Lolita gets clever

With  five hundred and fifty five  sacks of nectar  collected, I only have six more to go. Then I will be  collector of the week, Horace thought as he paused for a break.

It was humid and hot, not two of his favourite words but work was work and families had mouths and they needed to be fed.

He paused and with a neat flick his strawlike tongue zipped outwards and got …nada… zilch…nothing.

Again, it can’t be happening again. Oh gosh, that’s the third time today. I’m overworked, I’m finished I won’t make the top of the pollen charts today or tomorrow. I must be ill. As he ranted and raved, a strange noise caught his attention. He paused and looked about him. The other insects around were mostly bees or the odd horsefly, but he could have sworn he heard a giggle. He didn’t see anyone watching him.

“Oh god, its worse than I thought, I’m going cuckoo, mad, batty.” He shuddered – he hated bats.

Horace considered his options. To return home now would be to admit total and utter defeat.  “I’m not a quitter, ” he muttered. “I’ll move on to the next plant and try once more.”

Horace waited for the wind to lift and like the other butterflies about him he had a knack of taking off just at the right moment. However, today when he stretched his wings for take off, he noticed that something was not quite right. I feel as though I am gaining weight. Must go back to  Moving and Meditating Classes, they did me good the last time. He decided as he flew on to the next plant.

butterfly-collecting-pollen-10898768

He landed with a thump and gave himself a minute. He closed his eyes and pictured a calm scene. Night time and his bed.

Meanwhile Lolita ladybug had unattached herself from him and was busy collecting nectar. Horace is exceptionally stupid, he closes his eyes for a minute each time he lands. She hummed as she worked.

Butterflies were famous for being less than clever but today she had hit the jackpot, so far she had robbed Horace of six sacks of nectar and if she played her cards right he would even give her a ride back home.

The sun was dropping to its bed, the level of noise was dropping as most animals were settling down for the night.  Horace was almost home. He was exhausted and flying low to the ground. As he flew over a discarded bicycle he noticed a strange reflection. It can’t be me, I am never that shape, he thought and circled for a better look.

Lolita, I will fix her. But saying it and doing it are two very different things. Horace didn’t want to hurt her merely give her a fright. Suddenly he saw the perfect place to do it.  It was a steep climb but he made it. He dropped very low over the basin and with a huge effort gave his wings a shake. The sleepy ladybird slid off the end of his wing, the sacks of pollen followed her dropping through the air. As Lolita woke with a fright she began to scream.  Feeling the sudden rush of air, she began to flick her wings to stop her fall.  It was enough for Horace to turn around dive between her and the sacks and collect them with his outspread wings.

“Don’t mess with me again. I am not stupid.” Horace said as he turned for home.

ladybird

With a shrug Lolita vowed she would have better luck tomorrow as she too made her way home.

 

 

A Dragon named Frank with a hot problem

Breeze was smiling because he could smell his favorite smell – cakes baking. He slid off the branch and began to wander through the forest. He knew if he took his time he would miss the messy washing up bit and land at Tulips door in time for afternoon tea and cake.

His smile lasted for about ten seconds. It was the saddest looking dragon who took his happy smile away. The dragon was green and miserable.

“Hey, What is wrong with you buddy?” Breeze asked.

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“My life is ruined and all because of my hot breath.” The dragon mumbled.

Breeze frowned and sat down, a safe distance away, from the grumpy dragon.

“But, Frank even I know that your speciality is fire breathing” Breeze spoke softly not wishing to annoy the small dragon.

“Yes but not when you love flowers and want to be a botanist.”

“A what?” Breeze looked about him wondering if he had fallen on his head and was having a terrible nightmare, because not one bit of this conversation was making sense to him.

“I like studying and growing flowers but it won’t work cos often, much too often they end up looking like toast.”

Breeze opened  his mouth, closed it and opened it again. He was afraid to say what he was thinking.

The dragon spoke for him. “No burnt flowers do not taste like toast. They simply look burnt.”

“Okay I know what to do lets talk to Elegant witch.” Breeze stood, told Frank where to meet him and ran off to see Elegant.

Unfortunately for him she wasn’t baking, she was cleaning her house using a broom.

Breeze watched her work and frowned. The world is gone upside down, he thought, dragons who want to potter about in the garden and witches who use a broom for sweeping. 

Her chuckle startled him. “I heard that Breeze and no I am not crazy. I just like sweeping.” Putting down the broom she asked him, “What problem have you brought to me today?”

Breeze told her about Frank. It was Elegants turn to look worried. “If I stop his fiery breath, the others will not like it.” Elegant began to pace about the room. There was a bee dancing on the window ledge, very gently Elegant shooed it from the room. Then she turned to Breeze, “That is the answer.”

Breeze frowned. He didn’t think a bee on a window was an answer to anything but he knew Elegant to be a clever witch so he waited for her to return.

Frank arrived as Elegant finished her spell. When the dragon nervously asked her if she could help, she smiled and held out the hat for him. “It is smashing but won’t it go on fire too?”

beekeeper

Breeze moved out of the way and said, “Try it” then as fast as he could he ran to Tulips house. Afterall if the magical beekeepers helmet worked the dragon would be happy and if it didn’t then Breeze might have a lot of ashes to sweep up and Breeze hated sweeping.

 

A long poem or a short story?

ipp

Izzy the fairy, asked Ciara her boss,  “Could I have a different job please?

This year I won’t be seen turning the trees green.”

Izzy was spinning sending fairy dust high in the air.

Hedgehogs were walking round and round

their spikes were curly as birds song sank to the ground

 

Izzy said. ‘I could fill the rain clouds up real slow or clean Cupid’s bow!”

Ciara tilted her head and said,  “I’ll need to sit for a bit, and find a job to fit.”

Izzy sat on a toadstool and flicked morning dew with her feet.

“Hoi stop that!” a rabbit shouted. “I don’t like getting wet. ”

“Well I don’t like funny bunnies,” she said.

 

A field mouse scurried by muttering, “Spring is late.”

Izzy asked, “Is there an exact date?”

She hid inside a postbox and sat on a  letter

Hoping she would feel better.

First she wriggled her nose

Then later twiddled her toes.

 

The wind carried her name past the silent trees,

Izzy flew with the sound on the strong breeze,

“Izzy,  you could be a Web cleaner!” Ciara said as Izzy groaned.

Ugh it’s a terrible job, I’ll get dirty’, Izzy moaned.

 

Ciara explained, “You see, although I thought and thought

all I came up with was a big fat naught.’

Ciara had an idea, “Rose the tooth fairy needs help for she is busy

And I wonder if it would suit you Izzy?!”

Izzy laughed. “I’m to be a tooth fairy!”

Clapping her hands she said, “Oh goody, can I start early?”

 

Izzy told everyone of her new important job.

The busy worm family looked interested when Izzy told them of her new line of work,

Luckily she didn’t hear one of the young ones ask, “What’s a tooth then? It sounds like it should be in a book!”

 

At dusk Izzy was waiting to go,

Rose warned, ‘tonight will not be long and slow’

For now I have someone to help speed up the night,

Everything will be alright.

.

They flew through the keyhole at the first door,

And  waited till they heard a light snore,

Then Rose plucked the tooth from beneath the child’s head

While Izzy carefully put the coin there instead

 

On the way out, Izzy saw a shining circle that was saying tick tock

Rose laughingly explained it was a clock

Father Time will not like to hear that he is no longer needed Izzy said,

Wondering how much longer it would be before she was back in bed

 

The childrens rooms were full of treasures Izzy wished she could do more than look,

Dolls, teddies, cars and games mixed with lots and lots of colouring books,

There was a large box with a shiny dark space,

So dark Izzy could see her face,

‘What does it do?” Izzy dared to ask,

Rose couldn’t stop with her task

“I don’t know! Oh Izzy we are missing a tooth, I don’t know if its big or small!

Only that it’s not there at all!’

“Maybe it didn’t fall out on time!” Izzy suggested with a smile.

Rose looked grumpy,  “Izzy we’ll have to come back in a while.”

 

The next night Izzy returned and stopped at the foot of Sara’s bed.

There was a lot of sniffling and then a gentle cough. Sara sat up straight and said,

“Who are you?”

Izzy a truthful fairy said. “Izzy!”

Sara giggled, “Whats an Izzy?  Sounds like Fizzy! ”

Izzy was at a loss,

without her boss.

 

Her problem of how to help Sara sleep,

made Izzy  think long and deep,

Her eyes were big and round as she watched and listened without a sound.

As Sara drew funny looking houses, dancing spoons, smiling suns and moons.

When Sara fell asleep Izzy took a peep.

There beneath the pillow was a tiny tooth they missed,

Izzy took the tooth and put  the coin in its place, ‘that’s another one off Rose’s list,

 

The next night Izzy visited Sara to play

To her surprise she heard Sara say,

‘George our horse looks like he is made of wobbling jellies,

I’ve given him a big funny grin and he is wearing wellies.

Sara finished him, giving him a spikey mane and a fuzzy tail.

Izzy smiled “He looks like fun, why not give him a quick run!”

Taking a tiny bit of Izzy dust she threw it over him,

He left with a wink saying ‘Call me Jim’

 

Some time later they heard a familiar call. “Iiiiizzzzzzzzyyyyy”

“Ooopps got to go and look busy’

Ciara was looking slightly mad,

“Jim says you made him. Izzy what ever have you been up to?”

“I told you!” Jim said. Ciara waved a finger at him and said ‘Shoo!’

With a toss of his mane and a flick of his tail he left saying boo hoo.

 

Ciara frowned.  ‘Izzy I feel you need, something with action and speed

Izzy crossed her fingers hoping for something nice,

Perhaps I’ll be looking after the three blind mice,

Ciara said, “ The sky is looking dark and dreary,

I need you to make it look far more cheery.”

Izzy was grinning at these words clapping her hands with glee,

Ciara said, ‘But every day I will stop by to check you have kept your promise to me.’

 

So If you peep up at the sky and see so many flying sheep or wobbly horses you feel dizzy

Remember to say thanks to the tiny fairy called Izzy!

 

 

 

 

Izzy’s Problem

Note: A first draft of a chapter book, remarks, comments will be chewed on with delight.

Chapter 1

free-digi-stamp

A problem to solve.

Pots and pans were zipping through the air.  The kitchen was a large airport without an airport controller.  With a loud squeal Esmeralda,  Izzy’s cat,  was whisked upwards in the playful current of air. She landed in a  huge saucepan.  Crouching low with her tail tightly curled about her,  Esmeralda’s huge paws covered her eyes.

Izzy didn’t notice her poor cat.  She was sitting eating toast. It was oozing with warm runny butter and strawberry jam.

Those saucepans look grotty Izzy , she thought.  Her friends couldn’t understand why  Izzy preferred saucepans to cauldrons. “Easier to clean” she explained to them. That is they would be easier to clean if she remembered to get cleaner.

Izzy began to write on the back of an envelope.  The note said,  get some more cleaner,  it was scrawled in her untidy hand writing with cartoon spiders dancing about it.   She scowled at it, it reminded her of something she didn’t like doing – shopping.

“Surf and stuff it” Izzy  stamped her foot and every flying object including Esmerelda lost its invisible wings, landing with a huge wallop in an untidy heap on the kitchen floor.

Izzy knew why everything was turning upside down and roundabout on her.  She was fed up.  It was ages since she had any fun with her other witch friends.

“Perhaps they’ve grown out of having fun!”  Izzy whispered.  “What a terrible thought!  I mean, what sort of witch is a witch who doesn’t have any fun or silliness in her life. It’s what we’re supposed to do, create mayhem for humans.  They say people can die from boredom.” Izzy told a dizzy looking Esmerelda  who was stumbling out of the upturned pot.

Izzy had a terrible thought. What if it isn’t only people who could be seriously affected by the lack of fun and newness in their lives?  “Witches couldn’t die from boredom, could they?”  Izzy spoke very carefully and slowly hoping that it would help to get rid of such a stupid thought.

But no, it lingered, repeating itself over and over. It didn’t help her bad mood.  She gave a giant hiccup and flew straight out of the window into the huge beech tree.

It was her favorite place to sit and think.

In fact some of her most earth shattering decisions had been made while sitting quietly in this tree. High above with only the odd wayward bee for company she was free from all the usual noises of life.

Her great decisions may seem simple to you or me but to a neat methodical witch they were very important indeed.

For example:  She once spent a whole afternoon sitting wondering, if it would be better to file all of her recipes  (Jamie and Delia’s) by color code or by the order in which Izzy ate her meals.  That was her problem.

The order in which she ate depended on what she was having.  If it was tomato soup it always came first and last, Izzy loved tomato soup.

High in this tree the solution appeared suddenly. It was simple. A recipe book for witches by a champion cooking witch! The recipes would appear as she made them up.  If she liked the new recipe it would stay but if she didn’t then it would topple off the page.

Today she was so tired she curled up and fell asleep.

When she woke she was not only hungry but full of energy.

“I think a little walk before dinner would do this talented witch a world of good,” she decided as she licked her lips.  “A couple of meringues from the bakers shop could be just the medicine that I need.”

 

Giveaway ! The Runaway Schoolhouse

Technically a giveaway in return for reviews could be questioned as not being a giveaway, but that is the deal.  I will post, to three readers, a copy of my book in return for their review. I will leave the giveaway open for two weeks.

I considered many complicated ways of holding this competition but decided simple is best.

Posted below is the first chapter of my book. The names of everyone who answer the following question will be put in a hat, (beanie) and three pulled out.

runaway_schoolhouse_cover_Latest_151031

 

Chapter 1

 

John and Sara Buggy were twins who didn’t look alike. They didn’t think or act alike either. In fact, they were complete opposites. Sara was a quiet, studious type while John was a messer who hated school and spent his days there playing practical jokes.

One blustery, grey Monday morning, they trudged their way to school, all set for another run-of-the-mill day in the tiny two-classroom building.

“Why are we walking so fast?” Sara asked John.

“I have something to do,” he replied, with the beginning of a smile tugging at his mouth.

She knew that look but instead of pressing him further, concentrated on stretching her short legs to keep up with his longer stride. There was a six-inch height difference between them and while John had a head of smooth, dark brown hair, Sara was stuck with a headful of tangled red curls. This didn’t sit well with her.

“School is the oddest place because most of what we learn is pretty useless in the real world,” John was saying, as they walked through the main door.

Sara considered her answer for a moment.

“You may think you’re right but I like learning new things and it’s always so cosy in here.”

***

Once they were seated,  Sara started to worry about what trick John was about to play on their teacher. Mrs Brown, she noticed, kept sniffing and clutching a hanky to her nose. Sara wondered if she were ill. She glanced at John who winked at her.

“Not long now,” he whispered.

“What have you done?” she hissed back.

Suddenly, Mrs Brown sneezed. John giggled. Sara turned her attention back to their teacher who sat in her chair with her nose twitching like a rabbit. She sneezed six times in succession, sending her glasses bouncing onto her desk. Eventually, she managed to stop long enough to hold her nose and shove her glasses back in place. Getting up from her desk she walked to the door and said very quickly, “Carry on with your maths.” This short statement was followed by more sneezing as she left the room.

John was given many high fives and claps on the back as his mates asked how he did it.

“A master never reveals his secrets,” he grinned.

Sara was not impressed.

“Someday Mrs Brown will get really mad at you and…”

“And what?” John demanded. “Writing a hundred lines is nothing I haven’t done before. Now, come on, it’s break time.”

Suddenly a shadow fell across his desk and Mrs Brown said, in a sharp tone, “Let’s try five hundred lines on the whiteboard today John, not on your tablet where you are a master at copy and paste. The line, I should not play pranks on the teacher, is to be written at lunchtime.”

Mrs Brown then turned to Sara adding, “And John is to do it on his own.”

“Yes, Mrs Brown,” Sara said.

***

At lunchtime Sara slipped back into the classroom to help her brother but found him staring at the whiteboard.

“You haven’t written many lines,” she said. Sara noticed a message written across the board – and it wasn’t in John’s handwriting.

School is a useful tool for life, John and Sara.

Sara read the words aloud and looked at John.

“I didn’t do it.The board was clean when I began and then it just appeared. It’s wrong anyway, school is stupid.”

He wiped the message away.

“Perhaps it is magic?” Sara said in a wistful tone.

“Huh, there is no such thing,” John sneered. “If there was I would click my fingers and the board would be full of lines, just like this.”

Turning to face Sara he clicked his fingers but noticed her smile fade as she pointed back to the board.

There before them, more lines of the same sentence appeared. They watched as they scrawled, with no sign of a marker, in neat, tidy rows.

Sara counted the lines.

“There are twenty rows of twenty-five lines.” She looked at John. “Did you do this? Do something else!”

“Two packets of crisps,” John shouted, then clicked his fingers and waited. Nothing happened.

Sara was busy staring at the board again. She read the message aloud.

You have enough lunch to eat in your schoolbag.

“I don’t like this. Is it a ghost? ” Sara whispered and jumped further away from the board.

John was curious and moved closer. “Rubbish! Ghosts don’t exist.”

“I wonder why it happened today?” And no sooner had she said it but the words changed and she read aloud, Today is my birthday, I am one hundred years old.

Gathering all of her courage Sara said,  “Happy Birthday to you but who are you?”

I am the schoolhouse you are standing in and my name is Clearie.

“Clearie, what an awesome name!” John said.

The words on the bottom changed once more and they both read the message.

Clearie means minstrel and scholar in Irish.

Suddenly, the ringing of the bell announced the end of break and the arrival of the other children back into the room, prevented Sara and John from finding out more.

Sara did notice the last message was wiped clean before Mrs Brown arrived back to her desk but she instinctively knew it wouldn’t be the last of them.

In the meantime, there was John’s lack of lines to worry about…

 

******

The question is: What was the first message to appear on the board not written by John or Sara?

 

 

 

 

The Munchin Family – 3

Chapter  4

 

The shivering man was saying to himself, ‘The house looks like a bank vault, they must have loads of money. I know they have loads and loads of money or valuables.’  This very thought is what led him to their front door.

The Munchin family were staring at him as though he were an alien.

Baby came back with a huge steel mug of tea and a plate with a skyscraper sandwich wobbling about on it. ‘I didn’t know what you would like so I put everything on it,’ he explained. There was indeed a great deal piled in between two slices of bread. Lettuce leaves, tomatoes, ham, chicken, cucumber, potato salad and banana peeped out from between the slices of bread. The skyscraper sandwich was behaving like a quivering mountain of jelly.

The visitor stared at the wobbling sandwich.

Baby said, ‘I’m Baby who are you?’

‘I’m Duncan!’ The burly man said.

Baby giggled. ‘Funny name, Dun can, or Dun can’t,’ he sang. His voice hit the steel walls and bounced back at Duncan. Then silently the wobbling skyscraper sandwich fell first onto Duncan’s lap and then slid piece by piece onto the floor.

‘Two second rule, ‘ Roared Granddad and everyone, except Mother Munchin and Duncan, dived on the food. Within two seconds it was gone.

Mother Munchin apologized adding, ‘I’ll get you a fresh one.  Junior take Duncan’s jacket into the kitchen and I’ll clean it for him.’ She ran off to the kitchen to make another sandwich.

They are all batty, fruity and loopy, Duncan decided. He was wondering how he could get to take a look through the rest of the house. If I had mums sleeping tablets in my pocket I could put it in their food. Because the way they eat they wouldn’t notice the funny taste. With them all asleep my job would be easier.

Mother Munchin appeared before him and handed him a neat sandwich saying, ‘You poor dear you look really pale, will I call the doctor?’

Duncan who was staring at Granddad Munchin who was doing his favorite trick, making his eyes spin. Duncan’s stomach was spinning as fast as Granddads eyes.  ‘No, if I sit quietly for a while I will be much better, thank you. It is very kind of you to offer.’

Mother Munchin beamed at Duncan. ‘Oh you do have lovely manners. Most men today have forgotten where they put their manners.’ As she was speaking she was glaring at her family. It was her favorite topic –  her family’s lack of manners.

Granddad said, ‘Is that the time?  I should be somewhere else.’ And off he went.

Father Munchin looking up at the ceiling said ‘Well we can’t let Granddad wander about by himself. I’d best go to keep an eye on him.’  All the time he was thinking, ‘I don’t like this guy, he sounds too good to be true, I’ll check him out.’ And he went into the kitchen to see what he could learn about Duncan from his wallet.

Junior opened his mouth closed it and followed his dad. Because that’s what he usually did.

Baby thought Ducan looked interesting. He wondered what would go wrong next.

Baby’s life ran on disasters. His teacher at school was always telling him this. She said it yesterday as she helped him fish his books out of the school garden pond and last week when they had to wrestle his scarf from the very fat pig called ‘Smoky’ in the school animal farm. Baby’s worst disaster had happened when he was two years of age. Baby was trapped by accident in the fridge. Luckily he had loads to eat.

So as you can tell Baby was experienced in disasters but being flattened was an interesting and new one for him. He decided stayed to watch and learn.

‘Duncan might like to lie down on my bed, Mum.’ He whispered to her.

She stared at Duncan. He was a most peculiar colour green. ‘ Yes. You are right. Good idea. Really Baby what would I do without you. I really don’t know.’

Duncan was gently steered in the direction of the stairs. He was very white faced but happy. This was his big chance to take a look at the goodies in the house.

 

Chapter 5

 

The house was very bright and very clean. Duncan said so to Mother Munchin.

She beamed at him. ‘Oh thank you, how kind of you to notice.’ She said flicking another piece of imaginary dust from the banisters as they walked slowly upstairs.

Duncan was taking a very good look at this strange house. The walls were not painted, but there was an awful lot of photographs of the Munchin family. All of the photographs had no glass in the frames. ‘Nice photo’s of your family,’ Duncan lied. Then he couldn’t help himself as he said, ‘There is no glass in the frames!’

‘No, people sometimes bang doors and glass breaks.’ Baby told him. What he didn’t say was the people who caused them to break were usually Fred and Baby playing hide and seek or football.

‘Must be a lot of history attached to a place like this,’ Duncan said.

Baby giggled. Mother Munchin said, ‘Well some of it we don’t like talking about.’

‘Especially the donut house!’ Baby said.

‘Baby, it wasn’t Granddad’s fault he loved donuts.’ Turning to Duncan she whispered, ‘The original house was wooden and shaped like a donut. Granddad started sleep eating one night and we woke up in our beds with no roof over our heads and no walls or floors either.’

Duncan’s mouth fell open. He really didn’t know what to say. The silence stretched on for a while.

Mother Munchin’s next words made him jump. ‘I love bright shiny things,’ she was twisting a gold and ruby bracelet around her wrist and didn’t notice Duncan’s strange reaction to her words.

Duncan was smiling. A very strange scary smile, Baby thought.

Duncan was dreaming of all those things he could never afford. ‘This year I’m going to have all of those nice gadgets I see in the shops. He began to list them:  a new car, the newest phone, a new camera, computer and laptop, a house and perhaps a nice big very fierce dog, to keep burglars away.

Pulling open the nearest bedroom door she said, ‘Here you are, have a nap and when you feel better we will have tea before you go.’ Mother Munchin was leaving the room and still speaking. She was excited. It was an awful long time since they had a visitor to their house.

She was planning on doing some baking for Duncan. Her mind was full of cream cakes, ginger bread men and scones as she hopped on the banisters and slid down landing with a soft, klump on the floor on her feet.

‘When he wakes up let me know.’ She said as she dashed off to the kitchen.

Baby grinned in admiration. Each time he slid down the banisters he landed on his bottom or his head!  ‘Ok.I’ll sit on the top stair and read my comic that way when he wakes I’ll know it.’ He didn’t like the way the man’s eyes grew large and hungry as they looked at his mum’s bracelet. Baby also thought Duncan smelt like a man who was trying too hard to be nice.

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Duncan

 

 

The Munchin Family Part 2

Note:

The two children are Junior and Baby.

Junior (named Alfie) looks and sounds just like his dad. Baby, is small and roly-poly like his mum. His real name is Greg but everyone is used to calling him Baby despite the fact he is eight and goes to school!

 

Our story begins on a pretty normal day; the family were enjoying a relaxing few moments after lunch when the doorbell rang.

‘Whatever is that?’ Granddad asked scratching his beard and sending crumbs flying about the room.

Baby Munchin, grinned. ‘Doorbell’ he told them. Then he went back to licking his bowl clean.

Mother Munchin smiled. ‘Well fancy that! We have a genius in the family. Baby, however did you know that?’

Baby was thinking, I can’t tell the truth, I promised Fred I wouldn’t tell.

He and his best friend, Fred play a game after school most days. Fred does most of the work because he is the fastest boy in the whole school. He races up to a door, rings the doorbell and runs to where Baby is hiding. Together they watch the people of the house come out and look for the caller. People always walk outside. Next they look up and down the street, under bushes, in cars, behind pillar-boxes for the person who rang their doorbell.

Fred and Baby are so successful at this they have made the headlines in the local paper.  The big print on the front page this morning asked, ‘Are the invisible door bell ringers really aliens?’

Baby remembers what Fred said to him, ‘be careful do not tell anyone it was us or we will get punished.’

Baby had no idea what punished meant. He asked Fred who waved a long finger at Baby saying. ‘Well my dad said he used to get beaten with a stick, my mum used to get smacks of a wooden spoon and my aunt used to get grounded.’

Baby thought this last bit was funny but after some reflection he decided that spending your day with your head stuck in the ground would not be so funny.

So he simply said, ‘Don’t know, must have learnt it at school.’

‘Clever boy,’ his mum said patting the top of his head fondly.

 

Chapter 3

The doorbell rang once again. ‘Well come on in’ Father Munchin yelled.

A deep voice shouted back, ‘I would if I could find a door handle.’

‘Just pull or push.’ the whole Munchin family shouted. Their shout whipped up enough wind to knock the birds out of the tree and to blow the door open. They could see blue sky and green grass but not a visitor or any birds.

Junior Munchin stood up and walking over looked outside. ‘There is no one there!’ He said in a puzzled voice and turned to go inside.

They heard a painful whisper, ‘I’m crushed to a pulp behind the door, help, please.’

There was a thunderous noise of trampling scampering feet as the rest of the Munchin Family arrived to rescue him.

Granddad was rubbing his hands together in anticipation of seeing a squished body.

‘Oh my, Oh my.’ Father Munchin said over and over again as he twisted a hanky in his hands. He wasn’t good at looking at blood and gore.

Baby wanted to see what a squashed person looked like and he peeped behind the door. He was disappointed there was no blood or mess. Sighing loudly he said, ‘He’s ok. He looks a funny color and is a bit squished. But he will live!’

‘Come on in and have some tea, ‘Mother Munchin said staring at the visitor.

He was a very peculiar looking fellow. His face was long and thin with a short bulbous nose set right in the middle. His eyes were huge, one was brown and the other blue. His mouth was thin and small. His hair was so tightly curled it looked like a helmet sitting on his head.

Baby Munchin stood on his head and asked, ‘Were you punished, is that what happened?’

Their visitor’s whole body was shaking from the incredible experience of being flattened and meeting the entire family.

‘Baby, get the nice man some hot tea and a sandwich.’ Mother Munchin said as she patted the man’s hand and led him to a chair.

Baby ran to do as she asked and wished Fred were here, because Baby didn’t know how to make a sandwich. All he knew about sandwiches is that he loved them.