do I have to spell it out? Do I really have to say it out loud what it is that everybody does secretly under their blankets and no one ever talks about? Well, scraping the dirt from between their toes and rolling it into little balls!

Or what did you think?

Oh, that?

Oh, come on, everybody does that too!

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But the princess said: “So what? Let it stick there!” and walked away.

“Oh dear!” said the prince. “If the princess has a bogey sticking to her nose, I will not comb my hair anymore!”

After a while the prince met the king. “But my dear prince”, said the king, “why is your hair not combed?”

“Oh Mr. King sir”, said the prince, “I do not comb my hair, because the princess has a little bogey sticking to her nose!”

“Oh dear!” said the king. “If the princess has a bogey sticking to her nose, I will not wash anymore!”

After a while the king met the court magician. “But Mr. King sir”, said the court magician, “why are so so dirty?”

“My dear court magician”, said the king. “I will not wash anymore, because the prince will not comb his hair anymore, because the princess has a little bogey sticking to her nose!”

“Oh dear!” said the court magician. “If the princess has a bogey sticking to her nose, I will tear my magician’s robe to pieces!”

After a while, the court magician met the witch. “Oh but Mr. Court Magician”, said the witch, “why is your magician’s robe torn to pieces?”

“My dear Mrs. Witch”, said the court magician, “I have torn my magician’s robe to pieces, because the king will not wash anymore, because the prince will not comb his hair anymore, because the princess has a little bogey sticking to her nose!”

“Oh dear!” said the witch. “If the princess has a bogey sticking to her nose, I will cut up my pretty shoes!”

After a while, the witch met the robber. “But Mrs. Witch”, said the robber, “why are your pretty shoes all cut up?”
“My dear Mr. Robber”, said the witch, “I cut up my pretty shoes, because the court magician has torn his magician’s robe to pieces, because the king will not wash anymore, because the prince will not comb his hair anymore, because the princess has a little bogey sticking to her nose!”

“Oh dear!” said the robber. “If the princess has a bogey sticking to her nose, I will pull out my beard!”

After a while, the robber met the policeman. “But Mr. Robber”, said the policeman, “why is your beard so scrubby?”

“My dear Mr. Policeman”, said the robber, “I have pulled out my beard, because the court magician has torn his magician’s robe to pieces, because the king will not wash anymore, because the prince will not comb his hair anymore, because the princess has a little bogey sticking to her nose!”

policeman. “If the princess has a bogey sticking to her nose, I will beat myself on the head with my club!”

After a while, the policeman met the grandmother. “But Mr. Policeman”, said the grandmother, “why do you hit yourself on the head with your club?”

“Oh dear Mrs. Grandmother”, said the policeman, “I hit myself on my head with my club, because the robber has pulled out his beard, because the court magician has torn his magician’s robe to pieces, because the king will not wash anymore, because the prince will not comb his hair anymore, because the princess has a little bogey sticking to her nose!”

“Oh dear!” said the grandmother. “If the princess has a bogey sticking to her nose, I will burn my dinner!”

After a while, Judy came to see grandmother. “But grandmother” , said Judy, “why have you burnt your dinner?”

“My dear Judy”, said the grandmother, “I am burning my dinner, because the policeman hits himself on the head with his club, because the robber has pulled out his beard, because the court magician has torn his magician’s robe to pieces, because the king will not wash anymore, because the prince will not comb his hair anymore, because the princess has a little bogey sticking to her nose!”

“Oh dear!” said Judy. “If the princess has a bogey sticking to her nose, I will cry to the heavens!”

After a while, Mr. Punch came to see Judy. “But Judy”, he said, “why are you crying so terribly loud?”

“Oh Punch”, cried Judy, “I am crying so terribly loud because grandmother has burned her dinner, because the policeman hits himself on the head with his club, because the robber has pulled out his beard, because the court magician has torn his magician’s robe to pieces, because the king will not wash anymore, because the prince will not comb his hair anymore, because the princess has a little bogey sticking to her nose!”

“Oh dear!” said Mr. Punch. “If the princess has a bogey sticking to her nose, I will go and let the crocodile eat me!”

And Mr. Punch ran to the river, where the crododile lived.

“But Mr. Punch”, said the crocodile, “what are you doing here at my river?”

“Oh Mr. Crocodile”, said Mr. Punch, “I have come to let you eat me!”

“But why do you want to let me eat you?” said the crododile.

“Oh Mr. Crododile”, said Mr. Punch, “I have come to let you eat me because Judy is crying so terribly loud, because grandmother has burned her dinner, because the policeman hits himself on the head with his club, because the robber has pulled out his beard, because the court magician has torn his magician’s robe to pieces, because the king will not wash anymore, because the prince will not comb his hair anymore, because the princess has a little bogey sticking to her nose!”

“And because of all this nonsense you want to let me eat you and end your life in my stomach?”

“We-ell”, said Mr. Punch, “come to think of it, actually not!”

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Once there were two children who had to take leave from each other, because one had to go this way and the other one that way. When they said goodbye they promised to dream of each other so they would not have to be so sad. And this they did, and in their dreams they were courageous and strong.

Once they climbed a high mountain together, and it took them many days. And they kept each other warm in the night and they helped each other get over the crevices and held each others hand when they had to pass by the terrifying abyss where death was lurking deep down .

Once they were together in a small boat, all alone in the vastness of the sea, and they took turns rowing and shared the last piece of bread and in the lonely nights they saw stars they had never seen before.

Once they were together just playing. And one child said to the other: “Look, I can fly!” Und it soared up and hovered right under the ceiling. This made the other child sad.

“Don’t be sad!” said the child that could fly, “I will show you how, what else did you think?”

And it came down and said: “You just have to do this and this and this with your shoulders, and then you must will!”

And the other child did this and this and this with it’s shoulders and then it willed.

And they both floated in the air, this way and that, right under the ceiling. And suddenly there were other people there who looked amazed, and the children said to them: “But look, all you have to do is this and this and this with your shoulders and then you just have to will!”

But these people didn’t know what the children were talking about and kept shaking their heads and looking perplexed at children who floated under the ceiling.

Once one of the children dreamed about it’s grandfather. Grandfather was standing there and calling, but the child could not understand him. It was as if grandfather was stuck inside a tree, his body was the trunk and his arms were the branches. And grandfather shouted, but the child did not know what he meant and could not get near him. This caused the child great fear. At long last the other child came and said: “Your grandfather has died.” And it came back to the child, yes, grandfather has died, and it was already a long time ago and it did not hurt so much any more.

And so they were always together, and when one child was chased by werewolves and got saved by the other one, it would say: “Yes, but tomorrow I will save you, for that is how it has to be!”

And so it was.

One day one of the children traveled alone through a lonely desert. I walked and walked and it was all alone. At long last it saw a figure afar. Far away at the horizon the other child walked and approached, oh so slowly. They walked and walked, but it seemed they could not reach each other. When at last they met, weary and sad, one child said: “Where have you been? I was so lonely without you!”

And the other child said: “I found out something. That is why it was so hard to get to you. I have grown up!”

“What?”

“Yes, I have grown up. All the time between our dreams I lived my life. I finished school, I learned a profession, I moved to my own house. It is a long time since I was a child.”

And suddenly it came back to the other child too. It too was not a child any more, it had a job, a house, was married and even had children. “Yes, we have grown up all this time, only we didn’t know while we were dreaming. And when we wake up, we will not remember this dream.”

So they stood and held each other’s hands and tried not to wake up.

But some time they would have to.

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He was back in an hour.
“Well, where is your bird?” asked his father.
“I hope it won’t smell,” said his mother.
“He’s coming,” said Markus. And in came the bird.
Well, it wasn’t a canary, it wasn’t a budgie, it wasn’t a parrot – It was a beautiful white swan.
“Oh, my goodness,” said his mother.
“Now, now, now,” said his father.
“Here is my bird,” said Markus.
“No!” said his mother. “No! This swan is not coming into my house!”
“Swans belong outside!” said his father.
“Fine,” said Markus. “I will drop dead on the spot!”
“Now stop this nonsense!” said his mother.
“This won’t help you at all!” said his father.
“I’m dead!” said Markus.
“Okay,” said his mother. “But let me tell you one thing: dead boys don’t get supper in this house!”
“Well, and if you are dead,” said his father, “I guess you don’t need a bird.”
“Very well,” said Markus. “The we’ll got and live in the woods.” And he got up and left.
“Oh, my goodness,” said his mother.
“Now, now, now,” said his father.
And the swan left too.

It was almost dark when Markus reached the woods.
“There’s a stranger coming,” hooted the owl.
“Someone who doesn’t belong here,” hissed the snake.
“Someone we don’t like,” growled the fox.
“Someone who frightens me,” wailed the hare.
“We’ll chase him away,” hooted the owl.
“Yes, get rid of him,” hissed the snake.
“Make sure he never comes back,” growled the fox.
“So that he can’t hurt me,” wailed the hare.
“Should I peck his eyes out?” hooted the owl, fluttering his wings.
“Should I poison him?” hissed the snake, sticking out his tongue.
“Shall I bite his legs?” growled the fox, baring his teeth.
“Oh, I can’t stand the sight of blood,” wailed the hare, and he jumped into his hole.
Just then the swan came up behind Markus.
“Oh dear, he’s not alone,” hooted the owl.
“He has a mighty protector,” hissed the snake.
“There is nothing we can do,” growled the fox.
“I hope he won’t hurt us!” wailed the hare.
“And Markus said, “Oh shut up and be quiet!”
Then he lay down on the ground and went to sleep, and the big white swan covered him with his wing.
The moon rose and moved across the sky. And Markus slept.
The moon set. And Markus slept.
Then the sky grew light and the sun rose.
Markus woke up and said to the swan, “Come on. You and me, we are going to find a giant.”
And off they went.

It wasn’t long before they found a giant.
“Hey, giant,” called Markus.
“Yes?” roared the giant.
“We’ve been looking for you,” said Markus.
“I can see that!” roared the giant.
“Aren’t you afraid of us?” asked Markus.
“Me? Afraid? Ha! You’re the one who should be afraid!” roared the giant.
“But I have a mighty protector,” said Markus.
The giant laughed, “I will eat him for breakfast. And you, too!”
“We’ll see about that!” said Markus.
So the giant grabbed Markus and the swan and swallowed them in one gulp.
“Delicious,” he said, smacking his lips.
Then he burped, and all the flowers wilted.
But inside the giant the swan fluttered his wings.
The giant’s stomach began to growl.
“I feel terrible,” the giant sighed.
“That was not a good breakfast at all,” the giant complained.
“I feel sick!” the giant wailed.
The growling and rumbling in his stomach grew worse and worse.
The giant began to shake.
His mouth opened
And shwapp – Markus was out.
And shwapp – the swan followed.
And shwapp – everything the giant had recently eaten followed the swan:
Children and bicycles and watchdogs and wristwatches and racing cars and soap bubbles and circuses and dormice and doormats and dormitories and chestnut trees and doughnut stands and laughter and liveries and liberties and leap years and thunderstorms and canaries and canopies and can openers and candies and cannonballs and soda pop and French fries and fresh flies and ice cream and nice dreams and five screams and riverbeds and flower beds and flower pots and hippopotami and drainpipes and hornpipes and secrets and miracles and a little elf in a little box and a drawerful of socks and Turkish delight and a murky night and puppies and poppies and peacocks and guinea pigs and turtles and turtledoves and moles and buttonholes and parakeets and parachutes and parrots and carrots and ants and pants and panting aunts and flesh-eating plants and a honeybee and a funny flea.
“Fine,” said Markus. “Now we can go home.”

“I’m back,” said Markus when he opened the door.
“Now just look at you!” said his mother. “Get into the tub this minute!”
“An owl almost pecked my eyes out,” said Markus.
“Do what your mother says!” said his father.
“A snake almost poisoned me!” said Markus.
“And give me your dirty clothes so I can wash them,” said his mother.
“A fox almost bit my legs!” said Markus.
“Do what your mother says!” said his father.
“And a giant swallowed me!” said Markus.
“Yes of course,” said his mother.
“But naturally,” said his father.
“But my brave swan protected me and tickled the giant until he spat me out, and my life was saved. And that’s why my brave swan must stay with me – or I’ll drop dead on the spot!”
“Well, we’ll see,” said his mother.
“But only if you’re good!” said his father.
“And may all the others that were inside the giant coma and live with me too?” asked Markus.
“Yes, yes, but now get into the tub!”
So they all came in – all the children and bicycles and watchdogs and wristwatches and racing cars and soap bubbles and circuses and dormice and doormats and dormitories and chestnut trees and doughnut stands and laughter and liveries and liberties and leap years and thunderstorms and canaries and canopies and can openers and candies and cannonballs and soda pop and French fries and fresh flies and ice cream and nice dreams and five screams and riverbeds and flower beds and flower pots and hippopotami and drainpipes and hornpipes and secrets and miracles and a little elf in a little box and a drawerful of socks and Turkish delight and a murky night and puppies and poppies and peacocks and guinea pigs and turtles and turtledoves and moles and buttonholes and parakeets and parachutes and parrots and carrots and ants and pants and panting aunts and flesh-eating plants and the honeybee and the funny flea.
And they all marched into Markus’s room, and the flea closed the door behind them.
“Oh, my goodness,” said Markus’s mother.
“Now, now, now,” said his father.
“And now I’ll have my bath,” said Markus.

And maybe they all came and sat in the tub with him

Cover illustration by Simone Klages

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After half an hour she could not bear it any longer, she was so afraid she could lose the ball. So she went home, holding the ball tightly in her arms. Proudly she held it out for her mother to see and said: “Look, I didn’t lose it this time!”

Mother looked her up and down and said: “Fine, that’s great. But where is your left shoe?”

Lily’s heart missed two beats and she looked down and really, at the end of her legs she saw one shoe and one blue sock.

“My god, what shall I do with you!” mother wailed, “Now you even come home without your shoes! Who ever heard of such a child! Do you think shoes grow on trees? These things cost money! Please tell me, how in the world can someone lose a shoe without noticing? It is impossible not to notice such a thing!”

“But - but - I was minding the ball so hard!” Lily stammered.

And then she had to go back to the park with mother to look for the shoe, and of course it was there, it had got stuck in the sandbox and Lily had not noticed it from fear for her new red ball.

And then of course she was not allowed to go to the park for a whole week.

That’s the way it was with Lily. She really minded her things, you could not even talk with her for more than two minutes, for every other second she winced and cried out: “Help, where is my Winnie-the-Pooh-notepad?” or “Gosh, I must have left my Barbie-comb-and-mirror-set somewhere!”

And then she started looking in all her pockets, and if she could not find what she was looking for in her pockets she emptied her schoolbag, and if it was not in her schoolbag she combed through the classroom or the park or the apartment. She was constantly looking for something and half the time she was looking for things she could not have lost because she had not even taken them with her.

She got so nervous she started tying things to herself with pieces of string. First her mother had done this: In winter she had given her mittens on a string that went through the arms of her overcoat. My, was she ashamed then. But now she tied everything to her body or to her clothes: Her little purse, the pink felt-tip pen, the bag for paper tissues, the plastic folder for seven-day ticket, her nail clip, even the blue plastic ruler. But all the same she kept losing things and her mother nagged, her father grumbled and her teacher gave her a dressing down almost every other day. When once again she had lost her pencil sharpener or her exercise-book or her sports dress her teacher said: “One of these days you will lose your head, Lily, if you go on like this!”

And that was exactly what happened. One day Lily came to school without a head on her shoulders.

“But you don’t have a head!” the teacher screamed horror-stricken.

Headless Lily shrugged her shoulders and sat down at her desk. The boy who was sitting next to her began to weep.

“Get out of here and don’t dare to come back without your head!” the teacher yelled, and all the children sat at their desks paralysed from shock.

But headless Lily did not hear anything, which is not really astonishing, and she did not say anything, and that is understandable too. She sat there and leisurely played with the mittens that were dangling from her arms. Now she had no more head she was not afraid any more of losing something. In fact, she was not afraid of anything, because fear sits in the head, even if you feel it in your heart sometimes or in your belly or maybe in your pants.

How the story ended? I don’t know exactly. They say that for a long time yet headless Lily like a restless ghost ambled to school in the morning, went back home in the afternoon, went to bed in the evening and got up the next day without ever saying or noticing anything. In the beginning people found it rather creepy, but after a while they got used to it. My goodness, so many people lose their head, don’t they?

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In the afternoon Patricia got sick. After lunch she didn’t get up from her chair, she just sat there and stared at the tablecloth. Her whole body seemed to be hurting, arms and legs were heavy as lead and behind her eyes there was a very unpleasant pressure. She couldn’t be bothered to move, she felt paralysed.

“I have a headache!” she said to her mother.

“Yes, sure”, said mother, “it seems you don’t feel like making your homework, am I right?”

“No, really, everything is hurting, my shoulders, my knees, my fingertips. I feel terrible, I couldn’t even touch anything.”

Now her mother became apprehensive and took a closer look at Patty: “Let’s see, maybe you really don’t look too well after all. Let’s just take your temperature!”

And then Patty was sent to bed with a hot water bottle and the doctor was called. He said he would come as soon as possible.

“Do you need anything else?” mother asked.

“No”, Patty said weakly, “I think I won’t ever need anything anymore!”
Mother drew the curtains and left Patty alone in the dim room.

“Try to sleep a little” she said, but Patty could not sleep. She lay there and her head was buzzing. She speculated which illness she might have.

Maybe I have cancer, she thought, or leukemia or tuberculosis. If it is tuberculosis, I will be sent to a sanatorium in the mountains. There they will give me lots of milk to drink and wrap me in lots of blankets and make me lie in a deckchair in the sun - if the sun is shining. And to my left and to my right only people with tuberculosis, and constantly you hear them coughing. Some get well again, but every day you can hear: So and so has passed away and what’s his name won’t make it much longer.

If it is cancer they will have to operate. No, it would be terrible if they would have to amputate an arm or a leg. Then I would be - disabled. No - handicapped. No - a person with special needs. But I could learn to ride a bicycle with just one leg and everyone would say how courageous she is! Even with one leg missing she is coping with life! And I could train hard and one day take part in the Paralympics and win a medal. Then my picture would be in the paper!

If it is leukemia there is no chance of survival. Somehow the blood is sick and slowly dissolves and you have to die. Not immediately, but after one or two years. I think. Would they tell me, if I have to die? Probably not. Probably they would tell me a white lie. Out of mercy. No, if I have to die, I want to know. If the doctor tells me I only have one or two years left, I will be very brave. Mom and Dad will be weeping, and I will comfort them and will tell them: “You don’t need to be sad. Isn’t it grand I have lived at all? And we still can have one or two

wonderful years together. And when I will be dead, you will always remember me as a little girl.” And then they will take me to all the wonderful places, to Paris and Venice and even to Disneyland, so I can see everything while there is time. And all my classmates will come and take leave of me and they will weep. And I don’t have to be considerate of Frederick any more, because he is little, but he will have to be considerate of me, because I don’t have much longer to live. And one day daddy will come home from work and will tell us that he has resigned, because it is not so important for him to become chief of the department and he would rather spend my remaining years together with me. And when we have seen all the important cities and Disneyland, we will buy a little cottage at the sea or in the mountains, with a flower garden around it and there we will live together quietly during the last year of my life. And we will have a horse and a donkey and a little dog and goats and sheep, and we will make excursions and picnics and will be very patient and friendly with each other, because our time is so short.

And then I will meet a handsome boy with dark eyes and we will fall in love with each other. We will take long walks together along the shore or through the woods and will tell each other all our secrets. And one day I will even tell him that I have leukemia and must die. And I will tell him to be brave.

And then I will slowly get weaker, and I will lie in a deckchair in the garden, and Frederick will play with the young goats, daddy will work in the orchard and Mummy will paint, I will say farewell to everything. And I will not be sad, because through me my family will have found true happiness, and they will never quarrel or be unkind to each other. And the boy with the dark eyes will come to visit me, and he will hold my hand and with a sad little smile I will fall asleep.

But then the doctor came felt her pulse and Patty had to open her mouth and show her tongue and then it was only the flu. Patty could have cried from frustration.

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“Why do you have to be such a klutz?” his father used to grumble.

“Why can’t you be more careful?” his mother used to wail.

And his sister said: “Ah, Robbie is too stupid even to take a crap !”

And although this was a very bad thing to say, there was some truth in it.

Because when Robbie sat on the toilet he always noticed to late when the toilet paper had run out and then he had to use a page from his book - because he always took a book to the toilet - or he had to shout until someone brought a new roll from the hall cupboard and handed it to him through the half opened door. And then, oh how he was ashamed! Once he sat on the toilet for five hours on end only because he could not get up the nerve to shout and then to listen to his families comments.

Sometimes his sister would ask some class mates to their home to show them her clumsy brother. The ladies then would ask him to bring them four glasses of lemonade from the kitchen and then they waited whispering and giggling until he broke a glass. Or at other times they would bring a model airplane kit and watched him assemble it and made bets what it would be, a baby stroller, a hippopotamus, or a pile of scrap. Most times it would be a pile of scrap.

One day his sister said to him: “I wrote to the Book of Records and told them that you are the clumsiest boy in the world. So you will have at least one thing to be proud of. They will send a team of supervisors who will examine you, and if they find everything as I wrote then you will be in the book. You will be the most famous of us all and your family won’t have to be ashamed of you any more.”

The team of supervisors arrived, and Robbie ate his macaroni without pricking his finger. He only got some sauce on his shirt and the stains would never go out. Robbie drank his milk without swallowing the glass. He only choked on the milk and spat some of it on one of the supervisors suits. He rode his bike through a slalom course and only knocked over some bottles. He put on his Sunday suit and nothing more happened than he had some buttons left over at the top of the jacket. And finally he assembled a balsa wood glider that immediately crashed, but don’t they all?

“But that boy is just plain dumb”, the supervisors said shrugging their shoulders, “there is nothing special the matter with him”, and they left looking bored.

Robbie’s sister didn’t talk to him for a week, and then everything was just as before. It really was a bleak, cheerless life for Robbie.

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“Are you crazy?” the other mice said. “Giants are gigantic and very dangerous. A giant won’t even eat you, he’ll just breath you in like a gnat.”

“Oh”, said the mouse, “but I so badly want to make the acquaintance of a giant. Maybe I can be of service to him and he will learn not to look down on little animals. Do you remember the story of the lion and the mouse? The lion had been caught in a net and the tiny little mouse gnawed a whole in the net and freed the great big lion!”

“These are old stories”, said the other mice. You just take care!”

But the mouse would not listen and started off on his journey.

He kept looking for a long time, but finally he found the house of a giant. The mouse climbed up the table, sat down beside the giant’s teacup and said in his small squeaky voice: “Hello giant, it’s me! What can I do for you?”

“What?” said the giant.

“It’s me, the little mouse. How can I help you?”

“Hey?” said the giant.

“I mean: how can I be of service to you, Sir? Can I do you a favour?”

“Oh yes”, roared the giant. “You can do me a favour. Stay away from my cheese, my bread, my corn and all my foodstuffs. The greatest favour would be if you left my house altogether, and that NOW!”

“No need to be so arrogant”, said the mouse. “Even small animals can do big deeds!”

“Like what?” roared the giant.

“If, for instance, someone would catch you, let’s say, in a big net - I could bite through the net and free you!”

This made the giant laugh out loud. “Hey, you might have to wait a very long time till someone catches me in a net. Who would that be, tell me? Who could do such a thing? Heck, I’m a giant! So, hush, little mouse, run away quick before I swallow you by mistake. I wouldn’t even notice it, believe me!”

But the mouse hid in the cellar, dug himself a cosy little mouse hole and started waiting for an opportunity to save the giant’s life. Meanwhile he nibbled away at the giant’s cheese and bread and corn, for he had to live, hadn’t he?

The giant cursed terribly when he found that the mouse had been at his foodstuffs, but what could he do? His hands were to big and clumsy to reach into the mouse hole. He cursed and shouted and threatened the mouse, but the mouse just sat in his hole and thought: “Just you wait. There will come a day when you need me to save your life! And then we will be friends, if you like it or not!”

When summer came, the giant got his giant hammock out of the closet, tied it to two giant oak trees and lay down for a little nap.

The mouse had slept long on this hot day and got up rather late in the morning. When he saw the giant in his hammock, he thought: “Now it has happened! Now he has been caught in the net. Now I can free him and make him my friend!”

At once he climbed up one of the oak trees and began to gnaw the rope that held the hammock. When he had bitten half through it, the rope broke, the giant fell to the ground and got himself a terrible bump on the head. So this time the giant didn’t become the mouse’s friend and he never learned to respect small animals.

The first moral of this story is: If you want to do a good deed, get your facts right and check the details. And the second moral: Life sometimes works like it does in fables - and sometimes it doesn’t.

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Illustrations by Hansi Linthaler

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„Well now I am boozled”, I thought to myself. „It will gurry me and then I’ll be moogered”. But it just plunkered bozely at me and mumpled away into the crombles.

Suddenly I came into a Crommach. All about me giant sturders and frimps, in which murks were whimsing. But then, in the distance, I saw a little stirrywink swaggling. „Thank god”, I thought, „at least I have found a stirrywink. But as I walked towards it, it got more and more hubbled, and I thought: „Why is it getting so hubbled?” In that very moment I flimped over a broozer and fotsed!

All about me everything turned mungle. The stroozes creezed, the momps oogled, the oompers bongered - and there she was: The Great Humza!
All over the Slumpywoods it was brizzling and neezing. Not a single swink dared to swaggle, not a strook was crumping, even the Gammerock had stopped froozing. And the Great Humza just froomed there all mozily, and only her molden lurrawinds fraured. All over the Slumpywoods not a frimp was nubbing. And then she rose and mauderly, mauderly whirrared away over the Slumpywoods.

Well one thing you can be sure of: I will never again go all by myself to the Slumpywoods.

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Everybody had gone out, just Victoria had stayed home all by herself.
“When they’re all gone the house is full of magic!” said Victoria.
She went to the bedroom of Mummy and Dad and looked under the blanket. A big brown bear looked at her.
“Oh dear!” said Victoria.
“Give me a present!” said Victoria.
So the bear left the room and brought back daddy’s hat. Victoria put it on. Then she tucked the bear in nice and warm.
Victoria looked into Mummy’s bed-side table. There was a big toad sitting there with golden eyes.
“Oh dear”, said Victoria. “Give me a present too!” said Victoria.
The toad hopped outside and brought back mother’s shoes. Victoria put them on. Then she closed the bed-side drawers.
Victoria looked into the cupboard. She heard something throb. Victoria searched among the clothes and dresses. There was daddy’s big coat. The throbbing came from inside the coat. Victoria climbed on a suitcase to see what was throbbing. In the inner pocket there was a dark red heart, that was beating.
“O dear!” said Victoria.
In the outer pocket there was a golden key and in the other one a bean.
“Are you giving me that?” Victoria asked the heart and the heart beat. So Victoria took the key and the bean.
Victoria wandered through the house, and the house was so big.
In the study there was the desk, and on the desk there was a book. Victoria climbed on the chair and had a look at the book. But there were no pictures in it, just little black squiggles.
“Now let’s see”, said Victoria.
She touched the book with the golden key. And the little squiggles began to move. They became little people who were dancing.
“Oh I see!” said Victoria and had a look at the next page. There the squiggles became a pond. In the pond there were little bubbles.
Victoria touched the bubbles with her key. Little tadpoles came out of the bubbles, swam around and grew, lost their tails and turned into frogs.
“Oh I see”, said Victoria and opened the next page.
On this page there were little worms. Victoria touched the page with her key. Beetles came along and ate some of the worms. Birds came along and ate some of the beetles. Foxes came along and caught some of the birds. But one fox choked on a bone and died.. So the worms came along and ate the fox.
“Oh I see”, said Victoria and turned over the page.
On this page there was a forest. Victoria touched the forest with her key. People came and cut down the trees. From the trees they built houses and a city to live in. A fire broke out and the city was burned. The people packed their belongings and moved on. Wind came and brought seeds from the woods. And a forest grew again.
“Oh I see”, said Victoria.
Victoria closed the book and took it wih her.
Victoria went to the kitchen. In the compartment under the sink there were mother’s flowerpots. Victoria took the biggest one and carried it into her room. She put the bean in the pot and put soil on it.
“Now let’s see!” said Victoria and touched the flowerpot with the golden key.
The soil began to move and a beanstalk came out. It grew and grew and grew higher and higher.
“Oh dear!” said Victoria.
So Victoria climbed up the beanstalk.
“There will be no room left for it!” said Victoria.
But the beanstalk grew and grew and grew. She climbed and climbed and climbed, and the room was high as a tower.
Among the leaves a lion appeared. He opened his jaws and roared.
“Now let’s see!” said Victoria and touched the lion with the golden key. Right away the lion was tame as a kitten.
“Oh I see!” said Victoria and went on climbing.
Then wolves came running howling and whining. But Victoria touched them with the golden key, and right away the wolves were tame just like dogs.
“That’s the way!” said Victoria and she climbed on.
Strange people came running, yelling and shouting, but Victoria couldn not understand what they said. So she held out the golden key to them, and when the people touched the key, Victoria could understand what they said.
“At last you have come, Victoria”, the strange people said. “We are glad that your’re here.” And now they weren’t strangers any more.
“Thank you”, said Victoria.
And the people showed her their houses and flats and said: “If you want a house just chose one!”
“Thank you so much!” said Victoria, “maybe later!” And she climbed on.
And she climbed and she climbed, and high over the bean tree, she saw the moon. And right on top on the highest branch there were Mummy and Daddy sitting at a table. They had lighted a candle and were holding hands.
“Today the moon shines so bright”, said Mummy. „Would you like to sit here with us?”
“Oh yes!” said Victoria.

Cover illustration by Simone Klages

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Cover Illustration by Simone Klages

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“Well, so you can learn how to read and write and count!”

“Can you do that?”

“Of course I can read and write and count!”

“So why don’t you just show me how to do it?”

“Because that’s not the way it’s done. Reading and writing and counting you have to learn in school!”

“And tying my shoelaces and brushing my teeth and going to the toilet?”

“These are things you learn at home!”

“Why?”

“Come on now, question time is over, now it’s time for bed”, mummy said.

When teacher wrote the letter A on the blackboard and said: “This is letter A!” Peter just said: “Why?”

“What do you mean: why, Peter?”

“Well, why is this letter A?”

“Look here, Peter: There are many different letters. And each letter has a different name. And with different letters, we can write different words. And this – well, this is letter A!”

“Yes, but why?” said Peter.

“Peter, you are keeping everybody. Just take your pen and copy letter A into your book, okay?”

When the children had learned all the letters, Peter said: “And how do you spell this?” clicking his tongue.

“What, Peter?”

“Well this”, said Peter, clicking his tongue again.

“You cannot spell this”, teacher said.

“Why?” said Peter.

“Because there are no words with that kind of sound!”

“So what if I call my dog? I always call my dog like this!”

“Peter, we have to get on with our work now, okay?”

When the children learned that two plus two equals four, Peter only said: “Why?”

“What do you mean: why, again?” teacher said.

“Well, why does two plus two equal four?”

“Look here, Peter, look here: Here are two apples on the table. Now if we put another two apples on the table, and we count them, we can see that they are four. Can’t you see that, Peter?”

“Yes I can see that they are four.”

“So there, Peter!”

“But I want to know why they are four!”

And that’s how it was with Peter all the time. When people were talking about fish, Peter would ask: “And why can’t people live under water too?”

“Because they would suffocate!”

“And why would they suffocate?”

“Because they cannot breathe under water!”

“And why can’t they breathe under water?”

“Because they have no gills!”

Now that’s a good answer, isn’t it? Rather says it all, doesn’t it? Peter could have been content with it, don’t you think? Right here he could have stopped asking, no?

But no, he was itching, he just couldn’t stop, he had to go on asking: “And why don’t people have gills?”

Now do you think that’s in order? Do you think that’s okay? Does one have to go on asking until one gets no more answers? It annoys people. Makes them angry.

And then, consider: If Peter would have stopped asking in time, he would know now why people can’t live under water: because they have no gills! But as he asked one question too many – he still doesn’t know! So, if you want to know why things are the way they are – stop asking questions in time!

***

Well, that’s the story. That’s it. Did I hear anyone say: Why? Did I? Well, I can tell you why. I can show you. I have made up a list. A list of questions you had better not ask. Here comes number one on my list! Watch out, here it comes: Why – is water – wet?

Well? Why is water wet? Such a simple question. Can’t anybody tell me? Can’t anybody give me the answer? Why is water wet? Because it isn’t dry!

Aha! That’s the sort of answer you get! Well, wouldn’t I have been better off if I hadn’t even asked in the first place?

Why does time pass? Why are there men and women? Why can we get something for money? Why don’t we see with our ears and hear with our eyes? Why is the dog called dog? Why is there something and not just nothing?

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