While waiting for next NG turn...

From: Goihl & Fahey <goihlk>
Date: Thu Mar 22 16:24:58 2007

                     CHAPTER 2


                     In Which


                Wahanie Goes Visiting


               and Becomes Immobile



ULL OF WAHA!, known to his friends as Wahanie-the-Bull,

or Bool for short, was stumbling through the prairie one day,

humming proudly to himself. He had made up a little hum

that very morning, as he was doing his Fighting Exercises in

front of the tent he woke up in: Tra-la-la, tra-la-la, as he swung

his ax up as high as he could, and then Tra-la-la, tra-la--oh,

help!--la, as he barely missed his toes. After breakfast he had

said it over and over to himself until he had learnt it off by

heart, and now he was humming it right through, properly.

It went like this:  

Wa-ha-ha, wa-ha-ha,

Wa-ha-ha, wa-ha-ha,


Tiddle-iddle, tiddle-iddle,

Tiddle-iddle, tiddle-iddle,


Well, he was humming this hum to himself, and staggering

around gaily, not caring what everybody else was doing, or

what it felt like, being somebody else, when suddenly he

came to a dusty tent, and in the tent he tore a large hole.

"Wa!" said Bool. (Beer-tum-tiddle-um-tum.) "If I know

anything about anything, that tent means Rabid," he said,

"and Rabid means Company," he said, "and Company means

Food and Listening-to-Me-Humming and such like. Beer-tum-


So he steadied himself, put his head into the hole, and

called out:

"Is anybody at home?"

  There was a sudden scuffling noise from inside the tent,

and then silence.

"What I said was, 'Is anybody at home?' " called out Bool

very loudly.

"No!" said a voice; and then added, "You needn't shout so

loud. I heard you quite well the first time."

"Bother!" said Bool. "Isn't there anybody here at all?"


Wahanie-the-Bull took his head out of the hole, and thought

for a little, and he thought to himself, "There must be somebody

there, because somebody must have said 'Nobody.' " So he put

his head back in the hole, and said:

"Hallo, Rabid, isn't that you?"

"No," said Rabid, in a different sort of voice this time.

"But isn't that Rabid's voice?"

"I don't think so," said Rabid. "It isn't meant to be."

"Ha!" said Pooh.

He took his head out of the hole, and had another think, and

then he put it back, and said:

"Well, could you very kindly tell me where Rabid is?"

"He has ridden off to see his friend Wahanie Bool, who is a

great friend of his."

"But this is Me!" said Bool, very much surprised.

"What sort of Me?"

"Wahanie Bull."

"Are you sure?" said Rabid, still more surprised.

"Quite, quite sure," said Bool.

"Oh, well, then, come in."

So Bool pushed and pushed and pushed his way through the

hole, and at last he got in.

"You were quite right," said Rabid, looking at him all over. "It

is you. Glad to see you."

"Who did you think it was?"

"Well, I wasn't sure. You know how it is in the Prairie. One

can't have anybody coming into one's tent. One has to be

careful. What about a mouthful of something?"

Bool always liked a little something at hand-before-noon, and

he was very glad to see Rabid gathering the knives and drink

horns from the floor; and when Rabid said, "Beer or fermented

milk with your pemmikan?" he was so excited that he said,

"Both," and then, so as not to seem greedy, he added, "But don't

bother about the pemmikan, please." And for a long time after

that he said nothing . . . until at last, humming to himself in a

rather slurred voice, he got up, punched Rabid lovingly with his

fist, and said that he must be going on.

"Must you?" said Rabid politely

"Well," said Bool, "I could stay a little longer if it--if you----" and

he tried very hard to leer in the direction of the storage pit.

"As a matter of fact," said Rabid, "I was going out myself


"Oh well, then, I'll be going on. Good-bye."

"Well, good-bye, if you're sure you won't have any more."

"Is there any more?" asked Bool quickly.

Rabid opened the storage sacks, and said, "No, there wasn't."

"I thought not," said Pooh, nodding to himself. "Well, good-bye.

I must be going on."

So he started to crawl toward the hole. He pulled with his

hands, and pushed with his feet, and in a little while his nose

was out in the open again . . . and then his ears . . . and then

his hands . . . and then his shoulders . . . and then----

"Oh, help!" said Bool. "I'd better stand up."

"Oh, bother!" said Wahanie. "I shall have to go on."

"I can't do either!" said Bool. "Oh, help and bother!"

Now, by this time Rabid wanted to go for a ride too, and finding

the hole full, he opened the tent flap and went out by the

entrance, and came round to Wahanie, and looked at him.

"Hallo, are you sleeping?" he asked.

"N-no," said Wahanie carelessly. "Just resting and thinking

and humming to myself."

"Here, give us a hand."

Wahanie Bull stretched out a hand, and Rabid pulled and

pulled and pulled....

"Wa!" cried Bool. "You're hurting!"

"The fact is," said Rabid, "you're drunk."

"It all comes," said Wahanie crossly, "of not having four legs."

"It all comes," said Rabid sternly, "of drinking too much. I

thought at the time," said Rabid, "only I didn't like to say

anything," said Rabid, "that one of us was drinking too much,"

said Rabid, "and I knew it wasn't me," he said. "Well, well, I shall

go and fetch Chaos-Hater Robon."

Chaos-Hater Robon lived at the other end of the camp, and

when he came back with Rabid, and saw the front half of

Wahanie, he said, "Silly old Bull," in such a loving voice that

everybody felt quite hopeful again.

"I was just beginning to think," said Bull, drooling slightly,

"that Rabid might never be able to mend his tent hole again.

And I should hate that," he said.

"So should I," said Rabid.

"Mend his tent hole again?" said Chaos-Hater Robon. "Of

course he'll mend his tent hole again."

"Good," said Rabid.

"If we can't stand you up, Bool, we might push you back."

Rabid scratched his beard thoughtfully, and pointed out that,

when once Wahanie was pushed back, he was back, and of

course nobody was more glad to see Bool than he was, still there

it was, some lived in tents and some lived under the stars, and----

"You mean I'd never get out?" said Wahanie.

"I mean," said Rabid, "that having got so drunk, it seems a pity

to waste it."

Chaos-Hater Robon nodded.

"Then there's only one thing to be done," he said. "We shall

have to wait for you to get sober again."

"How long does getting sober take?" asked Wahanie anxiously.

"About a week, I should think."

"But I can't stay here for a week!"

"You can stay here all right, silly old Bull. It's getting you

moving which is so difficult."

"We'll tell you stories," said Rabid cheerfully. "And I hope there

won't be a sand storm," he added. "And I say, old fellow, you're

taking up a good deal of room in my tent-the kids won't mind

straddling your legs as Riding Beasts, and chasing your butt as

a chaos monster. Because, I mean, there they are-doing

nothing-and it would be very convenient for the kids to play

on them."

"A week!" said Wahanie gloomily. "What about meals?"

"I'm afraid no meals," said Chaos-Hater Robon, "because of

getting sober quicker. But we will tell you stories."

Bull began to sigh, and then found he couldn't because he

was so heavily pressed to the ground; and a tear rolled down his

eye, as he said:

"Then would you tell an Eiritha Story, such as would help and

comfort a Drunken Bull in Great Immobility?"

So for a week Chaos-Hater Robon told that sort of story at the

North end of Wahanie, and the kids hunted chaos on the South

end, whipping Wahanie's legs to go faster and throwing stick-

spears at his butt . . . and in between Bull felt himself getting

soberer and soberer. And at the end of the week Chaos-Hater

Robon said, "Now!"

So he took hold of Wahanie's arms and Rabid took hold of

Chaos-Hater Robon, and all Rabid's friends and relations took

hold of Rabid, and they all pulled together....

And for a long time Wahanie only said "Wa!" . . .

And "Ha!" . . .

And then, all of a sudden, he said "Pop!" just as if a bladder

were bursting.

And Chaos-Hater Robon and Rabid and all Rabid's friends and

relations went head-over-heels backwards . . . and on the top of

them came Wahanie-the-Bull--standing!

So, with a nod of thanks to his friends, he went on with his

walk through the prairie, humming proudly to himself. But,

Chaos-Hater Robon looked after him lovingly, and said to

himself, "Silly old Storm Bull!"  

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