Short story
Transcription
A Nancy is being mocked by Monkey's laughter throughout the day. He decides to go on a trip to escape from it and comes across a talking iron pot named Work Let Me See. The pot can cook delicious meals, but only if it's not washed. A Nancy's family discovers the pot and washes it, causing it to stop working. A Nancy then encounters a talking whip with the same name and it chases him until he hides in a tree disguised as a spider. This is a Nancy story, entitled, Work Let Me See. Monkey's laughter mocked a Nancy throughout the day. It followed him in the morning on his way to Doug's shop to borrow half a loaf of bread. He walked quickly, hoping to escape from Monkey, but when he got to the shop, a burst of shrill laughter greeted him from a divvy, divvy tree. Ki, ki, ki! Can't catch me! The stone that he threw fell short of Monkey, who leapt across to the tamarind tree opposite, poked his small, wrinkled face through a fern-like screen of leaves, and started laughing again. Monkey's shrill, ki, ki, ki, followed a Nancy on his way to the stream, where his mother was washing his clothes, spreading them on bare, hot rocks to bleach. One Thursday morning, a Nancy said to his wife and his mother, I'm going away for a week to stay with my friend, Yabbit, on the far side of the forest. Yabbit doesn't like Monkey, and I will get away from this singing, singing, ki, ki, ki, which is driving me mad. Taking a knapsack with him, a Nancy set off, walking till he was tired, walking and sleeping until evening fell. That night, he stayed with Rat. Next morning, he set off early. What a relief it was not to be pursued by Monkey with his taunting song and mocking ki, ki, ki! But he was hungry. Eating one of the few biscuits left in his knapsack, a Nancy fell asleep at the foot of a large, silk-cotton tree, whose silver-gray trunk rose like a great column built to hold up the sky. On awakening, a Nancy rubbed his eyes. In front of him, there was an old iron pot. This is strange, said a Nancy. I'm sure there was no iron pot here when I fell asleep. There are no footprints nearby. How did it come here? I hope there's food in it. But there was nothing in the pot. A Nancy was disappointed. What is an empty pot doing there, he said. Iron pot, if you were any good, you would have food. Somebody must have thrown you away because you were worthless. Why did they throw you away anyhow? Do not call me iron pot, a voice answered. That is not my name. Astonished, a Nancy said, I didn't know that you could talk. I didn't know that you heard what I said. Who are you? What is your name? Why haven't you any food? Since you can talk, give me an answer. What is your name if it is not pot? My name is work, let me see. That's a queer name. First of all, you were not here when I fell asleep. How did you come here? Where did you come from? You are not a pot. Yet, when I call you a pot, you tell me that it is not your name. When I ask your name, you give me the strangest name I ever heard. Well, prove that it is your name. I will call you by it. Go ahead, work, let me see. At the words, smoke began to rise from the pot. A Nancy watched in wonder. His appetite sharpened by the delicious smell of good food. What a meal he ate. Even his mother, who was a good cook, had never produced food so tasty, so satisfying. When he could eat no more, he said, this is good. I need travel no further. I will take this pot home. But first, I will wait until I'm hungry and test it again just to see if it really works. Later that afternoon, a Nancy said, work, let me see. And again, the pot cooked a meal. He told the pot, I'm going to take you home. My mother will look after you. My wife and children will take care of you. They will scrub you clean, for you look very dirty. Do not wash me, replied the pot. If you wash me, I will not cook. Leave me as I am. Then, replied a Nancy quickly, you may be sure that I will never wash you. And I will hide you from my wife, who loves to wash pots and pans. A Nancy set out for home with the big iron pot. It was heavy and difficult to carry, but he had eaten well and carried his load happily, knowing that for the future, even during the hardest months of the dry season, he would not have to worry about food. When a Nancy got home, he found that his mother, wife, and children were out. He hid the pot in a small room in the little house in which he lived. After settling the pot, he said, work let me see, and sheared out the meal, keeping it warm in the kitchen, ready for the rest of the family. How tired they looked, hot and hungry, when they returned from the village, and how excited they were at the sight of a Nancy and the meal. Never cook for me again, he told his mother and his wife. I will do all the cooking, but don't try to find out how I do it. On the following morning, a Nancy went to the room where he had hidden the pot. Soon the smell of cooking filled the house. One of his sons looked through the keyhole, then ran off to tell his mother that he saw his father put his arm over a dirty pot and say, work let me see, and that the pot started to cook breakfast. After lunch, a Nancy went off to speak with his friend, Dog, the shopkeeper. While he was away, his mother and his wife went into the little room, and his wife said to the pot, work let me see, the pot cooked a delicious meal. After they had all eaten, she washed the pot, scrubbing it as clean as she could. That evening when it was nearing dinnertime, a Nancy went into the room and said to the old pot, work let me see. Nothing happened. The pot did not start cooking. There was no smoke, no smell of food, no voice came from the pot. Then he noticed how clean it looked. His heart sank. Someone had washed the pot. I must hurry off to that tree, he said, and tell the tree what a bad pot this is. I will let the tree know that the pot will not cook my dinner. Off went a Nancy, traveling fast, so that he came to the silk cotton tree early next morning. There was no sign of a pot. He sat and rested, slept, waked, looked around, and saw a whip hanging from one of the branches of the tree with a long lash and a handsome carved handle. What is that whip doing there, he asked. Do not call me a whip, replied a voice. How strange a thing this is, said a Nancy. First a pot, I find a pot that tells me it is not a pot. Then a whip that says it is not a whip. What must I call you? My name is work let me see. Very well then, replied a Nancy. Work let me see. The whip hit him hard. He ran, and the whip ran after him. He hid behind the trunk of the tree, and the whip found him. He jumped, and the whip jumped. He climbed over the hedge that divided the field from the road, and the whip climbed after him. He pulled the long green leaf of the banana tree around him, but the whip found him. He ran as fast as he could towards the forest, calling out for help. The whip chasing him. There was only one thing to do, and Nancy climbed a tree in the forest and took the shape of a spider. The whip climbed the tree, but could not find him. It did not see the spider hiding under a green leaf.
