ROOSTER’S DAY OFF, II

(The adventure continues – see Rooster I)

As the mythic monster of the mountains snoozed away Rooster made his move. It took him a lot of time to hide the gold and jewels in the gigantic snowball but it took no time at all for that snowball to roll down the mountainside to the bottom of the hill where it crashed into the leg of a thirty-foot elephant that was resting on the outskirts of the jungle while debating which route to take to Zanzibar.

Sparkling jewels spilled across the jungle floor and as the ponderous pachyderm tried to stomp on Rooster for interrupting his cogitations, which is like thinking only deeper, a handsome Prince on the flying carpet with a turban on his head and curly shoes on his feet buzzed by.

Rooster reached up, grabbed the cruising carpet with one foot, and then swooped down to scoop up a stupendous stack of sparklers in his beak. Before you could say “I saw it first,” he was wrestling with the Prince for a thirteen-pound pearl as the now driverless rug careened around the Carpathian Mountains. The hammerlock around Rooster’s neck was finally broken when the carpet crashed in the unloading zone of a Turkish bazaar in Constantinople.

Quick as a wink, Rooster swallowed the peerless pearl, quickly clipped a curl from a dancing girl’s tresses for his moustache, filched a fez, then disappeared into the crowd pursued by the pugnacious Prince, the dancing girl and a now fez-less merchant waving a scimitar which is like a sword only curvier.

In cognito, which is not a place but like a disguise only better, Rooster headed for the harbor and hid in the bowels of a barge bound for Cairo. As the ship sailed over the wine-dark sea, the bodacious bird polished his priceless pearl and dreamed of a harem of hula-dancing hens. But by the time he was floating down the Nile, the sun was slowly rising over the Great Pyramid.  Rooster clapped his wings over his eyes and stuffed his feet into his mouth but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t control himself. “Cock-a-doodle-do!” he sang out loud and clear.

Before you could yell “Stowaway!” our fearless fowl’s cover was blown and Rooster was scampering to the edge of the deck pursued by an Egyptian sailor holding a meat cleaver which is like a knife only sharper. If Rooster hadn’t squawked, the pearl might not have popped from his mouth, and if the sailor hadn’t chased the pearl it might not have rolled overboard, and if Rooster hadn’t have jumped in after it then the ship might not have capsized which is like sinking only faster.

Rooster was doing a pretty impressive backstroke when a passing tourist strolling along the docks and on the prowl for a souvenir to take home spotted the bedraggled barnyard bird, plucked him from the river and carried him up the gangplank of a waiting yacht. When the ship had pulled into the New York harbor four days later Rooster squeezed through the porthole, scurried across the dock and hitchhiked to New Jersey where he took a well deserved rest from his day off.

the end – for now

 

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