The Adventures of the Grundle and the Pink Fizz

In a garage under a shabby looking house with a badly neglected garden lay an old abandoned Volkswagen beetle.   When it was new and shiny the proud little car belonged to a gentleman who spent hours quietly caring for it. They had grown so close that the elderly man even talked to it.

After many years of loving attention and lots of listening to his owner the car had seemed to develop a personality all of its own.

One day as the gentleman was cleaning and polishing a voice came from the trunk. “Thank you for looking after me so well,” the voice said “I do like to be kept clean and shiny.”

The gentleman nearly jumped out of his skin. That couldn’t be his beautiful Volkswagen talking to him, surely? He carefully lifted the trunk and peered inside. No one was there.

“It’s me, your trusted and reliable old friend,” the voice continued.

The gentleman stared in amazement.
“Don’t be afraid. My name is Grundle” the voice whispered “and I’d like it very much if I could talk with you.”

This was the beginning of a long and happy time for the Grundle.   Over the years and with the patient help of his owner, he steadily expanded his vocabulary. Very soon he had words for almost all of his feelings. That was when he really began to learn as much as he could about his favourite topic - magic. Life was wonderful.

Then one day the gentleman took the Grundle out for a drive and on returning put him in the garage, closed the door and never came back.

As time passed the Grundle grew despondent. He grundled and murmured unhappily to himself. His bodywork began to fade and his engine felt like it would never work again. Spiders wove their webs on his rear view mirrors. A small mouse even made his home under the front seat. Finally, the air slowly leaked from his tyres leaving them flat and useless.

One day, when the Grundle was feeling particularly miserable, a large pink ball of fluff landed hard on the floor beside him.
“Ouch! I really must learn to land properly!” The ball of fluff gave itself a shake.

Standing before the Grundle was a fairy. Not a very tidy fairy mind you. She had wild red hair with pink streaks through it. Her tutu was torn and she wore bright yellow sneakers tied with pink shoelaces.

“Oh look.” She exclaimed to herself. “A broken down old motorcar. That might make a warm place to sleep. Yes, I think it’ll do nicely.”   She flew around checking out every nook and cranny.

“My name is the Pink Fizz, but at home everyone calls me Fizz.” She sighed, “I do wish you were more than just an old rust bucket. Then I would have someone to talk to.”

He looked so miserable and bad tempered and she had already made up her mind that the Grundle was just an old wreck with no magical powers.

When the Pink Fizz had left home her skills in magic were not well developed and she had not done very well. Her mother had sent her to live with her grandparents when her father become very ill, but she was desperately unhappy there.

She loved Gran and Granda very much, but they were always trying to get her to wear more clothes. It didn’t seem to matter whether she was hot or not.   Granda constantly told her to cover her arms and Gran was not happy unless she wore leggings and a headscarf.

“Don’t you see?” she would complain “I can’t practice my magic with all these layers!”

She decided to leave to seek her fortune and after moving into the garage the Pink fizz had many conversations with herself. For a long time she had no idea that the Grundle could understand everything she was saying. He would listen to her struggling to learn her fairy magic then secretly he would join his own magic powers to hers. She didn’t know it yet, but already they were becoming a team.

Because she was young and new at the art of being a fairy she had no hint of what is happening, although sometimes she did look at him with a little suspicion.

Life went on like this for quite some time until one day it began to rain. It rained and rained. The roof of the garage leaked. Soon everything was damp and uncomfortable. The Pink Fizz was grumpy and her wings were drooping.

“Hey! Old motorcar.” she called, but the Grundle ignored her.

Water began to seep under the door of the garage. The Grundle could feel it rising. Firstly above the tops of his flat tyres, then above the rims of the wheels. Then he could feel the water touching his chassis.

The Pink Fizz was hovering.   She looked really worried.

The Grundle began to float. He tried to use his magic to shrink and fly, but nothing would work.

The Pink Fizz’s wings had become very wet and she was having trouble staying in the air. Suddenly, she plummeted into the swirling water.

With enormous effort the Grundle forced his old body into control mode.   “I mustn’t let her drown.” He thought to himself “I must help!” He manoeuvred himself over to the place where the Pink Fizz had gone down. Turning his headlights on he scanned the area of rushing water, “Thank God! There she is.” He breathed.

At that moment she caught sight of him and reached out to grab his side mirror. Suddenly, his headlights flickered and faded. There was no charge left in his battery.

The Pink Fizz pulled herself up and into the front seat of the Grundle. She was exhausted and frightened.

“You’re going to be ok!” the Grundle purred in his gentlest voice, “Rest now and we will talk later.”

The Pink Fizz thought she heard something, but she wasn’t sure. Anyway, she was much too tired to think about it. Instead, she curled up on the front seat of the Grundle and sighing she whispered, “It would be nice if you were magic like me, then we could be friends,” she sighed again, “It would be nice to have a friend…” Then she slept.

While the Pink Fizz was sleeping, the Grundle dodged pieces of floating debris as a torrent of water rushed through the garage. Eventually the doors of the old garage collapsed and they were all swept away across the fields. The Grundle was tired. His body has been lying idle too long and he was not as young as he used to be. He stayed awake for as long as he could, but eventually he found himself sinking under the water. He could do nothing.

When the flood had finally receded all of the Grundle’s gears and workings were totally ruined and he could no longer do anything for himself. Even his magic seemed to be limited. But at least he had survived. “I might just as well have drowned.” He thought, feeling sorry for himself, “I’m too old and now my only friend is gone.”

The Pink Fizz certainly appeared to be dead. She was perfectly still lying curled up on the front seat of the Grundle in a pool of mud.

As the sun came out and dried the soggy ground, a tow truck arrived to tow the Grundle away. He was taken back to the house where the Gentleman used to live put in an old shed at the back of the garden and left there.

The only part of his magic still working was his ability to talk. But feeling very miserable he’d already decided that he would never do that again.

Several months passed. One day the Grundle thought he heard voices outside of the shed were he was sure he would be left until he had rusted away to nothing. He strained to hear what was being said. “Oh my goodness, this is wonderful!” He thought to himself, “That sounds like my old friend the gentleman. He must have come back!”

The Grundle was beside himself with excitement. His curiosity grew. Where had his owner had been all this time? As he listened the door to the shed was slowly dragged open.

“Take this stake Albert. Prop the door open. We’ll see what’s in here.” He was sure that the voice was the old gentleman’s, but there seemed to be something different about it. Younger and stronger somehow. Perhaps even a little less cultured.

“Well I’ll be blessed!” The voice spoke again.

The Grundle was positive it was his owner. He strained to see his old friend.

“Albert, that’s my father’s old Volkswagen.” Said the voice, “You know son, your grandfather loved this car. He even used to talk to it.”

Albert laughed. “Granpa must have been a bit potty in his old age. Fancy talking to his car!”

“Hello old car,” Albert’s father walked over to the Grundle and touched his front fender. “Father would be very upset to see you in such a sad state.”

Now the Grundle could hear the voice more clearly. It wasn’t the gentleman who’d been his owner all those years ago, but it was someone who certainly looked and sounded a lot like him. As he pondered who it might be the voice came again.

“I’d like you to meet my son Albert. Albert this is…” the man with the voice leaned over and brushed the dirt from the Grundle’s license plate. “…Grundle!”

Albert laughed, “You’re not serious… Grandpa called his car Grundle?”

“Albert Grace!” Mr. Grace said sternly. “Grandpa was very fond of this little car.” He smiled and went on, “I never did get to ride in it with him. He died unexpectedly before we got back from Africa.”

The Grundle was suddenly overcome with sadness. Now he understood. This was the gentleman’s son and grandson. He hadn’t been abandoned after all. His friend and owner the gentleman had died and was unable to come and see him anymore.

The relief of knowing that he had been loved was enormous, but then something else occurred to him. Was young Mr. Grace going to keep him? Or was he going to send him to the scrap yard?

The poor Grundle was beginning to panic.

Mr Grace stood scratching his chin as he slowly looked over the little car. “What do you think Albert? Could we restore the Grundle?”

“Maybe…” Albert didn’t sound convinced, “But I hope I don’t have to ride in it!”

Mr. Grace laughed and tousled Albert’s hair before turning to go back into the house.

Albert remained behind. The longer he stayed in the shed the more the old Grundle aroused his curiosity. Then something on the front seat caught his eye. He reached in and picked it up. “Huh! An old doll. Annabelle likes dolls. Perhaps I can give it to her.”

Albert’s sister Annabelle was six years younger and she certainly did like dolls!

“I s’pose I should clean it up a bit first,” Albert thought. He gave the doll a shake before patting it gently on the back. Dried mud flew everywhere.

“Hey! Stop hitting me!” the doll croaked, squirmed and then began to cough loudly.

Albert nearly fainted in fright.

The doll sneezed once, twice, three times then finally a fourth. The last was a huge one that nearly made Albert drop her.

“It’s all right!” she croaked, “I’m not going to hurt you!” She dusted herself off some more, then looking at Albert said, “I could do with a bath.”

“You sure could!” he replied and they both began to laugh. Albert had never heard of a doll that could hold a conversation and as soon as he was able to catch his breathe and stop laughing he looked her in the eye and asked “What sort of weird doll are you anyway?”

Although Albert didn’t really believe in magic and fairies he and the Pink Fizz soon became firm friends.

Each spare day Albert helped Mr Grace in the shed and gradually the Grundle was restored to its former beauty. All the while the Pink Fizz looked on. She wouldn’t say a word when Albert’s father was there, but when she and Albert were alone or even when she was by herself you couldn’t keep her quiet.

“Do you know …” She was talking to herself again as she hovered around the Grundle one day. “The only thing wrong with this car now is the bad tempered look he has on his face!”

“You’re just a punk fairy. And besides, you shouldn’t be examining my parts anyway!” The Grundle indignantly came to life.

Shocked, the Pink Fizz almost forget to keep flapping her wings. After she had regained her composure a little she raced straight off without another word to get Albert. “Albert. Albert!” She called, “Come and listen to this. I’m so excited!”

“What?” asked Albert, “Don’t tell me you’ve found another bug that makes music.”

“No, no this is far better.” The Pink Fizz laughed. “The Grundle can talk!”

Albert ran into the shed after the Pink Fizz. “So, talk to me!” he demanded.

The Grundle said nothing.

It took the Pink Fizz quite some time to convince the Grundle to talk to Albert, but from the moment he did the three became the very best of friends …