Ali Baba and the Fourty Innocent Civilians
By: Yosha G.
Massachusetts, Age 13
Ali- Baba and the Forty Innocent Civilians
by Yosha G
December 12, 2001
The Story of the Captain
Well, IÆm sure youÆve heard of the muffin man, the flying monkeys, and Ali-Baba and the Forty Thieves. But, you have always heard about them in separate stories. Well for your information everything you have heard in the past is a lie. A big lie, a lie so big it could squash your house. It really started like a normal day in a sandy country called Arabia.
I was, at the time, living peacefully in a large house. If you want to understand how big it is consider this, it could fit forty men comfortably, and had spare room for forty horses. So, if you havenÆt guessed I lived with my thirty-nine younger brothers. One day after we came home, a rabbit who called himself the æmuffin manÆ visited us. He kindly explained that he was a very neat person who liked everything in order, and wished the world was balanced. He wanted one good guy for every bad guy, and it turned out that there were eighty more good guys than bad. Now, anybody could probably understand what he was getting at besides my thirty-nine stupid brothers. So, without them having any warning he forced some dinky magic spell onto us. Slowly our house turned to a cave and starving horses turned to strong and rude stallions. As he left he told us that the flying monkeys would answer all of our questions. With that he hopped onto a magic shoe and rode away.
Not knowing what to do I started explaining to my idiotic brothers that we were now bad guys because of the æmuffin manÆ. As soon as I said that two flying monkeys landed before us. Before we knew it they were taking us on a strange tour.
''Hello sir, welcome to the bad guy club. The souvenir shop is located on your right and the bathrooms to your left. Keep your hands in the bus at all times. If you feel that you must leave there are exits in the front right and the back left corners. I hope you enjoy the tour,'' said one of the monkeys in a high squeaky voice much like a banshee.
In thirty minutes the tour was over and we understood our job. We were to rob from the poor and give to the rich, also known as the muffin man. And if I forgot to tell you, æthe poorÆ means anybody with money who is a good guy.
One year and one month later we were returning to our ælairÆ were we were to give our monthly tax to the muffin man, basically seventy percent of what we had earned over the month.
''Tubee, do you think we have enough for the muffin manÆs liking?'' My little brother hollered to me.
''Hope so,'' I replied as I looked back at the goods. On a huge cart lay nine bags, all from last nights robbery. Hoping we had enough was all we could do for the muffin man wanted a lot of stuff sometimes, and less other times. If he was unhappy with you he would turn you into an evil flying monkey who had to train all of the new comers.
''Were here,'' cried my brothers with glee, eagerly waiting to get out of the heat.
''All hail the muffin man,'' I yelled to a big wall covered with dust, ''all hail the muffin man.'' Suddenly the great wall moved two feet away from were it originally had been. Now there was a space barely large enough for us to get through. Once we dumped our stuff on the ground and settled down an a chair we talked of the magnificent sights we had seen. Though they sounded happy I could tell my little brothers longed to be good guys once again. So, right then and there I decided to save them somehow, I knew I had to turn them back to normal, no matter what happened.
While we enjoyed the air-conditioning, which was pretty expensive back in the dark age, we did not notice a little man. He was peering at us through the hole and after seeing our hard earned pile of gold he quickly hid behind a tree. ''YouÆve got mail,'' said a voice disturbing the momentary silence, ''youÆve got mail.'' I looked around the room looking for what had said that but to my dismay I could not.
''It came from that bag,'' whispered Aladdin, one of my brothers, so quietly it took us a minute to understand what he had said. I leaped upon the bag, tearing open the fastenings, as my brothers watched with pure fascination. Out of it toppled a black box with a small screen which read in bold letters- won trip to Hawaii in raffle-got three months of peace without me
Underneath the letter was a picture of the muffin man doing the Hula under a bright pink umbrella.
Yes, I thought to myself everything is perfect, while the æmuffin bunnyÆ is away I can devise a plan and when we next see he him we can capture him. Then, we can hold him hostage until he turns us good again. Next, we will throw him out to sea and rid the world of forty-one bad guys, and thousands of flying monkeys. Little did I know a man named Ali-Baba was going to ruin all of my wonderful and considerate plans.
The next day my brothers and I took the day off and wandered in separate directions across the desert ahead into a land of mystery and danger. While we were gone Ali-Baba had snuck into our lair, for he had heard the password, and stole a lot of our money. When we reached home that night and found out we decided to send thirty men to steal more money, five men to surround the premises, and five men to hide in the cave.
The next day we carried out our plan, and as I expected, it worked. A man entered our lair with great stealth and started stocking up on our hard earned goods. IÆm telling ya, it ainÆt fair, we work our butts off to steal some gold and some loser just walks right in and steals it all, talk about unfair. Well, I wasnÆt going to let him get away with it so I walked up to him and asked, ''did you come here yesterday?'' I did this in such a hard voice he was trembling. Since I was such a kind soul I was about to say sorry but then realized that saying that would blow my cover.
''No,'' he whispered, ''that was my brother, I swear. He, Ali-Baba, came home yesterday with more gold than I had ever seen so I decided to take after him and give you guys a visit.'' Though he was a stranger I felt I could trust him.
''Fine,'' I screamed, ''I believe ya, but my pocket knife donÆt!'' With that, he lay on the floor, dead as a doornail. But, I though to myself, rather him than me. If you donÆt understand what I said it is probably because you are a good guy. You see, it is a rule that if a good guy sees you and knows you are a bad guy, he must die. I swear that it is part of the Bill of Wrongs, and if it isnÆt- too bad.
''Brothers,'' I spoke in a sorrowful tone, ''today something bad happened, and in the honor of the good guys, we must pay for our wrongs. Tomorrow we should go to the house of Ali-Baba, and beg his forgiveness for the death of his brother.''
''Yes,'' they all replied unanimously, ''tomorrow we shall go to the house of Ali-Baba. Each of us should bring a large jug full of oil. When asking for forgiveness each of us will present him with this expensive gift forcing him to forgive us.''
''Good,'' I murmured, ''and after we do this, we shall attack the muffin man who is responsible for this horrid crime. If we can overcome him, we shall live peacefully for the rest of our lives.''
''Down with the muffin man,'' they hollered, ''attack the muffin man who lives on Drury Lane!''
The next day, we did as we had proposed. Together we marched to Ali-BabaÆs house, buying many gifts along the way. Soon we reached his house and I took over. I explained how I had killed his brother and that it was the muffin manÆs fault. After much begging and gifts, the kind soul gave in and invited us to stay at his house for the night, in honor of his brother and our kindness in telling him the truth.
We offered to sleep that night in our big cans of oil so as not to disturb him. He readily agreed, and so we sat down for dinner. His servant, Rosemerta, soon served us exquisite food from many countries. I soon realized that she was no servant. I saw her on a wanted poster in Muffin Land, she was a mass murderer! I knew immediately she was after us and wanted us dead. A few minutes later, she served me, and only me, a glass of wine. Funny, I though to myself, real funny.
''Rosemerta, is there more wine?'' I asked, knowing her answer.
''No,'' she muttered ''none at all.''
Ha, I said to myself, now why donÆt you just play with her mind. ''If there is none left, I would be pleased to give some to Ali-Baba, for it is his house.''
''No,'' she replied fearfully, '' he doesnÆt drink.''
Before she could scurry off to the kitchen, I remarked, ''then why donÆt you have some, for you have been doing hard work all day.''
Just as if I had cued him on, Ali-Baba said, ''drink it Rosemerta, do go on.''
Having no choice but to listen to her master, she took the golden goblet from my hands, trembling like an earthquake. But, she like many others, besides my brothers, had brains. She put the cup to her mouth, but aimed it so the wine would land in the pot behind her. Sadly, I was the only one to notice this.
Later, when we all were settled down in our jugs and fast asleep, Rosemerta visited us. She went by each of our jars and slowly stuck her head in it to make sure we were asleep.
Then, she showed her true colors. She took a lighter and set fire to every jar and one by one we died.
Now, everybody thought they knew about me. Everybody thought I was a murdering scum, when really I was the perfect citizen. So, now you know the truth I guess, but you must be wondering how I told you this story. I mean now since you have those fancy scientists you think youÆre all that smart but youÆre not. You have just heard a story from out of the mouth of a ghost. A ghost, and if you donÆt believe me look in the paper. Two days after my documented ædeathÆ, there is an article on page E6 of the newspaper that might be of interest to you. But, to save you the time and money in trying to find a paper dated back in 2002 BCE, IÆll tell you the head line. It reads Crazy Rabbit, AKA the Muffin Man, Claims to Have Been Attacked by Forty Ghosts. I wonder who it could have been?