The Great Rabbit Revenge Plan (12 page)

Oh, right. Konrad hadn't given it a thought all this time. Instead, he'd been worrying about what might happen to his parents in the unforeseeable future. Could it be, he wonders, that you worry about one thing so that you can forget about something else?

That sounds kind of stupid. On the other hand, he's learnt from experience that things don't refrain from happening just because they are stupid. On the contrary, it's the stupid things that seem to happen without fail. For example, falling down and hurting your knee. And especially
knocking over the chocolate. Things like that can't get enough of happening.

‘Hey,' says Fridz. ‘Are you dreaming? I asked you something.'

‘Yeah, yeah,' says Konrad. ‘Today. I'll ask him today. And tomorrow we'll be at your door. Shall we say nine o'clock?'

‘Nine o'clock sharp!' says Fridz. ‘Good. Henri will still be asleep. But not a minute later.'

Then she makes a gesture that means ‘come on, let's go home'. Konrad stands obediently up, brushes something off his trousers too and the two of them start to walk along by the canal.

‘I hope you know that it's all up to you,' says Fridz, as they come to the little path that leads from the canal into The Dransfeld. ‘If you let the cat out of the bag and your father finds out what we're really up to, then we're up the creek for all eternity.' She stops and grabs Konrad by the arms. ‘Do you know what I will do then?'

Konrad shakes his head.

‘Then I will give my mum a present of a special roast rabbit cookbook.'

Konrad laughs, although he is not really in the mood for laughing.

‘Rabbit steamed in a box,' he says.

And Fridz laughs too. ‘Or rabbit braised in a puff-pastry trolley. An old family recipe of the master chef Friederike von Roastaroma.'

‘Very good,' says Konrad. ‘And for dessert, we'll serve Flemish Giant compote with ketchup and mayonnaise.'

Fridz laughs so much that she can hardly keep upright.

‘And to drink, our head waiter Mr Bantelmann recommends a first class hutch-bottled Pinot Fur.'

‘Stop!' screeches Fridz, and because she really cannot keep upright any longer, she falls on her bottom. ‘My ribcage!' she squeals between roars of laughter. ‘It's bursting.'

‘Did you say rabbit cage?' says Konrad. ‘Fur from the rabbit cage is very good for a stiff neck, you gather it up and you put it under your feet at night.'

But then Fridz really can't breathe any more, so Konrad stops making jokes about eating rabbit, because otherwise she will never make it home.

The Planet Klimbambium

No sooner has Konrad entered number 17a than suddenly the laughter wears right off. Because, somehow, he has to persuade his dad to actively support this utterly mad allergy project against Kristine Crisis. Konrad still hasn't the foggiest idea how he is going to do this. He retreats quickly to his room, so that he has as much time as possible before dinner to think about it. And so that he doesn't forget any good ideas, he writes down everything that occurs to him in his Dransfeld notebook. A few seconds later, he has actually got three plans.

Plan number one seems the simplest. He says, ‘Hello, Dad. A small request from your elder son. Could you please drive Friederike and her rabbit to the vet? The creature has some kind of fungus, and has to be supervised by the doctor for a few days. They have to find out if it's infectious. Can you do that for us? Great. Thanks!'

Sounds really easy, this plan, but it has the small disadvantage that it is a lie from beginning to end. And Konrad Bantelmann is not a world champion liar. On the contrary. The probability that he will stumble and stutter as soon as he starts to tell a lie is extraordinarily high, and with it the probability that he will make a hash of the whole rabbit project.

Plan number two sounds a bit more complicated. This is
how it goes: ‘Hello, Dad. I want to ask you something. Friederike, you know who I mean, I've told you about her, she wants to give someone a surprise present, a rabbit, actually, but it's supposed to be a big secret. Anyway, she has no way of transporting it, because she hasn't got a dad any more, and so she's asked me to ask you if you would give her a lift tomorrow. You'll do it? Ace. Friederike will be delighted. Thanks a lot.'

Not bad, eh? That'd be about half true and half a lie. Because it's kind of right, if you overlook the fact that the nasty intention behind the project is concealed. At any rate, there's a reasonable chance that Konrad won't start stumbling and stammering. On the other hand, Konrad is unfortunately equipped with a rather curious dad – and he'd be sure to question such an interesting but clearly gappy story: who's supposed to be surprised, and why, and why with a rabbit, and how exactly is it supposed to happen? And so on and so forth. In a word, nothing but questions, and questions that Konrad must not under any circumstances answer, if the enormous lie at the centre of this story is not to come out and the whole project to go sky high.

That leaves plan number three. This was the last one Konrad thought of. At first, he was very pleased with it. For plan number three is simply to tell the truth. Like this: ‘Hello, Dad. Have you got five minutes? Thanks. I've got myself into a bit of a weird situation. See, there's this Friederike, you know, this mad girl from number 28b. Well, her father has left home, because he has a girlfriend, just like Franzkarl Findouter – and Friederike is so cross about it
that she wants to send a rabbit to his girlfriend, who, as it happens, is also called Kristine. The idea is that the girlfriend will get an allergy (take deep breath) – right, and as luck would have it, in a fit of weakness, I promised that you would transport this rabbit to the girlfriend, and this is the thing, see, no way is Friederike under any circumstances to find out that you know what she's planning, which is why you must not only drive us into town, but also behave as if you think we're just taking the rabbit to the vet (another deep breath) or something like that – so, now it's out. Daddy dear, please do it to get me out of this fix, because otherwise I will look like the dumbest cluck in the whole world, and you wouldn't like that, would you? Well, anyway, that's what I wanted to say.'

That's how it would be, everything nice and honest. Here I am, Dad, there's nothing else I can say. Help me – or leave me in the worst situation I've ever been in in my whole life. Fantastic! And honest Konrad would have nothing else to do but wait to see what His Majesty, Dad von Bantelmann of The Dransfeld will decide in the case in question.

However, plan number three has one small, one very tiny defect: plan number three is cowardly. Cowardly through and through. And not only that – it would be a betrayal. Because, if you say to a friend, I'll help you and I'll keep it a secret, and then if you go and tell someone else the whole story, then you've betrayed your friend. Especially if the someone else is your own dad.

That's the way it is. There's no getting away from it. Konrad Bantelmann is in a fix. No matter what he does, it'll
be wrong. Plan number one or plan number two: he lies to his dad. Plan number three: he betrays Fridz. There is no way out of this dilemma. And that's what it says in black, black letters under the three plans in The Dransfeld notebook, when Mum calls him to dinner.

People who are in a fix like this are either very noisy or very quiet. Konrad Bantelmann is, as you might expect, very quiet – so quiet that after a while it starts to needle people.

‘Is something wrong?' asks Mum.

‘No,' says Konrad. That's the first lie.

‘Were you with your new girlfriend today?' Dad wants to know.

‘Yes,' says Konrad.

Is that a lie too? Maybe, on account of the not entirely unproblematic, or to put it another way, on account of the very dangerous word,
girlfriend?
No, Konrad clenches his teeth and decides it's not a lie.

‘So?' says Dad. ‘How did it go today? You two seem pretty inseparable.'

‘Hmm,' says Konrad. If Dad only knew how right he is! At any rate, the fate of Konrad Bantelmann is currently inseparably linked to Fridz's rabbit box.

‘They're in love,' says Peter.

Would you listen to that! Konrad had never before so fervently wished his brother on Mars or, better still, on Jupiter. But by a great effort of will, and with bright red ears, he manages not to say anything. The subject is just too sensitive.

‘Anything else interesting to tell us?' asks Dad, in this tone of voice that means Konrad had better watch out if he
doesn't want to make a total mess of everything. A bad atmosphere at dinner would really be the last straw.

‘Well,' says Konrad, pretending to think hard. Actually he is thinking hard. What can he tell Dad that will stop him asking questions?

This might do: ‘Friederike,' says Konrad, ‘she's got
Crazy Bugs 4
now. It's class. When you're on level seven, then you haven't just got ten nets and stuff like that, but you have this fully automatic catching device and this is what it looks like: there's this big arm, it's on a tower or a mast or something. And it's about this long.' Konrad indicates diagonally across the table. ‘And if you click on this spot with the mouse, and at the same time you press the Enter key, then –'

‘Thank you,' says Dad. He feels quite sufficiently informed, he says, and is pleased about his son's participation in the development of computer technology. Then he goes into the kitchen, gets a bottle of beer and doesn't ask any more questions. Which is fine.

But Konrad doesn't ask any questions either. Which is not so fine. Because dinner is coming to an end, without any problems and without a bad atmosphere having descended – but also without a solution to Konrad's larger-than-life rabbit problem.

At eight sharp, Peter and Konrad wriggle themselves into position beside Dad, to hear the next instalment of the forest snake story.

‘We were,' says Dad, and Peter is being so careful not to kick him in the stomach that he forgets to breathe, ‘at the bad quarrel that the two half-snakes, Ana and Basis, were
having about what they should do next in the matter of the mysterious crystal.'

‘Poooo,' goes Peter, who has almost suffocated. Luckily, only almost. Unfortunately, however, he kicks Dad pretty hard in the side as he takes a breath.

‘Oops,' he says.

‘Not to worry,' says Dad. He says he has got so used to being kicked while storytelling that at this stage he would probably not be able to think of anything to tell if he isn't kicked a bit first. It's pretty normal by now. Most people have to be kicked to make them think of something.

‘Ha ha,' says Dad.

It's this so-called irony. Konrad knows this, but he chooses to say nothing.

‘Well, then,' says Dad instead, ‘as it happens the sun is shining again, which means that somehow life must go on. The members of the expedition spend the whole next day debating how the mysterious crystal is to be brought to the great resarch laboratory. It's up to the two forest snakes now to step smartly up to the mark. They don't know what has to be done, but they know that time is getting tight, and that whatever it is must be done quickly.'

Dad pauses. ‘Just like real life.'

‘Go on,' says Peter.

‘Very well.' Dad sighs. ‘The two half-snakes wait until the dark, tropical night falls over the crystal and over the expedition, and then they set out, separately, on secret voyages of discovery. Who can remember what Basis wanted?'

A test question. Konrad really has had enough of those
today. ‘To find out what this whole thing is about, this thing with the mysterious crystal,' he says all the same.

‘Correct,' says Dad. ‘Very well remembered. And for this reason he slithers to the point on the crystal, where the explorers – completely in vain – had broken off a piece. It is very still in the jungle night. As still as if the forest animals were holding their breath in suspense.'

Peter holds his own breath again.

‘Hey,' says Dad, ‘not you, the forest animals. Or are you a forest animal?'

‘No,' says Peter and breathes again.

‘Well,' says Dad. ‘And the forest snake Basis has hardly reached the tip of the crystal when something extraordinary and exciting happens. As he creeps up to it in the dark, he touches the exposed crystal. For the first time in all these years, he touches its smooth, reflective surface, and immediately the crystal starts to flash and to glow. It flashes and glows red and blue and green and yellow deep down into the depths where it is still buried deep in the earth.'

‘Oh,' says Peter. ‘Is it hot too?'

‘No,' says Dad.

‘But if it's glowing like that …'

‘No,' says Dad again. ‘It is definitely not hot. It does flash and glow, but it is not hot, lukewarm at the most, and also it gives off a soft, ringing sound.'

Peter lifts Lackilug the mouse up so that the little bell around its neck tinkles.

‘A soft ringing sound,' says Dad, ‘not a tinkling sound. It's different.'

Peter stuffs Lackilug the mouse back down under the covers. He says something that no one can understand. Possibly he is offended.

‘In any case,' says Dad, ‘Basis gets a shock like he never got before. But before he can even think of fleeing, the most astonishing thing of all happens. What do you think it might be?'

Of course the boys haven't a clue.

‘Well, listen up, now!' says Dad. ‘By some miracle, and entirely soundlessly, a door opens in the tip of the crystal, at precisely the spot where the forest snake touched it, a little door that until this moment was not to be seen. A door just big enough for a normal adult forest snake to slip through without any trouble. And as if driven by a secret power, Basis the forest snake does indeed slip, quivering with excitement, in through the circular forest snake door and into the inside of the crystal.

‘Whereupon, no sooner has the tip of the tail of the snake gone through it, than the door closes over, so that no one can see where it once was. Well, what do you say to that?'

The boys say nothing at all.

‘Hmm,' says Dad. ‘And now things really start happening. The forest snake slips through a long, dark channel, spiralling and twirling continuously, deeper and deeper into the crystal. It penetrates so far that it thinks it's on a journey to the centre of the earth and is totally lost – and then at last a hatch opens and the forest snake flies another bit through the empty air and then lands gently, on the most
astonishingly soft floor of a large room, which is very light and seems to be made completely of glass.'

Dad waits to see if the boys are going to say anything, but they say nothing.

‘So, as I said, it's very bright in this room, and all around the walls and also on the ceiling there are all these buttons and switches and monitors and as many kinds of technical gadgets as you can possibly imagine. And there, just at that moment, as he is contemplating all the buttons and switches and all the bits and bobs, it suddenly becomes clear to the forest snake what the whole thing is. And what also becomes clear to him is who he himself really is!'

Dad pauses. You can practically touch his satisfaction with his story this evening. His satisfaction with his story hovers, in a manner of speaking, like a great, red, billowing kite in the air directly over Peter's bed.

‘Well?' says Dad. ‘What do you think? What has the forest snake discovred inside the crystal?'

Not a clue. What could a forest snake discover inside a crystal with lots of buttons? That you can have strange experiences at night in the forest? That you shouldn't go into places just because you fit into them? Or what?

If he were to be quite honest, Konrad is not all that terribly interested this evening in the doings of this half-snake. He has his own worries. And his main worry is that he only has about ten minutes to ask his father the question of questions. Because in ten minutes, the light will go out and then it's not just good night, dear forest snake, but also, good night, not-so-dear rabbit project. And goodbye, dear Fridz!

‘Well,' says Dad, ‘wait till you hear! First of all, the forest snake has this great feeling of familiarity and security. He doesn't know why, but he feels quite at home, and as if everything is fine. It lasts a few minutes and then he begins to remember that the mysterious crystal is really a spaceship from the planet Klimbambium, and he himself is the transmogrified Klimbambionic chief astronaut Nil Ambstronk.'