Gus the Giraffe and the Very Long Goodnight

Gus the giraffe had a tree, and every night before he could sleep, he had to say goodnight to it.

Not to the whole tree. That would have been quick. Gus had to say goodnight to every leaf.

"Goodnight, leaf," said Gus to the first one. "Goodnight, leaf. Goodnight, leaf. Goodnight, leaf."

The other giraffes, who were already lying down with their long necks folded like deckchairs, groaned.

"Gus," said his big sister Greta. "There are four thousand leaves on that tree."

"Four thousand and twelve," said Gus. "I counted. Goodnight, leaf."

"Just say goodnight to the tree!"

"That's not the same," said Gus. "How would you feel if someone said goodnight to the herd and not to you?"

Greta had no answer to that, so she put her head under her leg and pretended to be a rock.

Gus carried on. "Goodnight, leaf. Goodnight, leaf." He had got to the second branch, which was about leaf one hundred and sixty. The moon, which had been low and orange when he started, was now high and white and looking at its watch.

A monkey who lived three trees over leaned out. "Are you going to be long?"

"Three thousand, eight hundred and fifty-two more," said Gus.

The monkey went back in and put a leaf in each ear.

"Goodnight, leaf," said Gus. "Goodnight, lea... oh, hello, caterpillar. Goodnight, caterpillar. Goodnight, leaf."

By the fourth branch, Gus's neck was beginning to ache. By the fifth, his eyes had started closing between leaves, so that he said goodnight to the same leaf twice and had to apologise. By the sixth branch, Gus was doing something no giraffe had ever done before. He was yawning in the middle of a word.

"Goodnight, leeeaaahhhhhh... f."

Up in the tree, the leaves had noticed. Leaves notice more than you think. They had been enjoying the attention, but they could also see that if this went on, Gus would still be at it when the sun came up, and then he would have to start saying good morning.

So the leaves did something.

The whole tree gave a little shiver, from the top branch to the bottom, and every leaf, all four thousand and twelve of them, whispered at exactly the same moment:

"Goodnight, Gus."

It sounded like the softest wind in the world. It sounded like somebody pulling a very large blanket up to a very long chin.

Gus stood perfectly still. His mouth, which had been open for the next goodnight, slowly closed.

"Oh," he said. "You can do it all at once."

"Mm-hm," rustled the tree.

"Well," said Gus. He thought about it. Then he took the biggest breath a giraffe can take, and he said, to the whole tree, all four thousand and twelve leaves and one caterpillar:

"Goodnight, everybody."

Then he folded his long neck down like a deckchair, next to his sister who was pretending to be a rock, and fell asleep in about four seconds.

Greta opened one eye. "Was that it?"

"That was it," whispered the tree.

"Finally," said the monkey, three trees over, and took the leaves out of his ears.