quietly, “Keep very still please, Mr. Groanin.”
“What’s that you say, Sicky, old chap?”
“Keep quite still, please. There is something on your back.”
Groanin gulped and turned very pale. “Something? What sort of something? You mean a creepy crawly something?”
Sicky’s hand disappeared behind Groanin for a moment and when it returned it was holding a giant centipede. It hadabout twenty-eight red leathery segments and a couple of dozen pairs of yellow claws that were bigger than the teeth of a large comb. The centipede looked like something from another planet, and an inhospitable planet at that.
“Holy centipedes,” exclaimed John, rising from the table. “A
Scolopendra gigantea.”
“Precisely,” said Nimrod.
“Biggest I’ve ever seen,” said Sicky, and held it up to the light so that everyone could get a better look at it. Even in Sicky’s hand the giant centipede looked as big as a snake. “This one must be twenty inches long. Plenty poisonous, too.”
“You look a bit pale, Groanin,” said Nimrod. “How do you feel?”
“Sick,” said Groanin. “Very sick. Sick to my stomach. How do you think I feel?”
And then he fainted.
Sicky did not, however, kill the giant centipede or even throw it away. Later that same evening the three children discovered he was keeping the centipede in a large box and feeding it with mice and cockroaches.
“Ugh,” said Zadie. “Why are you keeping that disgusting thing, Sicky?”
“I’m going to feed him up until he’s plenty bigger,” said Sicky. “Then I’m going to show him the magic tattoo on my belly and turn him to stone. He’ll fetch a good price as a piece of sculpture, from tourists. Same as the others.”
He pointed at some of the beautifully detailed stone animals that were on the veranda outside his living quarters. There was a bird-eating spider, an anteater, a sloth, an opossum, a howler monkey, a short-eared dog, a tapir, a porcupine, and a puma. It looked like quite a cottage industry Sicky had going at his simple wooden home at Manu.
“Is that how you make all your sculptures?” asked John. “You just show them your belly?”
Sicky nodded. “I used to have a stone Xuanaci Indian,” said Sicky. “But a famous British artist bought him and sold him to a modern art museum in London for plenty money.”
“How did that make you feel?” asked John.
“Sick,” said Sicky.
“I can see why someone might want a stone puma,” said Philippa. “Even a porcupine. But what kind of weirdo would want a stone centipede?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said John. “I wouldn’t mind one. Tell you what, Sicky. I’ll buy it.”
“I guess you just answered my question,” said Philippa.
“That is, when you’ve completed the, er, the actual transformation into stone,” John added quickly. “It might look good on my mantelpiece at home.”
So John was a little disappointed when, a little later on, just before bedtime, Sicky informed him that the giant centipede had escaped from the box.
“I think he was a very clever centipede,” said Sicky, scratching his grapefruit-sized head with puzzlement. “I think maybe he pretended to be a lot smaller than he was. Stretchedout, he must have been longer than I suspected. Anyway, he’s gone now. We won’t see him again.”
“I certainly hope so,” said Zadie.
But while she instinctively disliked centipedes, it seemed that Zadie felt rather differently about bats, for the twins were surprised to discover that she was keeping one on her arm as a pet. “I found it hanging on the wall in my room,” she explained, and invited the twins to stroke it. “It’s quite tame, really.”
Mr. Vodyannoy inspected the creature. “It’s a
Sturnira erythromos
,” he declared authoritatively. “A yellow-shouldered bat. Quite harmless.”
“Its fur is very soft,” said Philippa, rubbing the bat’s head with her finger.
“The Incan Emperor Atahualpa had a robe softer than silk
“What’s that you say, Sicky, old chap?”
“Keep quite still, please. There is something on your back.”
Groanin gulped and turned very pale. “Something? What sort of something? You mean a creepy crawly something?”
Sicky’s hand disappeared behind Groanin for a moment and when it returned it was holding a giant centipede. It hadabout twenty-eight red leathery segments and a couple of dozen pairs of yellow claws that were bigger than the teeth of a large comb. The centipede looked like something from another planet, and an inhospitable planet at that.
“Holy centipedes,” exclaimed John, rising from the table. “A
Scolopendra gigantea.”
“Precisely,” said Nimrod.
“Biggest I’ve ever seen,” said Sicky, and held it up to the light so that everyone could get a better look at it. Even in Sicky’s hand the giant centipede looked as big as a snake. “This one must be twenty inches long. Plenty poisonous, too.”
“You look a bit pale, Groanin,” said Nimrod. “How do you feel?”
“Sick,” said Groanin. “Very sick. Sick to my stomach. How do you think I feel?”
And then he fainted.
Sicky did not, however, kill the giant centipede or even throw it away. Later that same evening the three children discovered he was keeping the centipede in a large box and feeding it with mice and cockroaches.
“Ugh,” said Zadie. “Why are you keeping that disgusting thing, Sicky?”
“I’m going to feed him up until he’s plenty bigger,” said Sicky. “Then I’m going to show him the magic tattoo on my belly and turn him to stone. He’ll fetch a good price as a piece of sculpture, from tourists. Same as the others.”
He pointed at some of the beautifully detailed stone animals that were on the veranda outside his living quarters. There was a bird-eating spider, an anteater, a sloth, an opossum, a howler monkey, a short-eared dog, a tapir, a porcupine, and a puma. It looked like quite a cottage industry Sicky had going at his simple wooden home at Manu.
“Is that how you make all your sculptures?” asked John. “You just show them your belly?”
Sicky nodded. “I used to have a stone Xuanaci Indian,” said Sicky. “But a famous British artist bought him and sold him to a modern art museum in London for plenty money.”
“How did that make you feel?” asked John.
“Sick,” said Sicky.
“I can see why someone might want a stone puma,” said Philippa. “Even a porcupine. But what kind of weirdo would want a stone centipede?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said John. “I wouldn’t mind one. Tell you what, Sicky. I’ll buy it.”
“I guess you just answered my question,” said Philippa.
“That is, when you’ve completed the, er, the actual transformation into stone,” John added quickly. “It might look good on my mantelpiece at home.”
So John was a little disappointed when, a little later on, just before bedtime, Sicky informed him that the giant centipede had escaped from the box.
“I think he was a very clever centipede,” said Sicky, scratching his grapefruit-sized head with puzzlement. “I think maybe he pretended to be a lot smaller than he was. Stretchedout, he must have been longer than I suspected. Anyway, he’s gone now. We won’t see him again.”
“I certainly hope so,” said Zadie.
But while she instinctively disliked centipedes, it seemed that Zadie felt rather differently about bats, for the twins were surprised to discover that she was keeping one on her arm as a pet. “I found it hanging on the wall in my room,” she explained, and invited the twins to stroke it. “It’s quite tame, really.”
Mr. Vodyannoy inspected the creature. “It’s a
Sturnira erythromos
,” he declared authoritatively. “A yellow-shouldered bat. Quite harmless.”
“Its fur is very soft,” said Philippa, rubbing the bat’s head with her finger.
“The Incan Emperor Atahualpa had a robe softer than silk
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