Today’s prompt was ‘rewrite your favorite Disney movie from the POV of the villain’. Now, because I’m trying to keep my stories short, I decided to adjust prompt ever so slightly so I was writing a small section of a movie from the POV of the villain. One of my favourite Disney movies is Tarzan, so here goes:
Clayton strode from the tent, his khaki shirt half-pulled across his shoulders. Snatching his elephant gun from where it leant against a box of books, he did up his buttons and walked, loudly angry, to where the Professor sat.
“Well, Professor?” Clayton demanded, in his martial booming voice. As always when he spoke, the Professor flinched. “Might we ask the creature today the whereabouts of his ape friends?”
“Ah, er, Clayton,” stammered the Professor in reply, replacing his glasses from where they’d fallen from his face. “I think, er, that is I don’t know, um, well – is Tarzan ready to tell us?”
A laugh burst from Clayton’s mouth, a hollow boom that sent birds fleeing from the bamboo palisade surrounding their camp. He glanced around and pulled a large crate near to him, easily lifting the heavy wooden box. Squatting on the container, he fixed the Professor with a gimlet eye. “But Professor,” he adopted a wheedling tone, strange from a man so large and belligerent. “Would it not be such a shame if Jane didn’t get to see the gorillas?” His face, with its oiled and waxed moustache, drooped into such a paroxysm of mock grief that it looked like he was having a stroke. “I know she had her heart set on seeing them, and I think Tarzan could be persuaded… don’t you?”
The Professor stared back at the bigger man, and wondered not for the first time the wisdom of employing him to lead their expedition into the jungles in search of the elusive gorilla pack. He and Jane had been saving for this expedition for years, and Clayton was right – his daughter lived to see the gorillas that they had so far only heard. The appearance of the strange, wild ape-man had only strengthened her resolve to see the creatures that he had apparently grown up amongst, and although her attention was taken by the man Tarzan, it was discovering his ‘family’ that most of their conversation revolved around.
“I.. well, I mean, I suppose you’re right.” Admitted the Professor, setting down the beaker that he had been clutching in a sort of defense against the larger man. “But how? We can’t force him to show us… Maybe-“ he looked up, an idea brightening his face. “maybe if we asked him to bring one of them here? Just a small one” he hurried on, mistaking the black look that had crossed Clayton’s face as fear, “then we could study it, and maybe get Tarzan to see that we mean no harm?” He hopped down from the chair he had been perched on, enthused with his new idea. “Yes yes! I shall ask Tarzan immediately that he gets here! Oh, this will be perfect! Maybe he could bring two! Hurrah!” and the Professor wandered off, mumbling happily to himself about his new plans.
“No no, Professor…” Clayton murmured to himself, watching the smaller man walk off. “That will never do, I will never get much money for just two gorillas.” He got up and walked in the opposite direction, away from the camp.
He had taken a dislike to the Professor ever since they’d met, in a seedy back-street office in South London. Despite the man’s learned background, he had not been able to afford any of the more well-known guides and had, in desperation, come to Clayton. The two were diametrically opposite to one another; the Professor was excitable and scatter-brained, Clayton was martial and abrupt. And so, at first when the Professor had outlined his proposal to Clayton – lead the expedition for a meagre sum, and a share in the rewards would be his – the game hunter had laughed in his face and refused. Then, as he’d shooed the distraught academic from his small office, a thought had struck him. With the Professor and his daughter there, nobody would doubt the legitimacy of such an expedition. And he knew someone who would pay very well for gorilla fur, to say nothing of their organs and bone. And so, with an abruptness that would have warned anyone less single-minded than the Professor, Clayton had accepted the proposal, throwing himself into the expedition with a gusto that went a long way to endearing him to the smaller man.
Now, he leant against a tree and waited, and was rewarded a short time later with the arrival of Tarzan. The younger man approached in his usual way, jumping from tree branch to tree branch, sliding around the foliage with an abandon which irritated Clayton, although he couldn’t say why. Dropping to the ground, the ape-man moved forwards, clumsily walking upright as though it was a skill he’d only recently learned – which, of course, it was. Clayton walked forward, puffing on a fat cigar he had lit, and boomed out a welcome to Tarzan.
“Tarzan! There you are! I wanted to speak with you, if I may..” the hunter drooped a commanding arm around the younger man’s shoulders, and led him firmly to one side. Tarzan looked at Clayton, puzzled but not alarmed, as the expedition leader began to talk.
“You see Tarzan, I’m very much afraid I have some bad news.”
“Bad… news?” Tarzan asked, his soft voice tasting each word to divine its meaning.
“Yes my boy, bad news. You have met Paulson?” Clayton lifted one arm and pointed back into the camp, where one of his underlings was busy with the tasks of the day. Tarzan nodded, questioningly. “Well,” continued Clayton, “I’m afraid he’s not a very nice person.”
Tarzan twisted to look at the lackey once more. Paulson was a tall, gangly, Irish sailor, one of the shore party who had been sent with them from the boat to assist around the camp. He was a happy man, quick with a joke or a smile, and he had given Tarzan some of his second-hand clothes which fit the ape-man well. Tarzan turned back to look at Clayton.
“Paulson is Tarzan’s friend.” He asserted. “Paulson not bad man.”
“Yes, Tarzan, he is.” Clayton replied, keeping his booming voice low. “He wants to kill your gorilla friends.” Tarzan, as Clayton knew he would, reacted immediately to this. He sprang back, baring his teeth and dropping to all fours as he stared, angrily, towards the figure of Paulson.
“I will kill him first” stated the younger man, flatly.
“No!” Clayton knelt beside the other. “No, you must not do that. He is protected by his friends. But here is a problem. Do you understand ‘problem’, Tarzan?”
Tarzan nodded, relaxing somewhat.
“Well, our problem is that the Professor – Jane’s father” Clayton spoke these last two words meaningfully, and was rewarded by a spark of interest in Tarzan’s eyes. “The Professor wants to meet your gorilla friends. But you won’t take us to see them. So the Professor wants you to bring one of your friends here.”
Tarzan looked at Clayton, confused. “Here? To camp?” The idea had clearly never struck the man before, and Clayton paused, still squatting beside him, as he worked it over in his head.
If..” Tarzan spoke slowly, pondering. “If I bring gorilla here, Jane is happy.” He nodded to himself. “But if I bring gorilla here, Paulson kills gorilla?” He shook his head, demonstrating his disapproval at such a plan. “I cannot bring gorilla here.” He finally stated, emphatically.
“No,” replied Clayton, concealing his grin at the success of his plan. “You must take us to see the gorillas, and you cannot bring them here. You must tell the Professor that you cannot. But do not tell him about Paulson, for if the Professor fought” and Clayton mimed a punching match, “with Paulson then Paulson will hurt him!”
Tarzan nodded emphatically. Together, the pair straightened. Tarzan walked into the camp, ready to decline the Professor’s request. Once he was alone, Clayton smiled to himself. Everything was going according to plan…
Clayton strode from the tent, his khaki shirt half-pulled across his shoulders. Snatching his elephant gun from where it leant against a box of books, he did up his buttons and walked, loudly angry, to where the Professor sat.
“Well, Professor?” Clayton demanded, in his martial booming voice. As always when he spoke, the Professor flinched. “Might we ask the creature today the whereabouts of his ape friends?”
“Ah, er, Clayton,” stammered the Professor in reply, replacing his glasses from where they’d fallen from his face. “I think, er, that is I don’t know, um, well – is Tarzan ready to tell us?”
A laugh burst from Clayton’s mouth, a hollow boom that sent birds fleeing from the bamboo palisade surrounding their camp. He glanced around and pulled a large crate near to him, easily lifting the heavy wooden box. Squatting on the container, he fixed the Professor with a gimlet eye. “But Professor,” he adopted a wheedling tone, strange from a man so large and belligerent. “Would it not be such a shame if Jane didn’t get to see the gorillas?” His face, with its oiled and waxed moustache, drooped into such a paroxysm of mock grief that it looked like he was having a stroke. “I know she had her heart set on seeing them, and I think Tarzan could be persuaded… don’t you?”
The Professor stared back at the bigger man, and wondered not for the first time the wisdom of employing him to lead their expedition into the jungles in search of the elusive gorilla pack. He and Jane had been saving for this expedition for years, and Clayton was right – his daughter lived to see the gorillas that they had so far only heard. The appearance of the strange, wild ape-man had only strengthened her resolve to see the creatures that he had apparently grown up amongst, and although her attention was taken by the man Tarzan, it was discovering his ‘family’ that most of their conversation revolved around.
“I.. well, I mean, I suppose you’re right.” Admitted the Professor, setting down the beaker that he had been clutching in a sort of defense against the larger man. “But how? We can’t force him to show us… Maybe-“ he looked up, an idea brightening his face. “maybe if we asked him to bring one of them here? Just a small one” he hurried on, mistaking the black look that had crossed Clayton’s face as fear, “then we could study it, and maybe get Tarzan to see that we mean no harm?” He hopped down from the chair he had been perched on, enthused with his new idea. “Yes yes! I shall ask Tarzan immediately that he gets here! Oh, this will be perfect! Maybe he could bring two! Hurrah!” and the Professor wandered off, mumbling happily to himself about his new plans.
“No no, Professor…” Clayton murmured to himself, watching the smaller man walk off. “That will never do, I will never get much money for just two gorillas.” He got up and walked in the opposite direction, away from the camp.
He had taken a dislike to the Professor ever since they’d met, in a seedy back-street office in South London. Despite the man’s learned background, he had not been able to afford any of the more well-known guides and had, in desperation, come to Clayton. The two were diametrically opposite to one another; the Professor was excitable and scatter-brained, Clayton was martial and abrupt. And so, at first when the Professor had outlined his proposal to Clayton – lead the expedition for a meagre sum, and a share in the rewards would be his – the game hunter had laughed in his face and refused. Then, as he’d shooed the distraught academic from his small office, a thought had struck him. With the Professor and his daughter there, nobody would doubt the legitimacy of such an expedition. And he knew someone who would pay very well for gorilla fur, to say nothing of their organs and bone. And so, with an abruptness that would have warned anyone less single-minded than the Professor, Clayton had accepted the proposal, throwing himself into the expedition with a gusto that went a long way to endearing him to the smaller man.
Now, he leant against a tree and waited, and was rewarded a short time later with the arrival of Tarzan. The younger man approached in his usual way, jumping from tree branch to tree branch, sliding around the foliage with an abandon which irritated Clayton, although he couldn’t say why. Dropping to the ground, the ape-man moved forwards, clumsily walking upright as though it was a skill he’d only recently learned – which, of course, it was. Clayton walked forward, puffing on a fat cigar he had lit, and boomed out a welcome to Tarzan.
“Tarzan! There you are! I wanted to speak with you, if I may..” the hunter drooped a commanding arm around the younger man’s shoulders, and led him firmly to one side. Tarzan looked at Clayton, puzzled but not alarmed, as the expedition leader began to talk.
“You see Tarzan, I’m very much afraid I have some bad news.”
“Bad… news?” Tarzan asked, his soft voice tasting each word to divine its meaning.
“Yes my boy, bad news. You have met Paulson?” Clayton lifted one arm and pointed back into the camp, where one of his underlings was busy with the tasks of the day. Tarzan nodded, questioningly. “Well,” continued Clayton, “I’m afraid he’s not a very nice person.”
Tarzan twisted to look at the lackey once more. Paulson was a tall, gangly, Irish sailor, one of the shore party who had been sent with them from the boat to assist around the camp. He was a happy man, quick with a joke or a smile, and he had given Tarzan some of his second-hand clothes which fit the ape-man well. Tarzan turned back to look at Clayton.
“Paulson is Tarzan’s friend.” He asserted. “Paulson not bad man.”
“Yes, Tarzan, he is.” Clayton replied, keeping his booming voice low. “He wants to kill your gorilla friends.” Tarzan, as Clayton knew he would, reacted immediately to this. He sprang back, baring his teeth and dropping to all fours as he stared, angrily, towards the figure of Paulson.
“I will kill him first” stated the younger man, flatly.
“No!” Clayton knelt beside the other. “No, you must not do that. He is protected by his friends. But here is a problem. Do you understand ‘problem’, Tarzan?”
Tarzan nodded, relaxing somewhat.
“Well, our problem is that the Professor – Jane’s father” Clayton spoke these last two words meaningfully, and was rewarded by a spark of interest in Tarzan’s eyes. “The Professor wants to meet your gorilla friends. But you won’t take us to see them. So the Professor wants you to bring one of your friends here.”
Tarzan looked at Clayton, confused. “Here? To camp?” The idea had clearly never struck the man before, and Clayton paused, still squatting beside him, as he worked it over in his head.
If..” Tarzan spoke slowly, pondering. “If I bring gorilla here, Jane is happy.” He nodded to himself. “But if I bring gorilla here, Paulson kills gorilla?” He shook his head, demonstrating his disapproval at such a plan. “I cannot bring gorilla here.” He finally stated, emphatically.
“No,” replied Clayton, concealing his grin at the success of his plan. “You must take us to see the gorillas, and you cannot bring them here. You must tell the Professor that you cannot. But do not tell him about Paulson, for if the Professor fought” and Clayton mimed a punching match, “with Paulson then Paulson will hurt him!”
Tarzan nodded emphatically. Together, the pair straightened. Tarzan walked into the camp, ready to decline the Professor’s request. Once he was alone, Clayton smiled to himself. Everything was going according to plan…