Snorlax slept at the top of the hill. He slept by day, by night, and between meals. If anyone woke him, he opened one eye and said, "Five more minutes." And he slept five hours.
One night, a white light tickled his eyelids. It was the Moon, so low she almost touched his nose. "How do you do it?" asked the Moon. "I have never slept."
"It's easy," said Snorlax. "You close your eyes, like this…" And he fell asleep. The Moon waited. Then she shone on one eyelid. "Five more minutes," said Snorlax.
"Then you yawn, like this…" And he fell asleep again, with his mouth open. The Moon tried it by herself. She closed her eyes, and the whole hill went dark.
Down in the meadow, the Clefairy were dancing in a ring. They stopped all at once. "Who turned off the Moon?" asked Cleo, the littlest one. The Moon opened her eyes right away. "I can't sleep," she said. "They need me."
Snorlax looked at the Clefairy. He looked at the Moon, whose light had gone dim. Then he did something he had never done before. He got up at night.
He climbed the tallest rock and sat with his tummy to the sky, round and pale. "Five minutes," he said to the Moon. The Moon tucked herself in with a cloud, and the Clefairy danced around Snorlax's tummy.
The hard part was not falling asleep. Snorlax's eyelids kept dropping. Cleo pulled on one of his ears. Snorlax counted stars, pinched his foot, and held on all night without closing even one eye.
The Clefairy went off to bed. A little ray peeked over the mountain: the Sun. The Moon was still asleep in her cloud. "Shhh," Snorlax said to the Sun. "Five more minutes." And the Sun waited.
When the Moon woke up, she gave him a kiss of light on the forehead and went on her way. At last Snorlax lay down. The birds sang. "Five more minutes," said Snorlax. And this time, nobody woke him.
