That night we had a family meeting, all of us sitting on the floor like Native Americans because, as you’ll remember, we’d been left without any furniture.
My mum said:
“We have to report Dailan Kifki’s escape to the police.”
My dad said:
“No, this is a matter for the local council.”
According to my Auntie Clodomira:
“No, we need to inform the UFO investigation centre.”
And my brother Roberto said:
“We’re toast.”
“Meanwhile,” I said, my own bottom lip starting to quiver now, “poor Dailan Kifki is flying around the sky with nobody to make him his lovely oats soup.”
Then suddenly we heard three loud knocks on the front door.
Knock,
and Knock
and Knock.
I leapt up:
“It’s them, they’re back!”
I ran over to open the door, and who do you think I found?
Dailan?
No.
The Fireman?
No.
I found a different fireman. A huge one with moustaches like motorcycle handlebars, his jacket covered in insignias, medals, stripes, epaulettes, braid and rosettes.
The Big Fireman saluted and introduced himself:
“I’m Captain of the Fireman crew. Hurroo hurroo hurray!”
I saluted back, and with some alarm I asked him what he wanted. He replied, solemnly:
“One fireman’s missing—what to do? He’s not been seen all day!”
“A fireman?” I said, acting all absent-minded. “What fireman?”
“I counted them at breakfast time, and one had gone astray!”
“Oh… Yes, Mister Captain,” I answered, blushing. “Yes, it’s quite true, there was a fireman here, but, um… But I think he’s just popped out for a bit.”
The Captain insisted:
“No, no, I’m sure as sure can be, you’ve hidden him away!”
I let him in so he could search the house. As my family watched in astonishment, the Captain looked inside the fridge, behind the flowerpots and under the rug.
Naturally, he found no trace of the Fireman. Then the Captain frowned at me, and said:
“Put on your hat and come with me, our tram ride will be brief—we’re off to the Police HQ, ’cos you’re a fireman thief!”
Can you imagine such an outrage? Me, arrested? Me, a thief!
I wanted to protest, but he was staring so hard at me that I put on my hat without a word, said goodbye to my family and left with the Captain. Once we were out on the street, he took me by the hand and walked me to the bus stop.
We finally reached the police station, where we were seen by a blue superintendent. Fortunately he was very nice indeed, because I was trembling with fear.
Well, the Captain made his accusation, pointing at me and telling the Superintendent that I’d stolen a fireman.
“That’s just not true, Mister Superintendent,” I protested.
And we began to argue, all three of us at once. Or, rather, I should say the four of us, because there was someone else there.
A parrot. The Superintendent’s parrot who, to make matters worse, only knew how to say:
“We’re-toast-we’re-toast-we’re-toast-we’re-toast.”
As if I really needed to hear those words.
Meanwhile the Captain took a little hankie out of his cuff and wept like a lunatic for his lost fireman.
“Well then, miss,” said the Superintendent. “You just return the Fireman and we’ll say no more about it.”
“But I haven’t got him, Mister Superintendent. Didn’t I tell you the Fireman just popped out for a bit?”
“Well then, tell me where he’s popped out to and I’ll send for him right away. My three guards can go fetch him.”
And then I fell silent, because I was embarrassed to have to admit that the Fireman had popped out for a flight through the air on the back of an elephant.
Who would believe me?
No one, that’s who.
But still I told them the truth, and sure enough, neither of them believed me. Nor did the parrot.
But I repeated the story to them so seriously that they ended up believing me.
Then the Superintendent said that, since a flying elephant could be a serious danger to the city, we would have to alert the local council at once.
And so the three of us took the bus over to the Town Hall. The parrot stayed behind to look after the police station, the three guards and the prisoner.
I was very pleased that they hadn’t put me in prison, so on the way I bought an ice cream for the Captain and a balloon for the Superintendent.
We reached the Town Hall and were met by the secretary of the secretary of the secretary of the secretary of the secretary of the Mayor.
Many hours later we were received by the Mayor in person, who was wearing a lovely green frock coat, a cardboard top hat and an enormous tin watch on his tummy.
He greeted us in a very friendly manner and invited us to sit in three little gold chairs.
We told him the whole story, and the Mayor looked very surprised and distressed. Then he called for a huge map of THE CITY OF BUENOS AIRES and told me to point to the area where Dailan Kifki and the Fireman might be flying round about now.
“I don’t know, Mister Mayor,” I replied. “Around here… or rather, maybe a bit more like that way?”
I took my finger off the map and just pointed up at the sky.
“Hm,” said the Mayor, thoughtfully. “If you think they’re still in the sky and haven’t come down yet onto some street, or park, or small square or public boulevard or building or avenue of Buenos Aires, we will have to refer the matter to the Ministry of Aeronautics, because this isn’t a problem that we at the Town Hall will be able to solve.”
So off we all went, the Captain, the Superintendent, the Mayor and me, to get the bus over to the Ministry of Aeronautics.