When the summer was over, all the men, women, and children in the village were sorry to see Matt go because he was the king, and the captain and his wife because they were polite, and the doctor because he helped quite a few people, but most of all they were sorry to see Klu Klu go.
MATT RETURNED TO the capital with a heavy heart. He was welcomed at the station, but Matt noticed that something was wrong. The train station was surrounded by soldiers. There were fewer flags and flowers than usual. The Prime Minister looked troubled. The prefect of police was there, too, and he hardly ever came to welcome Matt home.
Their cars did not take the usual route.
“Why aren’t we going through the center of town?”
“Because the workers are having a parade.”
“The workers?” said Matt in surprise, remembering the jolly processions of children leaving for summer camp. “And are they going away, too?”
“On the contrary, they just returned a little while ago. They’re the ones who built the summer camps for the children. They’re all done with that job, and now they’re out of work. And so they’re kicking up a fuss.”
Suddenly, Matt caught sight of the march. The workers were carrying red flags and singing.
“Why do they have red flags? Our flag’s not red.”
“The workers in all countries carry the same red flag. They say that the red flag is for all the workers in the whole world.”
That gave Matt an idea. Why couldn’t all the children in the world have their own flag, too? But what color should it be?
Just then, Matt’s car was passing down a sad, gray, narrow street. Matt remembered the green forest and the green meadows he had seen in the country and said out loud: “Would it be possible for all the children in the world to have their own green flag?”
“It would,” said the Prime Minister with a grimace.
Feeling sad, Matt walked around his palace, along with Klu Klu, who was feeling sad, too.
“I’ve got to get to work. I’ve got to get to work,” Matt kept saying, even though he didn’t feel like working at all.
“Baron von Rauch,” announced the footman.
In came Felek.
“Tomorrow will be the first session of the Proparl after vacation,” said Felek. “No doubt, Your Royal Highness will wish to make a little speech to parliament.”
“And say what?”
“Kings usually say they are happy that the people are making their voices heard, and they wish them success.”
“All right, I’ll go,” agreed Matt.
But he didn’t want to go, because it would be noisy with so many children there, and they’d all be staring at him.
But when Matt saw that children had come to parliament from all over his land to discuss how to govern the country, when he saw how happy they were, and when he spotted his village playmates from that summer in the crowd, he came to life and made a very fine speech.
“You are the delegates,” he said. “Until now, I was all alone. I wanted to make life good for everyone. But it’s very hard for one person to know what everybody needs. It’ll be easier for you. Some of you know what the cities need, and some of you know what the countryside needs. The little children know what little children need, and the big children know what big children need. I hope that someday children from all over the world will meet together, the way the kings did recently, and all the children will present their own special needs. For instance, African children don’t need skates, because they don’t have skating rinks. The workers have their own special flag. A red one. The children should have a flag of their own, too. Maybe they’ll choose green, because children love the forest, and the forest is green . . .”
Matt spoke for a very long time, but the delegates paid close attention, and that made Matt happy.
Then the journalist stood up and said that the newspaper for children was coming out every day, so they could read the latest news, and they could write articles for it themselves if they wanted. Then he asked if they’d had a good time at camp.
The children responded with a terrific uproar. Felek called in the police and things quieted down.
Felek said that anyone who shouted would be thrown out the door and that they should take turns talking.
The first to speak was a barefoot boy wearing a tattered jacket.
“I’m a delegate and I want to say that we didn’t have a good time at all. There were no games to play, the food was bad, and when it rained, water dripped on your head because there were holes in the roof.”
“And they didn’t change the sheets,” someone shouted.
“And they gave us slop for lunch.”
“Like we were pigs.”
“Things were a mess.”
“And they beat us.”
“And locked us in our cabins for any little thing.”
Again, such an uproar arose that a ten-minute recess was needed.
The four delegates who were making the most noise were thrown out. Then the journalist made a brief speech saying that nothing was perfect in the beginning and that next year would be better. He called on the delegates to state their requests.
There was another uproar.
“I want to keep pigeons,” one shouted.
“I want a dog.”
“Every child should have a watch.”
“Children should be allowed to use the telephone.”
“We don’t want people kissing us.”
“Let them tell us fairy tales.”
“We want kielbasa.”
“And headcheese.”
“We want to go to bed late.”
“Every child should have a bicycle.”
“And his own bookcase.”
“And more pockets. My father has thirteen pockets and I only have two. I can’t fit everything in them, and I get yelled at if I lose my handkerchief.”
“Every child should have a trumpet.”
“And a revolver.”
“And drive a car to school.”
“Abolish girls and little children!”
“I want to be a magician.”
“Every child should have his own boat.”
“And go to the circus every day.”
“Every day should be Halloween.”
“And April Fool’s Day. And Mardi Gras.”
“Every child should have his own room.”
“And scented soap.”
“And perfume.”
“Every child should be allowed to break a window once a month.”
“And smoke cigarettes.”
“And there shouldn’t be any blank maps with countries to fill in.”
“Or spelling tests.”
“We want a special day when the grownups have to stay home and the children can go wherever they want.”
“All kings should be children.”
“Grownups should go to school.”
“We want oranges instead of chocolate all the time.”
“We want boots.”
“We want people to be like angels.”
“Every child should have his own car.”
“And his own ship.”
“And a house.”
“And a railroad.”
“Children should have money and be able to buy things.”
“There should be a cow for every little child.”
“And a horse.”
“Every child should have ten acres of land.”
It went on like that for an hour. The journalist kept smiling and taking notes on everything. At first, the village children felt shy, but then they started talking, too.
Matt was very tired.
“All right, you’ve written everything down, but what next?”
“They need to learn some manners,” said the journalist to Matt. “Tomorrow I’ll write a story for the paper telling them how to behave.”
Later on, one of the boys who wanted to abolish girls walked by in the corridor.
“Mr. De
legate,” asked the journalist, “what have girls done to you?”
“There’s one horrible girl in our courtyard. All she does is pick fights, and when you do something back, she starts hollering, then runs off to tattle. And she’s like that with everyone. So we’ve decided to fix her good.”
The journalist stopped another delegate. “Mr. Delegate, why don’t you want to be kissed?”
“If you had as many aunts as I do, you wouldn’t ask. Yesterday was my birthday, and they slobbered over me so much that I threw up my whole dessert. If grownups are so crazy about that mushy stuff, let them kiss each other and leave us alone, because we hate it.”
The journalist wrote that down, too.
“And you, Mr. Delegate, does your father really have so many pockets?”
“Count for yourself. He has two side pockets in his pants and one in the rear. He has four little pockets in his vest and one in the lining. His jacket has two in the lining, two on the sides, and one on top. He has a separate pocket for his toothpick, and I don’t have a pocket for my yo-yo. And they also have drawers, desks, bookcases, and shelves. Then they brag that they never lose anything and put everything back where it belongs.”
The journalist made a note of this as well.
Then came two delegates who disliked little children. But why?
“And who has to babysit them and rock their cradles?”
“And big people tell us to give in to them because they’re little.”
“And they tell us to set a good example. But when one of the kids does something bad, they don’t yell at him, they yell at me: ‘He learned it from you.’ But who told him to act like me?”
And the journalist wrote that down, too.
THE JOURNALIST WROTE an article that said no parliament in the world could make people angels or magicians; every day can’t be Halloween, and children can’t go to the circus all the time. And girls and little children could not be abolished.
The article had been written carefully, so as not to offend the delegates. And so there were no expressions like “silly talk,” “nonsense,” or “they need a good whack.” The newspaper only listed the various proposals.
More pockets? No problem. The tailors could be ordered to make a couple of extra pockets on all children’s pants.
And so on and so forth.
Klu Klu was upset after reading the newspaper. “Matt, let me go to a session of parliament. I’ll tell them a thing or two. And why aren’t there any girls in parliament?”
“There are, but they don’t say anything.”
“Then I’ll speak for them all. What an idea—there’s some nasty girl in one courtyard and right away they’re saying abolish all girls. There are plenty of nasty boys, too. And so does that mean all boys should be abolished? I can’t understand how Europeans can think up so many intelligent things and still be so stupid and barbaric.”
Klu Klu drove to parliament with Matt, her heart pounding, not because she was afraid, but because her head was full of ideas.
Everyone stared at Klu Klu, but she sat beside Matt in the royal box as cool as a cucumber.
Felek opened the session. He rang his bell and said: “The session is now open. Today’s agenda: Point one—that every child should have a watch. Point two—that children should not be kissed. Point three—that children should have more pockets. Point four—that girls should be abolished.”
Fifteen delegates had signed up to speak on point one.
One delegate said that children need watches because they have to be in school on time and can’t be late. Older children could get along without watches more easily because they knew how to gauge the time.
“If my parents’ clock is slow, why should I have to suffer for it?” said the second speaker. “If I had my own watch, I’d make sure it was right.”
“We don’t need watches just for school,” said the third delegate. “We get yelled at if we’re late for dinner or stay out playing too long. But how can they blame us for not knowing the time, when we don’t have any watches?”
“Kids need watches for games, too,” said the fourth delegate. “You can’t time races or see who can stand on one leg the longest, without a watch.”
“And we get cheated when we rent boats by the hour. They say the hour’s up, and even though they’re lying, we have to pay for a whole hour.”
Then Felek rang his bell again. “Let us put it to a vote. I think the resolution that children need watches will pass unanimously.”
There were, however, nine children who didn’t want watches. The journalist ran right over to them and asked why.
“Because we’ll wind them too much and break them. Because they’re not worth the money. Because you can lose them. Because when you do handstands, they’ll slip off and get broken. Because not even all grownups have watches, and so they’ll be envious and want to get back at us. Because they’re not all that necessary. Because Dad will take my watch away, sell it, and drink up the money.”
Felek rang his bell again. “The resolution has passed by a majority of the votes, with nine nays.”
But all the delegates were unanimous that not everyone should have the right to kiss them. They did not like sitting on laps and being patted and petted. Some exceptions could be made for parents, but none for aunts. A committee was elected to work out the bill in detail, and then there would be another vote.
On point three of the agenda, it was resolved that girls should have two pockets and boys six.
Klu Klu was outraged. Why should girls have only a third as many pockets—that is, four pockets fewer—than boys? But she did not say anything and waited to see what would happen next.
Felek rang his bell: Now the question of abolishing girls.
And then it started.
“Girls are crybabies. Girls are gossipy. Girls are tattle-tales. Girls are fakers. And so dainty. Girls have butter-fingers. Girls are stuck-up. Girls are touchy. Girls have secrets. Girls scratch.”
The poor girl delegates just sat there with tears in their eyes.
But then Klu Klu’s voice rang out from the royal box. “I would like to speak.”
The room grew quiet.
“In my country, in Africa, the girls are as good as the boys in everything—running, climbing trees, doing somersaults. But I don’t understand you people at all. The boys are always quarreling with the girls. They keep them from playing and don’t even want to play with them. And I think there are more bad boys than there are bad girls.”
“Ho-ho-ho,” laughed many boys.
Felek rang his bell as a signal that Klu Klu should not be interrupted.
“Boys are rough, boys fight, boys have dirty hands and ears, boys ruin their clothes, boys . . .”
Now there was more laughter.
Felek rang his bell again.
“Boys rip pages from their books and ruin them. They don’t like to study. They make a lot of noise and break windows. They take advantage of girls, who are weak in Europe because of their dresses and long hair . . .”
“So let them cut off their hair.”
“So let them wear pants.”
Felek rang his bell.
“. . . girls are weaker and so boys treat them badly. And then they even pretend that it was an accident.”
The place went wild. Some delegates began whistling through their fingers. All the rest were yelling and hollering.
“Look who’s telling us what to do.”
“She’s black as coal!”
“Monkeys belong in cages.”
“The king’s girlfriend!”
“Matt’s wife.”
“Matt, Matt, you pussycat.”
“Sing us a song, you yellow canary.”
One delegate jumped up on his chair, shouting so loud his face was red. Felek knew him. It was Antek, a pickpocket, as bad as they come.
“Antek, I swear to God,” shouted Felek, “I’ll knock all your teeth out.”
“Try it. Big Mr. Minister
. Baron von Rauch. Felek, the big angel. Remember when you stole the apples from that woman’s basket? Baron von Crook.”
Felek threw his inkwell and bell at Antek. The delegates had divided into three groups. One group was high-tailing it out of the meeting room, and the other two were fighting.
Matt watched it all, his face white as chalk. The journalist was busily taking notes.
“Calm down, Baron von Rauch. This is nothing so terrible. It’s just the factions forming,” said the journalist to Felek.
Felek did calm down, because the delegates had forgotten all about him and were now fighting among themselves.
Klu Klu was itching to lower herself down over the railing of the royal box, grab one of the delegates’ chairs, and show those wise guys what African girls knew about fighting. Klu Klu knew that she had started it all and felt sorry for causing Matt so much trouble. But she had no regrets. She had to speak her mind. And what had they said about her? That she was black? Big surprise. That she should be in a cage with the monkeys? She’d already been in one and just let them try to put her back. That she was Matt’s girlfriend? She liked that idea. The only problem was that she couldn’t jump into the fight, because of that stupid European etiquette.
And those boys, just look how they fought! The clumsy ninnies, the boobs. They had already been fighting for ten minutes, and nobody had won yet. They jumped back and forth like goats, missing half their punches.
And Felek’s aim had been off when he threw his inkwell and bell. Klu Klu would have needed only one thing or the other to knock that big shot Antek off his chair.
Then Klu Klu couldn’t stand it any more. She hopped onto the railing, sprang through the air to a chandelier, then swung herself over the foreign journalists’ desk, making the five boys attacking Antek scatter like pesky flies.
“You want to fight?”
Antek took a swing at her but was soon to regret it. He was hit four times, or rather, only once, because Klu Klu had hit him with her head, one leg, and both hands all at the same time. Antek fell to the floor with a broken nose, a twisted neck, a numb hand, and three teeth knocked out.
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