Meanwhile Pinocchio, having angrily picked himself up off the ground, leapt high in the air and onto that poor creature’s back. It was such a splendid leap that the children stopped laughing at him and began shouting Hurray for Pinocchio! and applauding so wildly it seemed they might never stop.
But suddenly the little donkey raised both its back legs off the ground and bucked violently, flinging the poor puppet into the middle of the road, onto a pile of gravel.
More rowdy laughter. But Mini-Man, instead of laughing, was overcome by such affection for that restless little donkey that, with a kiss, he bit half of its other ear cleanly off. Then he told the puppet, “Go ahead and get back on—nothing to fear. That little donkey had some bee in his bonnet, but I whispered a word or two in his ears, and now I expect he’ll be tame and reasonable.”
Pinocchio mounted. And the coach began to move. But as the donkeys galloped and the coach sped over the cobblestones of the main road, the puppet thought he heard a soft, barely audible voice that said, “Poor sap! You wanted to do as you pleased, but you’ll regret it!”
Pinocchio, a little spooked, looked here and there, trying to figure out where those words were coming from. But he couldn’t see anyone. The donkeys were galloping, the coach was racing along, the children inside the coach were sleeping, Lampwick was snoring like a saw, and Mini-Man, sitting in his driver’s seat, was singing under his breath:
“Everybody sleeps at night
But I don’t sleep at all…”
After another half a kilometer, Pinocchio heard the same faint little voice telling him, “Keep in mind, you simpleton, that kids who stop studying and turn their backs on books and schools and teachers to devote themselves to toys and fun, they always come to grief! Take it from me; I know from experience! The day will come when you’ll regret it, too, as I regret it now—but then it will be too late!”
At these softly whispered words, the puppet, more scared than ever, jumped down off the back of his donkey and seized it by the muzzle.
Imagine how he felt when he saw that his little donkey was crying—and crying just like a child!
“Hey, Mr. Mini-Man,” shouted Pinocchio to the coachman, “do you know what’s going on here? This little donkey is crying.”
“Let him cry—on his wedding day he’ll laugh.”
“Was it you by chance who taught him to talk?”
“No, he learned to stammer a few words on his own, from spending three years in the company of trained dogs.”
“Poor beast!”
“Come, now,” said Mini-Man, “let’s not waste our time crying for a donkey. Mount him again and let’s go—the night is cool and the road is long.”
Pinocchio obeyed without another word. The coach resumed its course, and in the morning, near dawn, they happily reached Toyland.
This country resembled no other country in the world. Its population was composed entirely of children. The oldest were fourteen years of age; the youngest were barely eight. In the streets, such joy, such racket, such screeching as might take the top of your head off! Hordes of rascals everywhere. Some were playing ball, some marbles, some bowls; some were riding bicycles, others wooden horses; some were playing blindman’s buff, some tag; some, dressed as clowns, were eating fire; some were acting, some singing, some doing flips; some amused themselves by walking with their hands on the ground and their feet in the air; some rolled hoops; some strolled about dressed as generals, with newspaper helmets and papier-mâché swords; some laughed, some yelled, some called to friends; some clapped and some whistled and some clucked like hens that had just laid eggs—such a pandemonium, in other words, such a din, such an infernal hullabaloo, that you’d have to stuff your ears with cotton to keep from going deaf. Every square hosted little canvas theaters that were packed with kids from dawn till dusk, and the walls of every house bore phrases scrawled in charcoal that said splendid things like: Toys are grate! (instead of great), No more skools! (instead of schools), Down with Ritt Matick! (instead of arithmetic), and other such gems.
As for Pinocchio and Lampwick and all the other children who had made the journey with Mini-Man, as soon as they set foot in town they plunged right into the heart of that great hubbub, and in a matter of minutes, as you might well guess, they had made friends with everyone. Who could have been happier, who more contented, than they?
Amid that continuous fun and those various amusements, the hours and days and weeks passed like so many flashes of lightning.
“Oh, what a beautiful life!” said Pinocchio every time he happened to run into Lampwick.
“You see, was I right or what?” Lampwick always replied. “And to think you didn’t want to come! To think that you had gotten it into your head to go back home to your Fairy, to waste your time studying! If you’re now free from the boredom of books and school, you owe it to me, to my advice, to my kindness—don’t you think? Only our truest friends can do us such great favors.”
“It’s true, Lampwick! If I’m a truly happy boy today, it’s all thanks to you. Our teacher, though—you know what he used to say about you? He always said, ‘Don’t spend time with that scamp Lampwick, because he’s a bad influence and will only leading you astray!’”
“Poor teacher!” replied Lampwick, shaking his head. “I know all too well that he didn’t care for me, and that he always liked to slander me. But I’m generous and I forgive him!”
“Noble soul!” said Pinocchio, warmly embracing his friend and giving him a kiss on the forehead.
This fine paradise of nothing but fun and games all the livelong day, with no books or schools in sight, went on for five months, until one morning Pinocchio woke to discover, as the saying goes, a rather nasty surprise, which left him in a bad mood indeed.
32
AND WHAT might this surprise be?
I’ll tell you, my dear little readers: the surprise was that Pinocchio, when he woke up, naturally gave his head a scratch, and as he was scratching, he noticed—
Well, can you guess what he noticed?
He noticed, to his great shock, that his ears were now bigger than his hands.
All his life, you see, the puppet had had tiny little ears—so tiny they couldn’t be seen with the naked eye! So imagine his reaction when he touched his ears and found that, during the night, they had grown so long they looked like two leaves on a corn stalk.
He immediately went to find a mirror, so he could look at himself. Failing to find one, he filled the washbasin with water, and looking down at his reflection he saw something he would rather never have seen: his own image adorned with a magnificent pair of donkey ears.
I’ll leave it to you to imagine poor Pinocchio’s sorrow, shame, and despair!
He began to cry, to shriek, to bang his head against the wall. But the more he despaired, the more the ears grew and grew and grew, and they were becoming furry at their tips.
At the sound of those piercing cries, his door opened and in came a pretty little marmot, who lived upstairs from him, and who, seeing the puppet in such a frenzy, asked him gently, “What’s wrong, my dear housemate?”
“I’m sick, my dear Marmot, very sick—and sick with a sickness that scares me! Do you know anything about pulses?”
“A little.”
“Then check mine, to see if by chance I have a fever.”
The Marmot raised her right forepaw, and after taking Pinocchio’s pulse, she said to him with a sigh, “My friend, I’m afraid I have some bad news!”
“What is it?”
“You have a terrible fever!”
“What kind of fever?”
“Jackass fever.”
“I don’t understand what jackass fever is!” said the puppet, though alas he did understand.
“I’ll explain it, then,” said the Marmot. “You should know that within two or three hours you’ll no longer be a puppet, or even a little boy.”
“Then what will I be?”
“Within two or three hours, yo
u’ll become a real live donkey, like the ones who pull the coaches and carry heads of cabbage and lettuce to market.”
“Oh, poor me! poor me!” cried Pinocchio, seizing both ears in his hands and tugging them and yanking them furiously, as if they were someone else’s ears.
“My dear,” replied the Marmot, trying to comfort him, “what can you do about it now? It’s your destiny. It’s written among the decrees of wisdom that all those lazy children who, bored with books and school and teachers, spend their days playing games and having fun will sooner or later end up turning into little jackasses.”
“Is that really true?” asked the puppet, sobbing.
“Unfortunately it is! So there’s no use crying now. You should have thought of that sooner!”
“But it’s not my fault, believe me: it’s all Lampwick’s fault!”
“And who is this Lampwick?”
“A schoolmate of mine. I wanted to go home, I wanted to do as I was told, I wanted to keep studying and do well in school—but Lampwick said, ‘Why bother studying? Why go to school? Come with me instead, to Toyland. There, we won’t have to study anymore. There, we’ll have fun from dusk till dawn and we’ll always be happy.’”
“And why did you listen to the advice of that false friend, that bad influence?”
“Why? Because, my dear Marmot, I’m a foolish and heartless puppet. Oh! if I had any heart at all, I never would have abandoned that good Fairy, who loved me like a mother and who did so much for me! And then, instead of a puppet, I’d now be a respectable boy, like so many others! Oh, if I run into that Lampwick, he better be careful—I’m going to give him an earful!”
He turned to go. But on reaching the door he remembered he had donkey ears. Since he was ashamed to show them in public, do you know what he did? He put on a big nightcap and pulled it so far down on his head that it nearly touched his nose.
He then went out and started looking all over for Lampwick. He looked in the streets, in the squares, in the theaters—everywhere. But he couldn’t find him. He asked everyone he saw, but no one had seen him.
He decided to try Lampwick’s house. Once at the door, he knocked.
“Who is it?” asked Lampwick from within.
“It’s me!” replied the puppet.
“Just a minute, I’ll open the door.”
Half an hour later, the door opened. Imagine Pinocchio’s reaction when, entering the room, he saw his friend Lampwick wearing a big nightcap pulled down to his nose.
The sight of that nightcap almost made Pinocchio feel better, and he immediately wondered: “Might my friend have the same sickness I do? Might he, too, be suffering from donkey fever?”
Smiling and pretending not to notice anything, he asked, “How are you doing, my dear Lampwick?”
“I’m doing great, like a mouse in a wheel of parmesan cheese.”
“Do you really mean it?”
“Why would I lie to you?”
“Excuse me, my friend—but why then are you wearing that nightcap, which covers both your ears?”
“Doctor’s orders—I injured my knee. And you, dear Pinocchio, why are you wearing that nightcap, which has been tugged down to your nose?”
“Doctor’s orders—I scraped my foot.”
“Oh, poor Pinocchio!”
“Oh, poor Lampwick!”
A long silence followed these words, during which the two friends did nothing but look mockingly at each other.
At last the puppet, in a soft, sweet voice, said to his friend, “I’m curious, my dear Lampwick: have you ever had any problems with your ears?”
“Never! And you?”
“Never! Ever since this morning, though, one of my ears has been aching.”
“I’ve got the same pain myself.”
“You, too? And which ear is the one that hurts?”
“Both of them. And you?”
“Both of them. Could it be the same sickness?”
“I’m afraid it might be.”
“Would you do me a favor, Lampwick?”
“Gladly! With all my heart.”
“Show me your ears?”
“Why not? But first I want to see yours, my dear Pinocchio.”
“No, you have to go first.”
“No, dear: you first, then me!”
“Well then,” said the puppet, “let’s make a deal, like good friends.”
“Let’s hear the deal.”
“We’ll both take off our hats at the same time—agreed?”
“Agreed.”
“Okay, get ready!”
And Pinocchio began to count out loud: “One! Two! Three!”
At the word three! the two boys grabbed their hats and threw them into the air.
The scene that followed might seem unbelievable were it not true. Pinocchio and Lampwick, when each saw that the other was stricken with the same misfortune, instead of being mortified and sorrowful, began poking fun at each other’s outsize ears until, after a thousand incivilities, they wound up bursting into hearty laughter.
And they laughed and they laughed until they were doubled over with laughter. But suddenly, at the height of their hilarity, Lampwick stopped laughing and began to stagger and to change color, and he said to his friend, “Help, Pinocchio, help!”
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh no! I can no longer stand up straight.”
“Neither can I,” shouted Pinocchio, crying and tottering.
And as they spoke, they both fell forward onto all fours and began to trot and run around the room on their hands and feet. And as they ran, their hands became hoofs, their faces lengthened into muzzles, and their backs grew a coat of light gray fur speckled with black.
But do you know what the worst moment was for those two wretches? The worst, most humiliating moment was when they felt their tails sprouting behind them. Overcome then by shame and by pain, they tried to weep and to lament their fate.
If only they had never tried that! Because instead of moans and laments, out came the braying of jackasses. And they brayed resoundingly, in chorus: hee-haw, hee-haw, hee-haw.
Just then there was a knock at the door, and they heard a voice outside say, “Open up! Mini-Man here, the coachman who brought you to this country. Open up at once, or else!”
33
WHEN NO one opened the door, Mini-Man opened it wide with a violent kick. Entering the room, he addressed Pinocchio and Lampwick with his usual giggle, saying, “Well done, boys! You brayed nicely, and I recognized your voices right away. And so here I am.”
At these words, the hearts of those two little donkeys sank, their heads bowed, their ears drooped, and their tails slid between their legs.
First Mini-Man rubbed them, stroked them, patted them. Then he took out his currycomb and began thoroughly grooming them. After combing them until they gleamed like two mirrors, he put halters on them and led them to the market square, in hopes of selling them and pocketing a tidy sum.
And indeed he did not have to wait for buyers.
A farmer whose jackass had died the day before bought Lampwick, and Pinocchio was sold to the Ringmaster of a troupe of clowns and acrobats, who planned to train him to jump and dance with the other beasts in his troupe.
And now do you understand, my little readers, what a fine line of work Mini-Man was in? This nasty little monstrosity, who looked all milk and honey, went about the world from time to time in his coach, using promises and sweet talk to gather up all the lazy children who were bored with books and school. And after loading them into his coach, he drove them to Toyland and let them spend all their time playing, raising a ruckus, and having fun.
And when those poor deluded kids, as a consequence of always playing and never studying, turned into so many donkeys, well then Mini-Man, pleased as punch, would seize them and take them off to fairs and markets to be sold. And so, in just a few years, he had made scads of money and become a millionaire.
What became of Lampwick I can’t say. I do kno
w, however, that Pinocchio’s new life was, from the very beginning, grueling and harsh.
When he was led to his stall, his new master filled the manger with chopped straw. But Pinocchio, after tasting a mouthful, spit it back out.
So his master, grumbling, filled the manger with hay—but Pinocchio didn’t like hay, either.
“Oh, so you don’t like hay, either?” shouted his master angrily. “Don’t worry, my pretty little donkey, if you’ve gotten some silly notions into your head, I’ll be sure to get them out!”
And to teach him a lesson, he smacked his whip across his legs.
The sharp pain caused Pinocchio to cry and bray, and braying he said, “Hee-haw, hee-haw, I can’t digest straw!”
“So eat hay then!” replied his master, who understood asinine dialect quite well.
“Hee-haw, hee-haw, hay makes my tummy ache!”
“I suppose you expect me to feed a jackass like yourself on breast of chicken and galantine of capon?” replied his owner, becoming angrier and angrier and smacking him again with his whip.
After this second lashing, Pinocchio wisely held his tongue and said no more.
When the stable door was closed, Pinocchio was left alone. And since he hadn’t eaten in many hours, he began to yawn from hunger. And when he yawned, his mouth opened as wide as an oven.
Finally, finding nothing else in the manger, he resigned himself to chewing a bit of hay. And after having chewed it really well, he closed his eyes and gulped it down.
“This hay isn’t that bad,” he thought to himself, “but how much better things would be if I had kept studying! Right now, instead of hay, I could be eating a hunk of fresh bread and a nice slice of salami! Oh well!”
When he woke the next morning, he immediately looked in the manger for more hay, but he found none, having eaten it all during the night.
So he then took a bite of the chopped straw, and as he stood there chewing it he had to admit that chopped straw tasted nothing like either Milanese rice or Neapolitan macaroni.
“Oh well!” he repeated, still chewing. “But I hope at least that my misfortune can be a lesson to all those disobedient kids who don’t want to study. Oh well! Oh well!”