We traveled to Billy Wilkins' place. My friends were amazed when
I took to the air and believed that I had deserted them. They had
no cause to distrust me. Without them I would have had to rely on
intuition to reach Billy Wilkins, and even then I would lack the proper
introductions.
"Hey, Billy," said my loudest friend, whose name was Cecil, "what will
you give us for a blob? It flies and talks and isn't a bad fellow at
all. You'd get more tourists to come to your reptile show if you had
a talking blob in it. He could sing songs and tell stories. I bet he
could even play the guitar."
"Well, Cecil, I'll just give you all ten dollars for it and try to
figure out what it is later. I'm a little ahead on my hunches now, so I
can afford to gamble on this one. I can always pickle it and exhibit it
as a genuine hippopotamus kidney."
"Thank you, Billy. Take care of yourself, blob."
"Good-by for now, gentlemen," I said. "I would like you to visit me
some evening as soon as I am acclimated to my new surroundings. I will
throw a whing-ding for you--as soon as I find out what a whing-ding is."
"My God," said Billy Wilkins, "it talks! It really talks!"
"We told you it could talk and fly, Billy."
"It talks, it talks," said Billy. "Where's that blasted sign painter?
Eustace, come here. We got to paint a new sign!"
The turtles in the tank I was put into did have a sound basic
philosophy which was absent in the walking grubs. But they were slow
and lacking inner fire. They would not be obnoxious company, but
neither would they give me excitement and warmth. I was really more
interested in the walking grubs.
Eustace was a black grub, while the others had all been white; but
like them he had no outside casing of his own, and like them he also
staggered about on flesh stilts with his head in the air.
It wasn't that I was naive or hadn't seen bipeds before. But I don't
believe anyone ever became entirely accustomed to seeing a biped travel
in its peculiar manner.
"Good afternoon, Eustace," I said pleasantly enough. The eyes of
Eustace were large and white. He was a more handsome specimen than the
other grubs.
"That you talking, bub? Say, you really can talk, can't you? I thought
Mr. Billy was fooling. Now just you hold that expression a minute and
let me get it set in my mind. I can paint anything, once I get it set
in my mind. What's your name, blob? Have blobs names?"
"Not in your manner. With us the name and the soul, I believe you call
it, are the same thing and cannot be vocalized, so I will have to adopt
a name of your sort. What would be a good name?"
"Bub, I was always partial to George Albert Leroy Ellery. That was my
grandfather's name."
"Should I also have a family name?"
"Sure."
"What would you suggest?"
"How about McIntosh?"
"That will be fine. I will use it."
* * * * *
I talked to the turtles while Eustace was painting my portrait on tent
canvas.
"Is the name of this world Florida?" I asked one of them. "The road
signs said Florida."
"World, world, world, water, water, water, glub, glug, glub," said one
of them.
"Yes, but is this particular world we are on named Florida?"
"World, world, water, water, glub," said another.
"Eustace, I can get nothing from these fellows," I called. "Is this
world named Florida?"
"Mr. George Albert, you are right in the middle of Florida, the
greatest state in the universe."
"Having traveled, Eustace, I have great reservations that it is the
greatest. But it is my new home and I must cultivate a loyalty to it."
I went up in a tree to give advice to two young birds trying to
construct a nest. This was obviously their first venture.
"You are going about it all wrong," I told them. "First consider that
this will be your home, and then consider how you can make your home
most beautiful."
"This is the way they've always built them," said one of the birds.
"There must be an element of utility, yes," I told them. "But the
dominant motif should be beauty. The impression of expanded vistas can
be given by long low walls and parapets."
"This is the way they've always built them," said the other bird.
"Remember to embody new developments," I said. "Just say to yourself,
'This is the newest nest in the world.' Always say that about any task
you attempt. It inspires you."
"This is the way they've always built them," said the birds. "Go build
your own nest."
"Mr. George Albert," called Eustace, "Mr. Billy won't like your flying
around those trees. You're supposed to stay in your tank."
"I was only getting a little air and talking to the birds," I said.
"You can talk to the birds?" asked Eustace.
"Cannot anyone?"
"I can, a little," said Eustace. "I didn't know anyone else could."
But when Billy Wilkins returned and heard the report that I had been
flying about, I was put in the snake house, in a cage that was tightly
meshed top and sides. My cellmate was a surly python named Pete.
"See you stay on that side," said Pete. "You're too big for me to
swallow. But I might try."
"There is something bothering you, Pete," I said. "You have a bad
disposition. That can come only from a bad digestion or a bad
conscience."
"I have both," said Pete. "The first is because I bolt my food. The
second is because--well, I forget the reason, but it's my conscience."
"Think hard, Pete. Why have you a bad conscience?"
"Snakes always have bad consciences. We have forgotten the crime, but
we remember the guilt."
"Perhaps you should seek advice from someone, Pete."
"I kind of think it was someone's smooth advice that started us on all
this. He talked the legs right off us."
* * * * *
Billy Wilkins came to the cage with another "man," as the walking grubs
call themselves.
"That it?" asked the other man. "And you say it can talk?"
"Of course I talk," I answered for Billy Wilkins. "I have never known
a creature who couldn't talk in some manner. My name is George Albert
Leroy Ellery McIntosh. I don't believe that I heard yours, sir."
"Bracken. Blackjack Bracken. I was telling Billy here that if he really
had a blob that could talk, I might be able to use it in my night
club. We could have you here at the Snake Ranch in the daytime for the
tourists and kids. Then I could have you at the club at night. We could
work out an act. Do you think you could learn to play the guitar?"
"Probably. But it would be much easier for me merely to duplicate the
sound."
"But then how could you sing and make guitar noise at the same time?"
"You surely don't think I am limited to one voice box?"
"Oh. I didn't know. What's that big metal ball you have there?"
"That's my communication sphere, to record my thoughts. I would not
be without it. When in danger, I swallow it. When in extreme danger,
I will have to escape to a spot where I have concealed my ejection
mortar, and send my sphere into the galactic drift on a chance that it
may be found."
"That's no kind of gag to put in an act. What I have in mind is
something like this."
Blackjack Bracken told a joke. It was a childish one and in poor taste.
"I don't believe that is quite my style," I said.
"All right, what would you suggest?"
"I thought that I might lecture your patrons on the Higher Ethic."
"Look, George Albert, my patrons don't even have the lower ethic."
"And just what sort of recompense are we talking about?" I asked.
"Billy and I had about settled on a hundred and fifty a week."
"A hundred and fifty for whom?"
"Why, for Billy."
"Let us make it a hundred and fifty for myself, and ten per cent for
Billy as my agent."
"Say, this blob's real smart, isn't he, Billy?"
"Too smart."
"Yes, sir, George Albert, you're one smart blob. What kind of contract
have you signed with Billy here?"
"No contract."
"Just a gentlemen's agreement?"
"No agreement."
"Billy, you can't hold him in a cage without a contract. That's
slavery. It's against the law."
"But, Blackjack, a blob isn't people."
"Try proving that in court. Will you sign a contract with me, George
Albert?"
"I will not dump Billy. He befriended me and gave me a home with the
turtles and snakes. I will sign a joint contract with the two of you.
We will discuss terms tomorrow--after I have estimated the attendance
both here and at the night club."