“Right you are,” said the cook.
And, before Scoobidoo had time to think, he snatched them from her, slipped back out of the cabin and threw them into the sea.
A few minutes later, as if on cue, the captain came back into the cabin.
“So tell me, Scoobidoo, what weather shall we have tomorrow morning?”
“I can’t say,” replied the doll, “the cook has stolen my glasses.”
The captain raised an eyebrow: “Glasses or no glasses, you promised to forecast the weather. What do you think? That I’ll keep on paying you for nothing?”
The captain was pretending to be angry, but in fact it was he who had sent the cook to steal the glasses, because he did not want to pay Scoobidoo what he owed her.
“You may get along however you like,” he said, “but if you don’t tell me what weather we’ll have tomorrow morning, I shall throw you into the sea!”
“All right… let’s say: it will be sunny!” said Scoobidoo, making a guess.
Alas! As early as sunrise the next day, a fat black cloud appeared on the horizon and began to spread rapidly, as if it was trying to gobble up the sky. At the same time, a storm was setting in and the ship began to pitch from side to side. The captain came in—or pretended to come in—in a terrible fury.
“You have deceived me!” he thundered at Scoobidoo.
And then, paying no attention to her protests, he threw her overboard.
Poor, dazed Scoobidoo saw the sea and the sky spin around her before she dropped into the water. Almost immediately, a great mouth full of pointed teeth opened wide beneath her, and she was swallowed up by a shark that had been following the ship for several days.
Since the shark was very greedy, it swallowed her without chewing, so that Scoobidoo found herself in its stomach, not too comfortable, but not the least bit hurt. She tried to feel her way about in the dark, all the while muttering to herself:
“What will become of me here? And what about my poor little Bashir, still waiting for his bicycle?”
So it was that, talking aloud in the pitch darkness, Scoobidoo came across something that felt like a miniature bicycle: it had two round blocks of wood, linked together by a wire frame.
“Well I never… my glasses!”
They were indeed her glasses, which the shark had swallowed the day before. Scoobidoo picked them up, put them on and straight away saw everything as clear as day, there inside the stomach of the great fish. She exclaimed happily:
“And there’s treasure in here!”
Upon which, without the least hesitation, she turned towards a fat oyster that was lying, wide open, in a fold in the shark’s stomach.
“Hello, oyster!”
“Hello, doll!”
“Am I right in thinking you have a big pearl inside you there?”
“Alas, you are quite right!” replied the oyster, sighing. “A very big pearl, which is hurting me horribly! If only I could find someone to take this lump of dirt away!”
“Would you like me to take it?”
“Now, if you were to do that, you would be doing me a great service!”
“Open yourself up very wide, then, and we shall see!”
The oyster opened up as wide as she could. Scoobidoo plunged both hands in and plucked out the pearl.
“Ooowww!” exclaimed the oyster.
“There, there, now, it’s all over.”
And Scoobidoo held up the pearl. It was enormous, a magnificent pearl. It was worth enough money to buy five or six bicycles! Scoobidoo put it into her pocket and said politely to the oyster:
“Thank you.”
“Not at all—thank you! If I can do anything for you…”
“You might be able to give me some advice,” said Scoobidoo.
“Of course!”
“What should I do to make my way home?”
“It’s very simple,” said the oyster. “Since you have two legs, you have only to hop from one foot to the other. That will make the shark feel sick, and he will do anything you ask.”
“Thank you, kind oyster!”
And Scoobidoo began hopping from one foot to the other.
After a minute, the shark began to feel unwell. After two minutes, he had hiccups. After three minutes, he was seasick. After five minutes, he called out:
“Hey, are you quite finished in there? Can’t you sit quietly and let me digest you?”
“Take me to Paris!” Scoobidoo called to him.
“To Paris? Whatever next? I do not take orders from my food!”
“In that case, I’ll keep hopping!”
“No, no! Stop! Where is it, this Paris?”
“You get there by swimming up the River Seine.”
“Err—what? Swim up the River Seine? But I shall be a laughing stock! I am a fish of the open ocean! No one in my family has ever left salt water!”
“Then I’ll keep on hopping!”
“No, no! Have pity! I’ll go wherever you wish. But do stay still a bit!”
And the great fish set off. He swam as far as the port of Le Havre, then he swam up the River Seine, through Rouen and all the way to Paris. Once there, he stopped beside a stone staircase at the water’s edge, opened his mouth and called out as loudly as he could:
“End of the line; all change please! All change! Out you get, now, scarper. I hope I never see you again!”
Scoobidoo got out and climbed up onto the riverbank. It was about three o’clock in the morning. No one was in the streets, nor was there even one star in the sky. Taking advantage of the darkness and with the help of her glasses, the doll quickly made her way back to rue Broca. The following morning, she knocked on Papa Sayeed’s door and handed him the pearl. Papa Sayeed thanked her, then took the pearl to the jeweller, and was at last able to buy a bicycle for Bashir.
As for the ship on which Scoobidoo had sailed away, it was never seen again. I do believe it came to a watery end.
The Witch in the Broom Cupboard
It’s Monsieur Pierre writing here, and now I’m going to tell you a story about something that really happened to me.
Rummaging in my pocket one day, I found a five-franc coin. I thought to myself:
“Hurray! I’m rich! Now I can buy myself a house!”
And I hurried off to see a solicitor:
“Good morning, monsieur. Would you happen to have a house to sell for about five francs?”
“Five francs? No, I’m terribly sorry,” said the solicitor, “I haven’t got one for that price. I have houses at twenty francs, at fifty francs, at a hundred francs, but nothing at five francs.”
I asked again, just to be sure:
“Really? Might we not find one if we looked very hard… Not even a very small house?”
And then, the solicitor slapped his forehead:
“Now you mention it, I may have something! Just a moment…”
He rummaged through his files and pulled out a folder:
“Look, here you go: a neat little house on the high street, with one bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, living room, toilet and broom cupboard. “
“How much is it?”
“Three francs fifty. With my fees on top, it will come to five francs exactly.”
“That’s perfect. I’ll take it.”
Proudly, I laid my five-franc coin down on the desk. The solicitor took it and held out a contract.
“Here you go, please sign here. And put your initials there. And there. And there too.”
I signed everywhere and handed back the contract, saying:
“Is this all right?”
He replied:
“Quite right. He he he he!”
I stared at him, intrigued:
“What are you laughing for?”
“Oh, nothing, nothing… Haha!”
I didn’t much like that laugh. It was a nervous little laugh, the laugh of someone who has just played a mean trick on you. I asked again:
“This house does exist, doesn’t it?”<
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“Absolutely! Heh heh heh!”
“And is it well built? The roof isn’t about to come down on my head, is it?”
“Hoho! Certainly not!”
“In that case, what’s so funny?”
“Nothing at all, like I said! Anyway, here; have the key. You can go and see for yourself… Good luck! Hoo hoo hoo!”
I took the key and left to go and see the house. It was indeed a very pretty little house, smartly fitted, bright and airy, with a bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, living room, toilet and broom cupboard. When I had looked into every room, I said to myself:
“What about a quick hello to my new neighbours?”
Okay, let’s get going! I went to knock on my neighbour’s door to the left.
“Hello neighbour! I’m your new neighbour on the right. I’ve just bought the little house with a bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, living room, toilet and broom cupboard.”
Hearing this, the good man turned as white as a sheet, before my eyes. He looked at me with a horrified expression, and bam! Without a word, he slammed the door in my face. I thought to myself, charitably:
“Well! Quite an eccentric!”
And I went to knock on the door of my right-hand neighbour:
“Hello neighbour! I’m your new neighbour on the left. I’m the one who’s just bought the little house with a bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, living room, toilet and broom cupboard.”
At which, there on the doorstep, the old lady clasped her hands, gazed at me with great compassion and began a long lament.
“Alas, my poor m’sieur, yer quite through yer luck today! Oh, ’n it’s a pitiful thing to see, a kin’ young man like yerself! Well, Lord willin’ yer’ll come through it sum’ow… Long as yer’ve life, yer’ve ’ope, as they say, an’ long as yer ’ave yer ’ealf…”
Hearing this, I began to grow nervous:
“But really, my dear madame, can you at least tell me what’s wrong? Everyone I talk to about the house—”
But the old lady interrupted me instantly:
“I ’ope yer’ll excuse me, my dear m’sieur, but I’ve me roast in the oven… I must be off ’n see it don’t burn!”
Bam! She too slammed the door in my face.
This time, I was angry. I went back to the solicitor and said to him:
“Now you’d better tell me what’s so amusing about my house, so I can join in the fun. And if you don’t wish to tell me, rest assured that I will split your head in two!”
With these words, I raised his big glass ashtray, menacingly. This time the bloke stopped laughing:
“Now, now, gently does it! Calm yourself, my dear monsieur! Please put that down and take a seat.”
“First you can do some explaining!”
“But of course, I’ll explain. After all, now you’ve signed the contract, I might as well tell you… the house is haunted!”
“Haunted? Haunted by whom?”
“By the witch in the broom cupboard!”
“Couldn’t you have told me earlier?”
“Not at all! If I’d told you, you wouldn’t have wanted to buy the house, and I wanted to sell it. He he he!”
“Enough giggling, or I’ll crack your head open!”
“All right, all right…”
“But tell me, now I think about it: I looked into the broom cupboard, less than fifteen minutes ago… I didn’t see any witch in there.”
“That’s because she’s not there in the daytime. She only comes out at night.”
“And what does she do there, during the night?”
“Oh, she keeps to herself, she doesn’t make any noise, she just stays there, quite well behaved, in her cupboard… only beware! If you should have the misfortune to sing:
Witchy witch, beware,
Watch out for your derrière!
“Then she’ll come out… and it’ll be your turn to watch out!”
Hearing this, I leapt to my feet, shouting:
“You idiot! You’d no need to go singing that for me. It would never have crossed my mind to sing such tosh. Now, I’ll never be able to get it out of my head!”
“That’s the idea! He he he!”
And, just as I lunged for his neck, the solicitor escaped through a small door hidden behind him.
What could I do? I went back home, thinking:
“After all, I only have to be a little careful… Let’s try to forget that idiotic rhyme!”
Easier said than done, for words like those are not easily forgotten. For the first few months, of course, I was on my guard. Then, after a year and a half, I was comfortable in the house, I had grown used to it, it was familiar… So I began to hum the tune during the day, when the witch wouldn’t be there… And then, outside, where I was in no danger… And then I started singing it at night, in the house—but not the whole rhyme! I only sang the beginning:
Witchy witch, beware…
And then I would stop. When I did that, I sometimes thought I saw the door to the broom cupboard begin to shake… But since I always stopped at that point, the witch couldn’t do a thing. Realizing this, I began to sing a little bit more each day: Watch out… then Watch out for… and then Watch out for your de… and even Watch out for your derri… I would stop just in time! There was no doubt about it, the cupboard door was shaking, rattling, on the verge of coming open… The witch must have been furious in there!
This little game went on until last Christmas. That night, after having Christmas Eve supper with friends, I came home, a little tipsy, just as the clock was striking four in the morning, singing to myself all the way:
Witchy witch, beware,
Watch out for your derrière!
Of course, I wasn’t running any real risk, for I was outside the house. I reached the high street: Witchy witch, beware… I stopped outside my front door: Watch out for your derrière!… I took the key from my pocket: Witchy witch, beware… I was still in no danger… I slid the key into the lock: Watch out for your derrière… I turned it, went in, took the key out again, closed the door behind me, went down the corridor, towards the stairs…
Witchy witch, beware,
Watch out for your derrière!
Blast! I’d done it now! This time I’d sung the whole rhyme! And then I heard, very close by, a shrill, mean, nasty little voice:
“Oh really! And why exactly should I be looking out for my derrière?”
It was her. The broom-cupboard door was open and the witch was standing on the threshold, her right hand on her hip and one of my brooms held in her left. Naturally, I tried to explain:
“Oh, I’m so sorry, madame! A moment of distraction… I forgot… I mean, I meant to say… I hummed it without thinking…”
She chuckled softly:
“Without thinking? Liar! For two years now, that song is all you’ve been thinking about. You made a fine fool of me, didn’t you, stopping every time just before the last word, the last syllable, even! But I said to myself: ‘Patience, my pretty! One day, he’ll spit it all out, his little sing-song, from start to finish, and when that day comes it will be my turn to have some fun…’ And here we are. The day has come!”
I fell to my knees and began to plead:
“Have pity, madame! Don’t hurt me! I didn’t mean to offend you: I actually really like witches. Some of my best friends are witches! My poor mother was a witch! If she weren’t dead, she could tell you herself… And besides, today is Christmas Day! Little Baby Jesus was born tonight. You can’t make me disappear today, of all days…”
The witch replied:
“Taratata! I won’t listen to a word! But since you’ve got such a ready tongue, I’m going to set you a challenge: you have three days in which to ask me for three things. Three impossible things! If I can give you all three of them, you’re mine. But if I am unable to give you any one of the three things, I shall disappear for ever and you’ll never see me again. So, I’m listening!”
Playing for time, I replied:
�
�Hm, I don’t know… I’ve no idea… I’ll have to think about this one… Can I have today to think about it?”
“Fine,” said the witch. “I’m in no rush. See you in the evening!”
And she disappeared.
Sitting in thought for several hours, I cudgelled, wrestled with and generally racked my brains—when suddenly I remembered that my friend Bashir had two little fish in a bowl, and that he had said these two little fish were in fact magic fish. Without losing another second, I raced down rue Broca to go and ask Bashir:
“Have you still got your two little fish?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Because there’s a witch in my house, a really old, wicked witch. I have to ask her for something impossible by tonight. If I don’t, she’ll spirit me away. Do you think your little fish might give me an idea?
“Sure they will,” said Bashir. “I’ll go and get them.”
He went into the back of his father’s shop and came back with a bowl full of water in which two little fish were swimming, one red and the other yellow with black spots. They really did look like magic fish.
“Now, speak to them!”
“I can’t!” Bashir replied. “I can’t talk to them; they don’t understand French. We need an interpreter! But don’t worry—we have one here.”
And my friend Bashir began to sing:
Little mouse
Little friend
Will you come this way?
Speak to my little fish
And you shall have a tasty dish!
Hardly had he finished singing when an adorable little grey mouse came trotting out onto the counter, sat down on her little bottom beside the fishbowl and gave three tiny squeaks, like this:
“Eep! Eep! Eep!”
Bashir translated:
“She says she’s ready. Tell her what happened to you.”
I bent down and told the mouse everything: all about the solicitor, the house, the neighbours, the cupboard, the song, the witch and the challenge she had set me. After listening to me in silence, the mouse turned to the little fish and said to them in her language:
The Witch in the Broom Cupboard and Other Tales Page 3