“I see,” the cat said. “That is, I think I see, but if you know so much about this, why haven’t you done anything about it before?”
The turtle laughed again. “And how do you propose I return thousands of gallons of moisture? And if by some miracle I was able to do so, how do I stop the sponges from taking it back?”
“By making the sponges return it all, and forcing them to change their ways,” he responded.
“Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! How do you plan to get close enough to them to demand such an absurd thing? You will be drained as soon as they get within inches of you.”
“Well,” the cat said. “I don’t know, but someone has to try something, and I for one am sick of nothing.”
The turtle had no more arguments—he just looked at the cat’s huge saucer-like eyes.
“Will you show me where the King and his advisers are?” the cat asked.
“I sure can,” said the turtle. He turned and slowly led the way.
Chapter 8
The turtle led the cat through many different hallways, up winding stairways, and through various rooms. The slow pace allowed the cat to admire the castle’s interior, and the water he drank increased his sense of curiosity. He peeped into empty suits of armor, admired swords that were fastened crisscrossed behind shields, and gazed at pictures and tapestries hung along the gray stone walls.
The paintings were of magnificent scenery and realistic looking portraits of lords and ladies. The thought of what the turtle said before, and how even painters would lose their talent, made him feel empty. Did the ones who painted these pictures also forget their special ability?
He realized it was a miracle to have come across such a helpful guide. Obnoxious as the turtle was, the cat would have been lost without him. It seemed the cat was stuck with depending on things as they happen. Perhaps he was too hasty before when he didn’t want to ask for help from the creator of life. Regardless, it seemed that something was changing events. After all, how could one have planned this? Even if he was able to prepare, by some amazing ability, it would be of no use, since there was no real way to predict what would occur. No, it was by miracles he made it this far, and it would be by miracles he kept going.
The cat was surprised that they never ran into anyone. The palace seemed to be deserted. Perhaps the sponges chased everyone away? Or maybe they drained the people of so much moisture that they never left their rooms? Whatever it was—even though he was glad to avoid any early encounters—it made him feel uneasy.
Finally the turtle stopped in front of a large wooden door. A muffled voice could be heard from the other side. The cat felt a jitter of uneasiness creep through him, and it wasn’t the after-effects of the moisture he had drunk.
“This is it,” the turtle said. “The King’s throne room is just behind this door. First, there’s something you should know. The King used to be a good man. I have lived a very long time you see, and saw how he once was. When the sponges came they drained him of his moisture. He hasn’t been the same since. The sponges are just using him, but he isn’t wise enough to see that, since his gift of wisdom no longer belongs to him, you see?”
The cat nodded with understanding, then put his paw up to the door and tapped it.
No response. The noise wasn’t loud enough to draw any attention. The muffled talking continued on the other side of the door, like a room haunted by ghosts. But the odd thing was that it seemed to be only one voice talking, as if it was answering its own questions.
Suddenly something occurred to him. Before his masters were drained, they used to get really mad at him when he sharpened his claws on their things—such as a couch, the carpet, their pants legs. No matter how quiet he tried to be, they always seemed to catch him in the act. It was as if they developed super-sensitive hearing when it came to his naughty behavior. Perhaps those on the other side of this door were the same way.
There was a grating sound as claws scrapped against the door. He reached up again, higher this time, and then pulled down using the weight of his entire body. The scraping echoed in the hallway with a loud “Screeeeech!” Strips of wood peeled underneath his claws, and the voice within stopped. The two companions could hear metal clunk across the floor and then stop. The latch turned. They stared as the door swung open before them.
Chapter 9
A guard dressed in armor stood in the doorway. He wasn’t wearing a helmet like the others, but he did have a spear in his hand, and it was pointing back and forth between the cat and the turtle.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
The cat and the turtle turned and looked at each other, waiting to see who would speak first. The turtle gave the cat a look as if to say, “This is your thing. Go for it.”
“We would like to talk to the King,” the cat said.
“What makes you think the King would want to talk to the likes of you?” the guard replied, poking the cat lightly with the tip of the spear.
The nameless one flinched back, but then something odd happened. Perhaps he was emboldened by his recent moisture consumption, or maybe the experiences of the trip had changed him more than he had thought, but whatever it was it caused him to let out a giggle. It started off slow and uneasy, but then turned into an all out belly laugh.
The turtle looked confused for a second, then understood what the cat was doing. He joined him in his rant, and the two of them were rolling on their backs, slapping their stomachs, and roaring with laughter.
A voice spoke from behind the puzzled looking guard, “Let them in.” It had a sinister underhandedness to it that made them both stop laughing at once. But the cat’s plan worked: They had just demonstrated an enormous amount of moisture, and the sponges wanted it.
Without hesitation, the cat got to his feet. He noticed that the turtle was still stuck on his back. The scene made him want to laugh again, but he knew it was no longer the time for that. Putting both paws under his friend’s shell, the cat flipped it over and set the turtle back onto his feet.
“Thanks,” the turtle said.
“Follow me,” the guard commanded, gesturing with his spear.
The two entered the chamber. It was beautifully and magnificently adorned. The walls stretched high to the ceiling where a giant crystal chandelier hung. Pillars were carved with intricate designs, and large paintings filled the empty spaces on the walls. Before them a high stairway led to an enormous throne that was covered in gold and jewels. On it sat a plump-looking King. To his sides were the sponges, each sitting on its own elegant chair. The cat was reminded of their awful appearance. They didn’t have faces, arms, or legs. Their yellow bodies took the shape of a tall narrow square, and each was covered with tiny octagonal-shaped holes. They looked smaller than before. Perhaps they had already squeezed out all the moisture they gathered.
“Only two?” he whispered to the turtle.
“Did you want more?”
The cat paused for a moment as if to ponder the question.
“Two is all it takes. If there were more of them, then I suppose it would be too much competition. With two there’s less division of the wealth.”
“Quiet,” the guard intoned as he led them to the bottom of the staircase.
The sponges, though smaller than before, were still twice the size of the King. They towered over the two creatures, staring down with what would have seemed inquisitive expressions—if they had faces, that is. True, the sponges didn’t have faces, but the upper part of their yellow sponge-like heads bent slightly toward the cat and the turtle. The King on the other hand, just held a blank gaze, looking off into the distance as if he were an empty shell.
A broken window, off to the left, caught the cat’s attention and he remembered the fool. The fool probably had danced in this very spot before the sponges tried to seize him. It wasn’t a long drop, but going through the glass and hitting bottom wasn’t an experience the cat wished to share. And from the sound of the fool’s song, they must have gotten some
moisture out of him before he escaped. That too worried the cat.
“How can we help you?” the King asked. His voice sounded unnaturally pleasant.
The cat couldn’t help but watch the wiggling of the King’s chubby cheeks as he spoke. It both horrified and amused him.
A grin, nervous and genuine, sunk across the turtle’s face. He must have noticed the King’s odd tone too.
Whenever the King spoke, one of the sponges creased its head—or rather the upper part of its body—in his direction, as if controlling him through some kind of mental energy.
That only makes sense, thought the cat, after all they don’t have mouths.
A cat and a turtle—the two really must have looked ridiculous together, standing small and insignificant at the bottom of the staircase. But that didn’t deter the cat’s determination. He came here for a purpose and he would succeed.
“We have come here to get back all the moisture you have stolen,” the cat said, trying to sound confident.
The King’s face didn’t change expressions. He waited like a puppet for a new message from the sponge that was controlling him. Suddenly there was a horrifying noise, which sounded like someone squishing water out of a rag. It came from the two moisture thieves. Was this their laughter? Before the cat could figure it out, both the sponges stood—if you can call it standing—and started to move down the staircase. There was no more need for words. They all knew what was going to happen next.
Chapter 10
It was the turtle who lost his courage first. He hid himself inside his shell, looking like a rock once again. The cat’s heart jumped, and he felt his courage sinking too. But he didn’t want to be drained. He didn’t want to become an empty shell like the people back home. The desire to keep his moisture was stronger than ever before. The turtle obviously didn’t want to be an empty shell either.
The pudgy King’s face remained placid, emotionless, and held its blank gaze as if no one was home. The sponges came closer, and the nameless one feared he would soon be like the King. They moved end over end, flipping down each step one at a time.
The cat swallowed hard. His throat felt dry as the sponges approached. He sensed the hair rise on his back, and no longer being able to bear to watch, he closed his eyes.
A strange feeling came over the cat. He felt something prompting him to ask for help. It was as if a voice was speaking to him, yet it was silent like the wind.
“I know I haven’t been the best of cats, and I know it was for selfish reasons that I came here, but if you would have me be of any use, please empower me now to bring back the moisture that these sponges have stolen.”
He opened his eyes, and saw that the sponges were stopped dead in their tracks. Were they frightened by the outspoken prayer? The tops of their bodies turned from right to left, as if looking for any kind of answer. When none came, they proceeded towards the cat and his turtle friend without hesitation.
The turtle was still hiding in his shell, and the cat wished he had one now himself, though it wasn’t likely to do any good.
There was a pain in the cat’s stomach. At first he thought it was a reaction to fear, but then it began to rumble. What a time for his stomach to bother him now!
A low, “Roooww, rooow, rooooo,” sound came from his mouth as he jerked his head forward. He heaved backwards and forward as if someone was using him as a battering ram.
The sponges stopped again, this time only a few feet away. Clearly they wanted to avoid the impending unpleasantness, but it was too late. The cat hacked up a hairball the size of a fist. It flew from his mouth and landed on the nearest sponge. They both fell back as he’d spewed an iron bullet instead of a simple hairball. Obviously it was more an instinctive reaction than anything else, since a hairball couldn’t do any more damage than a feather.
His partner, the turtle, peeked one eye out of his shell to see what was happening. He must have been just as confused as the cat.
It didn’t take long before the sponges realized that no harm had been done to them. Proceeding forward with a hint of caution, they straightened and inched toward the two who were cringing only a few steps away.
The guard kept his distance. He must not have wanted to get in the way, for he’d probably seen more than once what the sponges could do. The King still sat motionless, not uttering a word or showing any signs of emotion.
Then the hairball, still stuck to the sponge, began to wiggle. It looked to be tickling the offender, moving from side to side so fast that it must have felt like a goose feather. If the yellow head had a mouth, it might have released a spurt of laughter as it squirmed on its back. Laughter would have been better than the horrible squishing noise it made now.
The other sponge bent over to see what was happening. In that instant something shot up from of the wad of grass.
Little, thin green stalks emerged. They grew, spurting upward so fast that leaves began to sprout as more branches etched their way forward. Before the observing sponge could jump back, one of the branches struck it, and then started to grow and spread inside its body.
The guard had already fled the scene by now. He obviously didn’t want to get involved in the chaos. If only the King had the same sense of awareness he might have left too, but it was likely he was drained of more moisture than the guard was.
The cat and turtle (who had emerged from his shell by now) took several steps back. Both villains were laid out on the staircase as a green vine rapidly covered them. Soon it had swallowed up any signs of their yellow shapes.
“I’m growing! I’m growing! So much moisture, so much fertilizer!” It was a familiar voice. Where had the cat heard it before? The seed! It was the seed that the cat had eaten earlier. It must have come out of his stomach along with the hairball. When he ate the seed near the start of his journey, he’d thought he was putting it out of its misery. But it was happy now—it could not have been any happier.
The turtle looked at the cat and motioned his head toward the window. It took him a few seconds, but the feline finally understood his partner’s plan.
With a chomp, the cat grasped an edge of the vine in his teeth. He started pulling as the turtle pushed against the wad of vines with his head. He might not have been a fast turtle, but he definitely was a strong one. Between the two of them—and the smoothness of the vine that made it easier to slide across the floor—the pile that had once been the sponges started to move. They heaved, inching it along the ground, bit by bit. The seed kept shouting in ecstasy, loving the fact it finally found a place it could grow.
At last they came to the edge of the broken window. With one final heave, the vine and sponges went over the edge and landed in the pool of liquid below.
The massive amount of moisture sent a surge of power into the growing plant. It sucked up gallons of fluid as it rapidly increased in size. The cat had never seen something grow so fast before, let alone so large. He watched in wonder as the vine wrapped itself around the outside of the castle. It continued to grow until it finally consumed all the moisture that the sponges had stored.
The towers and walls were covered by the vine, and looked as if they were part of the garden. The voice kept shouting with pleasure as the vine tightening against the rock.
Buds surfaced across the entire vine, and then opened into pink and white flowers. It was as if paradise had appeared before their eyes. Never before had the cat witnessed such beauty.
And then, to his surprise, grains of pollen exploded out of the flowers and shot into the air like magical fairy dust. It spread as it glimmered in the rays of the sun. The wind blew the glittering pollen up and into the clouds above, for what seemed to be miles and miles away.
The turtle’s tail twitched. “It’s going to rain,” he said. “This old tail of mine never lies.” As if wanting to prove him right the sky suddenly grew dark, and the air turned cold. Thunder boomed as flashes of lightning shot across the sky. The two companions watched in awe as blankets of water flow
ed down from the clouds.
Wind blew water through the broken window covering the cat and the turtle. It was cold but pleasant, making the cat feel confident and calm. Creative ideas flooded into his mind, and the empty places in his heart started to fill.
He and the turtle looked at each other with tears in their eyes, and happiness on their faces. He felt young again, fulfilled, and content . . . something he had not felt in a very long time, if ever.
Chapter 11
Once the cat saw enough, he turned towards the King, who still sat motionless on his throne. He and his turtle companion walked up the stairs and stood before the chubby ruler. His blank stare was just as unsettling as before.
Like a dog jumping out of a pond, the cat shook. His fur released droplets of water, which landed against the King’s face, robes, and limbs. The liquid visibly soaked into his skin and several seconds later, the King blinked. The cat could see the color returning to his face.
As if waking from a dream, the King shook his head, rubbed his eyes, and let out a big yawn. Both his arms and chest stretched out wide as snaps sounded from his limbs.
The King looked down, and what he saw must have surprised him. “A turtle and a cat?”
“Yes sire,” the nameless cat said as he elegantly bowed before the monarch. The turtle did the same—that is, as much of a bow as a turtle can do.
“Why, whatever happened here?” the King asked, looking around.
It was the turtle that responded this time. He told the King all he knew of the sponges and their schemes. How they ransacked the land and stole all the moisture. How they must have taken control of his majesty, and forced him to do things which were against his will. Finally, he told the King how the two of them were able to put a stop to it. The cat cut in every so often to confirm or correct a point or two, but the turtle had it down pretty good.
All the while the King sat with a puzzled expression on his face, but he listened to every word. It wasn’t every day one was told he lost control of his kingdom to a couple of sponges.