“Very well,” said the dwarf half an hour later, “if someone could pick me up, I shall tell you who I am.”
The Captain hurried to pick him up delicately, and when he was up, feeling much taller now, the dwarf coughed a little, straightened his hat and said solemnly:
“I am the dwarf Carozo Minujín, Owner and Lord of the Forest of Gulubú.”
“Aaaahh…” we all said with a round of applause, even though we’d never heard of the Forest of Gulubú.
At that moment Granddad took a step forward, grabbed the dwarf by the nose, and said:
“You’re a liar!”
“A liar? Me?” roared the dwarf, furious.
“Yes, you,” insisted Granddad. “I’ve spent my whole life studying geography and I’ve never seen any forest or country or lake or corner or football pitch called Gulubú. It’s all lies!”
The dwarf started flapping his hands about to try and hit Granddad, but he couldn’t reach him.
“This Gulubú forest of yours does not exist!” screamed Granddad. “Show me, go on! Point it out on the map of the Argentine Republic. Well? Let’s see it, then.”
“Me, point it out to you? No supisichi way!” roared the dwarf. “The Forest of Gulubú doesn’t appear on any maps, sir, and that’s all there is to it.”
“Ah,” replied Granddad, “so you’d have me believe that a forest that doesn’t appear on any maps really is a forest?”
“Yes, sir. And if you like I’ll take you there and show it to you.”
I thought: How delightful, the little dwarf is going to take us in his carriage to see a forest that doesn’t exist on any maps!
But my grouchy old granddad seemed determined to rain on our parade, because he just kept stamping his feet and saying over and over:
“No sir, I’m not going to some inferior little forest that isn’t on any maps.”
“Inferior?” screamed the dwarf. “Did you say inferior? Well, how can it be in Ferior, sir, if it’s right here in Argentina? Well, what do you say to that?”
Which was a good point.
“Well, if it’s not an inferior little forest, it must be a rubbish little forest,” grumbled Granddad, who was not prepared to give in.
And then… Oh, I’d rather not remember what happened next!
The little dwarf Carozo Minujín drew a sword! Naturally it wasn’t a very big sword, but it did look really sharp. Right then and there he challenged Granddad to a duel for having insulted his lovely forest.
“Come on now, don’t quarrel,” I said. But the dwarf flapped his arms about until he had got free of the Captain, and landed firmly on the ground.
“Let me at him,” said Granddad. “Let me at him to defend my honour—and more importantly, the honour of geography!”
And right there they started to fight. Chiss, chass, clink, clank! went their swords. The little dwarf, his face flushed with rage, muttered again and again through gritted teeth:
“Supisichi supisichi supisichi.”
It was like a musketeer movie. They leapt about, twirled, skipped and somersaulted.
Until Granddad got tired, because to be frank he is an old man, and asked for a temporary truce. He went off to rest a bit beneath a eucalyptus tree.
The dwarf put his sword away beneath his beard and said:
“I have won a great victory. I deserve to be picked up to greet this audience.”
My Auntie Clodomira picked him up and he raised both his arms to greet the crowds, who cheered his name:
“Long live Mister Little Dwarf Carozo Minujín!”, which made him blush with pleasure.
Then he said solemnly:
“Now I invite you all to come for some hot chocolate at my palace in the Forest of Gulubú, so you can see it really does exist.”
“Let’s go, let’s go!” cried everyone except Granddad, as we were all desperate to take a carriage ride and drink hot chocolate in an unknown forest.
And do you know what the Fireman (who was still sulking) said?
He just made this ridiculous comment:
“Oats soup is quite the only thing that really makes me smile. I don’t like going places, and hot chocolate is vile!”
Would you believe it?