AniMalcolm

by David Baddiel

  But by then Malcolm was asleep.

  “WAKE UP! WAKE UP, EVERYBODY! IT’S TIME TO WAKE UP! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO SAY IT?! WAKEY-WAKEY!!”

  Malcolm did as he was told. He woke up.

  The person speaking was:

  – shouting very, very loudly and repeatedly in front of him

  – and also, a cockerel.

  “Urggh …” said Malcolm, blinking. “How come I can speak cockerel?”

  “EVERY ANIMAL SPEAKS COCKEREL! WE ALL HAVE TO! BECAUSE WE ALL HAVE TO KNOW WHAT TIME TO GET UP! IT’S VITAL!!” The cockerel stuck his face closer to Malcolm’s. “WAAAAAAAKKKKKKEEEEEE-UPPPPPPPP!!”

  Malcolm looked at the cockerel, who was puffing his chest out and shaking his weird gibbly under-chin bits and his red punk washing-up-glove hairdo with the effort of telling Malcolm to wake up.

  “I’m awake,” said Malcolm, deadpan.

  The cockerel looked at him, suspiciously.

  “Hmm. OK,” he said, and turned away. “WAKE UP!!”

  “No one else in here is asleep!” said a voice.

  “Certainly not any more!” said another voice.

  “GOOD! WAKE UP!!”

  Malcolm looked up at the sky. It was a new day – a nice day: the sun was shining and the sky, visible above the fence of the goat pen, was blue. He felt refreshed by his sleep. And the plan had clearly worked. He looked down at his feet, which were hooved. He scratched his head on the floor and could feel that he had little horns. And the smell rising from him was very – well, it was very Stinky Blinky.

  He looked around for K-Pax. Yes. He was still there, in the same place, behind a couple of other goats.

  Great, thought Malcolm. I can get him to reverse the spell and then I’ll be a boy again.

  Malcolm walked – trotted – over towards that area of the pen. He wondered how to approach this. At first he thought perhaps he would just speak to K-Pax gently, in order to coax out of him the way back to being human.

  But as the other goats parted, and he got closer and closer, he became angrier. If indeed this whole thing was K-Pax’s doing, what right did the old goat have to change him into a variety of different animals? It wasn’t fair to inflict that on someone else! Just because Malcolm had said he didn’t like animals! Never mind being gentle! Malcolm was going to tell him off! As his grandpa liked to say, he was going to give him what for!

  Finally, he had the goat in his sights. K-Pax was right in front of him. Malcolm saw once again the staring amber eyes that had, he was sure now, caused this whole animal thing.

  Malcolm opened his mouth and said, loudly:

  “Baa! Baa-baa-baa-baa baaaaa-baaa. BAA-BAA!” Then a short pause. And then: “Baaa?”

  I mean, Malcolm thought he was saying:

  “Oy! Look here, K-Pax, or whatever your name is! What do you think you’re doing turning boys into animals!! Eh?”

  But if you’d been a human, and there at the time, you’d definitely have heard:

  “Baa! Baa-baa-baa-baa baaaaa-baaa. BAA-BAA!” And then: “Baaa?”

  Which might explain why K-Pax just stared at him. And also why Malcolm was suddenly surrounded by three sheep.

  “Hello!”

  “Hello!”

  “Hello!”

  they said.

  “Sorry, what’s going on?” said Malcolm.

  “That’s what we were wondering,” said the first one. “Why are you shouting at that goat? He doesn’t understand sheep.”

  “He doesn’t! Not sheep!” said the second one.

  “Not a word of sheep! Baa-baa-baa is all he hears!” said the third one.

  Malcolm shut his eyes and took a deep breath. “So. You’re telling me that … I’m a sheep?” he said, with his eyes closed.

  “YES!” they all said together.

  “What’s your name?” said Sheep 1.

  Malcolm opened his eyes.

  “Malcolm. What’s yours?”

  “Dolly!” replied Sheep 1.32

  “I’m also Dolly!”

  “I’m Dolly too!”

  “Right … sorry, I thought this was the goat pen?”

  “It is,” said Dolly 1. “But our field’s being dug up. So Gavin and Maven put us in here for the night.”

  “Hmm. When they led you in here, did you notice a sleeping cat … not Zsa-Zsa – another one?”

  “No.”

  “No.”

  “Yes!”

  Dolly 1 and Dolly 2 looked at Dolly 3.

  “That’s odd,” said Dolly 1.

  “Yes,” said Dolly 2. “We always agree with each other. Usually.”

  “Yes,” replied Dolly 1. “I agree with you, and you agree with me, and we agree with her.”

  “Yes!” said Dolly 3. “I agree with you! I do normally agree with you!”

  “Agreed!” said Dolly 1, 2 and 3.

  Malcolm closed his eyes again. He thought he could feel a headache coming on. He tried to rub his head with his hand. But then he remembered that he didn’t have a hand, he had a hoof. And that it was very difficult for a sheep to raise a single hoof to its head for a rub.33

  “So …” said Dolly 3, “I know this is weird …”

  “Weird,” said Dolly 2.

  “Yes, weird,” said Dolly 1.

  “But even though you two didn’t see the cat … I did?”

  This seemed to completely stump Dolly 1 and Dolly 2. Even, in fact, Dolly 3. Who was saying it. So she added:

  “Maybe … I imagined it?”

  “Yes, I agree,” said Dolly 1.

  “So do I,” said Dolly 2.

  “And me!” said Dolly 3, sounding very relieved.

  “Anyway!” said Malcolm. “Do any of you speak goat?”

  They all shook their heads.

  “Isn’t it very similar to sheep?” said Malcolm. “I mean it sounds quite similar. Like … I dunno …” A very faint memory came back to him, of something they had learned in school. “Spanish and Italian?”

  “No, no,” said Dolly 1. “We baa. Goats bray.”

  “Baa!” said Dolly 2.

  “Not bray!” said Dolly 3.

  “Right,” said Malcolm. “Got it. Thanks. But can’t you – can’t we – try, though?”

  “No.”

  “Don’t think so.”

  “Not possible.”

  said the three sheep.

  Hmm, thought Malcolm, suddenly having an idea.

  “Really?” he said. “Even though I’d like to do it? And I’m a sheep, and sheep always agree with each other …”

  The Dollys looked at each other.

  “OK!” they said, in unison.

  So the four sheep began to trot over together to confront K-Pax. Who seemed to be waiting for them, in exactly the same place as before.

  Suddenly the way to the old goat was blocked by a ring of other goats, who surrounded him like armed guards.

  “Stop, sheep!” said one of the goats, in a very big important voice. “Go no further.”

  “Oh, goat and sheep is quite similar then …” said Dolly 1.

  “Yes, more similar than I realised!” said Dolly 2.

  “Almost exactly the same …” said Dolly 3.

  “Hello,” said Malcolm. “What is your name?”

  “Goaty McGoatface,” said the goat.

  “Really?” said Malcolm.

  “Yes. It is apparently a very dignified and proper name for a goat, according to Gavin and Maven.”

  Malcolm did his best not to laugh, which actually wasn’t that difficult, as sheep can’t.

  “What is your purpose with K-Pax?” said Goaty McGoatface, in an even bigger and more important voice.

  “I just want to know why he changed me into an animal!” said Malcolm.

  The circle of goats closed tighter round K-Pax, muttering to each other in small noises that Malcolm couldn’t understand, possibly because they were speaking in a goaty dialect that wasn’t very sheepy.

  Then Goaty McGoatface said (b
ig, important, etc.):

  “K-Pax does not speak!”

  “Yes, I do!” said a voice from inside the circle of goats. It was quite an old man’s voice, a little bit like Grandpa Theo’s. Only with a bit of a goaty vibrato in it.

  “What was that?” said Malcolm.

  “Nothing,” said Goaty McGoatface.

  “Nothing!”

  “Nothing!”

  “Nothing!”

  … said the other goats in the circle.

  “As I was saying,” Goaty continued, “K-Pax is the great, silent goat. His wisdom is that of the ancients, and cannot be passed on by words …”

  “No, it’s OK!” said the voice again. “I’m up for a chat!”

  Malcolm stared at Goaty.

  “That was K-Pax!” he said.

  “No, it wasn’t!”

  “It wasn’t!”

  “It wasn’t!”

  “Yes, it was me! Hello, Malcolm!” said the voice. It was muffled, coming as it did from behind the tight circle of goats.

  “Hello, K-Pax! Why won’t your goat friends let me talk to you?” said Malcolm, loudly, trying to raise his head above the goats (which wasn’t easy as they had horns as well).

  “I know,” said K-Pax, trying to peer through the ring of goats surrounding him. “It’s annoying. They think it makes me more mysterious and magical and stuff if I don’t speak.”

  “Can you hear something?” said Goaty McGoatface, bigly, importantly.

  “No,” said another goat. “Well, I can hear the sheep speaking. Apart from that, nothing.”

  “Why do they want you to be more mysterious?” said Malcolm.

  “I dunno. Not a lot happens in this goat pen, to be honest. So when something magical does go on they like to make it as glamorous as possible. Anyway, how’s it going?”

  “What?”

  “Being an animal. How are you finding it?”

  How am I finding it …? thought Malcolm. Like K-Pax was asking him about having a new pair of shoes! Or being in a different class at school!

  “Oh, it’s fine,” said Malcolm, sarcastically. “Super.”

  Unfortunately, animals – well, except for cats, obviously – do not understand sarcasm.

  “Oh good,” said K-Pax. “I knew it was what you wanted, from what you said! To understand animals, you have to live as an animal!”

  “No,” said Malcolm, “wait a minute …”

  “Just remember,” K-Pax continued, with some deepness in his voice, “when the cockerel has crowed three times, the spell will be over!”

  “When the cockerel has crowed three times?” said Malcolm. “Do you mean … after three days?”

  “Um … yes. Suppose so. I think it sounds better to say ‘when the cockerel has crowed three times’, though – sounds more … y’know … spell-ish …”

  “Oh good!” said Malcolm. “So I’ll be a boy again in three days?”

  Well, he thought, that’s not too bad.

  “No …” said K-Pax. “When the cockerel has crowed three times, you will transform into whatever animal you wake up with that morning. So on the third night, time’s up: you have to decide which animal you want to be. Then all you have to do is get close to that animal and go to sleep near it: and when you wake up, you’ll be that one forever! That’s how you’ll become what you’re meant to be! Oh, I knew you’d come to love animals once you were one!”

  If Malcolm had still been a boy his face would’ve turned white. Being as he was a sheep, it just was white. But inside, it turned whiter.

  “Only make sure that it’s an animal you really like,” K-Pax was continuing. “An animal you love, preferably, and who loves you!”

  “Sorry …” said Malcolm, “did you say … forever?”

  “WAKEY-WAKEY!!”

  Malcolm turned away from the goat throng. The cockerel was passing by the outside of the goat pen, still on a mission to destroy sleep on Orwell Farm.

  Which made something very clear to Malcolm.

  Horribly clear.

  “But … I’ve already had one day. And night!”

  “OK!” said K-Pax. “Two days left! So get weaving!”

  “Weaving?”

  “With those animal choices! Gotta make sure you choose the right one!”

  Malcolm gulped. “It is reversible?”

  “Is what reversible?”

  “The spell! The being-an-animal thing!”

  “Why would you want that?” said K-Pax, still from behind a wall of other goats, who were all looking around, pretending they couldn’t hear him.

  “Because I don’t want to be an animal. I never wanted to be an animal! I want to be a boy again!”

  Suddenly K-Pax did, actually, fall silent.

  “K-Pax?”

  “The Great Lord K-Pax, as I have told you, sheep, does not speak!” intoned Goaty McGoatface.

  “That just isn’t true, is it, Goaty? I was just speaking to him.”

  “No, you weren’t!” said K-Pax.

  “That’s him now!” said Malcolm. “Saying I wasn’t!”

  “Well then,” said Goaty, “clearly you weren’t.”

  “What? How can I not have been speaking to him when he just spoke to me to tell me I wasn’t speaking to him! It doesn’t make any sense!”

  “And neither, my friend, do you! Now, if you wouldn’t mind backing AWAY from the goat – nothing to see here …”

  Malcolm had a feeling he knew what had happened; why K-Pax wasn’t speaking to him. Because when Malcolm asked if the spell was reversible, it was clear that Malcolm hadn’t really wanted to be an animal at all, and K-Pax didn’t want to admit to having made a mistake.

  None of which was going to help Malcolm to become a boy again.

  OK, thought Malcolm. These goats clearly won’t listen to reason. Time to use brute force. And the fact that sheep always do what other sheep do.

  “Dollys!” he said, turning to them. “Follow me!”

  “OK!”

  “OK!”

  “OK!”

  Malcolm put his head down, ready to charge the goats. Each of the Dollys did the same. Goaty McGoatface tensed. There was a distant squeal that may or may not have been K-Pax.

  Then suddenly the door opened and four large men Malcolm had never seen before, wearing aprons, came into the pen. Round their chests were straps, leading to long leather bags, from which Malcolm could see poking out what looked like very long and sharp … knives.

  “Get the sheep!!” shouted one of the men.

  Dollys 1, 2 and 3 stopped facing the goats, and just turned and ran.

  So did Malcolm, who suddenly found he really wanted to do what the other sheep did.

  But it was too late! Malcolm saw Dolly 1, Dolly 2 and Dolly 3 caught by the men!

  It looked very rough: three of the men grabbed the sheep by their back legs, and swung them upside down. And before he knew it, the fourth man – a very large man indeed – had got Malcolm’s legs, and swung him upside down! And yes, it was very rough!

  The man carried him over his shoulder to the other side of the pen. Malcolm could see the points of his various knives, glinting in the no-longer-nice-at-all sunlight.

  “Help!” shouted Malcolm. “Help! Help!”

  “Yes!” shouted Dolly 1. “Help!”

  “Help!” shouted Dolly 2.

  “Help help help!” shouted Dolly 3.

  “Hi!” said Gavin, suddenly coming into the pen.

  “Hi!” said Maven, also suddenly coming into the pen.

  “Oh, thank heavens!” said Malcolm. “Gavin!

  Maven! They’ll stop all this!”

  “’Allo there, sir and madam,” said the man who was carrying Malcolm. “Sorry the sheep be making so much noise today!”

  “No worries,” said Gavin. “No need to call us sir and madam, though, Eli!”

  “Right you are, sir and madam.”

  “Everything sorted?” said Maven.

  “Blades at the ready?�
� said Gavin.

  “Yes, sir and madam!” said the man called Eli.

  “Oh no!” shouted Malcolm. “Gavin! Maven! Please!”

  “Mr Barrington?” said Gavin.

  “We’re here!” Malcolm heard Mr Barrington’s voice.

  What?

  “Everybody! Children! This way!”

  Malcolm felt himself swung back over the man’s shoulder and on to the ground. The man was holding him down. It hurt. He could see the same thing was happening to the Dollys.

  Meanwhile, along the top edge of the fence, he could suddenly also see the faces of: Fred, Ellie, Barry, Lukas, Jake, Taj, Isla, Morris and all the rest of his year.

  Mr Barrington raised a hand for silence. “OK, all of you. Gavin and Maven have very kindly organised today’s event. So watch closely …”

  “Mr Barrington?”

  “Yes, Ellie?”

  “Should we watch closely where the sheep are? Or the way you’re facing?”

  “Oh. Sorry. I see now that those are just some fluffy clouds. No, look over here!”

  They all turned to look into the pen.

  Of course, thought Malcolm. We’re here, on a farm. And what happens on a farm? What happens to the animals? I can’t believe it. I can’t believe it’s going to end this way! With all my year watching!

  He looked up and screamed:

  “Barry! Fred! Ellie! Lukas! Mr Barrington, sir! I’m not a sheep! I don’t want to be chops! Or stew! Save me! Save me!”

  “Haha! Baa! Baa!” said Morris. “That sheep is going baa at us!”

  “Yes,” said Isla with a sigh. “That’s what they do.”

  Oh no, thought Malcolm. It was no good. He was just doing a lot of mad baa-ing. It was pointless. Malcolm felt very, very sad; he closed his eyes.

  Then, with his free hand – the one that wasn’t holding Malcolm down – the man called Eli reached into his leather bag.

  Malcolm’s eyes were still closed – he may have closed them tighter – when he heard a strange noise. Sort of like a very, very buzzy fly. He wondered if maybe, to save his life, he’d had a last-minute transformation – into a very, very buzzy fly.

  But then he opened his eyes, and saw his hooves, and Mr Barrington squinting at him, and realised that, no: he was still a sheep.