“But first,” the Syck Monkey’s children continue writing, “the flag must be exchanged and an egg delivered in return.”

“Why didn’t you say before?” Labaguette asks.

“There was a time you could not even read, Labaguette,” the Captain marvels.

“It was latent for a while.  I could read but I could not express it.”

“Featherly regenerescence,” Birdseye comments.

“Feather what?”

Three Monkeys jump back onto the Insatiable Princess, a flag in hand.

“We should elope” Labaguette whispers once more into the Captain’s ear.

There, three monkeys are tying white ropes, unfolding sails while their father’s domineering and powerful shadow looks on.

The Captain grabs the flag and as soon as he unfolds it, there is a burning flash before the flag rolls back onto itself emitting more sparks.  A shower of falling objects, creatures and stars pass them by.

“That’s you told Captain!” Labaguette remarks.

“Shut up!”

A young monkey carries the flag and attached it around the main mast.

“THE EGG!” are the words now showing in gigantic letters on the Universe’s wall.

The Captain scratches his head, looking at Birdseye.

Labaguette smoothes a brilliant rose feather, not looking at anyone.

Birdseye sits, his goggle light up a pale blue as his tail widens, sparkles and shudders.

“If he weren’t a policeman-dancer,” Labaguette says, “he might have been an ostrich.”

“Ostriches are not know to survive in these regions,” the Captain remarks, an air of distraction lifting his puzzled eyebrows.

As he stands again, Birdseye extends his arms and hands holding a large, smooth, sparkling and mauve egg of a substantial size which he offers the Syck Monkey’s shadow.

“Didn’t think he had it in him,” Labaguette says with a sense of purpose.

“He had the egg all along,” musters the Captain.

To be continued…



And so it is that bookshelves begin to shudder and crumble from high up, words begin to fight an almighty battle as librarians unite and recite incantations.

“Doomed are words that lack wisdom!” one says.

“Words of nonsense: disappear!” another continues.

“May all words dissolve and let a new dawn rise from the ashes of this planet!”

“Ashes?” the Captain asks, dismayed.

“The Planet of Books might explode,” a librarian answers, “its future is unravelling before our very eyes; it’s disintegrating, it’s dying.  You’d better leave.”

“Words, books and shelves?  Surely some part of this planet will come to no harm.  Some of it must be saved,” the King insists.

“There isn’t much time.  Now do leave us, you won’t be of any help.”

“There’s no way out,” the Captain continues, “we’re unable to leave”.

“Take this lantern,” one librarian offers, “it’ll keep the battling words at bay for as long as it shines.  Lanterns are light seekers.  It’ll instinctively lead you to the Light House – the main source of Light on this planet – walk up onto the highest shelf level where you’ll be left to your own device.”

“A Light House?” the Captain asks.

“All these years, it’s helped the words and books landing on this planet find their way and give them a sense of belonging by directing them to their respective areas. But beware the Light House Keeper, he might—”

“—Yes?” the King insists, “he might what?”

To be continued…©

Part 75