Chapter Two

                                            The Ancient Parrot

When they first began to spread their civilization on their planet, turkles found the need to build canals, because there were not enough natural rivers for their irrigation and cargo bearing needs. Klubbe remembered that from geography at school. It cropped up in history, too, he recalled.

  He lent back in his seat and smiled. Feeling content, he acknowledged that his float down the canal would soothe his heart, calm his mind, and make more tranquil his inspired state. Though the barge he was a passenger on seemed to be cutting through the water at a fairly slow speed, he soon noticed that the Old Stork Inn was lost to his sight, a long way behind him, hidden by a clump of willow trees that lent over and shadowed a bend in the canal.

  To his left stood the rudderman, who introduced himself to him and the other passengers as Mook. A fairly tall, broad chested, middle aged turkle, Mook stood with his feet wide apart, as if he balanced on a barrel, holding the tiller of the rudder in both hands, while gazing down the length of the barge and the canal with a glint in his large, round, light grey eyes.

  Looking beyond Mook, the rudderman, Klubbe could see herds of bungcowths grazing in flat, grassy fields.

  Bungcowths are like very large cows with black coats, white horns and big, brown, undisturbable eyes.

  Turning to his right, Klubbe could see rough, unploughed moorland, with clumps of barka toa trees in the far distance.

  Among the reeds, along the canal edges, he saw families of zimpnimps swimming slowly and florgs hopping on and off lily pads and mossy stones. Florgs are like dark green toads with large black eyes. Zimpnimps are ducks with blue and white feathers.

  "Feel a bit fletched," said Mook, suddenly.

  Fletched being a turkle word for thirsty.

  "Would you like a drink of norg juice from my flask?" asked Klubbe, looking up at the rudderman's face.

  Norg juice was made from crushed norg nuts, well squashed rootle berries and water.

  "No, thanks," said Mook, gratefully. "I'll have a few swigs of blootch."

  Klubbe nodded his head understandingly, while he bit into his green apple, and watched Mook take more than one swig from his jar of blootch, which was a thick, black, treacle like liquid, made from the fruit of blootch trees.

  "Will this be your first visit to Unkka?" asked Mook, a few swigs of blootch later.

  "It will," said Klubbe, who felt suddenly talkative. "And I've never been in a barge before on a canal before, but I have floated on the ocean in my coracle, when I was a hermit. Always thought I'd enter Unkka on foot, if I ever went there. Never thought I'd float into it in a barge."

  "First time, then. You'll enjoy it. Many buildings you'll see there, statues and parks, all on a big scale," said Mook, his eyes bright, his chest inflated with inspiration and pride. "And it is all ruled by King Zilk and Queen Zubria. Best king and queen we could have. All turkles love them. Can't do enough for them."

  "And where would be the best place to stay?" asked Klubbe.

  "That would be the Ancient Parrot, my local inn," said Mook. "Often in there for a meal with my wife, Zebb. Live nearby, we do, in our old mariner mansion. Was a mariner, once. Sailed on the high seas and the wide oceans. When I wed Zebb, I decided I could'nt expect her and our children to wait for me to come home, voyage after voyage, so I became a bargeman, a rudderman, a steersman, a canal guide, as you can see. Like it I do. Not tame at all. Looks simple, but needs skill, to steer in a straight line, without bumping into other craft and the canal banks.

  "This canal we sail on, like many others, ends its journey in a great pool in the middle circles of Unkka. Now this craft, the Blue Drongdurgen, named after the greater blue drongdurgen duck, as likes to nest and waddle about these waters, is a pleasure craft, built for passengers, but most other barges you'll see are for cargo bearing. Crops and timber, furniture and art works, things of all kinds, they bear out and into Unkka.

  "Other kinds of vessels you'll see on these waterways, besides barges, such as boats, canoes, rafts, coracles, yachts, stradders and luglighters. Pleasure craft, most of them, like this. A fine life I have, which I will lead until I am a right aged turkle and beyond, until time turns no tide."

  "How would you like to explore space and be a star mariner?" asked Klubbe.

  "Now you talk from out of your dreams," said Mook. "Love it, I would, to sail the oceans of space. A star mariner. Sounds a fair fate."

  "Then you could be a member of my crew," said Klubbe. "You could be the Flight Path Controller, to steer my invention, the first flying craft, the Golden Star Coracle, on a voyage out, beyond the known margins to the furthest star belt. You see, I am no longer a hermit, as I was before. I am an inventor. I am going to Unkka to build my invention."

  "Thought you looked a singular seed. An inventor. Never met one before," said Mook, impressed. "Keep me in my mind, certainly."

  "I will," said Klubbe.

  He then closed his mouth, fell silent, and became as conversational as a clam, and let his gaze wander back to the land passing by on either side of the canal, which was hilly now, he noticed, building up to the far stretching roots of dark blue stone mountains. A great flock of gloobie geese, he saw, flapping their long white wings out of the eastern sky, honking at clouds to part in their path, while shaking the air with their hard beaked chatter.

  Out from a long, wide mountain valley, the barge bore him, then straight through a vast green plain and under an archway in a high golden stone wall, to enter the great turkle metropolis of Unkka.

  After he had disembarked from his barge in Kloptar Harbour, he felt very much like a tourist, as he walked uncertainly towards the major city streets with a copy of the Unkka Guide Book open in his hands.

  On a map on page nine he found the location of the Ancient Parrot. It was not far from Kelbotta Square, where he was now, he was relieved to observe.

  Although Unkka was called the Golden City, not all of its buildings were built of golden stone, he noticed, as he made his way towards his destination. Some of them he walked by were the colour of dark brown nuts, which made them to his sight not only comforting to look at, but also extremely edible. Others were silver, glinting grey, while some of the wooden ones were painted in cherry red, black, blue, white, green, orange, and some in colours that were new to his vision and harder to name, like flaming apricot, damson tangerine, violet blush turquoise and jaunty jasmine. And not all the buildings he saw were built in the traditional turkle round mound way. Some of them were tall, broad and flat roofed, others were wide, high and roofed with a dome. Here and there, he saw tall, thin, conical topped towers, and the odd spiral spire, rising above the rooftops.

  Following his map, he walked down Walrus Tusk Way, which was crowded with turkles busily disappearing into and reappearing out of large furniture stores and indoor bazaars, amongst other places, while a few sat calmly on benches under the shade of tall tungalith trees or made their way to other parts of the city.

  Feeling rather bewildered by the size of the city and the number of turkles in it, he was relieved when he found himself walking down Mellumdum Lane, where stood the Ancient Parrot, and there he stopped by its sign by its door, exactly where his map had sited it to be. It was a very tall, wide building, built of dark hazel brown bricks, with many windows and a flat roof.

  Up the four grey stone steps, through the doorway, down the entrance hall, he dreamily plodded, to find himself stood before the reception desk, where he rung the bell for attention.

  "A single room for one, please," he requested, nervously, when a well wrinkled, slightly stooping, elderly turkle man appeared on the other side of the desk.

  "You are late in the arrivals, but we do have a vacant room upstairs, on the second floor. Welcome to the Ancient Parrot. I am Jolburt, the innkeeper," said the elderly turkle man, with a slow bow of his head, which glowed with the beam of his smile. "That will be four copper turkle coins for the room and the use of the bathroom and one bronze turkle coin for your meals."

  "That sounds reasonable," said Klubbe, who had never stayed in an inn before. "I have a large number of coins here in my bag. They were given to me by my great, great uncle Albe the larg finder."

  "What is a larg?" asked Jolburt, raising the wrinkles of his brow.

  "A kind of obscure fish," explained Klubbe. "It lives under rocks. It is difficult to find. But my great, great uncle Albe found one. 'I have found a larg,' he announced to several turkles on the shore, when he found a larg under a large pebble, which subsided onto his toe, while he was paddling in a rock pool with his dear wife, my great, great aunt Jopsie. 'I have found a larg,' he repeated. Ever since he has been famous as Albe the larg finder. He is the only famous turkle in our turkle family tree."

  "And in all its involved and intricate branches and deep delving roots, who are you?" asked Jolburt, smiling.

  "I am Klubbe and before I came to Unkka, as an inventor, I was a hermit in a house in the sand hills, near the ocean shore," said Klubbe, with a little more confidence. "I have come here to build my invention, the Golden Star Coracle."

  "And what in all the wheels and wires is that?" asked Jolburt.

  "A coracle that can fly," explained Klubbe. "It will be manned by me as captain and my well chosen crew of star mariners, who wish to explore with me he celestial halls and the unmapped oceans of infinite space, to sail from star to star, to enter the unimaginable magnitude of the cosmic expanse, to discover other worlds, maybe, planets, like ours, or things far stranger. I came here to establish my idea as a visible object."

  "That's best. Then we can all see it. Not just you. You are the first inventor ever to stay in my inn," said Jolburt. "Which makes me think. I can't remember the last time I read or heard of someone inventing something. It must be an exciting occupation, inventing something, an object that did not exist before. Have you always been an inventor?"

  "No, not always," said Klubbe. "As I said, I was first a hermit, before I became an inventor."

  "A hermit. That is more unique and rarer still," said Jolburt.

  He then placed a large bronze key on the desk and pointed at it as if it was of great significence.

  "Here is the key for room seven, second floor," he said, smiling upon Klubbe. "May you enjoy your stay."

  "Thank you," said Klubbe. "I'm sure I will."

  After paying Jolburt for his room and his meals, he went up to the second floor in a lift, which he enjoyed, not having been in one before, and then he entered his room, which he thought was pleasant, airy, solid and peaceful, and not as small as he imagined it might be, with a long, low, wide bed, a rown wardrobe, a white wash basin, two chairs, a table and an interestingly angled view of outside from its windows.

  To make his room more his home, he spread his master plan scroll on the top of the yellow blanket on his bed and flicked through the pages of his notebook. Studying his work done in long sessions of silent solitude soon made him feel himself, more solid, contained, and he smiled, warmly, with satisfaction, and gave his head a nod. His empty stomach then became growly with hunger, so he took the lift down to the dining hall.

  "A single table for one, please," he said, speaking to the rather short, middle aged turkle waiter at the dining hall entrance.

  The waiter smiled, bowed his head, slightly, and led him to a small, round table by a middle window in the west wall.

  Accepting Bork the waiter's recommendations, Klubbe began his meal waith a large, deep bowl of hoospegus soup, followed by a plate of corn crush mash with bloote beans, and ended it with a bowl of hot nooka nut slab, covered in zempola custard, accompanied by a cup of black burrkka bean coffee.

  After taking a final sip of his black burrkka bean coffee, he decided that he had enjoyed his meal, and now felt suddenly weary. He understood why, remembering his long canal journey and his overwhelming walk through the city streets. So back he went, up to his room, where he slept deep and well in his bed. He woke early, feeling refreshed.

  Down in the dining hall, he enjoyed for breakfast a large, deep bowl of white oat porridge and a cup of brown brunta leaf tea. He then took his master plan scroll and his notebook in his travel bag to the City Council Hall in High Water Fountain Square. It was a grand, golden stone, dome roofed building, which made him feel very young and small indeed. Inside, the main entrance hall seemed to him like a palace, with its shiny silver floor, tall white stone pillars and high, domed ceiling. Quietly, half in a trance, he padded over to the information desk and pressed the attention button.

  "Yes, how can I help you? My name is Stook, the information desk officere," said a fairly short, intense, important looking, later middle aged turkle man, who suddenly appeared from a door in the wall on the other side of the desk.

  "My name is Klubbe and at the moment I am staying at the Ancient Parrot, and I would like to register my invention and I seek planning permission to build a building to build it in," said Klubbe. "I have my invention here in my bag in the form of notes and master plan scroll."

  "Very well. Leave your notes and scroll with me. I will give them to the Chief Council Circle," said Stook. "Expect a letter when it arrives. It will tell you when to attend a meeting, if you are granted one."

  "Thank you," said Klubbe.

  Rather reluctantly, he then left his notebook and master plan scroll with Stook, and walked dreamily back to the Ancient Parrot.

  He arrived back there in a weakening daze at twenty lins past midyan, he noticed on the inn clock, which hung on the wall behind the reception desk. In turkle time a lin is the briefest moment that can just about be measured. Ninety lins make a tikk, one hundred tikks make a lod, thirty eight lods make a yan, the time it takes the planet Ankor to make one complete turn in the path of the star, Ruru, its main source of light and warmth. Ten yans make a zac. Six zacs make a yod, twenty yods make a zik. Twelve ziks make a zan. Sixteen zans make a nik.  

  Once it was past midyan, Klubbe usually had his lunch, so he entered the dining hall and was led to a table by the west windows by a waiter named Smett.

  "May I recommend a plate of gurtee cheese hazzup with a nice cup of windflower tea, sir, " said Smett, who looked rather thin for a turkle and was fairly elderly.

  "Certainly, you may," said Klubbe, as he settled into his chair at the table.

  Before he could say more, he noticed a large, aged, light grey feathered parrot with a long, wrinkled beak, perched on a far window ledge, gazing at him with intense curiosity.

  "Is that why this inn is called the Ancient Parrot?" he asked, looking up at Smett, while indicating the parrot with his left eyebrow.

  "Exactly so," said Smett. "He's an ancient mountain parrot from the high peaks of the Viddarian Mountains, which lie far to the north of our fair city. Practically lives in here, he does. He sat on a pile of stones and watched the workers build this inn. A long time ago that was. So he's older than the inn. Been visiting the place ever since. Must like watching turkles enjoying themselves, as they do in here, relaxing, eating, drinking, talking and laughing, and such like. Maybe he thinks it's his inn, and he's the owner, as it were. Maybe to him this is like a cave in his mountainous home, where he perches, but I don't know about parrots. Not a naturalist. Don't know where he lives when he's not here, but it can't be faraway, as he's soon back. Never gave him a name. Can't think of one. Regulars just call him the old parrot, and that has ever sufficed. Laps up water from a tray, pecks at nuts and berries from a bowl."

  "Thanks for telling me," said Klubbe.

  "My pleasure," said Smett.

  A short while later, as he was munching his meal of gurtee cheese hazzup, Klubbe looked up to see a young, intense, eager looking turkle man, stood in front of his table, holding a thick notebook and a black pen in his right hand.

  "Excuse me. May I join you? You see, you have news from a newcomer printed on your face. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Kribb, a journalist for the Turkle Times," said the young turkle man. "May I be the scribe at your table?"

  "Of course. Sit down," said Klubbe, with a nod and a smile.

  "Thank you," said Kribb, sitting down in a spare chair at Klubbe's table. "I could not help hearing Jolburt, the innkeeper, telling some new arrivals that you are an inventor."

  "That is so, but only recently, to make plain all the cans in my case, for before I decided to become an inventor, I was a hermit," said Klubbe, after a sip of windflower tea. "And I still would be, if it were not for the sudden up flop of a globb fish."

  "May I take notes? This is interesting. Natural history is not my subject. A globb fish you say? I'll look it up," said Kribb, busily scribbling on a page in his notebook with his pen. "Now, what is it that you plan to invent?"

  "The Golden Star Coracle, the first flying craft," said Klubbe. "Not only will it fly in the sky over our planet, but it will also voyage out into the infinitude of outer space."

  Kribb gazed at Klubbe in astonished wonder for a long while.

  There was a silence, an absence of turkle talk.

  "I knew. I always know when a turkle has news to tell. This is big, big as the universe you mention," said Kribb, at last, as he scribbled a few more lines of hasty, correctable later prose inhis notebook. "You are important, obviously, but still a bud, yet to sprout. I understand."

  "I am not important. Only my invention is," said Klubbe.

  "You are too modest. Think. The invention would not exist without you," said Kribb, while still scribbling.

  "Yes, that is so. I see what you mean," said Klubbe.

  "Good," said Kribb. "This will sound selfish, and it is, but I think you can help me achieve my ambition, and that is to be the star reporter for the Turkle Times. At the moment, I am only a general reporter. Only had a few paragraphs published up to now, mostly about common events. But if I could write a good report about you and your invention, it might help lodge my name in the mind of old Hink, our editor."

  "I understand," said Klubbe.

  "And dare I say it, it might impress Meedea," said Kribb.

  "And who is she?" asked Klubbe.

  "The one I wish to marry, the editor of The Courtly Crustacean, a high class magazine for turkle women, no less," said Kribb. "So you see, she'll take a lot of impressing."

  "And does she know you like her?" asked Klubbe.

  "Oh, yes, she knows. We are engaged, almost. It's not all in my mind, said Kribb. "But I still think I ought to impress her. Now I think I will, thanks to you. I can see it. My life from now on wil be a serene sail into bliss."

  "I'm glad to hear it," said Klubbe.

  "And how about you?" asked Kribb.

  "I'm still waiting for planning permission," said Klubbe.

  "I'm sure you'll get it," said Kribb.

  "Thanks," said Klubbe.

  "Would you mind if my colleague, Arpsnapp, who is a photographer for the Turkle Times, took a photograph of you to go with my article about you?" asked Kribb.

  "But I've done nothing yet," said Klubbe.

  "Oh, yes you have. You've announced yourself. You have to do it now," said Kribb. "You have to build your invention."

  "You're right, I will," said Klubbe.

  In the next edition of the Turkle Times, at the bottom of page nine, Klubbe saw a small photograph of himself, sat at his table in the dining hall of the Ancient Parrot, with a puzzled, unsure smile on his face, under the headline: Inventor Comes To Unkka.

  Beneath the photograph, he read the following words:

  "As I was in the Ancient Parrot, for the first time I met an inventor. His name is Klubbe. He comes from the village of Snug In The Pillow, which he says is near another village called Mukkmud. Up the Black Carp Canal, he came, in a barge, to our fair city, to build his invention, the Golden Star Coracle, the first flying craft, which at the moment only exists on paper. I am sure all our readers will wish him well in his endeavour, especially as he told me that he would still be a hermit, if it were not for the fact that he was overturned in his coracle while out for a float on the ocean by the sudden up flop of a globb fish, to use his own words. Some of our readers may know that globb fish are fish, but they are larger in size than marine mammals, such as whales and kloons.

  "Words: Kribb. Photograph: Arpsnapp."

  "Well, I'll have to build my invention now," muttered Klubbe, quietly, to himself, as he sat in his room in the Ancient Parrot, gazing at his photograph in the Turkle Times.

  Just before midyan, four yans later, there was a knock on the door of his room.

  He opened it.

  There stood a turkle youth, holding an important looking brown envelope in his right hand.

  "Yes?" said Klubbe.

  "Hello, I'm Zink, the messenger. Hope you're enjoying your stay in the Ancient Parrot," said the turkle youth. "This is for you."

  "Thank you, Zink," said Klubbe. "And I am enjoying it, my stay, that is, and I expect you like living here, too."

  "Oh, yes, I do, thanks for asking," said Zink.

  He then handed Klubbe the envelope, smiled, turned, and padded quietly away.

  Sat on the edge of his bed, alone in his room, Klubbe opened the envelope, to find inside a single sheet of white paper. Upon it, written in black ink, he read the following words:

  "Sir. Please attend a meeting at the City Council Hall after you have recieved this letter and have had your lunch. We will be waiting for you in the Chief Councillor's Office.

  "Yours most promptly, Umbul, Chief Correspondence Officer."

  Klubbe was alarmed by how excited this letter made him feel. He regarded it as the most important letter he had ever had in his life. He knew what it meant. It meant his invention had not been rejected and he was to be given planning permission to build a building to build it in.

  A few lins after midyan, he ate a bowl of crokka root soup for his lunch in the Dining Hall, followed by a cup of tugga leaf tea and two dark green seaweed biscuits. He then hurried his way through the city streets to the City Council Hall in High Water Fountain Square.  

  On entering the main entrance hall, he was glad to see the familiar face of Stook at the information desk.

  "You are expected, as you know," said Stook, as Klubbe came to a halt before him. "Brunt will show you to the meeting place where all fair judgements are given and welcome advice conveyed."

  "Thank you," said Klubbe.

  At that moment, an elderly turkle man, carrying a golden rod in his right hand, padded to a halt behind Klubbe's right shoulder.

  "Follow me. Do not be nervous, sir," said Brunt. "They may look grand, when you see them, but we are all turkles on the same planet, so they are all on your side."

  "Thanks for the advice," said Klubbe.

  He then followed Brunt up a long, steadily climbing flight of shiny white steps and then to a tall brown door, half way down a corridor.

  Brunt tapped on the door four times with the top of his rod.

  "Come in," said a voice from the other side of the door.

  Brunt opened the door.

  "Klubbe, the inventor," he announced.

  Klubbe smiled, calmly, as he did when he saw a crab on the sea shore, and stepped through the doorway, to find himself in a large room, confronted by a row of eyes, all curious to see him, which belonged to no less than twenty five very important, grand, official looking turkles, most of whom were middle aged, a few exceedingly elderly. Fifteen of them were male, ten of them were female. They sat in high backed chairs, along the far end of a wide table, in a solid, serene, silent line.

  "Good after midyan, Klubbe, may I say on behalf of us all. I am Imug, acting chief spokesman at this meeting. Please sit," said the midmost and eldest looking turkle man, indicating a solitary chair, which stood on the floor, facing the table, a fair few steps away from it, with a nod of his head.

  "Good after midyan to you all," said Klubbe, as he lowered himself slowly backwards, to sit on the chair.

  "Thank you, Brunt. You may leave us," said Imug.

  Brunt bowed his head to the assembly of councillors, tapped the floor twice with the root of his rod, and left the room, leaving the door closed behind him.

  "Firstly, KLubbe, let me put you at your ease. We have accepted your invention as an invention. It is genuine, unique, original, and nobody has thought of it before, and we therefore grant you permission to build it, " said Imug, now giving Klubbe his full attention with a greenish glow in his bright brown, elderly eyes. "We decided, after a long session, that yours is an important invention, so much so, we have shown your notebook and master plan scroll to our king, and he was very moved and impressed, and said that you certainly deserve an I.G., which is an Inventor's Grant, which will enable you to build your invention.

  "After a short debate with our city planners, we have selected the site for your Invention Creation Centre, as you call it in your notebook. It is an old furniture manufacturing workshop, near the central pleasure parks, which can be converted to satisfy your requirments. The conversion work will be done by our own city council craftsmen. Then you can set about hiring your own craftsmen to build your invention inside it. Now, how does that sound to you?"

  "Wonderful. Beyond the brim of of my vision," said Klubbe. "Thank you all very much."

  "Good," said Imug. "Now, Professor Dottia, who sits at my right has a few words to say to you."

  "Yes, I do," said the late middle aged turkle woman, who sat smiling to the right of Imug. "May I say, Klubbe, that not only is your invention possible to make, now that you have revealed it to us, by the use of ruler, pen and pencil, but with a brain like yours, you should have gone to college, but also, with a brain like yours, you don't need to, and I thin it is the way of natural genius to find a simple solution to a complex problem."

  "That's nice," said Klubbe, now relaxed enough to take in the room, its shiny brown floor, walls and ceiling, its rows of portraits, city maps and windows.

  "Good, I'm glad you think so," said Professor Dottia, beaming even more brightly. "Now, as I am Professor of Known Scientific Facts at Unkka University College, I was wondering if you would have me on board, as it were, on your invention, not as a passenger, but as your Science Officer, which I think you will need on any venture into space, which is, as you know, yet unmapped and unknown."

  "Certainly, I would be happy to have you as a member of my crew," said Klubbe.

  "Good, and thank you," said Professor Dottia, relaxing her smile a little. "That's all I'd like to say at the moment."

  "Now, Klubbe," resumed Imug. "We all noted in our club that you have been mentioned in the Turkle Times, complete with a photograph of yourself. Quite an achievement, we think."

  "A bit embarrassing, really, as I hav'nt started, as yet," said Klubbe.

  "Well, you can, now," said Imug, with a smile of encouragement. " We have given you permission to start."

 "Thanks," said Klubbe.

  "We have only two concerns, " said Imug, more seriously. "The first concern is noise. A flying vehicle like yours, will it create much noise in the sky?"

  "No, it will fly with the slightest hum, like that you may hear from a borka bee, as it flits from flower to flower, as I say in my notes," said Klubbe. "And the hum will only be heard when it is taking off or coming down to land."

  "Good. We do not want to disturb the peace of our planet with noisy flying vehicles flying about, as they must, " said Imug. "Our second concern is the safety of those who will fly on board your invention. Will hey be safe? The battery that you say will give it its power, will it ever, in short, gonk out?"

  "No, it never will, " said Klubbe. "I got the idea from the battery that lit the bulb in the toy torch my parents gave me once as a gift when I was still at first school. That battery has never gone out. More importantly, the battery I will lodge in my invention will remain active and will never gonk out."

  "Good," said Imug. "Your invention will quite obviously revolutionize turkle transport and it will create new occupations in our city. That is, after all, what a capital city is all about, the place where new things are built for the first time, to be later revealed to the rest of the populace of the planet. We congratulate you, Klubbe."

  "Thank you," said Klubbe.

  After the meeting, which went on a good deal longer, he returned to his room in the Ancient Parrot, feeling full of bouncing beans of pleasure and positivity, for in his travel bag, as well as his notebook and his master plan scroll, he had a large envelope, full of pages of printed information from the city council, concerned with his Inventor's Grant and his Invention Creation Centre. Unable to sit down, pacing his room, he felt like he was the happiest creature ever to flatten the grass.