George’s Marvellous Medicine by Roald Dahl. Part 13.
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Chapter 14 | Marvelous Medicine Number Three
“Here it is!” cried Mr. Killy Kranky, rushing into the kitchen. “One carton of flea powder for dogs and one can of brown shoe polish!”
George poured the flea powder into the giant stewing pot. Then he scooped the shoe polish out of its can and added that as well.
“Stir it up, George!” shouted Mr. Kranky. “Give it another boil! We’ve got it this time! I’ll bet we’ve got it!”
After Marvelous Medicine Number Three had been boiled and stirred, George took a cupful of it out into the yard to try it on another chicken. Mr. Kranky ran after him, flapping his arms and hopping with excite-ment. “Come and watch this one!” he called out to Mrs. Kranky. “Come and watch us turning an ordinary chicken into a lovely great big one that lays eggs as large as footballs!”
“I hope you do better than last time,” said Mrs. Kranky, following them out.
“Come on, chicken,” said George, holding out a spoonful of Medicine Number Three. “Good chicken.
Chick-chick-chick-chick-chick. Have some of this lovely medicine.”
A magnificent black cockerel with a scarlet comb came stepping over. The cockerel looked at the spoon and it went peck.
“Cock-a-doodle-do!” squawked the cockerel, shooting up into the air and coming down again.
“Watch him now!” cried Mr. Kranky. “Watch him grow! Any moment he’s going to start getting bigger and bigger!”
Mr. Killy Kranky, Mrs. Kranky and little George stood in the yard staring at the black cockerel. The cockerel stood quite still. It looked as though it had a headache.
“What’s happening to its neck?” Mrs. Kranky said.
“It’s getting longer,” George said.
“I’ll say it’s getting longer,” Mrs. Kranky said.
Mr. Kranky, for once, said nothing.
“Last time it was the legs,” Mrs. Kranky said. “Now it’s the neck. Who wants a chicken with a long neck? You can’t eat a chicken’s neck.”
It was an extraordinary sight. The cockerel’s body hadn’t grown at all. But the neck was now about six feet long.
“All right, George,” Mr. Kranky said. “What else have you forgotten?”
“I don’t know,” George said.
“Oh, yes you do,” Mr. Kranky said. “Come on, boy, think. There’s probably just one vital thing mis-sing, and you’ve got to remember it.”
“I put in some engine oil from the garage,” George said. “Did you have that on your list?”
“Eureka!” cried Mr. Kranky. “That’s the answer!
How much did you put in?”
“Half a pint,” George said.
Mr. Kranky ran to the garage and found another half pint of oil. “And some antifreeze,” George called after him. “I sloshed in a bit of antifreeze.”
Chapter 15 | Marvelous Medicine Number Four
Back in the kitchen once again, George, with Mr. Kranky watching him anxiously, tipped half a pint of engine oil and some antifreeze into the giant stewing pot.
“Boil it up again!” cried Mr. Kranky. “Boil it and stir it!”
George boiled it and stirred it.
“You’ll never get it right,” said Mrs. Kranky. “Don’t forget you don’t just have to have the same things but you’ve got to have exactly the same amounts of those things. And how can you possibly do that?”
“You keep out of this!” cried Mr. Kranky. “We’re doing fine! We’ve got it this time, you see if we haven’t!”
This was George’s Marvelous Medicine Number Four, and when it had boiled for a couple of minutes, George once again carried a cupful of it out into the yard. Mr. Kranky ran after him. Mrs. Kranky followed more slowly. “You’re going to have some mighty queer chickens around here if you go on like this,” she said.
“Dish it out, George!” cried Mr. Kranky. “Give a spoonful to that one over there!” He pointed to a brown hen.
George knelt down and held out the spoon with the new medicine in it. “Chick-chick,” he said. “Try some of this.”
The brown hen walked over and looked at the spoon. Then it went peck.
“Ouch!” it said. Then a funny whistling noise came out of its beak.
“Watch it grow!” shouted Mr. Kranky.
“Don’t be too sure,” said Mrs. Kranky. “Why is it whistling like that?”
“Keep quiet, woman!” cried Mr. Kranky. “Give it a chance!”
They stood there staring at the brown hen.
“It’s getting smaller,” George said. “Look at it, Dad. It’s shrinking.”
And indeed it was. In less than a minute, the hen had shrunk so much it was no bigger than a new-hatched chick. It looked ridiculous.