2 The Unusual Request

The Unusual Request A wonderful life can turn someone into a terrible person. It makes you forget that there are people in the world who have problems, and this can stop you from really caring or worrying about others. So you can understand how Ebenezer Tweezer came to be one of the most selfish men who ever lived. After spending nearly 512 years without difficulty, Ebenezer had never really learned about pain or sadness. He found it impossible to imagine what these things must feel like, and so he didn't feel guilty about feeding Patrick to the beast.

He thought it was a shame that he would never hear Patrick sing another song, but he didn't waste any time thinking about how horrid it must have been for the poor little parrot. Instead, Ebenezer went downstairs—all fifteen flights of them. He opened one of his many fridges and began to make himself a beef and mustard sandwich. The bread was made with the finest seeds, taken from the very tops of the Himalayan mountains. The beef and the butter came from Dolly, a charming Welsh cow who had won World's Loveliest Udders for three years on the trot. Meanwhile, the mustard had been made using expensive white wine and rare black truffles.

It promised to be a delicious sandwich. However, before Ebenezer could take a bite, the beast rang its bell. Reluctantly, Ebenezer set down his sandwich and made the journey back upstairs. The beast was waiting in the damp, cabbagey room. It was humming a song to itself—the same song that Patrick had sung. As Ebenezer walked in, the beast let out another happy burp. A shower of purple feathers came floating out with it. "Good evening," said Ebenezer, offering a polite nod. "And good evening, Ebenezer! What a very fine evening it is, don't you think?" asked the beast. Ebenezer was thinking about his sandwich, and about how much he was looking forward

to eating it. He hadn't given much thought to the evening and whether or not it was a fine one. "I said it's a very fine evening, Ebenezer," said the beast in its slithery voice. "Do you agree with me?" "Oh yes, it's a very mustardy evening," answered Ebenezer. "Mustardy! What do you mean by mustardy?!" "Sorry, I don't know what came over me. I didn't mean to say mustardy, what I meant to say was… was…" "It doesn't matter, Ebenezer," said the beast crossly. "All that matters is that it's a very fine evening. Very fine indeed!" "Yes, of course."

The room was silent for a moment. Ebenezer was too hungry to think of anything to say, while the beast was deciding whether it wanted to be in a good mood or not. After a moment or two, the decision was made. "Oh, I can't stay cross with you, Ebenezer. Especially after you served me such a delicious dinner," said the beast. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," said Ebenezer. "It's so nice to eat something with personality," said the beast. "The rusty taste of the cage was also a nice touch." "Sounds like a unique flavor," said Ebenezer. "It really was. Now what would you like as your reward?" This was how it worked. Ebenezer would bring the beast various things to eat, and in

return the beast would provide presents. Diamond chandeliers, a witch's broom, giant stuffed teddy bears—there was no object that the beast couldn't conjure up for Ebenezer. "I would like a piano," said Ebenezer. "And please could I have one of those baby grands —a pretty little one, which I can carry down the stairs. Ideally, one that will grow into a handsome, adult grand." "Well, well, well, Ebenezer. I never thought I'd see the day when you would take such an interest in music. Would you like some piano- lesson books with that as well?" "Goodness no!" said Ebenezer, disgusted by the suggestion. "I am not going to play it. I only want to put it in the front living room so the neighbors can see."