Pinocchio (16 page)

Once they reached the market square, they quickly found a buyer, who asked the stableboy, “How much do you want for that lame donkey?”

“Twenty dollars.”

“I'll give you twenty nickels. Don't pretend I'm buying him to work for me—I'm just buying him for his hide. I see that he's got really tough skin, and I want to make a drum out of it for my town's band.”

I'll leave it to you, children, to guess how good Pinocchio felt when he heard he was destined to become a drum!

And indeed the buyer, as soon as he had paid his twenty nickels, led the donkey to the seashore. Then, after hanging a large stone around his neck and tying a rope to one of his feet, he gave him a quick shove, knocking him into the water.

With that stone around his neck, Pinocchio sank right to the bottom. And the buyer, holding the other end of the rope, sat down on a rock to wait until the donkey had had plenty of time to drown. Then he would skin him and go home with his hide.

A
FTER THE
donkey had been under water for almost an hour, the buyer said, to nobody but himself, “By now my poor lame donkey must be good and drowned. Let's pull him back up so we can make a nice drum from his hide.”

So he began to pull on the rope that he had tied to the donkey's leg. He pulled and pulled and pulled, and finally, breaking the surface of the water, he saw—can you guess? He saw, instead of a dead donkey, a live puppet, squirming like an eel.

Seeing that wooden puppet, the poor man thought he must be dreaming and he stood there dumbfounded, his mouth hanging open and his eyes popping out.

When he had collected himself a little, he wept and stammered and said, “And the donkey I threw into the sea—what happened to him?”

“That donkey was me!” replied the puppet, laughing.

“You?”

“Me.”

“Oh, you scamp! You think you can play tricks on me?”

“Play tricks? Not at all, dear master. I'm being serious.”

“But how in the world can a donkey, after spending a little time in the water, turn into a wooden puppet?”

“The salt water must have done it. The sea plays funny tricks.”

“Careful, puppet! Don't think you can amuse yourself at my expense! Careful I don't lose my temper!”

“Well, master, do you want to learn the true story? Untie my leg and I'll tell you.”

Curious to know the true story, that poor fool of a buyer quickly untied the knot that held the puppet fast, and Pinocchio, finding himself free as a bird, began to tell his story.

“So you see, I used to be a wooden puppet, as I am today. And I was just about to become a real boy, like so many others in this world, but instead I ran away from home, because I wasn't crazy about studying and because I was listening to my ne'er-do-well friends. And then one fine day I woke up to find myself turned into a jackass, ears and all—right down to the tail! I was so ashamed! I wouldn't want blessed Saint Anthony to make anyone, even you, feel such shame! Then I was taken to the donkey market and sold to the Ringmaster of a horse circus, who got the notion to turn me into a great dancer and hoop-jumper. But one evening, during the show, I had a bad fall in the ring and injured two of my legs. So the Ringmaster, not knowing what to do with a lame donkey, sent me back to market, and then you bought me!”

“Alas! And I paid twenty nickels! And now who's going to give me back my money?”

“And why did you buy me? You bought me to make a drum out of my hide! A drum!”

“Alas! And now where will I find another hide?”

“Don't despair, master. There's no shortage of donkeys in this world.”

“Tell me, you cheeky rascal, does your story end here?”

“No,” replied the puppet, “just a few more words and then it will be over. After buying me, you led me to this place to kill me, but then, giving in to a humane, merciful impulse, you decided instead to hang a stone around my neck and throw me to the bottom of the sea. That softhearted impulse is a great credit to you, and I'll always be grateful to you for it. But this time, dear master, you didn't count on the Fairy.”

“What Fairy is this?”

“She's my mother, and she's like all those good mothers who dote on their children and always keep an eye on them and come to their aid in times of trouble, even when those children, thanks to carelessness or bad behavior, deserve to be abandoned and left to fend for themselves. So, as I was saying, the good Fairy, when she saw me in danger of drowning, sent a school of fish my way, and the fish, believing I actually was a dead donkey, started eating me! And what bites they took! I never would have believed that fish were greedier than children! Some ate my ears, some ate my muzzle, some my neck and some my mane, some ate the skin off my legs, some ate the fur off my back—and one among them was even kind enough to eat my tail.”

“From now on,” said the horrified buyer, “I swear never to eat a bite of fish again. I couldn't bear cutting open a goatfish or some fried hake and finding a donkey tail inside!”

“I agree,” replied the puppet, laughing. “Besides, you should know that when the fishes finished eating away all of the asinine flesh that was covering me from head to toe, they finally got down to the bone—or rather down to the wood, because, as you can see, I'm made of extremely hard wood. After a few nibbles of that, those greedy fishes soon figured out that wood was not their cup of tea, and nauseated by such indigestible fare they swam off, some this way and some that way, without so much as a thank you. And now I've told you how it came to pass that you found a live puppet at the end of your rope, instead of a dead donkey.”

“I couldn't care less about your story,” shouted the enraged buyer. “All I know is I paid twenty nickels for you, and I want my money back. You know what I'll do? I'll take you straight back to the market and sell you, by weight, as seasoned wood, good for starting fires.”

“Go ahead, sell me again, I don't mind,” said Pinocchio.

But as he said that, he leapt high into the air and splashed into the water. Swimming cheerfully away from the beach, he shouted back to the poor buyer, “Goodbye, master. If you ever need a hide to make a drum, think of me.”

He laughed and kept on swimming. A minute later, he turned again and shouted even louder, “Goodbye, master. If you ever need some seasoned wood to start a fire, think of me.”

And so it was that, before long, he had swum so far out that he was scarcely visible from shore. Or rather, all that was visible was a little black dot on the surface of the sea, a dot that every now and then lifted its legs out of the water to jump up and do flips, like a dolphin in a frisky mood.

As he swam about aimlessly, Pinocchio saw in the midst of the sea a rock that looked like white marble, and on top of it a pretty little goat was bleating affectionately and beckoning him to come near.

But the strangest thing was this: the goat's fleece, instead of being white or black or splotched with more than one color, like the fleece of other goats, was completely blue—indeed it was such a dazzling sky-blue that it reminded him strongly of the Beautiful Girl.

I'll let you guess whether or not Pinocchio's heart began to beat faster! With renewed strength and energy, he began swimming toward the white rock, and he was already halfway there when he saw, rising out of the water and coming toward him, the terrifying head of a sea monster, its mouth gaping like a huge cavern, and three rows of fangs that would have been scary even just in a picture.

And do you know who this sea monster was?

This sea monster was none other than the gigantic Shark who was mentioned several times earlier in this story and who, thanks to his butchery and his insatiable voracity, was known as “the Attila of fish and fishermen.”

Imagine poor Pinocchio's dread at the sight of this monster. He tried to dodge him, to change directions. He tried to escape. But that enormous gaping mouth kept coming at him, fast as an arrow.

“Hurry, Pinocchio, for goodness' sake!” bleated the beautiful goat.

And Pinocchio swam desperately, using his arms, his chest, his legs, and his feet.

“Quick, Pinocchio, the monster's getting closer!”

And Pinocchio, gathering all his strength, swam even harder.

“Careful, Pinocchio! The monster's catching up! It's right there, it's right there! Hurry up, for goodness' sake, or you'll be lost!”

And Pinocchio swam faster than he ever had, on and on and on, zooming like a bullet. He was already nearly in reach of the rock, and the goat was already leaning out over the sea, stretching her forelegs toward him to help him out of the water…But!

But by then it was too late—the monster had caught him. Taking a deep breath, the monster swallowed the poor puppet as if he were sucking up a raw egg, and he swallowed him with such violence and avidity that Pinocchio was knocked cruelly about inside the Shark's body, leaving him still in a daze a quarter of an hour later.

When he came back to his senses after that shock, he didn't have the faintest idea where he was. All around him was a great darkness—a darkness so black and profound that he felt he had fallen headfirst into a brimming inkwell.

He sat there listening but didn't hear a sound. Every now and then rough gusts of wind whipped across his face. At first he didn't understand where that wind was coming from, but then he realized it came from the monster's lungs. The Shark, you see, suffered terribly from asthma, and when he breathed, it sounded just like the north wind blowing.

Pinocchio at first tried to act brave. But when he confirmed that he was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, trapped in the belly of a sea monster, he began to weep and wail, and through his tears he said, “Help! Help! Oh, poor me! Isn't anyone coming to rescue me?”

“Who do you expect to rescue you, wretch?” said a cracked old voice in the darkness, sounding like an out-of-tune guitar.

“Who said that?” asked Pinocchio, frozen with fear.

“I did! I'm a poor tuna, swallowed along with you by the Shark. And you—what kind of fish are you?”

“I have nothing to do with fish. I'm a puppet.”

“Well, if you're not a fish, why did you let yourself get swallowed by the monster?”

“I didn't let myself get swallowed—he just came and swallowed me! And now what are we supposed to do here in the dark?”

“Accept our fate and wait for the Shark to digest us both!”

“But I don't want to be digested!” howled Pinocchio, starting to cry again.

“Neither do I,” replied the Tuna, “but I'm rather philosophical, and I take comfort in the thought that, when you're born a Tuna, it's nobler to die in water than in oil!”

“Nonsense!” shouted Pinocchio.

“That's my opinion,” replied the Tuna, “and all opinions, as the tuna politicians say, deserve to be respected!”

“No matter what, I want to get out of here. I want to escape.”

“Escape then, if you can!”

“This Shark that swallowed us, is he very big?” asked the puppet.

“He's more than a kilometer long—just imagine!—and that's not counting his tail.”

As they were discussing these matters in the dark, Pinocchio thought he saw, far off in the distance, a faint glow.

“What in the world could that little light be, way off in the distance?” Pinocchio wondered aloud.

“It must be some companion in misfortune, waiting like us to be digested!”

“I want to go see. What if it turns out to be some old fish who can show me the way out?”

“I hope with all my heart that you're right, dear puppet.”

“Goodbye, Tuna.”

“Goodbye, puppet, and good luck.”

“Where will we see each other again?”

“Who knows? Some things we shouldn't even think about!”

A
S SOON
as Pinocchio said goodbye to his good friend Tuna, he began fumbling his way on tiptoes through the darkness of the Shark's belly, putting one foot in front of the other, heading for the faint light he could see glowing far in the distance.

As he walked he could feel his feet sinking into puddles of slick, greasy water, which smelled so strongly of fried fish that it reminded him of the middle of Lent.

And the farther he went, the brighter and more distinct the glow became. He walked and walked until at last he reached it—and when he reached it, do you know what he found? I'll give you a thousand guesses. He found a small dining table, on top of which stood a green glass bottle with a burning candle in its neck, and beside which sat a little old man, who looked so white he might have been made of snow, or whipped cream. The man was champing absentmindedly on some live minnows—so live they occasionally jumped right out of his mouth as he chewed.

This sight filled poor Pinocchio with such great and unexpected happiness that he was just a whit away from becoming delirious. He wanted to laugh, he wanted to cry, he wanted to say a mountain of things. But instead he whimpered confusedly and stammered out a few broken and incoherent words. Finally he managed to let loose a shout of joy, and, opening his arms wide and flinging them around the little old man's neck, he began to yell, “Oh, my dear daddy! I've finally found you again! From now on I won't ever leave you again, not ever, not ever!”

“So my eyes are not deceiving me?” replied the little old man, rubbing his eyes. “So you really are my dear Pinocchio?”

“Yes, yes, it's me, really me! And you've already forgiven me, haven't you? Oh, my dear daddy, how good you are! And to think that I, on the other hand…Oh! but if you only knew what misfortunes have rained down on my head and how many things have gone wrong for me! The truth is, poor Daddy, that the day you sold your coat to buy me a spelling book so I could go to school, I ran off to see the puppet show, and the puppet master wanted to throw me on the fire to help roast his ram, and he was the one who ended up giving me five gold coins to bring to you, but I ran into the Fox and the Cat, who took me to the Red Crayfish Inn, where they ate like wolves, and when I left alone that night I ran into murderers who started chasing after me, and I ran and they chased, and I kept running and they kept chasing, until they hung me from a branch of the Great Oak, where the Beautiful Girl with Sky-Blue Hair sent a little carriage to fetch me, and when the doctors visited they said at once, ‘If he's not dead, it's a sign he's still alive,' and then a lie slipped out of my mouth and my nose started growing and wouldn't fit through the door, which is why I went with the Fox and the Cat to bury the four gold coins, one of which I had spent at the inn, and the Parrot started laughing, and instead of two thousand coins I found none, causing the judge when he heard I'd been robbed to send me straight to jail, to reward the thieves, and as I was leaving I saw a nice bunch of grapes in a field, but I got caught in a trap and the farmer, who goodness knows had the right, put a dog collar on me so I could guard his henhouse, then recognized my innocence and let me go, and the Serpent, with the smoking tail, started laughing and burst a vein in his heart, and that's how I went back to the house of the Beautiful Girl, who was dead, and the Pigeon saw me crying and said, ‘I saw your daddy building a boat to go looking for you,' and I said, ‘Oh, if only I had wings, too!' and he said, ‘Do you want to go see your daddy,' and I said, ‘If only—but who will take me,' and he said, ‘I'll take you,' and I said, ‘How,' and he said, ‘Climb on my back,' and so we flew all night, then in the morning all the fishermen looking out to sea told me, ‘There's a poor fellow in a little boat who's about to drown,' and I recognized you right away even from that distance, because my heart told me, and waved to you to come back to shore—”