Carlos and the Crab Blades
by Brian Morrison
Genre: Children
Swearwords: None.
Description: Imagine a world inhabited by bottles and jars instead of people. Carlos De Vase inhabits such a world, and he returns to his homeland to be hailed a hero.
_____________________________________________________________________
‘Hola!’ said Carlos. He liked to say Hola because it was Spanish for “Hello” and not because he has a big “Hola” in his middle. Carlos was a funny shaped blue coloured bottle. The hole through his middle made him look very odd. He had moved to a far off country called the Land of Plenty and had become an “almost famous” artist in a large city named Glass Vegas. One day, whilst Carlos was busy painting in his studio, there was a knock at the door.
‘Letter for mister De Vase,’ said Sandy Beaker, a rather thin and brittle looking postman.
‘For me?’ said Carlos, ‘Oh how exciting!’ The postman was pulling a large sack on a trolley. When he loosened the strings a dusty old brown bottle appeared. Carlos could see that it had a rolled up message inside. ‘Oh my goodness,’ said Carlos, ‘I recognise that bottle. That is my dear old uncle Hector from Bottleonga.’
‘Surprise!’ said uncle Hector. ‘I have sailed all the way across the Elastic Ocean with a message inside me just for you.’
‘Oh thank you so much,’ said Carlos. ‘Can I read it?’
‘Why of course you can,’ replied Hector, pulling the rolled up piece of paper from his bottle neck and handing it over to his nephew. Carlos was so excited. He smiled warmly and then read the message out loud.
“Dear Carlos, I hope that you are well. I also hope that your uncle Hector got all the way over to the Land of Plenty safely. This is a letter from your old friend, Philip Glass from Brightville, Bottleonga. My wife, Philippa, and I have recently had a visit from the great glass blower in the sky. We now have a baby girl. Her name is Burp. We would really love it if you could come back over to Brightville to visit us. Your dear friends, Philip and Philippa Glass.”
And so it was that the superbly talented and “almost famous” artist, Carlos De Vase, made the decision to leave the Land of Plenty and return back to his old home town of Brightville. It was a really difficult choice to make, because Carlos was so close to receiving one of the highest awards for art in his new country. His rich friends had told him that he may very soon be receiving an “ism” award for art. Very few artists had ever been given an “ism” award. This would make him “really famous” and not just “almost famous”. But he knew that he would only be gone for a very short time, and the thought of seeing all his old friends again made him feel very happy.
The very next morning, Carlos and his uncle Hector boarded the magnificent sailing ship, SS Slipknot. The ship was superbly designed and very popular. It had delicious food, fantastic entertainment and a guarantee that the weather was always going to be dry and warm. The reason for this was because the ship was inside a bottle. Only the very well off and “really famous” people could afford such luxury, so Carlos felt very honoured.
Soon after SS Slipknot set sail on the Elastic Ocean, Carlos came across a merry old passenger who was singing a sea shanty to his dog.
‘Yo ho ho, I’m a bottle of rum,’ sang the passenger, which didn’t sound quite right to Carlos, because he was in fact a bottle of whisky. His dog was wearing a little tartan coat, and it soon became clear to Carlos that its name was Glassie.
‘My my you are a bonnie wee lassie, Glassie,’ said the merry old passenger to his dog. ‘Isn’t she a bonnie wee lassie?’ he said to Carlos. Then he looked at Carlos all over from cork to toe and said, ‘Excuse me for saying so, but have you always been that odd shape?’
‘I am an artist,’ Carlos replied. This confused the merry old passenger just a little, so he thought about it for a moment and then asked a different question.
‘Do all artists have a large hole through their middle like you do? The reason I am asking is that when I am looking at you, I can see the captain of the ship standing behind you.’
Carlos turned around to look behind, and sure enough, the captain was there.
‘Oh that is really odd,’ said the merry old passenger. ‘You have got a hole on your back too, and it looks exactly the same as the hole on your front.’
‘Hoot!’ yelped the dog, which Carlos found quite strange. In fact he felt that the merry old passenger and his dog were just as strange as each other. But Carlos didn’t mind this at all. He just loved to meet bottles that were different from what he was used to. He smiled at the merry old passenger.
‘Would you allow me to paint your dog?’ he asked.
‘Of course you can,’ said the whisky bottle. ‘What colour would you like to paint her?’
‘No, you don’t understand,’ said Carlos, ‘I would like to paint a portrait of her. Can she sit for me?’
The whisky bottle said, ‘Yes she can sit. She can roll over. She can stand on one leg too. I tell you what, mister artist . . . she’s yours. You can have her. I am going to adopt a new pet.’
‘You are? What kind of pet?’ asked Carlos.
‘A bottle-nosed dolphin – and before you ask, mister artist, I am going to keep him in my bath at home.’
Carlos said, ‘Why on earth would you keep a bottle-nosed dolphin in your bath?’
‘Well that is obvious,’ said the whisky bottle. ‘It will be in there to keep my bottle-nosed whale company.’
And so before Carlos could say “Fetch me my glass slippers”, he had suddenly become the owner of a bottle dog called Glassie. The journey across the Elastic Ocean was a wonderful experience for everyone concerned. Carlos really enjoyed meeting all the other slightly strange bottles, and he was sure that he and Glassie would become very good friends. It was dawn when the SS Slipknot eventually reached the shores of Bottleonga.
In the village of Brightville, the third sun had just risen over the eastern horizon. Bottleonga had three suns, so that made the daytime very bright indeed. That is how Brightville got its name. In a small house located at number twenty-two Bottleneck Lane, Philippa Glass pulled open the pretty yellow curtains to allow the rays from the three suns to fill the room.
‘Good morning Philippa,’ said Freda Pane, the talking window. Her sparkling eyes blinked a few times, and her long lashes flicked away a busy bluebottle that buzzed nearby. ‘The third sun is very warm on my back this morning,’ said Freda. ‘How are you, this lovely day?’
‘Good day to you too,’ replied Philippa. ‘I have had a nice long and restful sleep. Baby Burp was only up once during the night for her feed. She looks so cosy, lying there in her bottle basket. So, what is the news this morning, Freda?’
‘Oh yes – the news,’ said Freda Pane. ‘I almost forgot,’ then, clearing her throat, she began, ‘Good morning. It is 6am - time for the breakfast headlines. Three members of the bottle-boys gang were questioned by the police in the early hours of the morning, because they were found kicking an inflated hot water bottle up the street after lights out time. The hot water bottle was taken to hospital and is recovering from bruising in three places . . . Crystal Avenue, Bourbon Street and here in Bottleneck Lane.’
Freda continued, ‘Two spray bottles, whose names are withheld at the moment, sprayed graffiti all over Mr Ketchup’s newspaper shop. The shop owner said, “This will be all across the papers in the morning,” and it was, I am sad to say. All the newspapers were a soggy mess.’
‘Oh dear,’ groaned Philippa, ‘that is bad news.’
‘And that is the end of the morning report,’ said Freda, ‘except for one other disturbing piece of news.’
‘Really?’ said Philippa. ‘I never like to hear of disturbing news.’
Freda continued, ‘Myself and a few other windows heard a sound last night; a sound that is feared all over the land of Bottleonga. We are very concerned.’
‘Oh my,’ said Philippa. ‘You don’t mean . . .?’
‘Yes, it was the sound of glass breaking. I don’t know yet who is injured, but I will let you know as soon as possible. But on a brighter note, would you now like the weather report?’
‘Yes indeed I would,’ said Philippa.
‘Okay then, today it is going to be sunny, sunny and . . . sunny, with the last sun setting at 8pm this evening.’
Freda was a gossip window. All of the houses in the village of Brightville had at least one gossip window. They were always on the lookout for new stories to report to their house owners. Freda and Philippa’s conversation was interrupted by a loud “scrape, scrape, scrape” noise coming from the cobbled lane outside.
‘Well well,’ said Philippa. ‘If I wasn’t already awake, I certainly would be now.’
The scraping noise was coming from the Swiss Army. These were little red creatures who looked like crabs, but they had knife blades and screwdrivers in place of legs. The villagers had given them the name, Crab Blades. The army all worked together on constant night shift duty at the Crystal Lake. Their job was to cut the bath salts that were harvested from the bottom of the lake into cubes. These bath salts were then taken to a scent factory in the nearby town of Saltcoats, where they were packed up and sold all around the world.
The Crab Blades leader, Rusty O’Tool, waved over towards the Glass’ house. ‘Good day Mrs Glass, good day Freda. Do you require any screws to be tightened this morning? Or perhaps you have some cardboard needing sliced up for recycling? My Swiss Army are heading out to the Pastel Valley to sleep for a few hours now that our nightshift has ended. But if there is anything that we could do for you first . . .’
‘No, that’s quite all right, Rusty,’ said Philippa, ‘we are expecting a special visitor today, so there will be no time for any odd jobs this morning. Thanks all the same.’
‘A special visitor, eh? May I ask who?’ said Rusty.
‘Yes you can,’ said Philippa. ‘It is our old friend Carlos De Vase, the “almost famous” artist from Glass Vegas. Do you know of him?’
‘Carlos De Vase? Is that the artist who painted “The Potato Munchers” and “A portrait of doctor Go-Go Gadget”?’
‘Yes,’ said Philippa, ‘that’s him.’
‘No, never heard of him,’ said Rusty.
Meanwhile, Hector Screwtop, Carlos De Vase and his new bottle dog friend Glassie were half way across the Chocolate Dessert. The Dessert was a very dry place and all of the chocolate beneath their feet had baked hard in the heat of the three suns, but that didn’t stop Glassie from constantly licking it.
‘Come on now, Glassie,’ said Carlos, ‘we will never get to Brightville today if you persist on licking the ground all the time.’
‘Hoot!’ said Glassie.
‘Do you remember the little dog that I once had, Carlos?’ said Hector Screwtop. ‘It didn’t have any voice at all, so unlike your little friend, my dog didn’t give a hoot!’ On saying this, Hector bent down and lifted a couple of rock cakes from the ground, as he also was feeling a little hungry.
Twenty minutes later they reached the village of Brightville. The Glass family, including Baby Burp and a few old glass mates, were there to greet Carlos. There were warm hugs all round.
‘You must be very happy to have a family now,’ Carlos said to his old friends Philip and Philippa Glass.
‘We are very happy,’ said Philip, ‘but something happened overnight that has worried us. We had a call on our shell phone from Parson Vinegar. A gang of naughty bottle boys were throwing stones near the church, and one of the windows has been broken.’
‘Hoot!’ said Glassie.
‘I am sorry to hear that,’ said Carlos. ‘Which window was it?’
‘It was Maisy Stainglass, the church’s main gossip window.’
‘Parson Vinegar doesn’t like that word, Philip,’ said Philippa. ‘He likes them to be called “Sermon Windows”.’
‘Oh I remember Maisy Stainglass,’ said Carlos. ‘When I was a young bottle, I used to sit on my seat in the church and watch the beautiful glowing colours on the walls as the three suns shone through Maisy. It was the memory of those colours that inspired me to be an artist.’
‘And now she is broken in many places,’ said Philip. ‘Our preparations for tomorrow were all finished. Now we don’t know what to do.’
‘Preparations?’ asked Carlos. ‘What is supposed to happen tomorrow?’
‘We wanted to surprise you,’ said Philippa. ‘We are having Baby Burp baptized tomorrow morning, and we wanted you to be Godbottle to her, and now I’m afraid that the ceremony will need to be cancelled.’
‘Godbottle?’ said Carlos in disbelief. ‘Me? . . . I am so honoured that you should choose me.’
‘Hoot!’ said Glassie.
‘Let us not waste any time,’ said Carlos. ‘It is not too late.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Philip.
Carlos was already on the move. ‘We must go and visit Parson Vinegar right now.’
A blue tear escaped from Maisy’s glass eye and changed to red and then to yellow as it trickled down the panes of coloured glass. There were quite a few parts of Maisy missing, and it was all because of those naughty bottle boys. She was very sad. Maisy was eight foot high and four foot wide, and had always been admired by the bottles and jars that had come to visit Brightville. This repair was going to take time, and she was so looking forward to bathing the inside of the church with pastel colours on Baby Burp’s special day. Something caught her attention. It was a scrape, scrape, scrape noise coming from the outside walls of the church. Maisy looked down and was surprised to see the whole Swiss Army climbing up the church walls. There was also a familiar looking figure standing on the lawn outside.
‘Surely that cannot be,’ said Maisy. ‘It looks like him, but I was certain that he now lived over in the Land of Plenty.’
‘Maisy Stainglass,’ Carlos called out. ‘Well I must say, you are a sight for a sore glass eye.’
‘It is you,’ cried Maisy, ‘it’s Carlos De Vase, the “almost famous” artist.’
‘At your service,’ said Carlos, whilst bowing slightly. ‘And don’t worry about the Crab Blades. They are just taking some measurements.’
‘Measurements for what?’ asked Maisy, still a little shocked at seeing her old friend after all these years.
‘Well I understand that you have a special day planned for tomorrow, so with the help of the Crab Blades, I am here to make sure that it goes ahead.’
Carlos was then joined by Parson Vinegar, Philip and Philippa Glass, and a little bottle dog that Maisy had never seen before.
‘Hoot!’ said Glassie.
‘Don’t be concerned, Maisy,’ said Parson Vinegar. ‘Carlos has a plan in mind. We don’t quite know what it is yet, but we have been assured that Baby Burp’s special ceremony will be taking place after all.’
During the night there were lots of strange noises coming from the village. Gossip windows everywhere were looking up and down the streets, avenues and lanes of Brightville, eagerly trying to find out just where the noise was coming from. At the breaking of the dawn, when the first sun was rising over the Ruby Mountains, the strange noise was replaced by a more familiar sound. It was the ringing of the church bells. Sun number one was soon followed by sun number two and three. Every corner of the village of Brightville was bathed in a warm glow, but the warmest glow was inside the village church. Maisy Stainglass projected wonderful warm colours of pink, yellow, green and blue across the church walls. The colours seemed to be even more beautiful than Carlos could remember. Baby Burp was baptized, Lucy – Maisy – De Vase – Glass, and all the bottles and jars sang and cheered when the ceremony ended.
‘How can we possibly thank you, Carlos?’ said a very grateful Philippa Glass. She was joined by her husband, Philip.
‘Just how did you and the Crab Blades manage to repair Maisy?’ asked Philip. ‘I can hardly believe it.’
‘Oh, just a bit of good old-fashioned teamwork during the night, Philip, but nothing is too much trouble for my good friends here in Brightville. The Swiss Army of Crab Blades very kindly cut extra thin slices off the cubes of bath salts when they were harvesting from the lake during their night shift. Then they cut them to the exact shapes to match Maisy’s missing panes of glass. My job was to supply the correct colours, using the paints and varnish that I always carry in my art bag.’
‘How very inventive of you,’ said a much relieved Parson Vinegar.
‘Hoot!’ said Glassie.
Carlos stayed with his friends for another four days. He had such a good time meeting bottles and jars that he hadn’t seen for many years. All the gossip windows took turns at telling him stories of the events that had happened in the village in the years that he had been away in the Land of Plenty. On the day that Carlos was due to return back to his new home, he was invited back down to the church for one last visit. He was surprised to find that every single villager, along with the entire Swiss Army of Crab Blades, were crammed into the church to greet him. There was also a very elegant looking pink bottle who wore a crystal stopper in place of a cork. She introduced herself to Carlos.
‘Good day. Mister De Vase. I am Lady Bollinger, Mayoress of Brightville.’
‘Delighted to meet you,’ said Carlos, lifting her gloved hand and kissing it gently. Lady Bollinger blushed a slightly deeper shade of pink and then pulled a scrap of paper from her purse. It was a carefully prepared speech.
‘Friends, villagers, bottles,’ she began, ‘lend me your ears.’
‘Oh my, what a professional,’ whispered Philippa Glass to her husband.
The Mayoress continued, ‘Today we are gathered here to honour a great artist who moved from the village of Brightville many years ago to make a name for himself over in the Land of Plenty. We understand that Carlos De Vase may very soon be presented with an “ism” award for his services to art. That is delightful news. We also had an “ism” right here in Brightville last week. Baby Burp Glass had her Baptism; an “ism” that she would not have been able to receive if it hadn’t been for Carlos and his army of Crab Blade friends.
It was Rusty O’Tool’s turn to blush, but no one saw it, as all Crab Blades are a red colour anyway.
Lady Bollinger continued, ‘To mark the occasion, the village of Brightville has decided to award you, Carlos, with a very special “ism” just from us. She placed a large shiny glass medal on a chain over the head of Carlos. ‘This award is also an “ism”; an award for “Heroism”’.
Everyone in the church clapped and cheered.
‘Hoot!’ said Glassie.
Each and every Crab Blade also received a little medal, which made them all feel very proud. The gift from the villagers of Brightville made Carlos feel very humble indeed, and as he and Glassie boarded the SS Slipknot for their journey back across the Elastic Ocean, he turned and made a promise to his friends that he would return some day soon.
‘Hoot!’ said Glassie.
Swearwords: None.
Description: Imagine a world inhabited by bottles and jars instead of people. Carlos De Vase inhabits such a world, and he returns to his homeland to be hailed a hero.
_____________________________________________________________________
‘Hola!’ said Carlos. He liked to say Hola because it was Spanish for “Hello” and not because he has a big “Hola” in his middle. Carlos was a funny shaped blue coloured bottle. The hole through his middle made him look very odd. He had moved to a far off country called the Land of Plenty and had become an “almost famous” artist in a large city named Glass Vegas. One day, whilst Carlos was busy painting in his studio, there was a knock at the door.
‘Letter for mister De Vase,’ said Sandy Beaker, a rather thin and brittle looking postman.
‘For me?’ said Carlos, ‘Oh how exciting!’ The postman was pulling a large sack on a trolley. When he loosened the strings a dusty old brown bottle appeared. Carlos could see that it had a rolled up message inside. ‘Oh my goodness,’ said Carlos, ‘I recognise that bottle. That is my dear old uncle Hector from Bottleonga.’
‘Surprise!’ said uncle Hector. ‘I have sailed all the way across the Elastic Ocean with a message inside me just for you.’
‘Oh thank you so much,’ said Carlos. ‘Can I read it?’
‘Why of course you can,’ replied Hector, pulling the rolled up piece of paper from his bottle neck and handing it over to his nephew. Carlos was so excited. He smiled warmly and then read the message out loud.
“Dear Carlos, I hope that you are well. I also hope that your uncle Hector got all the way over to the Land of Plenty safely. This is a letter from your old friend, Philip Glass from Brightville, Bottleonga. My wife, Philippa, and I have recently had a visit from the great glass blower in the sky. We now have a baby girl. Her name is Burp. We would really love it if you could come back over to Brightville to visit us. Your dear friends, Philip and Philippa Glass.”
And so it was that the superbly talented and “almost famous” artist, Carlos De Vase, made the decision to leave the Land of Plenty and return back to his old home town of Brightville. It was a really difficult choice to make, because Carlos was so close to receiving one of the highest awards for art in his new country. His rich friends had told him that he may very soon be receiving an “ism” award for art. Very few artists had ever been given an “ism” award. This would make him “really famous” and not just “almost famous”. But he knew that he would only be gone for a very short time, and the thought of seeing all his old friends again made him feel very happy.
The very next morning, Carlos and his uncle Hector boarded the magnificent sailing ship, SS Slipknot. The ship was superbly designed and very popular. It had delicious food, fantastic entertainment and a guarantee that the weather was always going to be dry and warm. The reason for this was because the ship was inside a bottle. Only the very well off and “really famous” people could afford such luxury, so Carlos felt very honoured.
Soon after SS Slipknot set sail on the Elastic Ocean, Carlos came across a merry old passenger who was singing a sea shanty to his dog.
‘Yo ho ho, I’m a bottle of rum,’ sang the passenger, which didn’t sound quite right to Carlos, because he was in fact a bottle of whisky. His dog was wearing a little tartan coat, and it soon became clear to Carlos that its name was Glassie.
‘My my you are a bonnie wee lassie, Glassie,’ said the merry old passenger to his dog. ‘Isn’t she a bonnie wee lassie?’ he said to Carlos. Then he looked at Carlos all over from cork to toe and said, ‘Excuse me for saying so, but have you always been that odd shape?’
‘I am an artist,’ Carlos replied. This confused the merry old passenger just a little, so he thought about it for a moment and then asked a different question.
‘Do all artists have a large hole through their middle like you do? The reason I am asking is that when I am looking at you, I can see the captain of the ship standing behind you.’
Carlos turned around to look behind, and sure enough, the captain was there.
‘Oh that is really odd,’ said the merry old passenger. ‘You have got a hole on your back too, and it looks exactly the same as the hole on your front.’
‘Hoot!’ yelped the dog, which Carlos found quite strange. In fact he felt that the merry old passenger and his dog were just as strange as each other. But Carlos didn’t mind this at all. He just loved to meet bottles that were different from what he was used to. He smiled at the merry old passenger.
‘Would you allow me to paint your dog?’ he asked.
‘Of course you can,’ said the whisky bottle. ‘What colour would you like to paint her?’
‘No, you don’t understand,’ said Carlos, ‘I would like to paint a portrait of her. Can she sit for me?’
The whisky bottle said, ‘Yes she can sit. She can roll over. She can stand on one leg too. I tell you what, mister artist . . . she’s yours. You can have her. I am going to adopt a new pet.’
‘You are? What kind of pet?’ asked Carlos.
‘A bottle-nosed dolphin – and before you ask, mister artist, I am going to keep him in my bath at home.’
Carlos said, ‘Why on earth would you keep a bottle-nosed dolphin in your bath?’
‘Well that is obvious,’ said the whisky bottle. ‘It will be in there to keep my bottle-nosed whale company.’
And so before Carlos could say “Fetch me my glass slippers”, he had suddenly become the owner of a bottle dog called Glassie. The journey across the Elastic Ocean was a wonderful experience for everyone concerned. Carlos really enjoyed meeting all the other slightly strange bottles, and he was sure that he and Glassie would become very good friends. It was dawn when the SS Slipknot eventually reached the shores of Bottleonga.
In the village of Brightville, the third sun had just risen over the eastern horizon. Bottleonga had three suns, so that made the daytime very bright indeed. That is how Brightville got its name. In a small house located at number twenty-two Bottleneck Lane, Philippa Glass pulled open the pretty yellow curtains to allow the rays from the three suns to fill the room.
‘Good morning Philippa,’ said Freda Pane, the talking window. Her sparkling eyes blinked a few times, and her long lashes flicked away a busy bluebottle that buzzed nearby. ‘The third sun is very warm on my back this morning,’ said Freda. ‘How are you, this lovely day?’
‘Good day to you too,’ replied Philippa. ‘I have had a nice long and restful sleep. Baby Burp was only up once during the night for her feed. She looks so cosy, lying there in her bottle basket. So, what is the news this morning, Freda?’
‘Oh yes – the news,’ said Freda Pane. ‘I almost forgot,’ then, clearing her throat, she began, ‘Good morning. It is 6am - time for the breakfast headlines. Three members of the bottle-boys gang were questioned by the police in the early hours of the morning, because they were found kicking an inflated hot water bottle up the street after lights out time. The hot water bottle was taken to hospital and is recovering from bruising in three places . . . Crystal Avenue, Bourbon Street and here in Bottleneck Lane.’
Freda continued, ‘Two spray bottles, whose names are withheld at the moment, sprayed graffiti all over Mr Ketchup’s newspaper shop. The shop owner said, “This will be all across the papers in the morning,” and it was, I am sad to say. All the newspapers were a soggy mess.’
‘Oh dear,’ groaned Philippa, ‘that is bad news.’
‘And that is the end of the morning report,’ said Freda, ‘except for one other disturbing piece of news.’
‘Really?’ said Philippa. ‘I never like to hear of disturbing news.’
Freda continued, ‘Myself and a few other windows heard a sound last night; a sound that is feared all over the land of Bottleonga. We are very concerned.’
‘Oh my,’ said Philippa. ‘You don’t mean . . .?’
‘Yes, it was the sound of glass breaking. I don’t know yet who is injured, but I will let you know as soon as possible. But on a brighter note, would you now like the weather report?’
‘Yes indeed I would,’ said Philippa.
‘Okay then, today it is going to be sunny, sunny and . . . sunny, with the last sun setting at 8pm this evening.’
Freda was a gossip window. All of the houses in the village of Brightville had at least one gossip window. They were always on the lookout for new stories to report to their house owners. Freda and Philippa’s conversation was interrupted by a loud “scrape, scrape, scrape” noise coming from the cobbled lane outside.
‘Well well,’ said Philippa. ‘If I wasn’t already awake, I certainly would be now.’
The scraping noise was coming from the Swiss Army. These were little red creatures who looked like crabs, but they had knife blades and screwdrivers in place of legs. The villagers had given them the name, Crab Blades. The army all worked together on constant night shift duty at the Crystal Lake. Their job was to cut the bath salts that were harvested from the bottom of the lake into cubes. These bath salts were then taken to a scent factory in the nearby town of Saltcoats, where they were packed up and sold all around the world.
The Crab Blades leader, Rusty O’Tool, waved over towards the Glass’ house. ‘Good day Mrs Glass, good day Freda. Do you require any screws to be tightened this morning? Or perhaps you have some cardboard needing sliced up for recycling? My Swiss Army are heading out to the Pastel Valley to sleep for a few hours now that our nightshift has ended. But if there is anything that we could do for you first . . .’
‘No, that’s quite all right, Rusty,’ said Philippa, ‘we are expecting a special visitor today, so there will be no time for any odd jobs this morning. Thanks all the same.’
‘A special visitor, eh? May I ask who?’ said Rusty.
‘Yes you can,’ said Philippa. ‘It is our old friend Carlos De Vase, the “almost famous” artist from Glass Vegas. Do you know of him?’
‘Carlos De Vase? Is that the artist who painted “The Potato Munchers” and “A portrait of doctor Go-Go Gadget”?’
‘Yes,’ said Philippa, ‘that’s him.’
‘No, never heard of him,’ said Rusty.
Meanwhile, Hector Screwtop, Carlos De Vase and his new bottle dog friend Glassie were half way across the Chocolate Dessert. The Dessert was a very dry place and all of the chocolate beneath their feet had baked hard in the heat of the three suns, but that didn’t stop Glassie from constantly licking it.
‘Come on now, Glassie,’ said Carlos, ‘we will never get to Brightville today if you persist on licking the ground all the time.’
‘Hoot!’ said Glassie.
‘Do you remember the little dog that I once had, Carlos?’ said Hector Screwtop. ‘It didn’t have any voice at all, so unlike your little friend, my dog didn’t give a hoot!’ On saying this, Hector bent down and lifted a couple of rock cakes from the ground, as he also was feeling a little hungry.
Twenty minutes later they reached the village of Brightville. The Glass family, including Baby Burp and a few old glass mates, were there to greet Carlos. There were warm hugs all round.
‘You must be very happy to have a family now,’ Carlos said to his old friends Philip and Philippa Glass.
‘We are very happy,’ said Philip, ‘but something happened overnight that has worried us. We had a call on our shell phone from Parson Vinegar. A gang of naughty bottle boys were throwing stones near the church, and one of the windows has been broken.’
‘Hoot!’ said Glassie.
‘I am sorry to hear that,’ said Carlos. ‘Which window was it?’
‘It was Maisy Stainglass, the church’s main gossip window.’
‘Parson Vinegar doesn’t like that word, Philip,’ said Philippa. ‘He likes them to be called “Sermon Windows”.’
‘Oh I remember Maisy Stainglass,’ said Carlos. ‘When I was a young bottle, I used to sit on my seat in the church and watch the beautiful glowing colours on the walls as the three suns shone through Maisy. It was the memory of those colours that inspired me to be an artist.’
‘And now she is broken in many places,’ said Philip. ‘Our preparations for tomorrow were all finished. Now we don’t know what to do.’
‘Preparations?’ asked Carlos. ‘What is supposed to happen tomorrow?’
‘We wanted to surprise you,’ said Philippa. ‘We are having Baby Burp baptized tomorrow morning, and we wanted you to be Godbottle to her, and now I’m afraid that the ceremony will need to be cancelled.’
‘Godbottle?’ said Carlos in disbelief. ‘Me? . . . I am so honoured that you should choose me.’
‘Hoot!’ said Glassie.
‘Let us not waste any time,’ said Carlos. ‘It is not too late.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Philip.
Carlos was already on the move. ‘We must go and visit Parson Vinegar right now.’
A blue tear escaped from Maisy’s glass eye and changed to red and then to yellow as it trickled down the panes of coloured glass. There were quite a few parts of Maisy missing, and it was all because of those naughty bottle boys. She was very sad. Maisy was eight foot high and four foot wide, and had always been admired by the bottles and jars that had come to visit Brightville. This repair was going to take time, and she was so looking forward to bathing the inside of the church with pastel colours on Baby Burp’s special day. Something caught her attention. It was a scrape, scrape, scrape noise coming from the outside walls of the church. Maisy looked down and was surprised to see the whole Swiss Army climbing up the church walls. There was also a familiar looking figure standing on the lawn outside.
‘Surely that cannot be,’ said Maisy. ‘It looks like him, but I was certain that he now lived over in the Land of Plenty.’
‘Maisy Stainglass,’ Carlos called out. ‘Well I must say, you are a sight for a sore glass eye.’
‘It is you,’ cried Maisy, ‘it’s Carlos De Vase, the “almost famous” artist.’
‘At your service,’ said Carlos, whilst bowing slightly. ‘And don’t worry about the Crab Blades. They are just taking some measurements.’
‘Measurements for what?’ asked Maisy, still a little shocked at seeing her old friend after all these years.
‘Well I understand that you have a special day planned for tomorrow, so with the help of the Crab Blades, I am here to make sure that it goes ahead.’
Carlos was then joined by Parson Vinegar, Philip and Philippa Glass, and a little bottle dog that Maisy had never seen before.
‘Hoot!’ said Glassie.
‘Don’t be concerned, Maisy,’ said Parson Vinegar. ‘Carlos has a plan in mind. We don’t quite know what it is yet, but we have been assured that Baby Burp’s special ceremony will be taking place after all.’
During the night there were lots of strange noises coming from the village. Gossip windows everywhere were looking up and down the streets, avenues and lanes of Brightville, eagerly trying to find out just where the noise was coming from. At the breaking of the dawn, when the first sun was rising over the Ruby Mountains, the strange noise was replaced by a more familiar sound. It was the ringing of the church bells. Sun number one was soon followed by sun number two and three. Every corner of the village of Brightville was bathed in a warm glow, but the warmest glow was inside the village church. Maisy Stainglass projected wonderful warm colours of pink, yellow, green and blue across the church walls. The colours seemed to be even more beautiful than Carlos could remember. Baby Burp was baptized, Lucy – Maisy – De Vase – Glass, and all the bottles and jars sang and cheered when the ceremony ended.
‘How can we possibly thank you, Carlos?’ said a very grateful Philippa Glass. She was joined by her husband, Philip.
‘Just how did you and the Crab Blades manage to repair Maisy?’ asked Philip. ‘I can hardly believe it.’
‘Oh, just a bit of good old-fashioned teamwork during the night, Philip, but nothing is too much trouble for my good friends here in Brightville. The Swiss Army of Crab Blades very kindly cut extra thin slices off the cubes of bath salts when they were harvesting from the lake during their night shift. Then they cut them to the exact shapes to match Maisy’s missing panes of glass. My job was to supply the correct colours, using the paints and varnish that I always carry in my art bag.’
‘How very inventive of you,’ said a much relieved Parson Vinegar.
‘Hoot!’ said Glassie.
Carlos stayed with his friends for another four days. He had such a good time meeting bottles and jars that he hadn’t seen for many years. All the gossip windows took turns at telling him stories of the events that had happened in the village in the years that he had been away in the Land of Plenty. On the day that Carlos was due to return back to his new home, he was invited back down to the church for one last visit. He was surprised to find that every single villager, along with the entire Swiss Army of Crab Blades, were crammed into the church to greet him. There was also a very elegant looking pink bottle who wore a crystal stopper in place of a cork. She introduced herself to Carlos.
‘Good day. Mister De Vase. I am Lady Bollinger, Mayoress of Brightville.’
‘Delighted to meet you,’ said Carlos, lifting her gloved hand and kissing it gently. Lady Bollinger blushed a slightly deeper shade of pink and then pulled a scrap of paper from her purse. It was a carefully prepared speech.
‘Friends, villagers, bottles,’ she began, ‘lend me your ears.’
‘Oh my, what a professional,’ whispered Philippa Glass to her husband.
The Mayoress continued, ‘Today we are gathered here to honour a great artist who moved from the village of Brightville many years ago to make a name for himself over in the Land of Plenty. We understand that Carlos De Vase may very soon be presented with an “ism” award for his services to art. That is delightful news. We also had an “ism” right here in Brightville last week. Baby Burp Glass had her Baptism; an “ism” that she would not have been able to receive if it hadn’t been for Carlos and his army of Crab Blade friends.
It was Rusty O’Tool’s turn to blush, but no one saw it, as all Crab Blades are a red colour anyway.
Lady Bollinger continued, ‘To mark the occasion, the village of Brightville has decided to award you, Carlos, with a very special “ism” just from us. She placed a large shiny glass medal on a chain over the head of Carlos. ‘This award is also an “ism”; an award for “Heroism”’.
Everyone in the church clapped and cheered.
‘Hoot!’ said Glassie.
Each and every Crab Blade also received a little medal, which made them all feel very proud. The gift from the villagers of Brightville made Carlos feel very humble indeed, and as he and Glassie boarded the SS Slipknot for their journey back across the Elastic Ocean, he turned and made a promise to his friends that he would return some day soon.
‘Hoot!’ said Glassie.
About the Author
Born in Saltcoats, Brian Morrison has a day job at the Hunterston Power Station. But in his other life he is well known as a caricaturist and comedy sketch writer. More recently, he has become a novelist and a writer of children's stories. His dark comedy, Blister, is available on Amazon.