Oscar the fog

Oscar the fog

Oscars mother was a big, white summer cloud that everyone liked. Specially Ken. He loved to fly his kite in the mild summer breeze. With the autumn Oscar's daddy came rushing down from the mountains and mixed his stormy winds with the mothers warm humidity. And that's how the fog Oscar was born. When his mother and father went away on their honeymoon, Oscar lay heavy and thick over the town.

The town's people didn't like him at all. They lurked about, snuffling and complaining about the dreadful weather. Oscar was sad and lonely until he met Ken. Ken liked the fog. He ran around and hid himself in it. Maybe he can be my friend, Oscar thought: "Hi you little boy," he called. "I am the fog Oscar. Who are you?" Ken looked around but couldn't see anything. "I'm Ken," he said. "Will you play hide and seek with me?" "OK," Oscar replied. "I'll count to ten," Ken said closing his eyes.

Oscar looked for a hiding place while Ken was counting; one, two, three, four. Then Oscar caught sight of Ken's empty bottle of milk. He squeezed himself as small as he could and crept down the bottle neck. Ken finished counting, removed his hands and saw that the fog was gone. The sun shone from a clear sky, it was as if summer had come back.

Ken started to search for the fog, but couldn't find it anywhere. "Give a little whistle," he shouted. But Oscar was quiet. Ken looked behind a bush, under a slide and in a garbage can. He realised then that the fog could be anywhere. "Please say something," Ken shouted again. "Piip," Oscar said. "Is that you Oscar?" Ken asked and stared into the bottle. "Yes," Oscar replied. "Stay there, so I can bring you home to my room," Ken said and carried the bottle home.

In his room Ken opened the bottle. "Now you can come out," he said. First the fog-hand came out of the bottle and waved. Then one arm, then the other and Oscars fog-head. He looked around and smiled. "This is a cosy place," he said and pulled himself out of the bottle.

"You can try my Indian outfit," Ken suggested and put a feather band round Oscars head. Ken put on his cowboy belt and they played cowboys and Indians. "Ouuu, ouu, ouuu," Oscar shouted while dancing Indian dances on the floor. Ken was shooting with his toy pistols. "Bang, bang, bang - now you are dead." Oscar threw himself onto the carpet and lay as quietly as a fog boy could. Then some one knocked on the door.

Oscar hid under Ken's bed while Ken's mother peeked in and said: "Now there are muffins in the kitchen." "I'd like that," Ken said. "Can I bring a friend?" "Of course you can," his mother said and closed the door. Ken crept under the bed. "Come Oscar, lets eat muffins together." But then Ken saw that Oscar was crying. "Why are you so sad?" Ken asked. "I can't eat muffins," Oscar said. "I'm not a human boy like you, just a cold disgusting fog that nobody likes."

Then Ken put an arm round Oscars shoulder. "I like you Oscar. You are the funniest fog I've ever known. Come now, lets go into the kitchen."

Ken's mother thought she saw a ghost. "Don't be afraid, mother. This is my friend, the fog Oscar." "But why does he look so sad?" Ken's mother asked. "He just feels so lonely," Ken said. "Besides, he can't eat muffins."

"That's too bad," Ken's mother said and opened the oven door. At that moment the hot muffin damp oozed out of the oven. The damp formed itself into a damp girl that said. "Hi fog boy, shall we make a pair?" Oscar smiled. "I would like that," he said and took her damp hand. "Maybe we can make a cloud together." He turned towards Ken and gave him a fog hug. "Thanks for being my friend. If you send a kite up to us we can continue to play." And thanks for the muffin damp," he said to Ken's mother.

Then the fog Oscar and the damp girl went out of the open kitchen window arm in arm. Ken and his mother took a muffin each and saw the fog and the damp rise to the sky and form a fine white cloud.