I don't own Pinocchio.
Escaping Pleasure Island.
"C'mon, quick," Jiminy cried, gesturing for Pinocchio to follow him out of the pool hall. "Before you get any worse!"
Pinocchio didn't need his cricket friend to tell him twice and he rushed out of the pool hall with the cricket; after seeing for himself what had happened to Lampwick unfolding right before his eyes and transform slowly into a donkey before he began to bray, the puppet genuinely did not want to turn out like that. And if what he had just heard from Jiminy was right then there wasn't another boy on the island who hadn't been transformed. He might want to be made of flesh and blood, and while the donkey's tail and ears were real enough, it wasn't the flesh and blood he wanted.
Running as fast as his legs could carry him, Pinocchio took a moment to think about what he had just seen.
Lampwick had been the only boy he'd really had any contact with, and while Pinocchio had had fun with the boy, the puppet was disturbed by how dismissive he was by what he was doing. And despite everything, Pinocchio had been truly disturbed by Lampwick's behaviour towards the cricket when they'd met. But what he didn't understand was why all of the other boys had vanished so long ago while he and Lampwick had been relatively untouched.
Had the other boys been more extreme than Lampwick could ever be?
Or was Lampwick as extreme in his behaviour as the others had been when they had smashed up the island, drank and smoked and gambled?
Pinocchio had to admit he was torn. Ever since Jiminy had stormed out declaring Lampwick was nothing more than a jackass (the puppet knew the cricket hadn't known by that point the horrific and ironic truth of the islands was, so he knew the cricket hadn't meant Lampwick should become a donkey for real), Pinocchio had been torn.
Lampwick was his friend, but Jiminy held a special place in what should have been Pinocchio's heart. The cricket had guided him and he had rescued him from that birdcage. But Lampwick had begun teaching Pinocchio about fun. And the puppet had enjoyed it, although he had been reluctant whenever he had seen wood be damaged. Being wooden himself since he wasn't a real boy, Pinocchio had been frightened the axe blade would cut through his wooden leg, and without his father around to fix the damage, his true nature would be exposed.
He didn't understand what the point was. If fun existed in the shape of ice cream, drinks, and amusement parks, was it not meant to be a reward? Perhaps it was.
But what if there was a thin line bordering the type of fun separating good and bad?
He had just watched as a boy, a rebel who had just wanted to avoid school, to have fun become a donkey right in front of him. And Pinocchio hadn't been able to do anything to stop it all. He had no idea about magic. Sure, okay, it might have animated him, but he knew nothing about it. But the most frightening change Pinocchio had seen during Lampwick's transformation was how the other boy had screamed for his mother before the magic entered its final phase, and Lampwick was pushed onto all fours. His body had changed further so his form was similar to that of the creatures that had pulled the coach (for a horrible moment, Pinocchio remembered the way the donkeys who'd pulled the coach had brayed desperately at the boys; at the time Pinocchio hadn't paid much attention, but now he was looking back on the moment in hindsight, he couldn't help but wonder if the donkeys were once boys themselves and they couldn't warn the new victims of Pleasure Island).
Pinocchio couldn't do anything but watch as Lampwick galloped around the room, braying and smashing the mirror, and kicking the table where they'd played poker a few hours before. Lampwick had been bucking wildly, desperately, braying at the shock of his newfound nature and not being able to do anything to reverse it before he was driven insane.
But now he was running away, leaving Lampwick behind - there was little doubt in his head the Coachman or one of the mysterious black-garbed people working for the Coachman, would realise they were two boys short, and look around for Lampwick and Pinocchio. They wouldn't find him, but they would find Lampwick.
But what happened to him… Pinocchio didn't know.
But as he ran with Jiminy, Pinocchio was beginning to see and realise what he had done. It was ironic; he had been so sure he was on the way to becoming a real boy when he had come here, but now he was leaving he could see his mistake as clear as a pane of glass.
Instead of getting an education and rising above more than the simple enjoyment of the moment and liking the pleasure which came with it, Pinocchio had squandered his chances.
He had very nearly risked becoming firewood because Honest John and Gideon had discovered his nature and tried to sell him to Stromboli, who'd threatened to cut him up if he didn't perform (Pinocchio hoped the puppeteer got a nasty surprise when he stopped, either for the night or for breakfast and discovered his absence, but what Stromboli did Pinocchio neither knew nor did he care).
Once more meeting Honest John, he had been sent here. If Pinocchio never once saw the fox again, it would be too soon.
Like himself, Lampwick had squandered his chances of becoming a boy, but he could recognise the things the two of them wanted were vastly different from each other.
As he looked at it, from a certain angle, Lampwick was a donkey already. Yes, donkeys didn't need to play pool or poker, smoke cigars, or drink large amounts of beer while gorging themselves, but somehow he had the idea that if they had the ability and the opportunity to do all of those things they would do it without hesitation.
The ironic thing was it had taken a visit to Pleasure Island and now he was the proud owner of a donkey tail and a pair of donkey ears to make Pinocchio see the folly of what he had done, and he could now see what the fun Lampwick wanted could lead to especially in a place like this. Now he had a better desire or how to be a real boy properly, Pinocchio wondered if it was too late? He had squandered the Blue Fairy's chances in the past, was it too late now?
Yes, the Fairy might have been kind and understanding even if she had scolded him for lying in Stromboli's coach when he had been ashamed to admit what had happened but was he trying her patience?
As he ran out of the Pool Hall, Pinocchio looked around the deserted park; it was eerie looking at the park-like this, especially when so much of it was in ruins like the houses and mini-towns put in for the express purpose of being there for boys brought to the island to tear it to pieces, Pinocchio wondered once more about appearances.
The boys, he was starting to realise with a pang of guilt since he had seen the terror in Lampwick's eyes when he had realised only too late what he was transforming into, were as much donkeys in human form as Lampwick was. They were now simply in their true forms.
"This way, Pinoke, it's the only way out," Jiminy called and Pinocchio returned his focus to his friend, and he increased his speed while he glanced left and right to make sure none of the Coachman's henchmen had spotted him. The park seemed deserted, but it was hard to be sure since it was so dark.
Pinocchio followed the cricket to a rocky cliff, and he began climbing upwards. It was a relatively easy climb even if it slowed him down; the boulders of the cliff weren't that high, but it felt like he was suddenly shrunk down and he was now taller than a mouse trying to climb a flight of stairs.
"Hurry up," Jiminy suddenly let out a groan, but Pinocchio couldn't look over his shoulder to see what had happened to his friend, "before they see us."
The command made Pinocchio climb faster. There was no doubt that, at least by now, the Coachmen had sent his men on a search around the island. They had to do it. The island was so well organised with a clear structure and if they had been doing this for a long time then the ones behind it would have everything sorted out. They would likely and probably be looking around the island for signs of donkeys, or boys in the midst of their transformations.
Pinocchio had to admit it was blind luck he and Jiminy had managed to escape at all, but they were unique; he was a puppet animated by magic, Jiminy was a cricket.
They ran and they kept running until they reached the edge of the cliff, and Pinocchio only just managed to stop himself from falling; he risked a look down and he shuddered as he heard the sound of the tide crashing on the rocks below, guessing he could easily be smashed to pieces if he jumped.
"You gotta jump!" Jiminy called to him.
Pinocchio knew he had to despite his terror of what was waiting below him. With a deep sigh, Pinocchio gathered all of his bravery and he leapt off the cliff head first.