by Roald Dahl
There was a roar of laughter from all sides.
'Oh dear, oh dear!' they said. 'What an awful thought!'
'You mustn't be frightened,' the Ladybird said kindly. 'We wouldn't dream of hurting you. You are one of us now, didn't you know that? You are one of the crew. We're all in the same boat.'
'We've been waiting for you all day long,' the Old-Green-Grasshopper said. 'We thought you were never going to turn up. I'm glad you made it.'
'So cheer up, my boy, cheer up!' the Centipede said. 'And meanwhile I wish you'd come over here and give me a hand with these boots. It takes me hours to get them all off by myself.'
Twelve
James decided that this was most certainly not a time to be disagreeable, so he crossed the room to where the Centipede was sitting and knelt down beside him.
'Thank you so much,' the Centipede said. 'You are very kind.'
'You have a lot of boots,' James murmured.
'I have a lot of legs,' the Centipede answered proudly. 'And a lot of feet. One hundred, to be exact.'
'There he goes again!' the Earthworm cried, speaking for the first time. 'He simply cannot stop telling lies about his legs! He doesn't have anything like a hundred of them! He's only got forty-two! The trouble is that most people don't bother to count them. They just take his word. And anyway, there is nothing marvellous, you know, Centipede, about having a lot of legs.'
'Poor fellow,' the Centipede said, whispering in James's ear. 'He's blind. He can't see how splendid I look.'
'In my opinion,' the Earthworm said, 'the reallymarvellous thing is to have no legs at all and to be able to walk just the same.'
'You call that walking!' cried the Centipede. 'You're a slitherer, that's all you are! You just slither along!'
'I glide,' said the Earthworm primly.
'You are a slimy beast,' answered the Centipede.
'I am not a slimy beast,' the Earthworm said. 'I am a useful and much loved creature. Ask any gardener you like. And as for you...'
'I am a pest!' the Centipede announced, grinning broadly and looking round the room for approval.
'He is so proud of that,' the Ladybird said, smiling at James. 'Though for the life of me I cannot understand why.'
'I am the only pest in this room!' cried the Centipede, still grinning away. 'Unless you count Old-Green-Grasshopper over there. But he is long past it now. He is too old to be a pest any more.'
The Old-Green-Grasshopper turned his huge black eyes upon the Centipede and gave him a withering look. 'Young fellow,' he said, speaking in a deep, slow, scornful voice, 'I have never been a pest in my life. I am a musician.'
'Hear, hear!' said the Ladybird.
'James,' the Centipede said. 'Your name is James, isn't it?'
'Yes.'
'Well, James, have you ever in your life seen such a marvellous colossal Centipede as me?'
'I certainly haven't,' James answered. 'How on earth did you get to be like that?'
'Very peculiar,' the Centipede said. 'Very, very peculiar indeed. Let me tell you what happened. I was messing about in the garden under the old peach tree and suddenly a funny little green thing came wriggling past my nose. Bright green it was, and extraordinarily beautiful, and it looked like some kind of a tiny stone or crystal...'
'Oh, but I know what that was!' cried James.
'It happened to me, too!' said the Ladybird.
'And me!' Miss Spider said. 'Suddenly there were little green things everywhere! The soil was full of them!'
'I actually swallowed one!' the Earthworm declared proudly.
'So did I!' the Ladybird said.
'I swallowed three!' the Centipede cried. 'But who's telling this story anyway? Don't interrupt!'
'It's too late to tell stories now,' the Old-Green-Grasshopper announced. 'It's time to go to sleep.'
'I refuse to sleep in my boots!' the Centipede cried. 'How many more are there to come off, James?'
'I think I've done about twenty so far,' James told him.
'Then that leaves eighty to go,' the Centipede said.
'Twenty-two, not eighty!' shrieked the Earthworm. 'He's lying again.'
The Centipede roared with laughter.
'Stop pulling the Earthworm's leg,' the Ladybird said.
This sent the Centipede into hysterics. 'Pulling his leg!' he cried, wriggling with glee and pointing at the Earthworm. 'Which leg am I pulling? You tell me that!'
James decided that he rather liked the Centipede. He was obviously a rascal, but what a change it was to hear somebody laughing once in a while. He had never heard Aunt Sponge or Aunt Spiker laughing aloud in all the time he had been with them.
'We really must get some sleep,' the Old-Green-Grasshopper said. 'We've got a tough day ahead of us tomorrow. So would you be kind enough, Miss Spider, to make the beds?'
Thirteen
A few-minutes later, Miss Spider had made the first bed. It was hanging from the ceiling, suspended by a rope of threads at either end so that actually it looked more like a hammock than a bed. But it was a magnificent affair, and the stuff that it was made of shimmered like silk in the pale light.
'I do hope you'll find it comfortable,' Miss Spider said to the Old-Green-Grasshopper. 'I made it as soft and silky as I possibly could. I spun it with gossamer. That's a much better quality thread than the one I use for my own web.'
'Thank you so much, my dear lady,' the Old-Green-Grasshopper said, climbing into the hammock. 'Ah, this is just what I needed. Good night, everybody. Good night.'
Then Miss Spider spun the next hammock, and the Ladybird got in.
After that, she spun a long one for the Centipede, and an even longer one for the Earthworm.
'And how do you like your bed?' she said to James when it came to his turn. 'Hard or soft?'
'I like it soft, thank you very much,' James answered.
'For goodness' sake stop staring round the room and get on with my boots!' the Centipede said. 'You and I are never going to get any sleep at this rate! And kindly line them up neatly in pairs as you take them off. Don't just throw them over your shoulder.'
James worked away frantically on the Centipede's boots. Each one had laces that had to be untied and loosened before it could be pulled off, and to make matters worse, all the laces were tied up in the most terrible complicated knots that had to be unpicked with fingernails. It was just awful. It took about two hours. And by the time James had pulled off the last boot of all and had lined them up in a row on the floor - twenty-one pairs altogether - the Centipede was fast asleep.
'Wake up, Centipede,' whispered James, giving him a gentle dig in the stomach. 'It's time for bed.'
'Thank you, my dear child,' the Centipede said, opening his eyes. Then he got down off the sofa and ambled across the room and crawled into his hammock. James got into his own hammock - and oh, how soft and comfortable it was compared with the hard bare boards that his aunts had always made him sleep upon at home.
'Lights out,' said the Centipede drowsily.
Nothing happened.
'Turn out the light!' he called, raising his voice.
James glanced round the room, wondering which of the others he might be talking to, but they were all asleep. The Old-Green-Grasshopper was snoring loudly through his nose. The Ladybird was making whistling noises as she breathed, and the Earthworm was coiled up like a spring at one end of his hammock, wheezing and blowing through his open mouth. As for Miss Spider, she had made a lovely web for herself across one corner of the room, and James could see her crouching right in the very centre of it, mumbling softly in her dreams.
'I said turn out the light!' shouted the Centipede angrily.
'Are you talking to me?' James asked him.
'Of course I'm not talking to you, you ass!' the Centipede answered. 'That crazy Glow-worm has gone to sleep with her light on!'
For the first time since entering the room, James glanced up at the ceiling - and there he saw a most extraordinary sight. Someth
ing that looked like a gigantic fly without wings (it was at least three feet long) was standing upside down upon its six legs in the middle of the ceiling, and the tail end of this creature seemed to be literally on fire. A brilliant greenish light as bright as the brightest electric bulb was shining out of its tail and lighting up the whole room.
'Is that a Glow-worm?' asked James, staring at the light. 'It doesn't look like a worm of any sort to me.'
'Of course it's a Glow-worm,' the Centipede answered. 'At least that's what she calls herself. Although actually you are quite right. She isn't really a worm at all. Glow-worms are never worms. They are simply lady fireflies without wings. Wake up, you lazy beast!'
But the Glow-worm didn't stir, so the Centipede reached out of his hammock and picked up one of his boots from the floor. 'Put out that wretched light!' he shouted, hurling the boot up at the ceiling.
The Glow-worm slowly opened one eye and stared at the Centipede. 'There is no need to be rude,' she said coldly. 'All in good time.'
'Come on, come on, come on!' shouted the Centipede. 'Or I'll put it out for you!'
'Oh, hello, James!' the Glow-worm said, looking down and giving James a little wave and a smile. 'I didn't see you come in. Welcome, my dear boy, welcome - and good night!'
Then click - and out went the light.
James Henry Trotter lay there in the darkness with his eyes wide open, listening to the strange sleeping noises that the 'creatures' were making all around him, and wondering what on earth was going to happen to him in the morning. Already, he was beginning to like his new friends very much. They were not nearly as terrible as they looked. In fact they weren't really terrible at all. They seemed extremely kind and helpful in spite of all the shouting and arguing that went on between them.
'Good night, Old-Green-Grasshopper,' he whispered. 'Good night, Ladybird - Good night, Miss Spider -' But before he could go through them all, he had fallen fast asleep.
Fourteen
'We're off!' someone was shouting. 'We're off at last!'
James woke up with a jump and looked about him. The creatures were all out of their hammocks and moving excitedly around the room. Suddenly, the floor gave a great heave, as though an earthquake were taking place.
'Here we go!' shouted the Old-Green-Grasshopper, hopping up and down with excitement. 'Hold on tight!'
'What's happening?' cried James, leaping out of his hammock. 'What's going on?'
The Ladybird, who was obviously a kind and gentle creature, came over and stood beside him. 'In case you don't know it,' she said, 'we are about to depart for ever from the top of this ghastly hill that we've all been living on for so long. We are about to roll away inside this great big beautiful peach to a land of... of... of... to a land of-'
'Of what?' asked James.
'Never you mind,' said the Ladybird. 'But nothing could be worse than this desolate hilltop and those two repulsive aunts of yours -'
'Hear, hear!' they all shouted. 'Hear, hear!'
'You may not have noticed it,' the Ladybird went on, 'but the whole garden, even before it reaches the steep edge of the hill, happens to be on a steep slope. And therefore the only thing that has been stopping this peach from rolling away right from the beginning is the thick stem attaching it to the tree. Break the stem, and off we go.'
'Watch it!' cried Miss Spider, as the room gave another violent lurch. 'Here we go!'
'Not quite! Not quite!'
'At this moment,' continued the Ladybird, 'our Centipede, who has a pair of jaws as sharp as razors, is up there on top of the peach nibbling away at that stem. In fact, he must be nearly through it, as you can tell from the way we're lurching about. Would you like me to take you under my wing so that you won't fall over when we start rolling?'
'That's very kind of you,' said James, 'but I think I'll be all right.'
Just then, the Centipede stuck his grinning face through a hole in the ceiling and shouted, 'I've done it! We're off!'
'We're off!' the others cried. 'We're off!'
'The journey begins!' shouted the Centipede.
'And who knows where it will end,' muttered the Earthworm, 'if you have anything to do with it. It can only mean trouble.'
'Nonsense,' said the Ladybird. 'We are now about to visit the most marvellous places and see the most wonderful things! Isn't that so, Centipede?'
'There is no knowing what we shall see!' cried the Centipede.
'We may see a Creature with forty-nine heads
Who lives in the desolate snow,
And whenever he catches a cold (which he dreads) He has forty-nine noses to blow.
'We may see the venomous Pink-Spotted Scrunch
Who can chew up a man with one bite.
It likes to eat five of them roasted for lunch
And eighteen for its supper at night.
'We may see a Dragon, and nobody knows
That we won't see a Unicorn there.
We may see a terrible Monster with toes
Growing out of the tufts of his hair.
'We may see the sweet little Biddy-Bright Hen
So playful, so kind and well-bred;
And such beautiful eggs! You just boil them and then
They explode and they blow off your head.
'A Gnu and a Gnocerous surely you'll see
And that gnormous and gnorrible Gnat
Whose sting when it stings you goes in at the knee
And comes out through the top of your hat.
'We may even get lost and be frozen by frost.
We may die in an earthquake or tremor.
Or nastier still, we may even be tossed
On the horns of a furious Dilemma.
'But who cares! Let us go from this horrible hill!
Let us roll! Let us bowl! Let us plunge!
Let's go rolling and bowling and spinning until
We're away from old Spiker and Sponge!'
One second later... slowly, insidiously, oh most gently, the great peach started to lean forward and steal into motion. The whole room began to tilt over and all the furniture went sliding across the floor, and crashed against the far wall. So did James and the Ladybird and the Old-Green-Grasshopper and Miss Spider and the Earthworm, and also the Centipede, who had just come slithering quickly down the wall.
Fifteen
Outside in the garden, at that very moment, Aunt Sponge and Aunt Spiker had just taken their places at the front gate, each with a bunch of tickets in her hand, and the first stream of early morning sightseers was visible in the distance climbing up the hill to view the peach.
'We shall make a fortune today,' Aunt Spiker was saying. 'Just look at all those people!'
'I wonder what became of that horrid little boy of ours last night,' Aunt Sponge said. 'He never did come back in, did he?'
'He probably fell down in the dark and broke his leg,' Aunt Spiker said.
'Or his neck, maybe,' Aunt Sponge said hopefully.
'Just wait till I get my hands on him,' Aunt Spiker said, waving her cane. 'He'll never want to stay out all night again by the time I've finished with him. Good gracious me! What's that awful noise?'
Both women swung round to look.
The noise, of course, had been caused by the giant peach crashing through the fence that surrounded it, and now, gathering speed every second, it came rolling across the garden towards the place where Aunt Sponge and Aunt Spiker were standing.
They gaped. They screamed. They started to run. They panicked. They both got in each other's way. They began pushing and jostling, and each one of them was thinking only about saving herself. Aunt Sponge, the fat one, tripped over a box that she'd brought along to keep the money in, and fell flat on her face. Aunt Spiker immediately tripped over Aunt Sponge and came down on top of her. They both lay on the ground, fighting and clawing and yelling and struggling frantically to get up again, but before they could do this, the mighty peach was upon them.
There was a crunch.
&n
bsp; And then there was silence.
The peach rolled on. And behind it, Aunt Sponge and Aunt Spiker lay ironed out upon the grass as flat and thin and lifeless as a couple of paper dolls cut out of a picture book.
Sixteen
And now the peach had broken out of the garden and was over the edge of the hill, rolling and bouncing down the steep slope at a terrific pace. Faster and faster and faster it went, and the crowds of people who were climbing up the hill suddenly caught sight of this terrible monster plunging down upon them and they screamed and scattered to right and left as it went hurtling by.
At the bottom of the hill it charged across the road, knocking over a telegraph pole and flattening two parked cars as it went by.
Then it rushed madly across about twenty fields, breaking down all the fences and hedges in its path. It went right through the middle of a herd of fine Jersey cows, and then through a flock of sheep, and then through a paddock full of horses, and then through a yard full of pigs, and soon the whole countryside was a seething mass of panic-stricken animals stampeding in all directions.
The peach was still going at a tremendous speed with no sign of slowing down, and about a mile farther on it came to a village.
Down the main street of the village it rolled, with people leaping frantically out of its path right and left, and at the end of the street it went crashing right through the wall of an enormous building and out the other side, leaving two gaping round holes in the brickwork.
This building happened to be a famous factory where they made chocolate, and almost at once a great river of warm melted chocolate came pouring out of the holes in the factory wall. A minute later, this brown sticky mess was flowing through every street in the village, oozing under the doors of houses and into people's shops and gardens. Children were wading in it up to their knees, and some were even trying to swim in it and all of them were sucking it into their mouths in great greedy gulps and shrieking with joy.
But the peach rushed on across the countryside - on and on and on, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake. Cowsheds, stables, pigsties, barns, bungalows, hayricks, anything that got in its way went toppling over like a ninepin. An old man sitting quietly beside a stream had his fishing rod whisked out of his hands as it went dashing by, and a woman called Daisy Entwistle was standing so close to it as it passed that she had the skin taken off the tip of her long nose.