PART 6
It took me two or three seconds to get used to the blinding whiteness that covered everything: it must have snowed all night. The snowflakes were still whirling around in the wind, transforming the street into a huge pillow fight. There wasn’t a soul outside. No pedestrians or cars. Nothing. Above my head, electric garlands wobbled in the wind. What kind of adventure had I got myself into? I had no idea, but I didn’t really have a choice. I had to try… I mustered up my courage, tucked my magic box under my arm and walked up the street at a good pace with my bag on my back.
My plan was to run into someone who would take me to the Cauldron district (where I had never been) and who would know exactly where the cul-de-sac was. The best was to ask a taxi driver. The only taxi station I knew was across the street from the train station, a good two kilometres away. Despite my barnacle of a brother who kept jumping in his bag, I made up my mind to walk that far. The city’s speakers were playing Christmas music on a loop. It would help me endure the trek…
I quickly got disenchanted. The snow was deep and compact which made walking difficult. The damp pierced through my boots and my miserable fringed jumper was far too thin to keep me warm. I realized that my teeth were chattering. If I didn’t want to stiffen up and freeze, I had to find a solution. Quickly.
I found shelter under a porch, put my Christmas present down and took its lid off. It may not have been the best idea, but I needed a way to move quickly, and if this cursed magic box was able to turn my brother into a macaque, well! I was ready to accept any other miracle it could produce. All I had left to do was cross my fingers – even though they were getting extremely numb – and get to work.
I didn’t have to look for long. The opera hat caught my eye almost immediately. You know what that is? It’s a squishable top hat: it makes for easier storage. In the box, it looked like a black pancake, a thick felt pancake. I took it by the rim and gave it a good flick of the wrist: CLACK, the hat immediately unfolded and went back to its normal shape. Now what? I looked at the instructions, but as I have already mentioned, it gave no explanation. For this accessory, all it said was:
Hum! That wasn't especially helpful, but I had to try. I stood squarely and did a few magical movements over the hat's opening and said in the most confident voice I could muster:
– Tit for tat, fit for hat, give me a way, magic topper, to get from A to B quicker!
To my great disappointment, nothing happened. I suddenly realised that something was missing. I rooted through the box and pulled out every respectable magician's must-have accessory: a magic wand. It was made of rough wood. Like everything else, it had an authentic, almost intimidating look. I tapped the side of the hat with it, repeated my magic words, and this time, for the second time since morning, the unbelievable happened: a shower of sparks came out of the opening and I felt the hat suddenly become much heavier. I plunged my arm inside, and felt a round rubbery surface under my fingers. I pulled, and the front of a bicycle tyre appeared! I pulled again, and the whole front of a real bicycle appeared!!! At this moment in the trick, the hat and its contents became too heavy and crashed loudly onto the pavement, bringing me down with them. I had to take the hat with both hands and pull it backwards to completely uncover the bicycle.
Unable to believe my eyes, I contemplated the bicycle lying there, shining like a new penny on the pavement. I should have been delighted, but I was scandalised, so scandalised that I immediately decided that there was no way I would ride such a contraption.
Why? Because it came straight out of a cartoon, that's why. I'll quickly go over the frame's loud colours, the neon saddle in the shape of a baby's seat, and the little windmills attached to the handlebar to get to the main point: the back wheel was completely warped. It looked like a rollercoaster. And I was supposed to pedal on that? Someone somewhere may have had a sense of humour, but not me. Not in my current situation, anyway.
(Go to PAGE 7)