After a good long trek the companions finally reached the ponds beside the waterfall. The sound of the water falling was tremendous and because of it Molly almost missed a little purple and blue frog that was calling her. She stepped closer to the bottom of the waterfall and looked up at it. It had a rainbow flying out from it and a strange high shrilling hum also seemed to emanate from it.
“I wouldn´t go under it if I were you,” she suddenly heard.
She spun around, there on a rock sat a brightly coloured frog whose colours changed whenever he changed his facial expression.
“It´s magic isn´t it but don´t go under it the water hits the rocks very hard so now there´s an enormous hole under where the water falls,” said the frog.
Molly stared at his slimy body, she couldn´t make out what colour he really was.
“I´m looking for a toad named Thunder thighs, the birds told me the frogs could help,” she finally splurted out.
“Well I think you have come to the right place and you´re just in time for the body licking festival.”
“Uggh what sort of a festival is that?” reacted Molly.
“Don´t worry nobody will lick your body as you are covered in fur, that would be disgusting.” replied the frog.
Off they went down to the pond that was most hidden and nearest the waterfall. It was full of colour changing frogs that were licking each other´s backs and then falling over and laughing. Molly thought it was the most stupid thing she had ever seen. The banjo hopped off her back. It was moving. One of the frogs squelched closer and tried to pluck two strings. As he did so the banjo sang out, “Get away,”
But it was too late, Molly had licked a frog´s back out of curiously and now she was rolling around on a leaf hallucinating about ears and tails.
The deeper she got into the wood the darker it got. There was a tremendous silence. It was obvious the birds didn´t hang out here because she couldn´t hear anything that sounded like jazz. Then she heard something in the distance that sounded like a banjo. It was rattling to a lively tune. She moved some of the leaves and branches out of her way and there she spied a grey hare plipping and plopping away on the banjo. He started to sing. Molly butted in.
“Ahem, excuse me but do you know a toad called Thunder thighs?”
The hare was so startled he dropped the banjo, “kablang,” it went as it hit the stony ground. “Oh there you are,” said the hare suddenly. “I know nothing about no toad by that name, why don´t we ask the banjo,” he suggested. Molly thought she had better make an excuse and leave, this hare was clearly barmy.
He asked the banjo if it knew anything. The banjo said nothing. He looked at Molly in a baffled way.
“Well, what are you waiting for, it´ll hardly give you an answer if you stare at it, pick it up and pluck the strings,” he said and sighed at Molly´s stupidity.
Molly picked up the banjo. She plucked one string. She plucked another. It sounded like a banjo that was out of tune. The hare grabbed it off her, “no wonder it´s not making sense, give it here and I´ll tune it up for you,” huffed the hare.
He tuned it up and handed it back to her. She plucked the strings and the banjo sang out in it´s plinkety plankety way, “You´re very close, just go straight on and turn left at the largest oak tree, you can´t miss it.”
Molly was delighted. She had never heard a banjo speak before. She wondered who was playing who? Was the hare playing the banjo or was it really the banjo playing the hare?
“It´s a combination of both,” responded the hare.
“Hey, how did you know I was thinking that?” asked the puzzled mouse.
“It´s the banjo, it reads your thoughts,” said the hare, “ and I think it wants to go with you on your journey. The banjo was hopping out of the hare´s hands towards Molly.
“Take it with you but don´t forget to bring it back to me,” said the hare and he smiled as he put the banjo strap around Molly´s head and under her arm. Suddenly the smile left his face.
“What happened to your ear, “ he asked gravely.
“It´s a long story but it´s part of the reason I have to find this toad.” said Molly.
“Good luck you two!” he yelled as the strange pair headed straight toward the largest oak tree.
She hadn´t gone far into the narrow brown pipe when she stopped and carefully put some of the bright blue poisonous pellets into the bag the cat gave her. Perhaps they would come be of some use. Then up she got up and off she rushed mumbling all the while to herself, “find the toad, find the toad.”
Then it happened, she had only travelled two thirds of the length of the pipe when the brownness of the pipe turned a strange orange then yellow and red and then all the colours of the rainbow circled around her head. Suddenly everything went out of focus. She was sure Tiger was playing with the pipe and just throwing it up in the air and catching it. She felt as if at any moment she would empty the contents of her stomach. Then it stopped. All of a sudden everything was very still. Whereas before she had heard the twittering of birds outside now she heard something else. It sounded like birds playing jazz. She came out of the pipe a little shaken but relieved that the ground was firm. She looked up to where she thought the noise was coming from and sure enough, there in the branches were birds playing jazz. She had never seen such a sight. Maybe they were good at what they were playing but as Molly had no interest in jazz she didn´t even try to appreciate it. She waited impatiently for them to finish.
When they finally started putting away their instruments Molly shouted, “Excuse me, but do any of you know where I can find a toad called Thunder thighs.”
The blue bird that had been playing the saxophone turned his head downwards.
“ You won´t find any of our kind hanging out with toads, let alone being seen around toads, they are too into heavy metal for our liking.”
The other birds clicked their claws and said, “yeah, yeah.” in unison.
“Oh, well then, I´m sorry to have bothered you all,” answered Molly.
“Wait a minute, why don´t you ask the frogs, they´re cool, they sometimes sing tenor for the operatic society,” said the crow who had been playing the bass.
“I will so and thank you so much, can you point me in the general direction please?” she asked.
“No problem,” said the sparrow who had been playing percussion. “Just head towards the ponds beside the waterfall, head northwards through this forest and you´ll get there in no time.”
Molly thanked them all again and she also told them their music was marvellous. She didn´t really think so but she thought they would like to hear it anyway. She liked to keep everyone happy. So with a little more hope, off she skipped northwards into the wood.
“Ha Ha, you mice are so dumb, I get any old stray to mimic me and you fall for it. I knew you would run in here. You run in here every time you hear a cat. The stray and I have been watching you and waiting for you to slip up. You sort being predictable just makes life easier for us cats.” cackled the mean white fluffy persian cat.
“Please let me go,” begged Molly “I´ll do anything, I´ll clean out the cat litter, I´ll ring the vet any time you are ill, I´ll enter you in cat contests and I´ll rig them so that you will win.”
“That sounds rather nice but I think I would rather just have breakfast now than hire a maid.” said the cat haughtily.
“I wouldn´t be a maid, I would be a slave.” replied Molly humbly.
“Hmm, maybe you could be useful after all,” thought Tiger out loud.
Then he snapped off Molly´s tail.
“Aggh!, Please don´t eat me,”pleaded Molly.
“All right then,” said the cat slowly. “I´ll give you a task, If you can achieve it within the month, I´ll give you back your tail, if you fail I´ll eat you.”
“Fine,” replied Molly, “I´ll do the task, what is it?”
“Well sit yourself down there and listen carefully. There is a certain thing I would like to own, it´s nothing special really but I think it would enhance my good looks.” explained Tiger.
“Right so,” sang Molly enthusiastically, “where is it?”
“That’s part of the problem, it is in a realm where reality as you know it doesn´t really apply and any old mad thing can happen. It could be dangerous.”
“I´ll take my chances,” said Molly
“You must go down this drain pipe hear, don´t eat the blue pellets in the middle, that´s rat poison and keep going, as you enter the realm the light will turn into rainbow colours and your eyes will take time to adjust. You will know you have arrived when you can see clearly. Oh yes and when you get there you must find the Toad called Thunder thighs, he´ll give you further directions. Ask him for the amber amulet and make sure you specify that it is not for you.”
“Right so,” said Molly and she went to dash into the pipe.
Tiger grabbed her and cut off an ear.
“Aggh, what did you do that for?” she roared.
“I didn´t think you´d come back for the tail.”sneered the cat.
“Oh I´ll be back all right,” replied Molly angrily. “You just keep your word, I´ll get you that amulet and you will give me back my ear and tail.”
They both spat on a paw. Then silently they shook paws and Molly dashed down the poison filled pipe. She was back in point two of a second.
“Have you a bag handy?” she asked Tiger.
“Here you are, now get going, I´ll be waiting here,” ordered Tiger.
The bins were in sight and as luck would have it they were full. Some of the black refuse sacks were just sitting on the grass beside the green plastic bins. Great – this meant easy access. She gnawed at the first one and got into it. This family certainly didn´t recycle as the bag was full of plastic objects. Her nose twitched and lead her to a white plastic bag in among the plastic bits and pieces that was full of leftovers from dinners. Joy of joys, she tucked into potato peals, lettuce ends, broccoli stalks and bits of unwanted fatty raw meat. Yummy.
Then she stopped and went dead still. It wasn´t as if she heard something it was more a feeling she had – a feeling that she was being watched, or worse, hunted.
If she stayed put she could end up as dinner so she decided to act on a hunch and push the items around the bag. She had to act fast. She bit a hole in another part of the bag just as it tumbled down to the ground. She heard a fat miaow and a rattle of hard plastic as the bag fell on what was obviously the house cat.
Out she flew from the newly gnawed exit and she scampered in under the shed door. Right under the paw of Tiger, the real house cat.
One cold wet morning Molly Mouse poked her tiny head out of a hole in the living room wall. The coast was clear. The cat was away and the humans in the house were busy ruining the world. One thing she did like about humans was their capacity to produce mountains of rubbish. She liked nothing more than to ramble round the rubbish at night nibbling at whatever bits she found in the bins or around them. She had to be on her guard though because the rubbish also attracted foxes and cats and the odd stray dog. The dogs weren´t a big threat though as they were so thick you could usually cod them and convince them to leave you alone.
She scrambled around the skirting boards and squeezed under the crack in the faulty front door. The wind outside made her fur stand up on end. Seeing no one, she skid skillfully to the back yard. Brightly coloured abandoned toys lay strewn across the concrete and the patchy lawn. These were great hiding places and she could take cover under them as she made her way to the shed at the back of the tiny garden. Her little heart was pumping, so far so good, not a predator in sight.
She ran back to the manager and whispered into the mole´s ear what she wanted him to say.
The mole repeated what she said and in no time at all the manager was giving Mrs. Spencer the keys to his brand new car as a present.
“Thank you very much,” said Mrs. Spencer. Then she leaned over and whispered into the moles ear again.
“I am not going to tell him to go jump into a lake, in fact Mrs. Spencer I think you´ve done enough damage for one day, let´s get the groceries, do the right thing and pay for them and go home,” said the mole.
Although it was totally against what she had planned on doing Mrs. Spencer did exactly what the mole asked of her. Then they both got into the manager´s car. The mole looked at her disapprovingly. He opened his mouth to convince Mrs. Spencer to return the car but before he could do so she squashed him down into the bottom of the carpet bag and closed the zip.
“I´ve had enough moral rubbish for one day, now let´s get this baby sucking diesel,” laughed Mrs. Spencer.
She took off in a frightful cloud of dust with the four tyres screeching. She drove straight into an oak tree that wasn´t at all impressed with her driving. She opened the carpet bag and adjusted her bonnet.
“Are you all right mole?” she asked nervously. “I´m flipping marvellous,” answered a very shaken mole. “I´ve had enough of your nonsense, get back into that car and drive home like some one who has been driving for years with a proper driving licence.”
And she did. She was so happy with her new found skill and her newly acquired battered car that she did two somersaults and cooked a massive dinner for the moles and their little friend, the frog.
It was late in the evening when she finally started working on the till. She surprised herself at how good she was at this. She was friendly and she chatted to everyone. People were eventually queuing up to be served by her and not the grumpy others.
She was delighted with herself.
The mole poked his sleepy head out of the carpetbag.
“I think you´ve finally got the hang of things,” he said encouragingly. He watched her do business with a customer. Then he slapped a paw over his eyes.
“I´m not surprised everyone goes to your till Mrs. Spencer, you are giving back too much change.” he whispered to her.
“Oh I know that,” said Mrs. Spencer, “anyone could give back the right change, I just think these products are way overpriced.”
One of the grumpy girls whose weight had cracked the shop-made stool overheard this and ran over to the floor manager. She told him everything she had heard. Then she asked for a raise. The floor manager fired her and with even more smoke signals flying out of his ears he made his way over to Mrs. Spencer.
Mrs. Spencer tried to squash the mole back into the bottom of the carpet bag but this time he was having none of it. The floor manager´s face was beetroot red.
“You have some cheek, I am sending you back to the store room, first dismantle those stupid chairs and then you can clean out the store rooms and another thing – you are not going home tonight or ever until you have worked off your debt.”
Mrs. Spencer was about to say something when the little mole ran up and put a paw over her mouth.
“And what is that? You carry vermin in your bag, could you be any more disgusting and useless,” roared the floor manager.
The mole began to speak.
“Say you are sorry for what you have just said and that Mrs. Spencer needn´t worry about the glass doors as you are going to pay for them yourself and in fact you are going to give Mrs. Spencer a nice sum of money for the inconveniences she had here today. You are also going to buy proper stools for your staff and give each one a raise. Now hop to it and Mrs. Spencer will be off home now, good day to you sir.”
And he did it. The floor manager did exactly what the mole told him to do.
“How did you do that?” asked Mrs. Spencer.
“Well, if you had let me speak earlier you would have realised that I am gifted with being able to control other people´s minds. Why do you think I have lived all this time in your kitchen without even one complaint from yourself.” explained the mole.
“Oh,” said Mrs. Spencer, “we could have a lot of fun with this, let´s stay a little longer in the shop.” said a twinkly – eyed Mrs. Spencer.
The floor manager was furious. Billows of smoke puffed out of his ears. The mole peeped out of the carpet bag again. “Is he sending smoke signals to the Sioux?” he chuckled. Mrs. Spencer rammed him quickly into the bottom of the carpet bag.
“What the hell do you think you are doing?” he howled
“Rearrange everything again just the way it was before, thank you very much.”
“You could just fire me,” suggested Mrs. Spencer in a helpful tone of voice. “Are you nuts?”asked the floor manager. “You still can´t pay for the smashed automatic doors. Let´s see, after you have arranged the shelves back as they were you can go work on the tills.”
Mrs. Spencer sighed and trudged back to undo her marvellous work.
When she had finished she dragged her tired self over to the tills. She noticed most of the ladies at the tills were an unhappy looking lot. She smiled at them, introduced herself and went to sit down beside the till. She fell on her bottom. There were no chairs.
“Oh for the love of……” she began, “No wonder you are all miserable. This is only roaring for varicose veins”
She trotted off to the store room and spent the entire day making stools out of fruit boxes, cardboard and hard plastic bits. She made stools for all the grumpy five ladies. They laughed at her when she initially showed them her work. Some one even said, “I am not sitting on that!”
But by evening every one of them was sitting on the shop-made stools.
Her first job as an unpaid shop assistant was to stack the shelves. Stacking shelves seems like a very easy thing to do but there is a bit of psychology involved. More expensive products are often within comfortable reach whereas you often have to hunt for the cheaper articles. This is good business because the longer you spend in a supermarket the more likely you are to buy things you hadn`t previously decided to buy.
Now Mrs. Spencer being Mrs. Spencer didn´t realise this and when she saw the way the shelves were actually arranged she decided to do a great job and arrange them with convenience for the shopper in mind.
In the end she arranged what could only be called a practical mess. She put all the expensive products at the back of the shelves or back in the store room. She arranged products according to breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks or cleaning. Anything she thought was bad for your health she put back into the store room.
For example if you wanted to buy cereal for breakfast you didn´t have to go far for the milk or fruit because there it was beside the cereal, literally among the boxes. Although you would have to act fast if you didn´t want to buy sour milk as it didn´t make sense to Mrs. Spencer to put the cereal in the fridge.
If you wanted to buy bread for lunch you could buy it along with all the millions of possibilities of ingredients for sandwiches. If you wanted to buy rice or pasta you could buy it along with all the millions of ingredients that go well with it and you wouldn´t even have to search the back of the supermarket.
When she finished her fine work she sat down exhausted but pleased. The mole poked his head out of the carpet bag again.
“I don´t think the manager will be very pleased with your work even if you are, here he comes now, why don´t you let me talk to him,” chirruped the mole.
Mrs. Spencer tucked him into the carpet bag to shut him up. She didn´t want to get into any more trouble. The last thing she wanted was unnecessary attention.