ltaylor%bbncc7@sri-unix.ARPA (10/29/85)
From: Laura Taylor <ltaylor@bbncc7>
After the last Red Rocks show, I came across this book which
appeared abandoned by its previous owner. Since I found it at
a GD show, and it has to do with witches, and halloween is coming
up...........
THE TEENY, TINY WITCHES
By Jan Wahl/Illustrated by Margot Tomes
Edited slightly by Bobo The Weather Indian
For Sara, the good white witch.
There are all kinds of witches. Mean witches. Kind witches.
Fat witches. Skinny witches. Cross witches. And happy witches. But
there was only one family of teeny tiny witches. Ma Witch and Pa Witch
and their small son Sam Witch. They had just moved into a pumpkin, lying
orange and green in a field. Pa Witch cut little windows and a door. Ma
Witch helped scoop out the slippery insides. And Sam Witch played nearby
with an acorn. At night the pumpkin was lit with a cheery glow. Pa
Witch smoked his pipe. Pa was happy with their new little home.
But one cold morning a shrew family pushed its way in, pushing
out Ma, Pa, small Sam, and all their furniture and Grateful Dead tapes.
"If only we could make magic like other witches. We would show those
shrews a thing or two," said Pa. But they were too tiny. "Now we must
start all over again." Pa groaned. "Where can we fit in?"
"We might fit in there," said Ma Witch. She pointed to a hole
in a hickory tree. They fixed it into a comfortable, cozy house. It
was a lot of work, but it was worth it. When the wind blew, and the
giant owl hooted on a limb, they were safe and snug. Ma Witch stiched
a picture in needlepoint. It said HOME SWEET HOME.
Leaves turned brown and brittle. One brisk fall morning two
squirrels dumped a load of walnuts and began to stuff them in the doorway.
"Wait a minute," shouted Ma. "This house is occupied."
"Occupied by walnuts," answered the sharp-toothed squirrels. And
as Ma and Pa and Sam raced for safety, the bigger squirrel threw a walnut
at them.
They hid under a dry pea pod. Pa thought a minute.
"If we clean out this pod, we'll have a getaway boat." With
a stick for a mast, and Ma's skirt for a sail, they floated down a
clear stream.
"This is the life," sighed Ma.
"Where are we going?" asked Sam.
Just then the pod boat got stuck between stone. The sun
was going down and the sky above looked empty and cold. (The sky
did not look yellow, and the sun was not blue.)
A turtle lifted a gray-wrinkled head.
"What will you give me if I save you?" he asked slyly, through
half-closed eyelids.
"We'll give you a wish," said Pa. "But a small one. I can
do a bit of magic. Nothing special. Because of my size." (Pa pulled
a flea out of a hat once.) The turtle pondered the offer.
Little Sam, becoming worried that the turtle would not take
Pa up on his offer then shouted out "We'll also throw in some Fox
Theater tickets."
"It's a deal!" the turtle quickly replied. Sam was rubbing his
bruised ribs where Ma had just elbowed him.
"Now for that wish," the turtle said. Pa, Ma, and Sam listened
carefully. "I've always wished..." whispered the turtle. He looked
embarrassed.
"Yes, you've always wished?" Ma asked.
"For some warm boots for winter," he said in a small voice.
"That doesn't take magic. That takes know-how," Ma replied.
And she set to work with Pa and Sam's help. They knitted four fine boots
out of thistledown, tying them on the turtle with the thinnest grapevine.
He smiled gratefully and slowly slip-slopped away to meet a friend at
terrapin station.
"We must find a place to sleep before the moon rolls out,"
Pa said. "Other witches enjoy moonlight, but it is not good for us."
Pa knew that owls' eyes see best at night.
"If only we had out broom, we could fly," said Ma. "Let's
make a new one." They found a strong twig and set to work. When it
was finished they climbed aboard. They whizzed through the dark, cold
air as the moon climbed higher in the sky. Balancing and holding on to
their hats at the same time was not easy.
"I hope we find someplace to fit in soon," whispered Sam,
shivering.
Just ahead Pa saw a small cottage on top of a high hill.
"The answer to out prayers," Pa said. Inside the cottage lived an
old man named Mike Feeny. His wife had been gone for many years. He
sat mending his wool stockings. Two birds slept in a cage. Sam
and Pa and Ma flew in through a crack in the wall. A warm fire crackled
in the hearth. "We'll fit here," said Pa, settling the broom down on a
ihgh shelf next to a handsome teapot. "The perfect place," he said,
eyeing the teapot. While Ma and Pa fot the teapot ready, Sam flew off on
the broom by himiself. He darted about the room, wobbling.
"There's an insect in here," shouted Mike, chasing Sam with a
flyswatter. Poor Sam lost his balance and tumbled onto the soft rag rug.
As fast as he could he crawled into a mousehole in the wall. It was
the home of Elmer Harvest Mouse. Like the old man, Elmer was old but
lively.
"Out! Out!" he squeaked.
Sam looked glum. "Not again," he said. "There is no place
for Ma and Pa and me. We don't fit anywhere, and we don't even have
our Fox Theater tickets anymore."
"Young fellow, what kind of a mouse are you?" Elmer asked.
"No mouse," Sam told him. "Just a misfit--the world's tiniest
witch."
"My, my," said Elmer. "Listen, I don't get much company. Tell
your ma and pa to come visit. Any time." Elmer had remembered the time
when he was once a homeless wharf rat and decided to lighten up and become
a little more hospitable.
Sam said thank you and peeked out the hole. Mike was asleep in
a chair by the fire. Sam raced up to the shelf.
"Where were you?" cried Ma and Pa. "Hop inside."
That night, exhausted, all three slept in their new house.
Early inthe morning Mike came whistling toward the shelf. He
took down the teapot and Ma Witch, Pa Witch, and Sam Witch all fell out.
"More flies!" yelled Mike. "Pesky critters."
The Witches ran away as fast as they could.
"Quick! Quick!" squeaked Elmer Harvest Mouse.......
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What will become of the Witches? Will they be saved by the now yuppie
wharf rat? Stay tuned for part II tomorrow.