In English
Additional Information
The
book has been adapted for a 2 ½ hour musical for children as young as five and
adults up to 80.
The musical script and score
composed by Patrik Busch has been successfully staged in Korbach and Rotenburg
a.d. Fulda in front of a 1500 strong audience as well as six times in Kassel for
an audience of 5000.
Two CDs are available: a double CD
with the complete audio script including all 20 songs and one with bed-time
stories and music for children, three years and above.
What you should know before reading…
Mandra-Gorana:
Fantasy-state in a cave under the ice of the Antarktica.
Gowichte: Inhabitants of
Mandra-Gorana. They were built from the
roots of the mandrake plant. They grow on big plantations in
Mandra-Gorana.
Monc: That is the prename of a
gowicht in the first three months of its life. It begins to live, when an ovum
comes in a womb together with a sperm cell anywhere on earth.
Gor:
That is the prename of a gowicht in the second
semester, when it is between 4 and 6 months old. Monc Snah is now called Gor
Snah.
Goran: That is the prename of a
gowicht in the third semester, when it is between 7 and 9 months old. The human
fetus will be born at the end of the ninth month..
Mangor:
After nine months the education is finished. Now they are Mangor. It is their
field of activity to take care of their little human baby, until it`s 18 years
old. Human beings can not see them,
unless they appear as animals or human beings. Goran Snah now is
called Mangor Snah. Mangor Snah must take care of the child Hans.
Moch:
That is the prename of a
gowicht, when the protection of its human being ends at the age of 18. Now they
begin a new field of activity in Mandra-Gorana. Every Moch has been a Monk, a
Gor, a Goran and a Mangor in its earlier life.
Professor Dr. Much Gorantoteles:
President of Mandra-Gorana.
Professor Much Etu: Teacher of
geography.
Professor Much Truk: Teacher of
mendrake science.
Professor Much Kirtap: Teacher of
metamorphosis.
Dr. Much Nitram: Teacher of
gowicht-anatomy.
Much Wullekatte: Secretery to the
president, writer of the story.
Wichtula: Capitol city of
Mandra-Gorana. The university is here.
Lefuet: A cast out gowicht; he built
another state with the name Lefuet-Terra on the other side of the world in the
Arktic. He has set himself the goal to spread evil in the whole world.
The Story
Mandra-Gorana is a Gowicht state in an immense cave
under the Antarctic. Plantations of Mandragora- plants are cultivated, the roots
of which are known as Mandrake and carved into little Moncs. The first president
of Mandra-Gorana, Professor Moch Gorantoteles, breathes life into them at the
very moment a human female somewhere in the world conceives. As Moncs stem from
plants, nourishing foliage sprouts from their heads, upon which they feed until
they are full grown. Gowichts are able to communicate with one another via
floral head-antennas.
The little Moncs attend three three-month semesters
at the University of Wichtula in order to prepare for their actual vocation:
They are to become invisible companions to children out in the world. This
musical deals with the first semester, the “Monc-semester”. Among other things
the Moncs learn how to transform themselves into all sorts of different animals
and also how to travel from one point on the earth to another in a matter of
seconds.
The main characters are the four Moncs Arual,
Neelam, Asiul and Slin. At a later point Snah joins as number five, as the
others help him to become a healthy, confident Gowicht. Professors Moch Etu,
Much Kirtap and Much Truk teach them everything that a Gowicht needs to know. At
the other end of the world in an arctic cave the ex-Gowicht Lefuet, long
banished from Madra-Gorana, has founded the state Lefuet-Terra. From here he
tries to spill evil into the world. As Madra-Gorana plants grow pitifully in
Lefuet-Terra, Lefuet depends upon abducting little Moncs from Mandra-Gorana and
re-educating them according to his own values. Lefuet has several successful
kidnappings under his belt. Naturally he has his eye on the five befriended
Moncs.
During an end of term outing to the world of the
humans, the Monc pupils travel under the supervision of one boastful Dr. Much
Nitram to a large city. Here Lefuet strikes again. Wild chase scenes follow, in
which Gowichts transformed into animals cause great confusion. Once again Lefuet
seems triumphant.
The author of the tale appears throughout as storyteller “Much Wullekatte”. In
Mandra-Gorana he is bookkeeper to President Professor Dr. Moch Gorantoteles. He
notes down the names of all new Moncs and the human children they have been
assigned. The first professor of Mandra-Gorana commissioned him to write these
stories, having registered with some concern, how human children believe less
and less in the good, with so much being inconceivable.
Professor
Moch Truk
Three
chapters of a 253 paged book
As
far as tidiness goes, Professor Moch Truk is the exact opposite of his colleague
Moch Etu. Furthermore, his stature compares to his colleague‘s about as much
as a fat hippopotamus compares to a graceful gazelle.
Professor
Moch Truk is more or less as tall as Professor Moch Etu but far broader.
His
stomach is so large that when his hands are busying themselves in front of his
huge torso, his arms always seem too short
Try as he may to push his belly against the lab table, the length of his arms is not quite sufficient to allow for him to pot his beloved mandragora plants standing up. He therefore accomplishes his duties perched on a low stool. That way he can squeeze the best part of his belly under the chest high table top. His colleagues speculate that his weight comes from habitually munching on his pupils’ mandragora leaves. And so it does, but the professor always excuses himself by claiming to be checking up on the leaves’ nutritional value and his pupils’ health.
At
this moment Professor Moch Truk is in his lab preparing a lesson with class Monc
Alpha. His workroom is utterly germ free and spotless -not a speck of dust to be
found. Glass cabinets filled with all sorts of pots and pans and jars line the
walls. Above them numerous
accurately arranged and perfectly hung charts depict Mandragora plants and Monc-,
Gor-, and Goran-creatures in various stages of development. And then there is a
huge shelf with an abundance of potted Mandragora plants of all different sizes
and stages of maturity.
When
in the laboratory or while teaching, the professor always wears a snow-white
lab-coat, which falls over his great belly like a huge tent and could easily
hide five Moncs. Professor Moch Truk is always cheerful and jolly. He sets off
for his class with Monc Alpha characteristically whistling a cheerful Moch-song
along the way.
Before
leaving, he had carefully removed two strong and healthy potted mandragora
plants from the shelf and sunk them deep into his pockets. Nine new pupils are
obediently queuing outside the classroom door. The professor instantly notices
that the last four in the queue are chewing away with bloated cheeks.
“So
you figured it out all by yourselves, you nibblers! Suppose you were pretty
peckish. I can quite understand that, you little rascals!” he addresses Monc
Asiul, Monc Slin, Monc Arual and Monc Neelam. The four of them only dared nod
their heads timidly - afraid they
had violated the rules once again. It was impossible for them to speak anyway,
with their cheeks stuffed.
“Well,
let’s instruct the others,” said Professor Moch as he unlocked the classroom.
“Hello!
As you know I am Professor Moch Truk. I believe we have already met.”
To Monc Arual, Monc Neelam, Monc Slin and Monc Asiul this comment refers
to a friendly encounter with the professor in the corridor, but the others
glance at one another baffled and unsure.
Once
all the Moncs are seated, the professor scrutinises the four friend’s faces.
Once they had finally finished chewing he inquires,
“So,
you connoisseurs, tell us how you discovered it!”
“Monc
Arual discovered it!” Monc Neelam offers and glances over to him for an
explanation. Monc Arual takes the hint and describes his observations in the
large school playground.
“Yeh,
and then we simply tasted our own head-salad and found it delicious. Monc
Asiul’s is especially tasty – sweeter and somehow juicier.”
The
whole class laughs and Professor Moch Truk grabs the opportunity to try one of
Monc Asiul’s leaves. He shuts his eyes and chews blissfully.
“Oh
yes, what a delightful plant!”
Gently
and with great care, each Monc tugs a leaf from his or her own head. Some smell
it first, then tear off a small piece to sample it sceptically, chewing on it
cautiously. Others take a completely different approach; they stuff an entire
leaf into their mouth and munch on it with relish. Either way the results are
the same:
Each
and every Monc glows with delight and acquires an expression of utter bliss.
Smacking lips are crying “oh, how delicious!” ring out from all sides. Now
chaos erupts in the classroom and no one stays seated. They are all bounding
about with mouths full, sampling their classmates’ head-salads.
Monc Slin and Monc Neelam are combing through one another’s
head-vegetation like two chimps hunting for lice. They have discovered that the
tiny, light green leaves at the base of their head-plantations are by far the
tastiest. Just like chimps plucking insects, they shove leaf after leaf into
their ever-hungry mouths. The vegetable gardens on their heads soon look like
rainforests devastated by hurricanes. Monc Asiul’s head has suffered the most.
Naturally everyone was keen to investigate the claim that his head-salad was
indeed the best. The outcome being, that only a few stalks are left standing.
Professor Moch Truk is not in the least
a bit bothered by the confusion in class. On the contrary – he makes
good use of the situation to fill his own great belly with delicate, young
head-salad. He too wanders from Monc to Monc blissfully popping leaf upon leaf
into his mouth.
Only
once everyone has had their fill, do they drift back to their seats sluggishly
rubbing their full bellies. Now the professor begins his lecture.
“If
you listened to Moch Etu attentively, then you will have understood, that the
name of our country –Mandra-Gorana – derives from our vast mandragora
plantations. They grow here, many hundred meters under the Antarctic in huge ice
caves. They also grow elsewhere in the world, but only here do they have the
capacity to develop into magical plants”.
Professor
Moch Truk goes on to explain that they too, the neo-Moncs, owe their lives to
the plants he loves so dearly. Now his pupils show particular interest, for
everyone has a natural curiosity to understand how they have come into being.
“So,”
the professor continues, “when ever a human being is planned anywhere on the
planet, here in Mandra-Gorana a mandragora seed is melted into the ice
plantation. This seed grows into a beautiful mandragora plant. It is tended to
and minded by Moch gardeners, so that no harm may come to it. After some time of
tender loving care, the mandragora plant is fully grown and somewhere outside of
Mandra-Gorana a female human being can be inseminated. Within the next nine
months the seed will grow into a baby human.”
Monc
Neelam raises his hand upon which the professor interrupts his speech.
“What
I can’t understand, Mr. Professor, is, what have mandragora plants got to do
with baby humans?”
“That
is a good question”, answers the professor, “but allow me to continue and
you will have your answer.”
With
this, the professor continues and they all pay full attention to his words, as
they begin to grasp that they themselves are the subject matter. He explains how
the mandragora plants are carefully carved out of the ice. Beneath the surface a
root has formed, which does not look unlike the little Moncs themselves. The
class learns that these roots are known as mandrake, and that they are soon
carved into actual Monc-shapes by skilled Monc -craftsmen.
“Up
until this point, the mandrake is still just a plant with bitter and sour
foliage.” Professor Moch Truk pulls a disgusted face. “Abominable stuff,
that! Quite inedible!”
He
continues.
“Once
the carving process has been completed, our president Professor Dr. Moch
Gorantoteles comes to evaluate the work of the Monc-craftsmen. If he is
satisfied, the carved mandrakes are placed in an incubating ice cave. Here, at
the precise moment in which a sperm enters the ovum of a female human’s womb,
our president breathes life into the mandrakes. Within moments the lifeless
roots turn into a Monc-child. Now they are ready to be washed in the holy milk
of the Goran-glacier, by the president’s very own hands. After this they may
begin their lessons with the professors.
“Was
it like that for us?” Monc Slin wants to know.
“Indeed.
It was just the same with you as with all Gowichts in the world!” replies the
professor.
“But
I still don’t know what all this has to do with the human babies” exclaims
Monc Neelam once again.
“It’s
all very straight forward” the professor claims. “When you are released from
the incubating ice cave and enter your universe, the fertilised egg in the
mother’s womb begins to divide. It is called an embryo. At which point your
schooling begins. One semester Monc-, then Gor-, and finally Goran classes. By
then you will be ready to tackle your true task, namely to work as a Mangor for
your own human baby. By then nine months will have passed and the human babies
will be born, somewhere out there in the lands of the humans.
“Why
our own human baby?” Monc Arual
curiously inquires.
“Well,
because you are to be Mangors for
these human children until they reach adulthood. During this time you must
always be there for them, guard over them and protect them faithfully!”
An
exited murmur fills the classroom.
“Mr.
Professor Moch Truk, do you mean that somewhere in a female body, a baby human
is growing for which I will be responsible in only a few months?” Monc Neelam
cries enthusiastically.
“Precisely
-you have grasped the situation. And this human baby will carry a similar name
to your own,” says the professor.
Beaming
faces fill the classroom. Some Moncs can’t stay seated. They pile around the
professor’s desk eager to discover what their own human baby looks like and
where it is.
“Slowly,
slowly!” the professor calms them down. “Don’t be so impatient! You will
find out more in Professor Moch Maharba classes. You have learned enough for now.
For the time being, you should be content with that which you have been taught
today.”
For
obvious reasons somewhat disheartened, the Moncs stare out from under their
greenery, which has grown back rapidly.
“Then
at least let us know what all this head-salad business is about, Mr.
Professor!” Monc Asiul’s request drowns out the other pupils’ agitated
chatter.
“Okay
then!” the professor intervenes and plucks a juicy leaf from Monc Asiul’s
head and happily pops it in his mouth. “Growing on you heads you have mandrake
foliage, that is to say mandragora leaves. Once our honourable president has
miraculously washed the plant, its leaves instantly grow more succulent and
sugary sweet. Absolutely delicious – mark my words. Each Monc’s crop is
different and it will flourish on your heads until you are full-grown, that is
until you have completed your schooling at this institute.
Mature
Mangors and Mochs need no further nutrition because they have no more growing to
do. That is when head-salad slowly stops sprouting. It dries out and tastes
foul. It’s logical! Once full-grown, growing becomes redundant.
The
dried stuff tastes so ghastly! Some loose their leaves completely.”
To
demonstrate, Professor Moch Truk lifts his Moch-hat and behold, a pitiful crown
of dried foliage is perched on the top of his head. The rest is as smooth as the
skid-lane in an ice-play-park.
“But
I still like to pick at your leaves, and so as you see I do carry on growing –
but unfortunately only in width”
He
expands his huge stomach even further and then tries to clasp it with both arms,
which are far too short. As ever his efforts are in vain.
Suddenly
his barrel-belly begins to sway up and down rhythmically, as the professor
himself starts to laugh at his own defeat.
“Well,
Moncs, bye till tomorrow!”
He
collects his potted mandragoras, which have been passed round the class for
viewing, plucks a freshly sprouted leaf from Monc Neelam, Monc Arual and Monc
Slin’s heads and leaves the room chewing contented.
“Delicious.
A simply heavenly Gowicht-delicacy, these head-leaves from tender Moncs!” the
Moncs hear him mumble as he vanishes down the corridor.
5.
Visiting Gor Nairolf
Lessons
are over for today. Strictly speaking, that is not quite right, for there are no
todays or tomorrows and no days or nights in Mandra-Gorana. Far beyond, in the
human world, the night separates the day from the morrow. However, Mandra-Gorana
knows no nightfall – it is always daylight. For human eyes it would be dusky.
A bit like under a full moon. Yet this matters little to the Gowichts, who
don’t know the difference between darkness and light. Their eyes see clearly
in all light conditions. Gowichts barely sleep at all. Only when they are out in
the human world and frequently metamorphosing, do they occasionally grow weary.
As
long as they are in Mandra-Gorana, they need no sleep at all, as they never feel
tired in the enormous ice cave. It is quite handy, that they need such little
sleep, for once allocated a human, they must always be on their toes. Of course
this counts as much for when the humans are asleep. What use would a Mangor be
to a human if he where asleep?
None at all! It’s obvious.
As
I have mentioned, there is no night or day in Mandra-Gorana – there are
neither weeks nor months nor years nor decades. Gowicht-children refer only to
semesters. The only thing that bares any relevance, is the end of Goran-term.
For then, nine human months have transpired and their human-children are born.
But Professor Moch Truk has already explained that. Further time scales are of
no interest to the Moncs. For this reason things like watches are not needed.
Nonetheless, at the University of Wichtula, it is uncommon for Moncs to arrive
late for class. Furthermore, they don’t require timetables for orientation,
like human-children.
Even
today this phenomenon is hard to grasp and consequently difficult to explain.
You will have to be content with the knowledge, that a professor somehow manages
to assemble his pupils in front of the classroom door in time for each lesson.
Yet he accomplishes this without calling or ringing a school bell. The
communication of messages occurs via glowing flower-antennas on the professors’
heads. With these they send out signals to select pupils, who receive them with
their large ears, with out actually hearing anything – somehow sonically.
The
professors dislike talking about this, for it should remain secret until their
pupils have completed their studies. And a jolly good thing that is too!
Imagine the confusion if all the students at the university were able to
send one another commands via their head-antennas. That would amount to utter
broadcast chaos! That is why the students’ delightful, flowery head-antennas
serve only as a additional colourful adornment to their charming heads of
greenery.
At
least that is how it should be – until they have matured into Mangors.
Our
four Monc friends thoroughly enjoyed their lessons with Professor Moch Etu and
Moch Truk. All students in class Monc-Alpha have undergone some changes due to
the lessons. Now they understand how they came into being and the task which
lies ahead of them.
The
same applies for Moncs as for humans: You grew happier and more content, once
you realise that you have an important task to fulfil.
Now
the students have their free time. Monc Neelam, Monc Arual, Monc Asiul and Monc
Slin choose to explore the enormous university complex a little closer. First
they pile through the Monc-block, in which students in their first semester are
taught.
Like
all the buildings in Wichtula, the university is made of ice. This goes without
saying as there are no other building materials besides ice. Currently a group
of bricklayer-Mochs is building new classrooms out of ice blocks. The university
is constantly extended as more and more human babies are born into the world.
This means that more and more Mangors are needed. But the brick laying Monchs
building activities are the only thing of interest that the four friends
discover in the building. So, very soon they grow bored there.
“Let’s
go to the Gor-building at the far end of the playground”, suggests Monc Slin.
The
others are sceptical because they’re not sure if it is off limits. In the end
their natural curiosity gets the better of them and they skid across the large
ice-playground to the building that they’ll belong to in their second year.
Nobody stops them, and on entering the complex they notice that the Gor-kids are
quite a bit taller than in the Monc-block. They tramp down a long corridor, from
which a mighty din erupts and eventually they disappear around a corner.
“What
ever can that be?”, Monc Asiul asks, his right arm erect and pointing to the
huge room that has opened out ahead. They have evidently entered the foyer of
the Gor-block. Here chaos and confusion has broken loose. The place is swarming
with all sorts of creatures. There are quite normal looking Gors –though
slightly larger than themselves, but also tiny little animals with six legs, one
big fat creature with a long nozzle for a nose and any amount of middle sized
beings with four legs, long tailes and in every possible colour.
A
four-legged creature with yellow and white fur and an unbelievably long neck is
perched on a throne in the centre of the room. A swarm of creatures, which
don’t look unlike Monc Arual in his nose-dive costume, is hovering around his
neck.
Variations
of creatures, about their own size are scurrying around the ice-benches and
tables on either two or four legs. They are the liveliest of the lot. They
bounce from bench to bench, arguing with one another and even attempting to
scale the ice-walls. The noise in the foyer is deafening. Not a word can be
deciphered for every-one is speaking an unknown language. Monc Neelam, Monc
Arual, Monc Asiul and Monc Slin dive into the thick of it.
“I
thought only beings like us lived in Mandra-Gorana,” says Monc Arual. His
comment was really only meant for his friends, but a middle sized Gor sitting
only five feet away, overheard Monc Arual’s remark.
“They
are like us –only that most of them have just transformed themselves.”
You’re freshers aren’t you? You’ll be allowed to do that in the second
semester. But you’ll have to learn how to first –under Professor Moch
Kirtap’s supervision!”
“Of
course, how silly of me, I should have figured that one out myself. Thanks, good
of you to explain! By the way,
I’m called Monc Arual and here are Monc Neelam, Monc
Asiul and Monc Slin. We’re in our first year, over there in the Monc building,”
says Monc Arual, approaches the Gor and holds out his hand.
“Good
to meet you, name’s Gor Nairolf. You were lucky to get in here, it’s
normally forbidden. Were there no doormen at the entrance?”
“We
didn’t see anyone and no one told us we weren’t allowed to be here!”
answered Monc Asiul in an anxious tone. Gor Nairolf notices Monc Asiul’s
worried expression.
“Don’t
worry your tasty head of herbs! It may be forbidden, but nothing has happened. I
can smuggle you out later. I know a secret exit!”
Monc
Asiul seems to relax.
“Thanks,
you’re a fine fellow!” he says to Gor Nairolf.
“Every
one here is really nice, without exception. After all, that is
our vocation,” Gor Nairolf explains.
“As
you’re here, I may as well explain this place to you. Prior knowledge might
earn you some plus points with your transformation professor.” Needless to say
the four friends are thrilled. They sit on the ground next to Gor Nairolf, lean
against the wall contented and give him the floor.
“Before
I begin, I have a request: I think I’m somehow allergic to my own head-salad.
It always gives me flatulence, and yours looks so tasty and juicy. Being healthy
Monc freshers and all that, would you offer me a little food? Seem to have
something like an arctic cave in my belly.” The four friends don’t quite
believe in Gor Nairolf’s flatulence – the cheeky grin on his face is all too
obvious but of course every one of them is happy to spare some chunks of
head-salad. Gor Nairolf feasts heartily.
“Thank
you my friends. There’s nothing tastier than a fresher’s tender
head-vegetation.
“Well,”
he says, still chewing, “it’s really all quite simple, once you know how.
Moch Kirtap will teach you in his next lecture. What you see here are all
creatures from the world beyond Mandra-Gorana.”
“You
mean, you get such big, fat beings out there?” Monc Neelam asks and points to
the creature with the long neck and the one with the nozzle nose.
“Naturally”
Gor Nairolf explains: “A long, long time ago there were even bigger creatures!
By the way, humans call these creatures ‘animals’. Well, the really gigantic
animals became extinct, when a huge boulder smacked into the earth or something
like that. Anyhow, Moch Kirtap showed us drawings of these giants. They were ten
times bigger than that elephant over there!”
“Elephant?
What’s that?” Monc Arual wants to know.
“The
nose-beast over there in the middle, of course. Oh, sorry, you couldn’t have
known that- Professor Moch Kirtap has yet to teach you the names of all the
creatures. Well, each animal has a name.” Gor Nairolf points to the animals in
turn.
“Elephant,
giraffe, chimpanzee, lion, dog, cat, crow, wolf, horse, fly, spider, ant, flea…and
so forth. You’ll have to learn that for Moch Kirtap. But that’s not the half
of them. There are hundreds and thousands of animals. Hard to imagine isn’t it?”
The
four Moncs stand there with gaping mouths and nostrils, trying to comprehend
such a vast quantity.
“I
can’t believe it,” Monc Slin murmurs.
“You’d
better believe it! Moch Kirtap knows all of them and has drawings of every
single one. Drew them himself. He’s pretty proud of himself, I can tell you.”
“Hey,
you know Moch Kirtap, is he the one with those huge ears almost as big as the…oh,
what’s that huge animal called again…ah, the elephant’s? And has he got a
slight limp?” Monc Arual asks, all excited.
“Yep,
that’s him alright!” replies Gor Nairolf.
“Unmistakable
and an original. Seems like a slight mistake on behalf of the Moch-craftsman. As
if his blade had slipped a few times. His right leg has been filed down at least
half a foot too short. I’m actually surprised that the boss let it go.”
With “boss” Gor Nairolf obviously means the president of Moch Gorantoteles. “He must have been feeling charitable that day!” Gor Nairolf adds. “He’s a great professor, is Moch Kirtap, you better believe it!”
“I
bumped into him in the corridor once,” cried Monc Arual in excitement, “just
before world studies with Professor
Moch Etu. He had three small charts with him. All of them showed animals with
wings like those in the air. The smallest flying-animal had a large blue patch
on its head and the second one looked a bit like those tiny things over there,”
Monc Arual points at a group of mice, who are presently attempting to
burrow through the ice, “and the one was much larger, with fierce eyes and
huge wings.”
“Blue-tit,
bat and eagle!” Gor Nairolf answers casually. “Three of Moch Kirtap’s
favourite animals. He always shows them in his first lesson.”
“That’s
right. Didn’t Moch Etu call you an eagle-bat-blue-tit-creature, when you
punctured a hole in his map of the world?” Monc Neelam asks Monc Arual.
“Yes
he did. That’s making my head-growth itch! Now I can make sense of it,”
replied Monc Arual.
“Once
Moch Kirtap had passed, I closed my eyes and somewhere inside me…somewhere at
the back of my head I could see the three flying animals. And when I opened my
eyes again I was already speeding through the air.”
“Haven’t
a clue what you’re going on about, but you’re quite right. That is exactly
how the transformation works: You shut your eyes, envision the animal that you
want to be, and it’s already happened. Just like that!” Gor Nairolf
summarises.
“Then
I can do it! But what I don’t get, is how I could change back into myself
again so quickly?”, Monc Arual wonders.
“That’s
much more complicated, and I reckon Moch Etu will have helped you with that”,
explains Gor Nairolf. All professors are able to bring their pupils back. Just
as well. Otherwise some might spend their entire lives crawling around as
spiders for example. Many a beginner has failed pitifully at transforming
back.”
“Yeah,
that’s what will have happened,” Monc Slin mumbles to himself. But how does
the re-formation work?”
“You’ll
learn that, the day Moch Kirtap turns up with a load of mirrors. It’ll be
quite a surprise!” says Gor Nairolf.
“Well
friends, I’d best be off; a lesson of human-science with Moch Maharba! The
secrete passage is under the dining table over there in the corner. It leads
directly to your playground, under a bench. See you again, pop in some day,
I’ll always have time for you –especially if there’s any fresh head-salad
going!”
With
that, Gor Nairolf vanishes. Suddenly a tiny, cute rust-brown creature with a
bushy tail perches at their feet. It winks twice with its button-eyes, then
hobbles off.
“We’d
better be off too. Our first lecture on transformation with Professor Moch
Kirtap is due. Come along, to the tunnel!” Monc Neelam tries to encourage his
friends.
“Hang
on, where has Monc Asiul gone?” Monc
Slin inquires.
The
three of them start looking around. There is no trace of Monc Asiul. Suddenly
Arual notices that standing by the ice-bench is not one, but two elephants.
“Hell!
I think we’ve got a big fat problem!” says Monc Arual.
6.
The Big Fat Problem
“Our
big fat problem has a trunk!” he adds frantically.
Monc
Neelam and Monc Slin gaze at Monc Arual in disbelief.
“You
don’t mean to say…” stutters Monc Slin.
“That’s
precisely what I mean! I am afraid, the second thick skinned beast over there is
Monc Asiul!” Monc Arual voices his suspicion.
“That can’t be true, my head-plant’s going to wilt!” says Monc Neelam. “Now what are we going to do? If I understood Gor Nairolf correctly, then a Monc is only able to change back, once Professor Moch Kirtap has explained how. Monc Asiul won’t ever manage it alone!”
Monc
Neelam expresses everyone’s thoughts.
“First
of all, we’d better find out if we not mistaken after all.” Monc Slin
suggests to the others. “I’m just not sure how. After all, the animals
don’t speak our language.”
The
three friends seem quite baffled. But then Monc Arual has yet another idea.
“Perhaps they can understand us! Come on let’s give it a go. Perhaps we’ll
just try it out on this little mouse here.”
Monc
Neelam slides over to the mouse on his knees. The mouse is still busy scraping a
hole in the thick ice.
“Hey,
little mouse, can you understand me?” The mouse stops scraping for a moment,
looks Monc Neelam in the face and squeaks quietly.
“That
could have been a coincidence!” Monc Arual intervenes. “We’ll have to try
it another way.”
Now
Monc Arual kneels on the ground in front of the tiny creature.
“Listen
up little mouse, if you can understand me, then jump onto my hand to prove it!”
he says and spreads out his palm on the floor in front of the mouse. And without
hesitation the mouse hops into Monc Arual’s hand. He gets up and raises his
hand and the mouse to his shoulder.
“Leap
onto my shoulder, little mouse!” he says to the mouse. The tiny animal boldly
jumps from hand to shoulder and digs its claws into Monc Arual’s waistcoat.
“How
cute,” says Monc Neelam, “and it really did understand you. Why don’t you
tell it to change back, then as a Gor it might be able to give us some advice.”
“Good
idea!” says Monc Arual and turns his head towards the mouse.
“Would
you be so kind, as to present yourself in Gor-form, in order to help us. We
desperately need your advice!”
Monc
Arual’s idea was not well thought out and the conclusion of his hasty request
lead to a surprising result which threw Monc Slin and Monc Neelam into such a
fit of laughter, that tears welled in their eyes. The fact is that the mouse
honoured Monc Arual’s appeal on the spot and in an instant a rather robust Gor
is clamped on Monc Arual’s shoulders, one leg over his stomach, the other
across his back. Needless to say, Monc Arual was unprepared for such a feat. The
sudden weight on his shoulders makes him stagger. He sways a while, then they
both come crashing to the floor.
The
mouse-Gor lands on top and his fat behind settles just beneath Monc Arual’s
nose.
“Hello,
I’m Gor Iser. It’s a pleasure to meet you!”
Monc
Arual can no longer restrain himself. He too laughs heartily about the silly
situation and Gor Iser’s joke. Gor Iser rolls off Monc Arual, stands and helps
him up on his tiny legs.
“Hello,
I’m…” Monc Arual tries to say.
“I
know, you’re called Monc Arual and your friends are called Monc Neelam and
Monc Slin and you three have lost your little friend Monc Asiul. I’ve been
eaves dropping for quite a while.” Gor Iser interrupts him.
“Is
that colossus over there Monc Asiul?” Monc Neelam asks the Gor who replies
that he doesn’t know.
“You’ll
have to ask him yourselves.
He’ll find a way of making himself heard, just like I did as a mouse.”
So
the three over them go with Gor Iser to the elephant and ask if he is Monc Asiul.
The creature nods its huge head and emphasises “yes” by stretching his trunk
into the air and trumpeting loudly.
“What a pickle. I dare say, Professor Moch Kirtap is the only one who can help,” says Iser and goes on to explain what Gor Nairolf had previously said about the re-transformation needing to be practised a thousand times under Moch Kirtap’s supervision, before it would work alone.
“Well,
we’ll just have to manoeuvre Fatso back to the Monc-building!” Monc Slin
concludes. “Only, such a huge animal won’t fit through the ice-tunnel!”
“I’m
going to tear my head-grass out! I didn’t think of that! Now what do we do?”
Monc Neelam cries irritated and with a ton of despair in his voice.
“You’ll
have to go through the main door, you’ve got no choice! I’ll go and check
for wardens!” Gor Iser offers at once and darts across the hall, out into
corridor and off to the main entrance. A short while later he returns:
“Well,
there’s one there now. I’ll distract him. I’ll think of something. Grab
your fat friend Monc Asiul by the trunk and drag him out of here. Just give me a
second!” Gor Iser insists, for his lessons are also about to begin.
The
three Moncs thank Gor Iser briefly, then they all clasp the elephant’s trunk
and slowly set off for the corridor.
“Just
make sure you don’t cause us any problems, Monc Asiul, or I’ll shave your
tasty head-crop clean off!” Monc Arual threatens, somewhat irritated.
The
elephant nods his head slightly as if to express his awareness of the delicate
situation. The three Moncs and their over-sized friend linger a while in the
foyer, before Monc Neelam cautiously peers around the corner.
“All
clear. Straight through the middle -let’s go!” he orders.
The
fat elephant responds instantly. With
a noisy step he swiftly picks up pace. The ice groans and quakes with every step.
The three short-legged Moncs have difficulty keeping up with the colossus. The
huge creature races towards the entrance, without any sign of slowing down. Monc
Asiul does not appear to be aware of his tremendous elephant size. He seems to
think the doorway is big enough for him.
“There’s
gonna be a crash!” cries Monc Arual, as he realises that the entrance is far
from the size Monc Asiul’s current form would need it to be. “Haaaaaaalt!”
he screams at the top of his voice.
But
it’s too late. Without so much as slowing down, the huge animals makes its
escape, tearing the great ice entrance pillars and lintel out along the way,
causing them to hit the floor with a deafening crash. Above the doorway several
more ice-blocks slide out of place. In an instant an entrance that had always
seemed rather large to a tiny Monc, had turned into a gaping hole the size of a
barn door, wide enough for two elephants to fit through comfortably side by side.
“Holy
elephant-dung, that spells trouble!”, Monc Neelam hisses angrily under his
breath. The three friends had frozen fast in the foyer of the Gor-building,
their eyes wide open and their ears held closed as the massive ice blocks came
tumbling down.
“Let’s
get out of here!” Monc Arual orders.
Hastily
they clamber across the huge pile of shattered ice. Fortunately their elephant
friend had finally come to a halt several meters in front of the building. His
head is titled back and he is shuffling nervously from one bulbous foot to the
other. He appears to have grasped the consequences of his performance.
As
his panicky friends approach, he understands that time is of the essence. One by
one he lifts them onto his back with his long trunk and charges off. With every
step the elephant takes, it hurls them a good two feet into the air before they
land on his back again with a slap. Holding on is no easy feat. Monc Asiul
notices his friends’ predicament and stretches his long trunk over the back of
his head for Monc Neelam to grab. Monc Slin holds onto Neelam and Monc Arual
wraps his short arms around Slin’s waist.
The
calamity of the broken door has caused much excitement in the Gor-building. When
the elephant burst through the undersized entrance, the whole house trembled.
Now Gor-pupils and professors are piling out of classrooms and flocking to the
scene of the crime. But they only get a glimpse of the elephant from behind,
growing smaller and smaller, as it bounds off at a surprising pace. Nonetheless,
they do notice three little creatures hanging onto the elephant’s back for
grim life.
Monc
Arual looks back and sees more and more Gors gathering at the enlarged entrance.
“I
hope no-one recognised us!” he thinks hopefully.
“We…’re
go…ing to be to…o la…te fo…or our lec…ture,” Monc Slin cries in a
troubled tone in time to the great beast’s swaying step. “The Pro..ff…ess..or
Mo…ch Kir…tap..pp ha..as al…read…dy be…gun.”
The
others know this too, for by now they have received the lecture-summoning signal
twice over.
“Though
that does have its advantage”, Monc Neelam offers consolation, his words
sounding just as choppy as Monc Slin’s had.
“The
other Moncs will already be in class.”
And
so they are, the playground is perfectly empty.
“But
that is our only fortune,” Monc Arual adds, “imagine they could see us like
this. That would be my ruin.”
The
three involuntary riders are relieved when Monc elephant-Asiul comes to a halt
by the entrance of their own school.
“Good
boy, Monc Asiul!” says Monc Arual, grateful and relived that the big fat
elephant hadn’t made the same mistake twice and savagely enlarged the entrance
to the Monc-block as well. He rubs his sore backside with one hand and tickles
his friend’s gigantic ears with the other. The enormous creature finally wraps
his trunk around him and gently lifts him to the ground.
Monc
Slin