By Rhys Hughes
The Tickle Imp
I once explored a cave
with a homemade
flaming flambeau
that sputtered and guttered
while big bats fluttered
and the waves of the sea
lapped steadily
on the shingle of the beach.
I tingled
as the shadows
danced upon the walls
and stalactites out of reach
dangled like tusks
in the interior dusk
of that subterranean world.
What was I seeking
in that place?
Why did I delve so deep?
Was it simply a pleasure
to look for treasure
at the back of a gloomy maze,
an iron chest full of gems
hidden by a pirate bold
one night in the olden days?
The answer of course is yes!
And there at last
among scattered bones
and the fossilised echoes
of ancient groans
I found what I was wishing for,
a fantastic casket
festooned with padlocks
cunningly concealed behind sharp rocks.
And whatever it held
within its depths
was mine to take and keep
but first of course
I had to break
each rusty antique lock
and disturb the sleep
of any unkind ghost
who might resent playing the part
of my unwitting host
in that bleak and slimy darkness.
A hammer was my key!
I knocked
the locks off
one by one with blows
of savage glee
and when that was done
I had some fun
throwing open the lid excitedly
and feeling deep within.
What did I feel,
what did I see?
Rubies, doubloons
gleaming like moons,
polished silver cutlery?
Emeralds, sapphires,
diamonds divine,
opals smouldering with internal fires
in colours that never fade?
Or at the very least
strings of pearls
as long as the girls
they were meant to adorn
that would trail on the ground
with a clicking sound
louder than lawnmower blades?
To my acute dismay
on that momentous day
there was nothing of that kind
but just a strange little creature
with disordered features
and bulging eyes,
a chin in the shape of a sickle
and breath like ripe
lime pickle
who jumped out in surprise.
He leapt onto my outstretched arm
and clung there while I winced
and though his claws
spurted no gore
the harm that was done
left me rather sore
and I roared in pain
as I tried in vain
to shake off the devilish thing
but he refused to budge
and when I paused
he opened his jaws,
undulated his tongue,
and though he didn’t say much
he spoke to me thus
and it was quite enough:
“Oh, tickle me under the chin,
the chin,
please tickle me
under the chin.
It might seem quite fickle
or even a sin
to make this request,
to ask such a thing,
but I must confess
that to ease my distress
there’s nothing so fine
as a tickle.
So please tickle me
under the chin,
the chin.
Tickle me under the chin.”
The flaming flambeau
was propped in a corner
and I snatched it up
to scorch his nose.
Then he relaxed his grip
and I was mighty quick
to run away
without delay
and never deviating
left or right
I lurched into
a stalagmite. Ouch!
Yes, I stumbled and tumbled
and rolled on the ground
all the way
to the mouth of the cave.
I guessed the demon
was pursuing me
but I never expected
him to reach the sea
before I did, and how
it happened I never learned
but there he was
to my great concern
prancing in the waves
that washed
the mingled shingle and sand
in front of the cave
and while he surfed to shore
he clasped his hands
imploringly
and made this request
in the style of a demand:
“Oh, tickle me under the chin,
the chin,
please tickle me
under the chin.
No doctor, nurse or
apothecary
could ever do half as much
for me as a tickle
under the chin.
Why this should be
I really can’t say
but it’s all that I need
to feel perfectly free
and filled with strange glee
to a tremendous degree
like an emphatically happy
ecstatic chappie!
So please tickle me
under the chin,
the chin.
Tickle me under the chin.”
Shrieking I fled
over jagged rocks
and scuffed my shins
almost down to the bone
on pitted stones
and the pincers of crabs
snapped and snipped
as they sidled up
to the rude intruder
who waded through
their tidal pools.
What a fool I had been
to nurture that dream
of wealth so easily acquired.
All in vain!
Rich and admired
I never would be
but dearly my life I hoped
to retain
and so I kept on running,
bawling in pain,
my leg still lame,
as I tried to escape my fate.
But my life would never
be the same again.
The dawn was breaking
and my limbs were aching
when I finally reached my home.
I kept glancing
nervously behind just in case
I was being followed
by that impish face
but the coast was clear,
the imp was nowhere near.
I felt a surge of relief
as I opened my door
and passed in before
I was fully aware of the possibility
that he had again preceded me,
which in fact was really the case.
And on the mantelpiece
in the living room,
dangling his legs,
there he was,
waiting for me,
and what did he say?
“Oh, tickle me under the chin,
the chin,
please tickle me
under the chin.
Alone for so long
it can’t be wrong
for my chin to crave a tickle.
But if you refuse
you stand to lose
everything you hold so dear,
your life and mind,
I’m not unkind
but that’s the truth,
the facts are ruthless
and uncouth.
So tickle me
under the chin,
the chin.
Tickle me under the chin.”
I grabbed my wallet
from the table
and stuffed it in my pocket
then out I dashed
as fast as I was able,
threw open the shed door
to pull out my bicycle
and it seemed that an icicle
of fear was stabbing
me in the rear
as I mounted the machine
and pedalled
harder than ever before
like a madman in a dream.
Uphill all the way
my journey took me
to the mountains north of town
and when at last
I lay the bicycle down
on the ground
I was at the base of a peak
so lofty and steep
no one would ever think to seek
a fugitive up there.
Such an obscure sanctuary
would surely suit me very nicely.
I scaled the face
of that glowering crag
by my fingertips
with painful slowness,
compressed lips
and no grace at all,
but I finally managed
after many long hours
to conquer the
forbidding tower of gloom.
There was room
at the top to accommodate
one person only
and the view
would surely enable me to see
far in all directions.
If the imp was coming
this way I would know
and if he was really doing so
I could deal him
a crushing blow
by rolling boulders on his head
as he tried to follow
me to the top.
With bursting lungs
and thudding heart
I hauled myself to the summit
of that granite block
but to my shock
the imp was already there
with his charmless grin
and his wispy hair
and once again he had his say:
“Oh, tickle me under the chin,
the chin,
please tickle me
under the chin.
Ages ago I came to your world
from a distant planet
and asked to be tickled
but nobody could be bothered
with the simple request
of an alien guest
and now on this ledge
I have solemnly pledged
that if you decline
I’ll give you no rest
until the end of time.
So tickle me
under the chin,
the chin.
Tickle me under the chin.”
My nightmare continued
and when I look back
to review
the subsequent hunt
of man by imp around the land
I shudder and shiver,
tremble and quiver,
gasp and grunt,
and my mind goes limp.
Oh horrid times!
I even caught a plane
to distant Spain
in the other hemisphere
but after safely landing
in Andalusia
and disembarking
with the flight engineer
this course of action
ultimately helped me not at all
for at the point
of luggage retrieval
instead of my suitcase
on the conveyor belt
there trundled that being of evil
who leapt into my arms
insisting on a tickle.
I grew old prematurely
then finally sickened
and died
but this blessed escape
was just an excuse
for one more jape
in the mischievous career
of the incorrigible imp
who managed to appear
even now, yes!
I was buried in a coffin
and as I reclined
to enjoy my time of rest
for all eternity
I heard a knocking on the lid
and it opened
with a creak and into my
poor sarcophagus
without making undue fuss
creeped the dreadful thing
with his tickle hungry chin
and he shut the lid
behind him,
snuggled up close
and hissed in my ear
in the style of a ghoul
from a cruel and ancient year:
“Oh, tickle me under the chin,
the chin,
please tickle me
under the chin.
There’s little room
for a man entombed
to comply with my request
especially in a time of such distress,
but as my grandma always said
when I was an egg:
what individuals won’t do alive
they might do dead.
Even your residual awareness
ought to understand
it’s best to help me with my quest
for I can be the kind of pest
no one can withstand.
So please tickle me
under the chin,
the chin.
Tickle me under the chin.”
Rhys Hughes has lived in many countries. He graduated as an engineer but currently works as a tutor of mathematics. Since his first book was published in 1995 he has had fifty other books published and his work has been translated into ten languages.
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