Shrinking Violet Absolutely Loves Ancient Egypt

by Lou Kuenzler

  “I know what you’re saying,” agreed Anthony. “The whole idea of Ozzy being a mummy is horrible … but he would make a pretty brilliant one. He practically looks like an Egyptian god.”

  “And the speckled strays are like ancient wild cats,” I said. “That’s why the Calendar Gang left the ordinary, modern-shaped moggies alone.”

  “They don’t need many mummies to sell anyway,” said Anthony. “Each one will be worth a fortune if they can convince an antique dealer they’re really from the time of the pharaohs.”

  “The spices will help with that,” I said, watching Miss June dip rolls of bandage into the bubbling pot of cinnamon and nutmeg. “When I did my Egyptian project at school, I soaked it in tea to make it look like it was written on ancient papyrus paper. The spicy mixture will make the bandages turn brown and they’ll look really old.”

  “A proper museum could tell they are fake immediately,” said Anthony. “But it sounds like Calendar Gang plan on selling them to some greedy dealer and making a quick getaway.”

  “Come on,” I said, as Miss June slopped another roll of bandages into the bubbling pot. “We may be tiny but we have to think of a way to save these cats.”

  “Ready?” I said.

  Anthony and I were standing under the legs of the camping stove. It towered above us like a roaring volcano.

  Apparently, in stage ten of Maze of the Mummy, there’s a bit where you have to escape from molten lava as it crashes through the floor of a tomb.

  “We can do the same thing in real life … just as long as we run fast enough,” Anthony promised me.

  “Attack!” I cried.

  We threw ourselves forward, charging at the leg of the stove with a wooden spoon we’d found on the floor. We held it out in front of us like a battering ram or a knight’s lance.

  The leg and…

  The pot of steaming liquid fell to the floor.

  “Look what you’ve done, June,” August yelled at his sister as she leapt out of the way of the stove.

  “It worked!” Anthony cried as we fled from the boiling, spicy liquid.

  “Level complete! One zillion bonus points,” I cheered.

  We skidded to safety under the table.

  “I’m beginning to enjoy this,” Anthony panted.

  “For someone who’s scared of shrinking, you’re actually pretty brave,” I grinned. “Now all we’ve got to do is climb up the walls and free those cats.”

  “Easy,” said Anthony. He sounded calm but he was shaking so hard the paper cobra on his headdress shook like a miniature rattlesnake.

  “There’s not a moment to lose,” I said, glancing out from behind the table leg. The Calendar Gang were madly trying to mop up the spilled liquid. We’d have a couple of minutes’ head start before they noticed what was going on.

  “I’ll undo Ozzy’s cage. You start on the wildcats,” I said. “Just fling open each door and move on to the next one as quick as you can.”

  “Got it,” said Anthony.

  He dashed across the floor and began to climb towards the strays without even looking back.

  I headed up the wall to Ozzy.

  The rough stones of the cavern made climbing pretty easy. I felt like one of the thumb-sized gecko lizards I’d seen scampering up the ruins while we were working on the dig. By fanning out my tiny hands – just like a lizard spreads its toes – I was able to cling on tight to the wall and move quickly upwards.

  I was scared that Ozzy’s cage would have a padlock or a tough bolt on the front. But there was actually just a bent nail hooked through the latch.

  “Hi-ya!” With one good karate kick, I was able to bounce the nail free. “Go on, Ozzy, get out,” I urged, swinging past him as the door opened.

  I glanced over at Anthony. He had already opened four of the ten wildcat cages.

  “Good going,” I whistled.

  Doing my best not to look down, I scampered along a narrow ledge on the wall to help him.

  “Like tomb doors in The Maze!” he grinned.

  In no time at all we had opened every cage.

  I glanced down.

  “Whoa!” My head swam for a moment – it was like the time I was about to leap from the highest treetop wire at the Monkey Business Adventure Park, when Uncle Max took me last half term.

  At least we were so high up, the Calendar Gang still hadn’t seen a thing.

  Miss June had slipped on the spilled liquid. August and July were sniggering as they tried to heave her to her feet.

  “Now what?” said Anthony.

  I thought the minute we opened the cages the cats would spring out, but the strays were cowering inside, terrified by all the noise the Calendar Gang were making down below.

  Even Ozzy, who was tame, had only poked his nose out of the front of his cage.

  “What are we going to do?” said Anthony. “The cats won’t move.”

  “There’s only one thing we can do…” I said, “pretend to be mice so they chase us.”

  “You must be crazy,” said Anthony. But he followed me as I scrambled down the wall and darted back and forward across the sandy floor like a mouse.

  I glanced up and saw a row of emerald-green cats’ eyes staring down at us.

  “Yikes,” squealed Miss July, she must have spotted us dashing across the floor. “Was that some kind of vermin?”

  “Where’d it go?” Miss June leapt on to the table, her huge bottom making the whole thing sway underneath her. “Was it a snake or a rat?”

  “Pull yourselves together, darn it,” cried August. “Can’t you see the cats are escaping?”

  As soon as they had jumped from their cages, the strays realized they were free and were dashing towards the doorway of the cavern. As I darted behind a table leg, I saw Ozzy drop gracefully to the floor and stalk among them with his nose in the air.

  “Catch ’em. Herd ’em up,” cried August.

  But it was hopeless. There were too many cats. And they were far too quick to be caught.

  “Hooray, they’re getting away,” I cried as I rolled under the crate and crouched down beside Anthony, who was already hiding there.

  The ten strays sped off down the corridor.

  “They’ll be able to get out the same way I came in,” grinned Anthony.

  “Past the cat hieroglyphs,” I laughed. “Perhaps in Ancient Egyptian the writing says EXIT THIS WAY.”

  “Chase after them, August,” screamed June.

  But August was wheezing. “I ain’t fast enough,” he sighed.

  “At least we’ve still got that one. Look,” said July.

  Ozzy was the only cat who had not run away.

  “Shoo!” I hissed, throwing a tiny stone at him.

  “What was that?” said Miss June, peering down at the crate. “Something’s under there, for sure.”

  Anthony and I stood as still as two wax crayons in a pencil box.

  “It might be that snake,” said Miss July.

  “Yikes!” Miss June leapt backwards.

  “Never mind that. I’ve got the cat!” cheered August. He was holding Ozzy high in the air by the scruff of his neck. “This one’s the prettiest of them all,” he grinned.

  Ozzy wriggled, desperately trying to escape as August squeezed his throat.

  I closed my eyes.

  This is it, I thought. People say cats have nine lives they can use up before they die – but Ozzy must have used his last one this time.

  I was so tiny, there was nothing I could do to help.

  A terrible, ear-splitting yowl echoed around the cavern.

  I opened my eyes as Ozzy’s front paw flashed through the air, scratching the side of August’s face.

  “Owwww!” Now it was August’s turn to howl. “Brute,” he cried, letting Ozzy go.

  With a single bound, Ozzy leapt across the floor and on to the top of the crate where Anthony and I were hiding. He looked down through the slats of broken wood and licked his paws.

  “He’s se
en us. Now he’s going to eat us,” gulped Anthony.

  “Ozzy, it’s me, Violet. I am not a mouse,” I whispered, standing frozen in the glare of the cat’s shimmering eyes, which now seemed as big as car headlights. “I’m your friend, remember.”

  Ozzy arched his back and hissed.

  “I warned you,” shivered Anthony, the cobra on his headdress shaking from side to side like a windscreen wiper on a toy car. “Cats are dangerous. This is what I’ve been dreading all along.”

  “There’s definitely something under that box,” said Miss June.

  “I don’t like it,” said Miss July. “Let’s get out of here. This place is starting to give me the creeps.”

  “There’s nothing left for us anyway,” said August gloomily. “I’m not going near that vicious little tiger to be scratched again.”

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw him wave his hand towards Ozzy as he kicked a pile of soggy bandages across the floor. “The game’s over,” he groaned.

  “I suppose we better head back to the boat and pretend to be those two sweet little old ladies again,” said Miss June.

  “Righty-ho,” sighed August, putting on his posh Professor Gus voice. “And I’d better be the English Egyptologist.”

  “At least we’ve got all that lovely cash we raised from the party,” said Miss July. “We did quite well actually.”

  “Imagine how furious that little brat Violet and her silly old grandma would be if they realized the cats will never get a single penny from their great fancy dress idea,” sniggered August.

  “I’d love to see their faces when they found out there’s no such charity as laughed Miss June. “Not unless it stands for Calendars Leave Astonishingly Wealthy!”

  I could feel the blood boiling up from the tips of my toes.

  How dare they laugh at us like that.

  I wanted to scream and kick the side of the crate. I could hear Anthony breathing heavily beside me. I could tell he was furious too. But we both knew we had to stay statue-still like two stone shabti in a museum case or Ozzy would pounce. He held us in his emerald-green stare, his legs bent ready to spring at any moment.

  “I tell you something,” laughed August. “Mrs Short, that old grandma of Violet’s, won’t give us any bother for a while. I found her poking around earlier. I gave her a little push in the right direction, if you know what I mean.”

  That did it. I couldn’t stay still a moment longer.

  “How dare you,” I cried, leaping forward, waving my arms.

  August couldn’t hear me of course. If he could, he would have squashed me with his shoe as if I were nothing more than a bug.

  It was stupid of me. The minute I moved, Ozzy pounced.

  “Idiot,” I heard Anthony hiss.

  But then the strangest thing happened.

  Instead of clawing or biting, Ozzy grabbed us both gently by the scruff of our necks as if we were two tiny kittens. I could feel his hot breath on the back of my head. He was holding me as gently as a feather.

  “Relax, Anthony. He’s not going to hurt us,” I breathed as Ozzy bounded forward.

  “Look, the cat’s got something,” said Miss June. “It might be valuable. I saw a flash of blue and gold.”

  It must have been Anthony’s pharaoh costume she could see.

  She made a dash for him, but Ozzy was too quick. He sprung up towards one of the empty cat holes.

  “You’re wrong,” said Miss July. “I reckon it’s a little white mouse. Look at its skinny tail.”

  I realized that one of my mummy bandages had started to come undone and was trailing out behind me.

  Ozzy leapt towards the next cat hole. Higher and higher he sprang, until, at last, with Anthony and me still safe in his jaws, he reached the highest hole of all, right up under the roof.

  He stood for a moment looking down on the world beneath him like a mighty Egyptian god.

  If the Calendar Gang had been able to see us clearly, they might have thought Ozzy had two little key rings dangling from his mouth, one of a pharaoh and another of a mummy.

  But a second later, Ozzy dropped us on to the cold stone floor of the cat hole and sprang away.

  “Careful,” I cried.

  But he was gone.

  In three smooth bounds he was back on the ground.

  “Look.” I nudged Anthony. Ozzy had seen someone walk into the cavern. Someone he knew and loved.

  “Musa,” I whispered as Ozzy sprung into his owner’s arms.

  Our guide was standing in the entrance to the cattery with four tall, strong men from the village. He hugged Ozzy tightly. Then he looked around the cavern, trying to take everything in. I wished I was bigger than a bean sprout, then I could have shouted to him about the Calendar Gang and what they were up to.

  Musa cleared his throat. “We found Mrs Short in a deep pit,” he said. “Her ankle is twisted but she’s going to be all right.”

  “Goodness! However did that happen?” said August, using his silly, posh Professor Gus voice.

  “I’m not sure … but I am going to find out,” said Musa, looking around at the chaos of cooking pots, bandages and spilled spice mixture. “First I need to find Violet and Anthony. They’ve gone missing.”

  Miss June and Miss July were struggling desperately to take off their big black leather aprons.

  “Oh dear,” Miss June whimpered like a frail old lady.

  “So many strange things seem to be going on,” stammered Miss July, swaying from side to side as if she was so delicate she might faint.

  “I’ve had enough of the Calendar Gang and their play-acting,” I whispered.

  The angry blood-boiling feeling was rising up from the tips of my toes, like hot water bubbling in a kettle.

  As quickly as a jack-in-a-box springing open, I shot back to

  My feet banged hard against the back of the cat box.

  “Ouch!”

  Behind me, I heard Anthony let out a tiny scream.

  “Sorry,” I whispered. I must have kicked him as hard as a donkey. (And Anthony was still only the size of a small carrot, of course.)

  “Violet? Is that you up there?” said Musa.

  “Yes.” I leaned further out of the box. “I’ve been hiding up here for ages. And as soon as I get down I’m going to tell you everything I’ve seen.”

  Before I climbed down from the stone cat hole, I scrabbled around with one hand until I felt my fingers close around something small and solid that I knew must be Anthony.

  “Come on,” I whispered. I couldn’t leave him up here while he was tiny. “There isn’t a pocket in this mummy costume but I’ll slip you between the bandages and we can climb down safely.”

  The cat hole was too cramped for me to turn my head and see what I was doing. But, feeling carefully, I opened a gap between two bandages just above my knee and slid Anthony inside. He felt heavier than I had expected but I pulled myself forward, swung my legs out of the hole and began to climb.

  “Careful, Violet. I’ll fetch a ladder,” cried Musa. “Your grandmother has already hurt her ankle. We don’t want you doing the same thing.”

  “I’ll be all right. I’m wrapped up in bandages anyway,” I laughed. If I’d climbed all the way up to the cat holes when I was tiny, I could certainly climb down now I was full size.

  “And I can get down too,” said a cheerful Australian voice above my head.

  “Anthony?” I gasped, looking up. “Is that you?”

  “Course it is,” he grinned, leaning out of the cat hole. He was back to full size now too. But, if he was still up there, what had I slipped into the bandages above my knee?

  “Are you OK, Ant? … I mean, Anthony?” I said as he dropped to the floor beside me.

  “Don’t worry, Violet,” he grinned. “You can call me Ant if you like. I’ve decided it’s a cool nickname after all. Like a hero in a computer game – someone small but Someone who wouldn’t be scared of anything ever again … not even shrinking, say.”

/>   “That’s brilliant, Ant,” I whispered, “But if you’re here … then who – or what – is this?” I dug into the slit in my bandages and wrapped my fingers around the small shape that was hidden there.

  I pulled it out and opened my hand.

  Lying on my palm was a small piece of bright, blue stone. It was a perfect shabti, carved into the shape of a cat.

  “How beautiful.” Musa let out a gasp of surprise. “Where did you find that?”

  “Oh, just up in that old cat hole,” I smiled, trying not to let my fingers shake with surprise.

  “Wow! That’s better than three old pieces of cracked bowl,” laughed Ant.

  August rushed forward. “Let me see that. I bet these kids stole it,” he said, completely forgetting to speak in his English accent.

  “I didn’t steal it,” I said. “And I am not going to keep it either. It belongs in a museum.”

  I handed the tiny, smooth figure to Musa.

  “It is a wonderful object. I have never seen a shabti shaped like a cat before,” he said.

  “Perhaps you could start a museum here – of things you find on the dig,” I said. “You could charge tourists a small fee.”

  “I know I’d pay to see a beautiful shabti like that,” agreed Anthony.

  “The extra money could be used to look after the stray cats,” I said. “You’ll already have a good start with what we raised tonight at the fancy dress party.”

  “You can’t take that money,” cried Miss July.

  “That’s our money. I mean money,” said Miss June.

  “No,” I said. “That money is not yours.”

  “Not any more,” said Anthony.

  I stepped forward and pointed to the deep scratch which Ozzy had made on the side of August’s face. It looked as if he had a long cat whisker drawn across his cheek. “It seems to me that the Calendar Gang have run into a spot of bad luck,” I said.

  “It definitely seems things are about to take a bad turn for you,” Anthony agreed.

  “Someone should call the police,” I said, turning to Musa and the men from the village. “I think they’ll be very interested when they hear what Anthony and I have to say.”

  “Interfering little pests,” growled August.