The Grandmaster and The Hourglass Girl

It took our friend extremely long to realize that the paperweight on his desk- yet another symptom of his daughter’s artistic phase, he thought- was not a paperweight, but a toad.
As toads go, it was a most impractical one. One might even go so far as to call it frivolous; it would have done much more nicely as a paperweight, really, coloured like that. It had remarkable light-coloured bands running parallel across its back, with a series of little circles of a darker colour in them. There were circles in the intervals between the bands too, on the whole giving a sort of polka-dot effect. A toad has absolutely no business looking that way unless it means to shock poor middle-aged businessmen dead by apoplexy. Luckily, the light was off in Mr Fisher’s study, and he didn’t fully grasp the hideousness of the creature, and his life was spared, thank the Lord.
As it stood he blamed the whole business on his daughter, Eva. This affair with brushes and paint, Mr Fisher decided, had gone too far. Ugly as the little poisonous thing was, it deserved better than to be plucked out of its habitat and smeared all over with hideously clashing colours, however well-meaning the culprit was. Eva would have to wash and put it back in its pond or wherever she found it, pronto, our good man decided. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do it for some particular reason- say, because he was afraid of toads or something- utter nonsense. Eva had to learn that all actions have consequences, that was all. Accordingly, Mr Fisher went off to go fetch her.
She was extremely curious, young Eva; most eight-year-olds are. The idea of a polka-dotted amphibian appealed enormously to her young mind, so much so that she didn’t even bother denying the ridiculous charges laid before the court. Why the idea hadn’t hit her before, Eva had no clue. Visions of zebra-striped poodles and bunnies with lavender concentric circles all over swam in her head. When her father informed her that she’d be straightening the mess out by herself as he was late for work, she merely smiled knowingly and kissed him goodbye. Eva, you see, had this horribly unkind theory that her father was afraid of all that lived and breathed that wasn’t human: the things children come up with these days.
Eva approached the study after her father had left, armed with broom and shoebox on the off-chance that the creature was as disgusting and dangerous as her father had said. Inside the study, a quick look around showed nothing, and Eva began to wonder if her poor overworked daddy hadn’t started seeing things. As she turned to leave though, it occurred to her that her father’s TV was still on. Having learned all about global warming in school, Eva turned back to go save the environment. That is when she saw it, sitting calmly on the back of her father’s lazy chair, TV remote in hand, surfing channels.
Sensible girl that she was, Eva kept her head and didn’t scream. Instead, she backed away quietly, heading for the door which was still ajar. She had almost gotten to it, in fact, when the toad turned its wet little beady eyes dead on her... and shushed her.
Shushed her! The multicoloured thing raised a long webbed finger- can you call it that? They only have four- to its generously-sized lips and shook its head gently. That’s a shush, isn’t it, in any culture under the sun. Toad, apparently, included.
Eva was too stunned to run, but it occurred that the toad wasn’t very evil at all. I mean, any toad that can shush you can by all means bring war, plague and pestilence; all this one had done was sneak and watch TV. It would be dumb, the girl decided- rude, even- to go and rat on it for such an innocent crime. There was no guarantee, anyway, that Mrs Chavez would hear her in the throes of whiskey-induced sleep that she invariably found herself in. She therefore signaled her cooperation to the toad- him or her? How does one tell? - by symbolically zipping her lips shut. She also threw the padlock away for good measure.
The toad seemed most impressed by her level-headed approach to the whole business, but it wasn’t quite through with her. When she turned to go, he- let’s call it he, shall we? It feels wrong, calling of a polka-dotted toad that can shush and nod and watch TV ‘it’,- shook his fat wart-spotted head at her and shook his long index finger. He wanted her? For what? Still, keeping in mind what the toad could do if he so chose, Eva went without comment. The toad nodded again and pantomimed the closing of the door. Eva complied, and took the seat he so very kindly offered her. Really. Offered her a seat in her own father’s house! Still, Eva kept mum.
Finally the toad turned the TV off and turned slowly to Eva. You could feel the nobility radiating off him. Yes, your questions, please, it seemed he was saying. And quickly, if you will.
She took her time planning her question. “You...” she finally managed. “You’re not really a toad, are you?”
The toad’s throat swelled to maximum capacity. Full points, you could hear. You win a furry toy.
“Are you... human?” Eva tried again.
Make that two furry toys.
Eva chewed on this information slowly. It seemed most impractical was the first thing that came to mind. Was that all he could do, she wondered, and what was with the funky pattern? She realized she had too many questions and not enough time in which to convert them all to yes-or-no ones: Mrs Chavez the live-in house-help always woke around nine, a bare five minutes off.
“Can you talk?” Eva asked.
This called for some thought on Mr Toad’s part. After a while, though, he cleared his throat lustily. Eva gripped the edge of her chair with both hands till the knuckles were white on them. It’s not every day one gets hijacked by a polka-dotted toad that can say ‘Shush’ and watch TV. If said curiosity happens to speak to you, the heart rate speeds up by a factor of three.
That’s a lot if you do the math.
It was, however, not words which came out when the froggy lips parted. It was a croak. A most eligible contestant for World Croak of the Year.
“Sorry”, Eva managed after a while, “I don’t really know how to speak Toad, you see.” There was also the little matter of hung-over and thus extremely sound-sensitive Mrs Chavez, whose groans for aspirin and God-sent will to persevere were filtering both through and around the door. Eva mentioned this as well.
The toad took this with another thoughtful nod and stroked his chin with his left hand. He croaked again, in a lower pitch this time, and then again, then again and again, with variance in pitch and modulation. Then a miracle happened: Mr Toad our friend did an Astaire flourish and voila! Out came cabaret, pure and unrehearsed.
“Hello!” he trilled, when all the little vocal complications had been ironed out. “This is unexpected.”
Quite so, Eva’s look said. Quite so.
Slowly, though, the story came out.
He was a space ranger. Okay, not space ranger like space ranger, but he’d been commissioned by some all-knowing power- God or Buddha or the guys from 2001: A Space Odyssey- to patrol the multiverse, stopping stupid things of global significance from happening. It turns out, you see, there is a multiverse. It’s not static, though, unlike the ones in books. Every time something really cool or really bad happens, the universe splits to accommodate all the ways it could turn out. Humankind discovers iron, humankind sticks with stones; humankind starts to walk, humankind stays just another hairy ape; humankind makes guns, humankind uses gunpowder for fireworks and sticks with that; we embrace the whole peace-on-earth movement, we hang its chief proponent on a oversize addition sign; and so on and so forth. Basically, though, if you’re powerful enough to do something about it, it’s hard to ignore how useless some universes would be in that case. Picture if you will a universe in which Madonna’s parents never met. What a waste that would be!
These strange cosmic beings had therefore appointed a chosen few to monitor the myriad universes, looking for goof-ups big enough that they might occasion the creation of a new universe or two. If you excelled at one mission, you got promoted the next time, just like karma works. He had been really good and had as a result been sent off to feudal China as the second son of a ruling prince, then he’d let the room service get to his head, and look what he found himself. I suppose the Supreme Being- or Beings- have a sense of humour; you know what they do to toads in China, I’m sure.
“So”, he finished, “Any idea what I’m here for?” He pirouetted absentmindedly. “What’s been going on these days?”
“Well, I wouldn’t know”, Eva replied. “My father says too much TV is bad for children.”
“He’s right”, the toad mused in sing-song. “Someone was supposed to fix that, as a matter of fact.”
“It wasn’t your job, was it?” Eva got her smile wiped off with a toad glare.
“So absolutely no ideas?”
“Well...” Eva got up and paced the study, the better to think. “Zac Hansen dumped his girlfriend-”
“-Who?”
“Zac Hansen, the rock star?”
“Your daddy doesn't think celebrity TV is bad for your health?” Now he got a glare.
“Brad and Angie adopted another one”- that caused a mournful shake of the warty polka-dotted head- “Eminem got drunk and punched a camera out, Haley Joel Osment got nominated for an Oscar, Arnold’s thinking of running for president-”
He stopped her with that finger again, and raised his head slowly. “Fries and hummus”, he chanted. “Blueish dinosaurs in ballet shoes.”
“Is that bad?” Eva asked.
He nodded like that was the understatement of the universe. “You need to get me to Washington, and fast!”
Eva grabbed him and ran stealthily to her room where her piggy-bank was. Adventure had called, and our girl was bound to answer.
“One thing.” the toad said, observing from atop her dresser, “If you’re going to work with me, you need to call me The Grandmaster.”
“Is that like Dr Who and his travelling companions, because-”
“- I won’t dignify that with a comment-” the toad huffed.
“-Because then I want to be called The Hourglass Girl, that’s all”, Eva finished.
After some consideration, the toad- The Grandmaster, to us- nodded. Eva after a few leaps of joy returned to her search. “Got it!” she exulted after a couple of minutes, and they headed out the ninja way. There was a minor hiccup when they ran into the turned back of the good Mrs Chavez, but Eva skilfully concealed her multicoloured friend in her coat. She asked to go down the street to see her friend Margie, and out they were.
“Smooth” the toad sang, as they got on the bus, for which Eva got a funny look from the bus driver, and they were off to save the universe.