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Pinocchio falls asleep with his feet on a foot warmer, and awakens the next day with his feet all burned off

Pinocchio falls asleep with his feet on a foot warmer,
and awakens the next day with his feet
all burned off.

Chapter Six

As retold for Aaron

Pinocchio falls asleep with his feet on a foot warmer, and awakens the next day with his feet all burned off.

Pinocchio looked out on the dark, night street. Being only a Marionette without much experience, he hadn't great cause to be frightened of the dark, but it did worry him a little.
"Just a little," he thought.
As he started out on his search for food, it began to thunder, and though Pinocchio was only a Marionette and didn't have much experience with storms, he was worried a little. "Just a little," he thought to himself, ducking his head under his arm with each bright flash of lightning that now and again shot across the sky so it seemed to turn into a sea of blue-white fire. The wind, blowing cold and angry, raised dense clouds of dust, while the trees shook and moaned in a wierd way. Pinocchio wondered if he should turn back, but the hunger he felt was greater than his anxiety.
"I know exactly what I should do," Pinocchio said out loud, "I should run as fast as I can to the town. The less time I'm out in this storm, the less time there will be for anything to happen to me. I bet in the town there will be someone who won't mind giving me a bit of bread, and maybe even letting me come inside and eat it."
In a dozen leaps and bounds, the Marionette came to the village. His hunger was such that the run exhausted him and he puffed like a great whale, his tongue hanging out.
Wasn't the puppet surprised to find that the whole village was dark and appeared deserted. Where were all the people who had been out during the day? The stores were closed, and the doors and windows to all the houses fastened shut. He didn't even see any dogs in the street. It seemed like, well, I tremble to say it but it seemed to him like the Village of the Dead.
"Hello!" Pinocchio cried out several times.
No one answered.


"Hello!" he cried out several more times.
Still, no one answered.
A clap of thunder followed by a bright bolt of lightning licking at his heels, the desperate puppet ran up to a doorway, threw himself on the bell and rang it wildly. "Someone will surely answer that," he said to himself.
A window opened in the second story above him, and an old man, looking out, called down angrily, "What do you want at this hour of night?"
"I'm hungry. I want some bread," Pinocchio answered. He didn't know to say please as he had never been taught polite manners.
"You want some bread, do you? Stay right there," answered the old fellow, supposing he was dealing with one of those boys who loved to roam around at night ringing people's bells and disturbing their rest.
"How wonderful! Soon I won't be hungry any more," Pinocchio thought. As he stood on the doorstep and waited, he began already to feel better. The storm, though troublesome, was not so threatening, the wind less cold, and his stomach less hollow.
After a minute or two, he heard the same voice cry out, "Get under the window, and hold out your hat!"
"I guess they're not going to let me in, but I'll be happy just to have something to eat," Pinoccho thought as he eagerly patted about on his head for a hat to oblige the man.
Which is when he realized he had no hat and had never had one.
Stepping out under the open window, Pinoccchio answered, "I have no hat! Must I have one?"
Oh! Promptly, the Marionette was showered with a bucket of ice-cold water which poured down over his wooden head, shoulders and body.
"That wasn't nice!" Pinocchio shouted.
"Go home where you belong and leave decent people alone," the old fellow yelled down.
Though this was mean of the man to do, Pinocchio was, in a way, fortunate that something more evil didn't happen to him. The world is full of many nice people, but there are also in it people who aren't so nice, and it isn't safe for little children to be out by themselves at night.
The Marionette returned home as wet as a dishrag, exhausted and still hungry. No strength left in him, nearly frozen, he sat down on the chair and put his two feet on the foot-warmer to dry them.


In no time at all, Pinocchio was asleep. And while the Marionette slept, his wooden feet began to burn. Slowly, very slowly, they blackened and turned to ashes, but Pinocchio snored away as if his feet were not his own. He didn't wake until dawn, when he heard a loud knocking on the door.
"Who is it?" the Marionette called, yawning and rubbing his eyes. Then, remembering his lesson from the previous night, even though he felt it wasn't nice and that he wouldn't have wanted to be treated that way, he yelled, "Don't you know better than to disturb decent people at this hour? Go home where you belong! I don't care if you are hungry!"
"Pinocchio, it's I," a voice answered.
The voice belonged to Geppetto.

Pinocchio goes out in a thunderstorm to look for food

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Rewritten by J. Kearns (in some places considerably, in other places not so considerably, and in others not much at all) from the translation by Carol Della Chiesa of C. Collodi's original story
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