Dirty Beasts Read online

  ROALD DAHL (1916–1990) was born in Wales of Norwegian parents. He spent his childhood in England and, at age eighteen, went to work for the Shell Oil Company in Africa. When World War II broke out, he joined the Royal Air Force and became a fighter pilot. At the age of twenty-six he moved to Washington, D.C., and it was there he began to write. His first short story, which recounted his adventures in the war, was bought by The Saturday Evening Post, and so began a long and illustrious career.

  After establishing himself as a writer for adults, Roald Dahl began writing children’s stories in 1960 while living in England with his family. His first stories were written as entertainment for his own children, to whom many of his books are dedicated.

  Roald Dahl is now considered one of the most beloved storytellers of our time. Although he passed away in 1990, his popularity continues to increase as his fantastic novels, including James and the Giant Peach, Matilda, The BFG, and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, delight an ever-growing legion of fans.

  Learn more about Roald Dahl on the official Roald Dahl Web site: www.roalddahl.com

  QUENTIN BLAKE is a well-known artist whose work has made him popular on both sides of the Atlantic. He was Great Britain’s first children’s laureate and now lives in London.

  ROALD DAHL

  Dirty

  Beasts

  Illustrated by Quentin Blake

  To Alfhild, Else and Asta

  PUFFIN BOOKS

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Putnam Books for Young Readers,

  345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, U.S.A.

  Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R ORL, England

  Penguin Books Australia Ltd, Ringwood, Victoria, Australia

  Penguin Books Canada Ltd, 10 Alcorn Avenue, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4V 3B2

  Penguin Books (N.Z.) Ltd, 182-190 Wairau Road, Auckland 10, New Zealand

  Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: Harmondsworth, Middlesex, England

  This edition first published by Jonathan Cape Ltd, 1984

  First published in the United States of America by Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1983

  Published in Great Britain by Puffin Books, 2001

  This edition published by Puffin Books, a division of Penguin Putnam Books for Young Readers, 2002

  Text copyright © Roald Dahl, 1983

  Illustrations copyright © Quentin Blake, 1984, 2001

  All rights reserved

  Library of Congress Catalog card number: 85-594 (CIP data available on request)

  Puffin Books ISBN: 978-1-101-66299-1

  Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Table of Contents

  The Pig

  The Crocodile

  The Lion

  The Scorpion

  The Ant-Eater

  The Porcupine

  The Cow

  The Toad and the Snail

  The Tummy Beast

  The Pig

  In England once there lived a big

  And wonderfully clever pig.

  To everybody it was plain

  That Piggy had a massive brain.

  He worked out sums inside his head,

  There was no book he hadn’t read,

  He knew what made an airplane fly,

  He knew how engines worked and why.

  He knew all this, but in the end

  One question drove him round the bend:

  He simply couldn’t puzzle out

  What LIFE was really all about.

  What was the reason for his birth?

  Why was he placed upon this earth?

  His giant brain went round and round.

  Alas, no answer could be found,

  Till suddenly one wondrous night,

  All in a flash, he saw the light.

  He jumped up like a ballet dancer

  And yelled, “By gum, I’ve got the answer!”

  “They want my bacon slice by slice

  “To sell at a tremendous price!

  “They want my tender juicy chops

  “To put in all the butchers’ shops!

  “They want my pork to make a roast

  “And that’s the part’ll cost the most!

  “They want my sausages in strings!

  “They even want my chitterlings!

  “The butcher’s shop! The carving knife!

  “That is the reason for my life!”

  Such thoughts as these are not designed

  To give a pig great peace of mind.

  Next morning, in comes Farmer Bland,

  A pail of pigswill in his hand,

  And Piggy with a mighty roar,

  Bashes the farmer to the floor . . .

  Now comes the rather grizzly bit

  So let’s not make too much of it,

  Except that you must understand

  That Piggy did eat Farmer Bland,

  He ate him up from head to toe,

  Chewing the pieces nice and slow.

  It took an hour to reach the feet,

  Because there was so much to eat,

  And when he’d finished, Pig, of course,

  Felt absolutely no remorse.

  Slowly he scratched his brainy head

  And with a little smile, he said,

  “I had a fairly powerful hunch

  “That he might have me for his lunch.

  “And so, because I feared the worst,

  “I thought I’d better eat him first.”

  The Crocodile

  No animal is half so vile

  As Crocky-Wock the crocodile.

  On Saturdays he likes to crunch

  Six juicy children for his lunch,

  And he especially enjoys

  Just three of each, three girls, three boys.

  He smears the boys (to make them hot)

  With mustard from the mustard pot.

  But mustard doesn’t go with girls,

  It tastes all wrong with plaits and curls.

  With them, what goes extremely well

  Is butterscotch and caramel.

  It’s such a super marvellous treat

  When boys are hot and girls are sweet.

  At least that’s Crocky’s point of view.

  He ought to know. He’s had a few.

  That’s all for now. It’s time for bed

  Lie down and rest your sleepy head . . .

  Ssh! Listen! What is that I hear

  Gallumphing softly up the stair?

  Go lock the door and fetch my gun!

  Go on, child, hurry! Quickly, run!

  No, stop! Stand back! He’s coming in!

  Oh, look, that greasy greenish skin!

  The shining teeth, the greedy smile!

  It’s CROCKY-WOCK, THE CROCODILE!

  The Lion

  The lion just adores to eat

  A lot of red and tender meat,

  And if you ask the lion what

  Is much the tenderest of the lot,

  He will not say a roast of lamb

  Or curried beef or devilled ham

  Or crispy pork or corned beef hash

  Or sausages or mutton mash.

  Then could it be a big plump hen?

  He answers no. What is it, then?

  Oh, lion dear, could I not make

  You happy with a lovely steak?

  Could I entice you from your lair

  With rabbit-pie or roa
sted hare?

  The lion smiled and shook his head.

  He came up very close and said,

  “The meat I am about to chew

  Is neither steak nor chops. IT’S YOU.”

  The Scorpion

  You ought to thank your lucky star

  That here in England where you are

  You’ll never find (or so it’s said)

  A scorpion inside your bed.

  The scorpion’s name is Stingaling,

  A most repulsive ugly thing,

  And I would never recommend

  That you should treat him as a friend.

  His scaly skin is black as black

  With armour-plate upon his back.

  Observe his scowling murderous face,

  His wicked eyes, his lack of grace,

  Note well his long and crinkly tail.

  And when it starts to swish and flail,

  Oh gosh! Watch out! Jump back, I say,

  And run till you’re a mile away.

  The moment that his tail goes swish

  He has but one determined wish,

  He wants to make a sudden jump

  And sting you hard upon your rump.

  “What is the matter, darling child?

  “Why do you look so tense and wild?”

  “Oh mummy, underneath the sheet

  “There’s something moving on my feet,

  “Some horrid creepy crawly thing,

  “D’you think it could be Stingaling?”

  “What nonsense child! You’re teasing me.”

  “I’m not, I’m not! It’s reached my knee!

  “It’s going . . . going up my thigh!

  “Oh mummy, catch it quickly! Try!

  “It’s on . . . it’s on my bottom now!

  “It’s . . . Ow! Ow-ow! Ow-ow! OW-OW!”

  The Ant-Eater

  Some wealthy folks from U.S.A.,

  Who lived near San Francisco Bay,

  Possessed an only child called Roy,

  A plump and unattractive boy –

  Half-baked, half-witted and half-boiled,

  But worst of all, most dreadfully spoiled.

  Whatever Roy desired each day,

  His father bought him right away –

  Toy motor-cars, electric trains,

  The latest model aeroplanes,

  A colour television-set,

  A saxophone, a clarinet,

  Expensive teddy-bears that talked,

  And animals that walked and squawked.

  That house contained sufficient toys

  To thrill a half a million boys.

  (As well as this, young Roy would choose,

  Two pairs a week of brand-new shoes.)

  And now he stood there shouting, “What

  “On earth is there I haven’t got?

  “How hard to think of something new!

  “The choices are extremely few!”

  Then added, as he scratched his ear,

  “Hold it! I’ve got a good idea!

  “I think the next thing I must get

  “Should be a most peculiar pet –

  “The kind that no one else has got –

  “A giant ANT-EATER! Why not?”

  As soon as father heard the news,

  He quickly wrote to all the zoos.

  “Dear Sirs,” he said, “My dear keepers,

  “Do any of you have ant-eaters?”

  They answered by return of mail.

  “Our ant-eaters are not for sale.”

  Undaunted, Roy’s fond parent hurled

  More messages across the world.

  He said, “I’ll pay you through the nose

  “If you can get me one of those.”

  At last he found an Indian gent

  (He lived near Delhi, in a tent),

  Who said that he would sacrifice

  His pet for an enormous price

  (The price demanded, if you please,

  Was fifty thousand gold rupees).

  The ant-eater arrived half-dead.

  It looked at Roy and softly said,

  “I’m famished. Do you think you could

  “Please give me just a little food?

  “A crust of bread, a bit of meat?

  “I haven’t had a thing to eat

  “In all the time I was at sea,

  “For nobody looked after me.”

  Roy shouted, “No! No bread or meat!

  “Go find some ants! They’re what you eat!”

  The starving creature crawled away.

  It searched the garden night and day,

  It hunted every inch of ground,

  But not one single ant it found.

  “Please give me food!” the creature cried.

  “Go find an ant!” the boy replied.

  By chance, upon that very day,

  Roy’s father’s sister came to stay –

  A foul old hag of eighty-three

  Whose name, it seems, was Dorothy.

  She said to Roy, “Come let us sit

  “Out in the sun and talk a bit.”

  Roy said, “I don’t believe you’ve met

  “My new and most unusual pet?”

  He pointed down among the stones

  Where something lay, all skin and bones.

  “Ant-eater!” he yelled. “Don’t lie there yawning!

  “This is my ant! Come say good morning!”

  (Some people in the U.S.A.

  Have trouble with the words they say.

  However hard they try, they can’t

  Pronounce a simple word like AUNT.

  Instead of AUNT, they call it ANT,

  Instead of CAN’T, they call it KANT.)

  Roy yelled, “Come here, you so-and-so!

  “My ant would like to say hello!”

  Slowly, the creature raised its head.

  “D’you mean that that’s an ant?” it said.

  “Of course!” cried Roy. “Ant Dorothy!

  “This ant is over eighty-three.”

  The creature smiled. Its tummy rumbled.

  It licked its starving lips and mumbled,

  “A giant ant! By gosh, a winner!

  “At last I’ll get a decent dinner!

  “No matter if it’s eighty-three.

  “If that’s an ant, then it’s for me!”

  Then, taking very careful aim,

  It pounced upon the startled dame.

  It grabbed her firmly by the hair

  And ate her up right then and there,

  Murmuring as it chewed the feet,

  “The largest ant I’ll ever eat.”

  Meanwhile, our hero Roy had sped

  In terror to the potting-shed,

  And tried to make himself obscure

  Behind a pile of horse-manure.

  But ant-eater came sneaking in

  (Already it was much less thin)

  And said to Roy, “You little squirt,

  “I think I’ll have you for dessert.”

  The Porcupine

  Each Saturday I shout “Hooray!”

  For that’s my pocket-money day,

  (Although it’s clearly understood

  I only get it when I’m good.)

  This week my parents had been told

  That I had been as good as gold,

  So after breakfast 50p

  My generous father gave to me.

  Like lightning down the road I ran

  Until I reached the sweet-shop man,

  And bought the chocolates of my dreams,

  A great big bag of raspberry creams.

  There is a secret place I know

  Where I quite often like to go,

  Beyond the wood, behind some rocks,

  A super place for guzzling chocs.

  When I arrived, I quickly found

  A comfy-looking little mound,

  Quite clean and round and earthy-brown

  Just right, I thought, for sitting down.

 
Here I will sit all morning long

  And eat until my chocs are gone.

  I sat. I screamed. I jumped a foot!

  Would you believe that I had put

  That tender little rump of mine

  Upon a giant porcupine!

  My backside seemed to catch on fire!

  A hundred red-hot bits of wire

  A hundred prickles sticking in

  And puncturing my precious skin!

  I ran for home. I shouted, “Mum!

  “Behold the prickles in my bum!”

  My mum, who always keeps her head,

  Bent down to look and then she said,

  “I personally am not about

  “To try to pull those prickles out.

  “I think a job like this requires

  “The services of Mr Myers.”

  I shouted, “Not the dentist! No!

  “Oh mum, why don’t you have a go?”

  I begged her twice, I begged her thrice,

  But grown-ups never take advice.

  She said, “A dentist’s very strong.

  “He pulls things out the whole day long.”

  She drove me quickly into town,

  And then they turned me upside down

  Upon the awful dentist’s chair,

  While two strong nurses held me there.

  Enter the dreaded Mr. Myers

  Waving a massive pair of pliers.

  “This is,” he cried with obvious glee,

  “A new experience for me.

  “Quite honestly I can’t pretend

  “I’ve ever pulled things from this end.”

  He started pulling one by one

  And yelling “My, oh my, what fun!”

  I shouted “Help!” I shouted “Ow!”

  He said, “It’s nearly over now.

  “For heaven’s sake, don’t squirm about!

  “Here goes! The last one’s coming out!”

  The dentist pulled and out it came,

  And then I heard the man exclaim,

  “Let us now talk about the fees.

  “That will be fifty guineas, please.”

  My mother is a gutsy bird

  And never one to mince a word.

  She cried, “By gosh, that’s jolly steep!”

  He answered, “No, it’s very cheap.

  “My dear woman, can’t you see

  “That if it hadn’t been for me

  “This child could go another year