ALICE & MATILDA VS THE ZORIOUS BAZOO: Chapter 4: Rhyme and Reason

ALICE & MATILDA VS THE ZORIOUS BAZOO

CHAPTER THE FOURTH

Rhyme and Reason
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‘The rhyming contest has begun,’ sang the Bazoo. ‘Soon we’ll find out who has won.’

He looked at the girls expectantly, blinking.
Alice thought for a moment, then whispered to her sister: ‘I think he wants us to answer in rhyme.’

‘Aha! That didn’t rhyme at all,’ said the Bazoo. ‘I win!’

‘We hadn’t finished!’ said Matilda. ‘We need more time!’

‘Drat and humph!’ the Bazoo grunted. ‘OK. I’ll give ye that!’

Now, as clever as the girls were, the fact that Matilda ended up rhyming with her sister was a complete accident. The girls realised how lucky they had been, and vowed to concentrate even harder the next time.

‘I suppose that was a fair endeavour,’ said the Bazoo. ‘But ribbits cannot rhyme forever.’

Thinking quickly, Alice turned to Matilda and held her finger to her lips as if to say ‘shhh’. It was just as well she didn’t actually say ‘shhh’ because there’s not a lot that rhymes with ‘shhh’.

It gave Alice time to think. As I might have mentioned, Alice was very good at solving puzzles, but she wasn’t so good at word games. Matilda though - as you might remember – was very good at finding things – and that included finding words.
We have to beat this horrid little man at his own game, thought Alice. And we can only do that if we work together.

She turned to Matilda then, and spoke very loudly and clearly so that the Bazoo could hear.

‘Listen to me well now, Tilly. Careless talking would be silly.’

Matilda nodded, and said nothing. Now it was the Bazoo’s turn.

‘Soon you’ll stumble,’ he said, ‘then you’ll cry. And I’ll be eating ribbit pie.’

But while the Helterpot the Bazoo had been talking, Alice had been thinking. No sooner had he finished his rhyme, Alice spoke.

‘Tilly, if we are to win this game, you must finish our rhyme.’

Now, obviously that last bit didn’t rhyme, but Alice meant it that way. Matilda noticed it immediately, and after a moment’s thought she did as Alice said.

‘How very... lame!’ said Matilda.

‘PICKLED PIG EGGS!’ shrieked the Bazoo, and he gnashed his teeth so hard that he chipped one of them.

‘Two STUPID ribbits stray far from their nest. I wonder which will taste the best. Sprig of parsley, twig of thyme. I’ll find out when I win this rhyme.’

It was now Alice’s turn again.

‘You took two turns, you nasty man. But we can rhyme just as well as you can. Soon we’ll be leaving your horrid Bazoolah-’ then Alice stopped, and looked to her sister, horrified. Bazoolah? What on earth can possibly rhyme with Bazoolah?
Matilda scratched her head, wrinkled her nose, then gave it her best shot.

‘And you’ll have to ... return to ... er ...Bazoo Stack ... empty handed ...AND HAVE TO ANSWER TO YOUR RULER!’

The Bazoo jumped up so high in the air that his head hit the ceiling of the tunnel. He yanked on his ears and gnashed his teeth, and his nose went a darker shade of Murple.

Scientifically speaking he had attained Anger Level Two.

He glared at the girls.

‘CLEVER LITTLE RIBBITS TRAPPED BENEATH THE GROUND! NOW WE START THE SECOND ROUND! ALL THOSE RHYMES BEFORE WERE EASY. BUT NOW THIS GAME WILL LEAVE YOU QUEASY. LOTS OF RIBBIT PIE FOR MEASY!’

Now, measy was cheating a bit, but the girls dared not argue, and just got on with the job.

‘Those rhymes were easy, as you say,’ chanted Alice, ‘But Tilly and I can rhyme all day.’

‘My sister’s right. We will beat you. Put YOU in a pie and eat you!’ Matilda finished. She crossed her arms and put out her tongue.

The Bazoo grinned, and Alice suddenly realised that the Bazoo was trying to outfox them. In Round One they had rhymed in pairs of rhyming sentences, called couplets. Now, in Round Two, the Bazoo had switched to a couplet followed by a triplet – that is to say, he had snuck one additional rhyming sentence on the end, almost without them noticing. Almost.

So Alice quickly added: ‘With two’s AND three’s we WILL defeat you!’ and the smile fell away from the creature’s face.

‘BEARDED BADGEROOS!’ he yelled, and stomped his feet so hard that his fruit-peel boots fell apart at the seams.

‘HELTERPOT SKELTERPOT, PUT YOU IN A COOKING POT. I BOIL YOU UP ‘TIL YOU IS DONE. I BAKE YOU UP JUST LIKE A BUN. I LIKE TO DRESS UP LIKE A NUN!’
The Bazoo smiled triumphantly at this, before realising what he’d said and then looked sort of sheepish.

Alice winked at Matilda, and began her rhyme.
‘Helterpot smell-terpot. WE will win and YOU will not. Remember, Tilly. Two’s then three’s. Then we’ll win with utmost ease.’

And Matilda added: ‘PHWOAR! Your feet pong like mouldy cheese!’

Then both Alice and Matilda held their noses and pulled faces, and promptly burst into fits of giggles.

That did it. Helterpot threw himself onto his back and kicked and screamed for ten minutes solid. Never before had Alice and Matilda seen such a tantrum! He pulled on his ears and gnashed his teeth and stamped his feet sore, and his nose went even darker.

Clearly he was now at Anger Level Three.

‘ROUND THREE! ROUND THREE!’ he screeched.
‘RIBBITS! I WILL BEAT YOU YET! DON’T YOU KNOW THAT YOU ARE MINE? WHAT IS MORE, I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW, THAT MY FEET SMELL QUITE DIVINE!’

Alice and Matilda by now were getting used to Bazoo trickery. They pondered for a moment, before giving their response. This time, Matilda spoke first.

‘Stinky-footed rude Bazoo. If you will not let us go. Our Dad will come and look for us.’

‘He has a thing for nuns, you know,’ Alice added.
The Bazoo’s face paled noticeably.

‘N-NO! I AM QUITE SAFE IN HERE. BAZOOLAH MAGIC WILL KEEP HIM OUT! BESIDES I KNOW VIM BUGCRUNCHER THE TERRIBLE. ALL I HAVE TO DO IS SHOUT!’
Now, Vim Bugcruncher the Terrible didn’t sound at all like a friendly sort, and neither Alice nor Matilda fancied their chances if Helterpot did indeed decide to call him up from the stinking depths of Bazoo Stack. Hurling threats at the Bazoo certainly wasn’t the way to go. If they were to win, it would have to be by using brain-power, not Dad-power.

‘Now, now. Calm down,’ sang Alice. ‘Let’s not be hasty. We will play you fair and square. Ribbit pies may well be tasty. Pity you’ll have none to share.’ She gestured to Matilda then to continue, and before Helterpot could even open his mouth, Matilda snuck in another turn:

‘And now I’ll prove we are not ribbits, baked in pies or munching cirrots. You said yourself they cannot rhyme, so how then can I say this: PIRROTS!’
The Bazoo’s mouth hung open, his bare foot came up SPLOT! right into his open mouth and he began to gnaw feverishly at it. Then his other foot came up GLUNK! again into his mouth and he gnawed on that one as well, whilst somehow levitating mysteriously off the ground.

Anger Level Four is a bit odd in that respect.

‘ROUND FOUR!’ he screamed. ‘ROUND FOUR!’

‘CIRROTS! PIRROTS! RIBBITS! PIES!
ROTTEN TRICKERY AND LIES!
ROLL THE DOUGH AND WATCH IT RISE!
BOIL THE WATER! HOT SURPRISE!
LIGHT THE FIRE! FETCH THE KNIVES!
CUT YOU INTO FOURS AND FIVES!
SHARE YOU OUT AMONGST THE WIVES!
EAT YOU UP FOR ALL OUR LIVES!
SPIT YOUR BONES OUT FOR THE FLIES!’

The Bazoolah fell quiet then, save for the angry panting of a furious Bazoo.

Alice and Matilda were also quiet, mainly because they were quite scared, but also because they were both thinking very hard indeed. Nine lines of rhyme – that was going to be hard to top, but top it they must if they were going to win.

‘Horrid Helterpot Bazoo,’ sang Matilda.

‘You may think we’re stuck like glue,’ said Alice.

‘We’re trapped underground, it’s true,’ chanted Matilda.

‘But we have some news for you!’ exclaimed Alice.

‘There IS a ribbit here. But who?’ asked Matilda.

‘Would you like a little clue?’ teased Alice.

‘Perhaps some cirrits you could chew?’ joked Matilda.

‘YOU’RE the ribbit, through and through!’ shouted Alice.

‘SO COOK YOURSELF INTO A STEW!’ yelled Matilda.
The Bazoo stared and he glared and then flew into the most furious temper tantrum. He pulled on his ears so hard that they actually stretched; he gnashed his teeth so fiercely that they shattered like glass; and his nose went a shade so dark it was almost black.

What a horrid, horrid man, thought Matilda. Then she realised that he no longer looked like a little man, or a goblin, or even a Bazoo, at all. He had gnashed his teeth into two long points which now stuck out at the front of his mouth. He had stomped and gnawed on his feet until they were bare and swollen and flat. He had tugged on his ears until they dangled down by his shoulders. His nose had become a little black button in the middle of his face. He looked almost exactly like-

A ribbit! thought Matilda, and it was at that moment the two girls knew they were going to win.

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END OF CHAPTER
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