Ralph the Timid had endured the black beast of the cave, Ginger Mcsporran, talking about his cave for long enough. There was only so long you could listen to someone extol the beauties of their home, even if their home was a cave and it was extraordinarily large and full of exciting features like glowworms and funny shaped outcroppings of rock and underground rivers as wide and as long as any you might find above ground. Even if there were lots of fascinating anecdotes about things that his lovely cat Twinkle did in this charming cave, it got a bit tedious after a few hours. And even if the person - or at least, beast that spoke in human tongue - who was telling you all this was twice the size of you with mammoth sharp pointy horns, giant claws that looked as sharp as knives, and lots and lots of very visible teeth, eventually you had to change the subject.You just did it politely.
So Ralph the Timid sipped his tea and bided his time, waiting for a break in the flow of Ginger McSporran's seemingly endless tide of admiration for his home. He said "Mmm, " at the appropriate intervals, and "Oh really? That sounds very interesting" and "Yes, I think so too" whenever it was necessary. It wasn't that he didn't like Ginger McSporran, because he did, it was more that he didn't like caves quite as much as his host clearly did. He also didn't like Twinkle quite as much. The cat was looking at him with an expression of faintly amused dislike and it was very off-putting.
At length the black beast of the caves paused to take a sip from his giant mug of tea - not that it looked as giant in his hand as Ralph's cup looked when he drank from it - and Ralph the Timid boldly seized the opportunity to ask a question which had been pricking at him ever since he had met Ginger McSporran, the black beast of the caves, in the darkness of the cavern that had held the package he had been sent in to retrieve. At least, he thought it was that package. For all he knew, the caverns were littered with packages. Just because Ginger McSporran hadn't mentioned them when he was cataloguing every single detail of the caves over which he was master didn't mean that there was only the one package to be found.
"Hmm." said Ralph the Timid. "I was wondering, Mr McSporran -"
"Oh, call me Ginger, do!" said Ginger McSporran in a friendly way, baring his luminous teeth into a most unnerving smile. "It's so nice to have some one to chat to! Twinkle's lovely," he stroked the cat, who purred, "but he's not very talkative. What were you wondering, Ralph the Timid?"
"Well," Ralph paused to sip his tea, "it was just what you said about Mad Pete. I was wondering how long he's being trying to get that package, and what was in it?"
Ginger McSporran took a swig of his own drink, and paused thoughtfully. "I don't know myself what is in that package, young Ralph, and that's a fact. It's always bothered me."
"Then why don't you open it?" asked Ralph the Timid.
"Because it doesn't have my name on it!" replied the black beast of the caves, as if Ralph was being entirely stupid.
"Oh." said Ralph, feeling as if he had been entirely stupid. "Well why won't you let Mad Pete have it then?"
"Well, two reasons really," said Ginger McSporran. "The first is - well, you'll think I'm silly, but it does get a bit lonely down here and really - so long as Mad Pete keeps sending unwary adventurers down here to fetch it, I always have someone to have tea with. I always let them out the back door, and then they can struggle back to Mad Pete and tell him that the black beast of the caves wouldn't let them have the parcel, if they want, or they can just go off in the other direction and Mad Pete will just have to wait. Maybe if he came down himself he'd have more luck - but, I doubt it, " he corrected himself ruminatively. "That's the other reason I won't let him have it."
"Because he won't come and get it himself?" Ralph asked.
Ginger McSporran laughed an exclamatory laugh, a loud cheesegrater on metal kind of laugh which made Ralph wince although he tried not to show it. "No, no, no. That's not it at all, young one. No, it's because it doesn't have his name on it either, and I don't trust him to take it to its rightful owner."
"Well, whos name IS on it then?"
Ginger McSporran took a large, final slurp from his cup. "Any more tea for you?"
Ralph the Timid shook his head. There was still enough tea in his cup to fill a small swimming pool. "I've got more than enough here, thank you."
Ginger McSporran stroked the cat. "Ah, you young adventurers. I always forget you need a smaller cup than I. Whose name is on the parcel? If you're done with your tea - don't worry about finishing it, come along and I'll show you."
Ralph put his cup down with alacrity, then picked it up again hurriedly thinking that perhaps he had put it down too quickly and it might have been offensive, had another swig then placed it down again, more slowly this time.
Ginger McSporran watched him with a twinkle in his eye. That's A twinkle, mind you, not Twinkle. Ginger McSporran was a tough beast with very big eyes, but even he might have objected to having a large fluffy ginger cat in his eye. He was amused by Ralph and his behaviour with cup. All these young adventurers were alike...He supposed he did look a bit scary, what with being so gigantic with big claws and teeth, but he was vegetarian! It was silly, the assumptions people made. Just because he looked omnipotent - or did he mean omnivorous? No, carnivorous! Just because he look carnivorous didn't mean he was. People really were silly.
He led Ralph the Timid out of his comfortable living room back into the blackness of the cave. Ralph was struck again by the contrast between the two. It was the same cave but so dissimilar it was like being in a different world. It took his eyes some time to get used to the dark, even after he had relit a candle.
They walked through the cave, weaving around the rocky outcroppings of stalagmites and stalactites that almost joined in the middle, arriving eventually back at the part of the cave where Ginger McSporran had startled Ralph the Timid. Ralph the Timid reached for the parcel and held it close to the candlelight. "It's hard to read," he said, squinting to make out the scrawled letters in the flickering glow of his candle. "It says .... Boris Blockoff, Rangville, the Low Plains? is that right?"
"That's the one." said Ginger McSporran, nodding his head. He knew well what the parcel said. He'd often gone to examine the parcel many times when he was bored. He knew exactly what it said (Boris Blockoff, Rangeville, the Low Plains, just as Ralph the Timid had read out. There was no sender's address), what it was wrapped in (brown paper with greasy smears, tied up string), what it felt like to hold (squishy), what it smelt like (old and mouldly and really not very pleasant). The only things he didn't know about the parcel were how long it had been there (at least two years, he knew that much), what it was doing there, who had put it there, and what was inside it. Which was quite a lot, really, now that he thought about it, and he suddenly wanted to know what was inside. If only he didn't have such strong principles he could open it. But he did, so there was the end of that idea.
"You know, " said Ralph,thoughtfully, "This can't stay down here forever. It'll just rot away eventually and then poor old Boris Blockoff will never get his parcel."
Ginger McSporran flapped his wings gently and uneasily. "Maybe so, maybe so. But WE can't open it."
"No.....no, we can't do that," admitted Ralph, who had been well brought up by his foster parents and knew that one did not open other people's mail. "No, we can't open it, but I was thinking. I'm going on an adventure to find my purpose. Perhaps while I'm adventuring, en route so to speak, I could drop off this parcel? Icould find Boris Blockoff and deliver it?"
Ginger McSporran thought about this for a second. "But - and I don't mean any disrespect, young Ralph, because you seem to be a nice young chap - but it does concern me - how do I know you won't open the parcel and see what's inside as soon as you're out of my sight?"
Ralph the Timid bit his lip thoughtfully. "Well, I could promise I won't, but then I might just be saying that, mightn't I?"
It was a tricky problem, and Ralph was just about to abandon his new role of postman when an idea struck him. Not with a club or anything. It wasn't a hit and run idea. It's a figure of speech. "I know!" he said. "You say you get a bit bored down here. Why don't you come with me? You could meet some interesting people, maybe buy some new books or a nice collar for twinkle! What do you say?"
Ginger McSporran had never had such an idea cross his mind before. He was taken aback. "But - I'm the black beast of the caves!" was all he could think of to say.
"So? " said Ralph. "What has that to do with the price of fish? Or this situation, for that matter?" It was an odd turn of phrase for Ralph to use, as he had never even seen the sea, but it is an odd thing how these phrases get about. And to be fair, it hadn't had to get that far. Just from the lakes slightly further down the mountain. He did like trout. His stomach growled slightly.
"Well..." said Ginger McSporran hesitantly. "How can I be the black beast of the caves if I'm not in the caves?"
"It's easy!" said Ralph with brightness probably never before seen in such gloomy caves. "Just tell everyone you're on holiday."
And thus it was that Ginger McSporran, the black beast of the caves, and Ralph the Timid, a young man in search of his purpose, set out to deliver a parcel. They were just leaving the cave by the back door when each of them realised an impediment in their plans.
"I've just thought of something," said Ralph the Timid, stopping dead in his tracks.
"So have I," said Ginger McSporran, stopping dead in HIS tracks.
They stood there a moment, then turning simultaneously, said "What is it?"
Being both extremely polite individuals, it took some time for the conversation to get going again. But after many "No, you first,"s and "No I insist"s and "No, go ahead"s Ginger McSporran finally spoke, and with a mournful tone asked "But who will feed Twinkle? I can't just leave him."
Ralph admitted that was true. "Could we take him with us?"
Ginger McSporran shook his head dolefully. "He wouldn 't be able to keep up."
"Could we carry him?"
Ginger McSporran brightened up at this suggestion, although Twinkle, who had been winding himself around his master's legs, gave Ralph an angry glare, which became more angry when the black beast of the caves fetched a bag and forced him into it.
"Ah!" he said with satisfaction, carefully slinging the bag over one enormous shoulder. "Now what's your problem, young Ralphie?"
"It's a luggage problem as well," said Ralph. "Mad Pete has all of my things."
"Well that's easily solved!" said Ginger McSporran with great good humour. "Let's be off to see Mad Pete and get your things back. It's a good long time since I've seen him!"
Ralph the Timid was not exactly sure that this was the best of plans, but agreed, and the travelling companions set off up the hill back to where he had last seen Mad Pete and Ethel.
(Word Count: 17269)
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