GRANDPA, you promised to tell me your favourite story from your forthcoming book, Tales Of The Pun-expected,” said the teenage girl. “Can I hear it now, please?”

“Of course,” said the old-timer. “This story is about a woodcutter named Ali Baba. He was bound for home on his donkey one afternoon when he heard the gallop of horses behind him. His heart racing, he got down from his animal and hid behind a rockfall, moments before 40 men approached, their horses laden with bulging sacks of stolen goods. These men had got their wealth by breaking the law” – he emphasised “wealth” and its anagram “the law” to get the humour across.

The girl smiled approvingly to indicate that she caught the joke, and said, “Forty is unique – it’s the only number that is spelt alphabetically.”

“Really? I didn’t know that,” said her grandfather, elevating his eyebrows. “To continue with the story, the 40 men faced the big mountain that Ali Baba had passed by many times in the past. ‘Open, Sesame!’ cried one of the men, who was apparently the commander-in-thief. And a door – which did not have a stone hinge although it was an ancient door – opened in the rock to reveal a secret chamber.”

“Wow,” said the girl. “If I had such a password, I’d be a shoo-in for the No-bell prize!”

“I’m sure you’d be, dear,” said Grandpa with a smile ... “Anyway, when the men had carried the sacks inside, the leader of the gang said, ‘Close, Sesame!’ The door closed, and the men rode off, their horses kicking up a big cloud of dust.”

“I have to interrupt you again, Grandpa,” the girl said. “They should have used a piece of jewellery to close the door.”

“What piece of jewellery?”

“A locket!”

“My dear, that is a very good pun; I’m glad you are having so much fun,” the old man said in unintentional rhyme.

“And I think the thieves, when they had stored their loot, went somewhere to have some tea, Grandpa.”

“Tea?”

“That’s right,” said the girl, beaming broadly. “After all, they are the For Tea Thieves!”

The storyteller laughed heartily, patted his granddaughter on the shoulder, and resumed the fairy tale: “Ali Baba, open-eyed and -mouthed – thought, ‘These men must be thieves who are stashing their loot in their hiding place.’ He stood before the rock face and said the magic words: ‘Open, Sesame!’ Walking into the hideout, he found the most wonderful store of precious stones and other treasures, and for a moment he thought that he was at a mirage sale. He held a superlatively beautiful turquoise brooch in his trembling hands and said to himself, ‘I like this ornament. The villagers may suspect me of stealing it, but they can’t pin it on me!’ And when he saw two identical gold rings, he did a double take.

“A minute later, Ali Baba filled his capacious bag with a variety of valuables, mounted his donkey, and rode away, not forgetting to close the door. Back home, he related his incredible adventure to his brother, Cassim, who was always cadging pocket money from him.

“Cassim decided to help himself to the valuables. Upon reaching the mountain, he was so excited that he almost cried out, ‘Open, Barley!’ He ransacked his mind and finally remembered the password. ‘I hope I’m not caught by anyone,’ he said to himself. ‘I know a man who got 12 months for just stealing a calendar!’

“Unfortunately for Cassim, the 40 thieves caught him red-handed. ‘Let’s do him in and then carry him out!’ the leader of the thieves cried, his eyes shining with maddening ferocity. ‘He is hazardous to our wealth!’ And the hydra-headed gang chorused, ‘K-Kill!’

“When Ali Baba went to the mountain the next day, he discovered Cassim’s body. ‘My brother had bad take-nique. I’ll have to take his body home for burial,’ he said gravely. He was completely unaware that one of the thieves was watching his every move like a hawk.

“A few days later, a merchant came to Ali Baba’s house and asked if he could leave 40 jars of oil in the yard until the following day. Ali Baba, being a simple man, did not suspect any foul play. ‘That’s all right with me,’ he said.

“Morgana, the servant girl, was certain that the thieves were hiding in the jars. ‘Oil, my foot!’ she muttered crudely. And she boiled gallons of water and poured it into the jars.”

“Ouch,” said the wide-eyed girl, with a mock grimace of pain.

Stroking his luxuriant white beard, Grandpa concluded the story: “That was the end of the 40 thieves. Morgana struck oil, for Ali Baba married her two days later. They used some of the money from the sale of the treasures to help the poor in their village. Smiling with his eyes, Ali Baba said to his wife: ‘Someday, I will tell our children all about the 40 thieves. I hope they won’t say that my story of the mountain is a big bluff!’” –Adapted from an Arabian fairy tale

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