Green Planet
‘The poor Druid was released into the forest and left to wander about, tormented day and night by the rest of these dreadful creatures, regretting the day he had ever set foot on this forsaken planet. He was able to hold back many attacks with his powerful tongue, although I can’t image how dreadful it must have been. His best defence was to blend in with the environment; being a tree, that wasn’t too hard for him to do. I returned on several occasions to try and convince him to return with me as he was, but his conscience just wouldn’t allow him to do so. He has placed himself in this dreadful position, and takes sole responsibility for the warped outcome of his flower fairy creation, looking out for the first opportunity to make things right, even if it means losing his life in the process.
‘Many times we have tried to catch them, but it was hopeless; they were constantly changing form and disappearing, making the task near impossible. I guess the poor Druid made an attempt at catching them one time too many, so they simply confined him to a pot. Now that I think of it, how absolutely bizarre; Patroux and the flower fairies have completely swapped roles.’
‘So what chance do we have of being human again?’ Frank asked, sounding worried.
‘You are very lucky, boys; I’ve managed to finally catch the flower devils red-handed, so everything is going to be quite alright for the pair of you.’
‘What are you going to do Chimzen?’
‘They’re gone Chimzen! They’re gone!’ Philip yelled in horror, extending a branch towards the Malco Prison.
‘Don’t you worry,’ he said, responding to Philip’s look of horror with a chuckle, ‘they’re just testing us with trickery. They are either invisible, or they have turned themselves into ants, and are trying to find a gap. They’ve got no chance my friend, with the trio in charge, no chance at all.’
‘Run! Run!’ Patroux shrieked, in an alarming squawk, the first time he had made a sound since Chimzen’s arrival.
* * * * * * * *
Standing at the entrance to the fern enclosure with dark glaring button eyes and folded green arms was none other than the Indian plant chief, with his entire tribe lined up behind, two rows in single file, extending all the way out of the door and halfway up the valley.
‘Wah! Wah!’ the voice of authority yelled in a high pitch. Immediately the entire army began screaming with glass shattering war cries, flapping their spongy green arms over their orifice mouths in obedience to their chief. The Indian plants flooded into the tiny abode by the dozen, while the Chief thrust his arm forward with a scream. The little fiends raised their arrows to the bow in perfect synchronization and fired them at the sitting trunks.
‘Get them, Zapache plants!’ Azor shrieked, exploding into visibility, and rubbing her hands together with glee.
Several of the little arrows darted the boys’ trunks, causing them to gasp in panic. Fortunately all they felt was a slight pinprick as the darts barely pierced their thick bark coverings. One of the arrows zipped towards the corner where Chimzen was standing; he swiftly lashed out his left hand, catching it in mid flight, just before it plunged into his leg. Thanks to Zet’s sharp magical ability, the Malco trio altered the shield by projecting a fourth wall of beams through his corner of the pyramid, directly across the path of the oncoming mass of green rebels. The shield was raised in the nick of time, as several front row Indian plants lay sliced open in cross-section halves on either side of the fine deadly shield, with red head petals flapping in all directions like a plucked chicken. The remainder of the tribe marched forward blindly screaming into the defence shield, and became instantaneously silent, with thick mucous cactus sap bubbling into oblivion. The Chief finally came to the realization that about a quarter of his tribe had quite strangely disappeared into the unusual transparent wall, and decided to use an alternative method of attack.
‘Wah! Wah! Whoh! Wah!’ he bellowed, waving his arms up towards the roof, and frantically shaking his mane of petals, which now looked like a fluffed up chicken approaching the slaughter.
‘Damn you, Malcos, and damn you, Chimzen, too!’ Azor shrieked, waving her hands like a raving lunatic. The other fairies were strangely quiet, kneeling down with their heads dropped over in a state of remorse.
‘They are moving to plan “B”,’ Chimzen said, hurriedly shifting the boys slightly apart, and forcing himself in between. ‘The Malcos can’t help us anymore; I think they’re coming through the roof.’ Sure enough, the ferns above began shaking like deadly cobras slithering through the reeds. ‘Hold on boys, it’s time to put on a bit of protection.’ Chimzen grinned, taking pleasure in the wild action. At least the boys would have the pleasure of administering a bit of payback for all the torment these Indian plant critters had caused them.
‘Hold my staff Frank!’ he yelled, much to the poor boy’s surprise. Frank clutched at the staff with awkward twiggy hands.
‘Can you aim it towards the roof, Frank?’
‘I th-think so,’ the startled tree boy stammered, pointing the end carefully upwards.
‘Good, then let the fun begin,’ Chimzen said, chuckling as he began a chant:
‘Great staff, now blasting gun,
Purple flame, sulphur fire like the sun,
Activated by the word “blast”,
These devil plants, a thing of the past.’
Frank held the staff, trembling like he did when he held a two-point-two rifle for the first time. A blast of magical energy surged up the length of the staff, and he gulped a sticky ball of sap down his trunk gullet in excitement.
‘Not to worry boy, it won’t hurt you. Just remember, if one of them comes through the ferns above, just point it in their direction and shout the magic word, okay?’
‘Yes sir,’ Frank mumbled nervously, clutching the staff with his shaky branches bent at the nodes.
‘Here they come!’ Philip yelled.
‘Blast!’ Frank yelled, pointing the staff at a pair of striped, green-legged intruders dangling through the surrounding ferns. An enormous purple surge erupted from the depths of the staff, almost forcing Frank over backwards. The little unsuspecting green devil took full impact as well as several other victims attempting to follow suit. The purple surge blasted a hole in the fern ceiling about three feet wide, sending several Indian plants to flower heaven in one blasting instant.
‘Wow wee!’ Frank yelled in delight. ‘Did you see that?’
‘Look out Frank, behind you!’ Philip screamed. Once again Frank yelled the magic word, roasting six more Indian plant goons attempting to make a drop directly over Patroux’s pot. The purple surge was way too powerful for a young boy like Frank to be playing with, but at least it made the odds of an Indian plant armed with tiny arrows having any kind of victory completely impossible.
Most importantly, the boy was having some fun for a change. Philip took his turn, grabbing the staff bazooka with twitching twig fingers. ‘Blast!’ he yelled. The purple surge erupted from the end of Chimzen’s staff, singeing the red head petals off three panic-stricken, screaming Indian plants leaping into the half wrecked dwelling. Six more determined plant critters were blasted in the front corner, with the electrical purple surge rocketing into the sky like Halley’s Comet. In a very short space of time the fern ceiling had been blasted full of gaping holes, which soon fell apart at the seams, leaving behind a trail of scattered fern leaves and Indian plant petals. The boys stared through the open roof at the bright starry sky, their leafy heads rustling with excitement.
‘Get me out of here!’ Azor commanded the few remaining successful Indian plants that were short of red head petals, and skipped about in confusion. The little plants immediately obeyed, dashing courageously towards the Malco prison to save Azor. They clutched at the green lasers in an effort to break through the shield. Instead of releasing the evil captive, they oozed through the deadly bars like grated cheese, turning from bubbling white sap to a temporary bad odour.
Philip aimed the base point of the magic staff towards the entrance lik
e a professional tree sniper, in an effort to blast the Indian plant chief who had been standing there earlier. The Chief had trained his tribe to be patriotic, to fight to the death, but that certainly didn’t mean he had to. When things were starting to get a bit hot; he promptly made a duck, abandoning his entire tribe. After all, what could he have done for them now anyway?
‘And I thought I could depend on you?’ Azor barked, yanking the two Indian arrows from her head, which were used to hold her jasmine vine in a perfect bun arrangement, and dissolving them into the green prison laser shield in fury. With her jasmine head arrangement sprawled around her in twisted sweet-smelling strands, she really did look quite the wicked witch.
* * * * * * * *
‘The Indian plant tribe was her creation,’ Chimzen said unexpectedly.
‘What?’ the boys asked, staring at him in horror.
‘Quite correct. She sent them to attack you in the first place. How do you think the flower fairies knew that you boys were hanging in the trees?’
‘I see what you are saying, Chimzen, now it all makes sense,’ Philip said with a look of surprise.
‘You see, Azor has been told many stories about earth by Petroux, including ones of Cowboys and Indians. So she decided to manipulate an ordinary cactus plant, and create a whole new devilish race of plant beings, using her streak of creative wickedness. Patroux had always wanted the fairies to be in charge, using his magical powers purely for good. He never expected anything like this though. This planet is evil on the whole, but many creatures here were created by Azor for her own personal benefit. She has created several armies of beastly plants, to ensure that all the others are kept in line. She has dominated Floran with dictatorship rule for many years, and any plant beings that stand in disagreement with her will get their stems slit, and are thrown out roots and all. Well, I suppose any creature from this planet granted so much power would do exactly the same, given their rotten natures. As they say: nothing lasts forever, and this day is most definitely her last.’
‘Dick-ate-her-ship!’ Frank exclaimed, looking rather puzzled. ‘Who is Dick? Where is her ship? And how the hell did he eat it?’
‘What on earth are you talking about, my boy?’ Chimzen blurted out, staring at Frank with eyes bulging in question. ‘Have you gone completely mad, boy? I never said a word about Dick and his ship, never mind eating the blinking thing.’
‘It’s not Dick-ate-her-ship, Frank,’ Philip started, trying his best to subdue a fit of giggles, ‘it’s the Dick-ate-her-ship RULE, which I guess is an enforced rule on Floran to prevent people like ourselves from chopping precious trees down for wood to build ships with, and possibly eating them afterwards just like Dick did.’
‘Oh really?’ Frank stammered, looking more confused than ever.
‘Nonsense, Philip!’ the wizard yelled, rolling sideways with laughter. ‘You are a very cruel boy, Philip, making fun of your friend like that.’
‘I couldn’t help myself Frank, sorry,’ Philip chuckled, his leaves shaking wildly in an effort to subdue his explosive fit of laughter.
‘Okay, okay, very funny!’ Frank barked, starting to smoke under the branches. ‘Now that you’ve all had a good laugh at my expense, what is Dick-ate-her-ship rule then?’
‘To put it in a nutshell,’ Chimzen started, attempting to clear his throat to prevent a further fit of laughing, ‘it’s actually one word, “dictatorship”, which is a leadership that dominates its people with incredible harshness, allowing no freedom of will, and ruling with completely selfish motives. A country under such rule will ultimately end up in starvation and ruin, with its leaders never able to satisfy their endless greed and lust for power.’
‘Oh,’ Frank muttered, glaring at Philip with wood axes in his eyes.
‘We need to get going, boys. I’m sure that pesky Indian chief has gone back to the forest to bring back reinforcements.’
‘What do we do now Chimzen?’ Philip asked.
‘You just wait and see fellows.’ The wizard stood up, using a tree boy on either side to hoist him to his feet, moaning and muttering about the aching sores on his face. He stood in front of the Malco jail with crossed arms, gazing at the flower fairies in anger. Madonna, Paulina and Gallica remained in a kneeling position with their heads hung over in remorse, but Azor stood her ground with vindictive pride, throwing insults and mockery at his magic abilities.
‘Let’s begin with phase number one, Malco trio,’ he commanded, taking one step back, holding a fixed gaze on the fairies like a school principal about to administer a well-deserved beating.
‘Ag cum on mun!’ Paulina cried, looking up at him with genuine fear. ‘We are really surry mun, please dun’t punish us Chimzun mun.’
‘Surry hey,’ Chimzen mimicked, raising one eyebrow, ‘like you were in the past, yet you still persevered in your rebellion. Look at Patroux; he’s sitting in a pot; is this how surry you are? The very man who gave you the lives you now have, is the one you robbed of everything and banished to a pot.’
‘It wus Azor; she munipulated us Chimzen; wat were we supposed ta do mun?’
‘Unfortunately my well of grace has run dry, Paulina dear. The three of you sided with Azor for selfish gain, which puts all of you under the category of accessory to murder.’
Azor continued with her ranting and cursing, hissing at the wizard like a wild cat. She knew her time of domination was over, but she certainly wouldn’t be going down quietly. The other three remained poised with noses pointing to the ground, having made a last attempt at being freed, and seeing quite plainly that there was no way out. They were all as guilty as sin itself; what was there really left for them to say?
The green Malco shield started to glow brightly, increasing the heat inside the pyramid jail to an unbearable temperature. The beams then turned bright yellow, and the flower fairy wings and magnificent flower arrangements began to wilt under the dazzling exposure. Azor continued to curse Chimzen, even though her eyes reflected a terrible fear. Frank and Philip were horrified when they heard the mournful cries of anguish.
‘You can’t do this, Chimzen, it’s wrong!’ Philip cried, expressing tremendous sorrow for the three beautiful creatures. Much to his shock Chimzen never said a word; he just stood staring with a solemn locked gaze.
Suddenly the four fairies burst into flames with Azor last to erupt into smoke. Much to the boys’ surprise they reappeared as pigs in a pen. The squealing was too terrible as they ran in panic-stricken circles. Soon the heat overwhelmed the Miss Piggies, and a pleasant sizzling breakfast bacon smell filled the air. So they turned into four beastly crocodiles with thick scaly skin able to protect them from the alarming increase in temperature. The boys nearly jumped out of their trunks in fright as the four gigantic snappers displayed endless rows of jagged teeth. The yellow beams grew brighter, intensifying the unbearable heat, until eventually the four crocs couldn’t bear the sun basking any longer, and turned into armadillos with thick armour-plated shells. The armadillos strained under the heat, burnt beyond recognition, and finally turned into hundred-year old tortoises. They slid their wrinkled heads back inside their age old multi layered shells, desperate to escape the terrible punishment. The shells melted away layer by layer in a matter of seconds, while the Malco oven continued to bake with a vengeance. Finally the fairies turned to copper metal plates, desperate to escape the fierce temperatures.
‘Phase two, Malcos,’ Chimzen said, taking another step back. This time the Malco jail glowed bright blue, generating a magnificent furnace, with the intensity to melt steel and hard ore. The metal melted into a pool of copper liquid, so they turned to mild steel. The mild steel soon blistered on the surface, so they changed to stainless steel, which wasn’t too much of a challenge for the unstoppable trio furnace. The flower fairies didn’t transform into any form of rock mineral, for if they had, there was the possibility that they would explode, and then they would be destroyed forever.
Chimzen had a plan and needed t
hem to transform into something special for him. They knew exactly what he wanted, and they were trying their very best to avoid it at any cost. It was only a matter of time; sooner or later they would have to bow to his wishes.
‘Phase three, Malcos,’ he said, sounding more forceful than he had before. Finally the four fairies turned to solid gold bars. The trio changed the laser shield to bright red at precisely the same time, generating the most unbelievable heat surge inside the pyramid jail. The boys looked at each other, shaking their heads and looking bewildered.
‘First, it looked like he was going to cremate the four of them,’ Philip said.
‘Now he’s getting rich, making gold bars out of them,’ Frank chuckled.
The red laser shield melted the gold with ease, without allowing the fairies any chance to transform again. The four pools of liquid gold boiled for several minutes, while a thick black muck resembling old car engine oil bubbled to the surface. The black residue trickled over the gold liquid and burst into flame, disappearing into a puff of smouldering black stink.
After Chimzen was satisfied with the glowing puddles of gold he told the trio to run the heat procedure in reverse, returning back to a green laser shield. The puddles soon hardened into solid bars of gold except for Azor; she turned to a slab of dark bronze. The trio gradually changed the heat level from red laser through back to green, and the flower fairies also gradually changed back from gold and bronze, back to flower fairies once again.
Paulina, Madonna and Gallica were kneeling with their heads hanging over as they were before, but Azor was nowhere to be seen.
‘Drop shield,’ Chimzen commanded the trio, much to Philip and Frank’s horror. The flower fairies made no attempt to try and escape, except for Azor. She wriggled towards the cave entrance like a slippery snake, in the form of a jasmine creeper with several tiny sweet-scented flowers, and disappeared out of sight.