breaking news

Monday 26 November 2012

day sixty-one and the swamp


After escaping the burstificacious thistle forest, the airship was momentarily engulfed in a swarm of cardigan bugs. When that cleared, Capt. Cookie and the co-pilot, Lieutenant Temples could see the swamp just ahead. It was hard to judge it’s size from their elevation just two metres above the ground, but they decided it must be around the size of a small county; Caramelshire perhaps.
“Did McCluskey say anything about this swamp?” asked the co-pilot.
“Yes,” said the captain. ”He said we should go around it.”
“Good idea!” said the co-pilot.
“Yes, good idea,” said the captain. “But we haven’t got enough fuel. We’ll have to go straight across!”

Capt. Cookie knew that if the airship came down in the middle of the swamp there would be little chance of rescue or survival, but he pushed the joystick forward.
The air soon became damp and full of gnats and mosquitos. The engine coughed and wheezed. As they got further across the swamp, the airship’s instruments in the cockpit began to go haywire. Needles jumped around their dials and lights flashed at random. In the cabin the passengers held tight as their seats started shaking. They watched helplessly as the jigsaw puzzle pieces jiggled apart, breaking up the image of the Imperial Palace they had spent so long putting together. Soon the whole airship was shaking. The trembling went up Ron’s legs and spine, around his skull and out through his beak. The spiders walked around on their porthole web like drunken sailors on a night out. Even Sir Wellington Moonboots had never experienced anything like this before.
And there was still a long way to go.
“I don’t think the ship can stand much more of this!” said the co-pilot quaveringly.
“I’m not going to let her go down in this swamp!” said Capt. Cookie, reaching up to catch a bolt as it came out of the ceiling.

© David Severn 2012

Sunday 25 November 2012

day sixty-one and the giant thistle forest


In the airship’s cabin, the passengers held their breath as they looked out of the portholes at the prickly giant thistle leaves. Up above they could see the giant purple thistle heads. The jigsaw puzzle was still on the floor; almost complete now, apart from some tricky blue sky pieces.
It was dark in the thistle forest and Capt. Cookie switched on the front lamp. Giant moths the size of birds fluttered around the beam of light, sometimes crashing into the cockpit window.
An owl appeared. Capt. Cookie opened the window and called to it:
“Excuse me. Is it far?”
“It’s about three o’clock,” replied the owl.
“No, is it far to the end of the thistle forest?” said Cookie.
“No, thanks. I’ve just had lunch,” said the owl.
“Err... o.k. thanks for your help,” said the captain.
“Next Monday,” said the owl.
Capt. Cookie closed the window.
“I thought owls were supposed to be wise!” said the co-pilot.

Having committed to flying straight through the forest, they had no choice but to keep going, although the captain had to concentrate like mad to avoid touching the spiky giant thistles with the sides of the airship. Occasionally, a thistle prickle tickled the airship’s balloon, but luckily didn’t puncture it.
Eventually it started to become a little lighter and then all of a sudden they were out of the forest. The captain and co-pilot’s faces, which had been frozen in grimaces now thawed and a loud cheer came from the cabin: Hooray!
Captain Cookie switched on the windsceen wipers to remove moth-dust and visually checked the airship’s position. Then he picked up the microphone:
“Ladybirds and gentlebirdmen,” announced the captain. “Please remain seated with your seatbelts fastened, as we continue our flight to the Kola Nut Hotel. We expect to be arriving there by about tea-time.”
However, the captain didn’t tell the passengers that they now had to navigate a large swamp.

© David Severn 2012

Friday 23 November 2012

day sixty-one and the airship leaves the lake


A minute later, the egrets returned.
“Did you find the dinghy?” asked Capt. Cookie.
“Have you got the anchovies?” asked an egret.
“Yes, “ said the captain, showing them the four fillets on the tray.
“Great!” said the egrets.
 “The dinghy’s over that way, about one kilometre away,” said an egret. 
“Are my crew all right?” asked Cookie.
“Yes,” said an egret. “We told ‘em to wait there.”
“Thank you!” said the captain.
“You’re welcome!” said the egrets, scoffing the anchovies. “Right, follow us!”
Capt. Cookie gently swung the airship around and followed the egrets across the lake, just a metre or so above the waterlillies. Soon the dinghy came into view.
“Get them aboard, Winterbottom!” shouted the captain to the steward.
“Give them some pineapple and a blanket.”
The co-pilot and the stewardess got aboard the airship. They were a bit wobbly after spending the last few days floating in the dinghy.
The egrets flew off looking for more grub, and Capt. Cookie set a course for the thistle forest, still keeping the airship just above the surface of the lake.
Before long, the airship crossed the perimeter of the lake. As it continued, still at the same level, the co-pilot took his seat in the cockpit, next to the captain. 
“Our altitude is very low, captain,” said the co-pilot.
“Yes, I know. We’ve only got a little oil - just what I drained out of five tins of anchovy fillets,” said the captain.
“But we’ll have to climb to get over that thistle forest just ahead,” said the co-pilot.
“No, we’re going through it!” said the captain.
“Phwwuuuh!” said the co-pilot. “But one prick from one of those thistles and we’re going to burst!”
“I realise that, Temples,” said Cookie. “I’m not stupid!”

© David Severn 2012

Thursday 22 November 2012

day sixty-one and an anchovy


Capt. Cookie watched the four egrets fly off across the lake in different directions to look for the dinghy with the co-pilot and the stewardess aboard.
“Steward to cockpit, please!” he said into the microphone.
The steward entered the cockpit. “Aye, skipper?”
“Winterbottom, have you finished serving the anchovies?” asked the captain.
“Aye, skipper!” said the steward. “All the passengers have had one.”
“And how many are left?” asked the captain anxiously.
“Three, skipper,” said the steward, showing the captain his tray with three anchovy fillets on it. “One for you, one for me and one spare one.”
“I need four!” said the captain,
“You said one each, skipper!” said the steward.
“Not for me!” said the captain, “I did a deal with some egrets. Four of them. I promised to give them an anchovy each if they find the dinghy!”
“Oh!” said the steward. “Well, there’s only three, I’m afraid, skipper.”
The captain and the steward looked back into the cabin and saw all the passengers chewing and making Mmmm sounds. All but one. The walrus was just picking up his anchovy and opening his enormous mouth.
“Get that anchovy, Winterbottom!” cried Capt. Cookie.
The steward raced down the aisle of the cabin and whisked the anchovy out of the walrus’s flipper just before he closed his giant jaws.
“This anchovy’s tasteless!” said the walrus, chomping on nothing.
The steward put the anchovy on his tray and ran back to the cockpit.
“Got it, skipper!” he cried.
“Well done, Winterbottom!” said the captain. 

© David Severn 2012

Monday 12 November 2012

day sixty-one and egrets


“We’ve forgotten the dinghy!” said the steward. “With Lieutenant Temples and Superviser Singsong in it!”
“Ah,” said the captain. “Yes. Mmm. Ah. Exactly. I thought something was different,” he said, looking at the empty co-pilot’s seat next to his in the cockpit. “No need to panic.”
An egret flew past the front of the cockpit. Capt. Cookie opened the window and called out “Excuse me!”
The egret came and perched on the window frame.
“How-do!” said the egret.
“Good morning!” said the captain. “Have you by any chance seen a dinghy!”
“What does it look like?” asked the egret.
“It’s orange. There are two of my crew on board,” said Cookie.
“And what do they look like?” asked the egret.
“Well, one’s wearing a cap and an airline blazer with two gold stripes around the cuffs, and the other one’s wearing a kind of bonnet and a silk scarf, the regulation airline uniform.”
Another egret came and perched on the window frame with a frog in it’s mouth.
“Gulp!” said the second egret, swallowing the frog. “What’s happening?”
“This chap’s lost his dinghy,” said the first egret. “It’s red.”
“More orange, really,” said the captain. “Have you seen it?”
“Got any grub?” said the second egret. “Anything to eat?”
Another egret came.
“Grub? Who’s got some grub?” asked the third egret.
“This bloke’s lost an orange,” said egret two.
“No, a dinghy! An orange dinghy,” said the captain.
“The grub’s in the dinghy, is it?” said egret three.
“There’s no grub in the dinghy!” said the captain. “Just two of my crew! Have you seen them?”
“No grub?” said egret three. “This is a waste of time, lads!” said the third egret.
Another egret came.
“What’s going on?” it said. 
“This man hasn’t got any grub after all!” said egret three.
“Shocking!” said the fourth egret.
“Have you seen an orange dinghy?” asked Captain Cookie, exasperatedly.
“No, mate,” said egret four. ”We’re generally looking for grub,” said egret four. “A bird’s got to eat, you know!”
“Can you go and look for it for me? It’s somewhere on this lake,” said the captain.
The four egrets looked at the captain and then looked at each other.
“It’s a big lake,” said egret one.
“If you find the dinghy, I promise I’ll give you some food..er..some grub!” said the captain.
“What kind of grub?” said egret two. “You said you didn’t have any!”
“Yeah, not frogs!” said egret two. “I’ve had my fill of frogs, I have!”
“How about anchovies?” said the captain.
“Anchovies!?” shouted all the egrets together.
“Yes, if you find my dinghy, I’ll give you an anchovy fillet each!”
“Right! said egret four. “What does this dinghy look like?”
“It’s orange” said egret two.
“It’s got two geezers in it, wearing funny clothes,” said egret one.
“Give us five minutes!” said egret three.
“Get the anchovies ready!” said egret four.
And the egrets flew off.

© David Severn 2012

Saturday 10 November 2012

day sixty-one and directions


“Only five?!” shouted Capt. Cookie through the megaphone to Siberia McCluskey in the grocery blimp.
“Yes,” said McCluskey.
“Well, all right, can we have them, please?” said the captain.
The five small tins of anchovies in oil were lowered down to the airship in the net. There was also a bundle of mint. 
“Free sample!” shouted McCluskey.
“Thank you very much!” shouted the captain. “Oh, and by the way,” he dropped his voice to a whisper again, “Which way is it to the Kola Nut Hotel? Do you know?”
“Yes, it’s that way,” said McCluskey, leaning out of the blimp’s gondola and pointing across the lake. “Turn left when you get to the thistle forest and go straight untill you come to a big swamp, which you’d better go around, and then keep going straight and then you’ll see the hotel on your left, just after the kiosk.”
“.... on your left, just after the kiosk,” mumbled Captain Cookie, making a mental note. “Right, thanks!”
Capt. Cookie took the tins into the cockpit and opened them all, pouring the fishy oil into a hole in the airship’s engine, which he had accessed by opening a little door in the floor. He drained every last drop of oil into the hole and then handed the tins to the steward. 
“Share the anchovies out, would you, Winterbottom? One fillet per passenger. Just enough to go round by the look of it.”
“Aye-aye, skipper!” said the steward.
The captain took a deep breath and turned the key in the ignition. Uhch-uhh-uhh-uhh-uhh-uh-uh-h-h-hhh...  No good. Uhch-uhh-uhh-uhh-uhh-uh-uh-RRM-rm-rm-rm-mh-mh-mmmmmmmmm.  The engine started!
Right! Not a moment to lose! thought the captain. He opened the window and shouted up to McCluskey in the blimp, ”Thank you very much!”
“You’re welcome!” shouted McCluskey, starting to manoeuvre out ot the way.
Ron went to the airship’s door and shouted, “When you go to the Chilly Peaks, please drop in at the Soup Shack and tell Benny we’re all o.k.!”
“Righto!” said McCluskey.
The blimp floated away and Capt. Cookie opened the throttle as gently as he could and lifted the airship off the surface of the lake. However, having considered the small amount of oil thay now had, Capt. Cookie decided to fly at low altitude, just above the ground in fact. This way he would not waste any fuel climbing into the air or pushing against winds.
“We are very sorry for the delay, birdladies and gentlebirdmen, but we will now be on our way,” he announced.
There was a loud cheer in the cabin: Hoooray!
Then the steward, who was serving the anchovies, suddenly ran to the cockpit.
“Skipper! We’ve forgotten something!” he blurted.

© David Severn 2012

Friday 9 November 2012

day sixty-one and anchovies


“It’s the blimp!” shouted Ron. “It’s the blimp! The grocery blimp!”
The penguins and everybody all rushed to that side of the cabin to look. It was a long way away but it was definitely the grocery blimp.
There was great excitement. 
“We’re saved!” cried the penguins and other passengers, as they watched the blimp slowly get nearer and nearer. 
Eventually, the blimp come right up to about ten metres from the airship and Capt. Cookie opened the door and shouted through a megaphone, “Good morning! Mayday, Mayday! S.O.S.!”
The grocer-pilot, whose name was Siberia McCluskey, leaned out of the window of the blimp with a megaphone and shouted, “What are you doing here? Are you all right?” 
“We got a bit lost,” Capt. Cookie tried to whisper through the megaphone. And then loudly, “Yes, we’re all right! But we are stuck and we need some food! Can you give us some? Anything except frozen peas or scampi in breadcrumbs would be fine!”
“Herbs,” said McCluskey. “I have a lot of herbs today.“
“Nnurr,” sighed the passengers, who were all listening.
“Sage, thyme, rosemary, basil, taragon etc. All very fresh .... no good?” said McCluskey.
“Anything else?” asked Cookie.
“Err... let me think....” said McCluskey. “String.”
“Hhhk,” coughed everybody.
“Anything else?” said Cookie.
“Pineapples,” said McCluskey.
“Pineapples!” shouted everybody. 
“We’ll take the pineapples, please!” said the captain.
The hatch underneath the grocery blimp’s gondola opened and a net full of pineapples was lowered down. The captain and the steward grabbed it and took them all out.
“Got any oil?” shouted the captain to McCluskey.
“Oil?” said McCluskey. ”No, sorry, I haven’t got any oil today.”
“Uunnhhh,” said everybody.
“Are you sure you haven’t got even a little bit of oil?” asked the captain desparately.
“Well...” said McCluskey. “I have got some small tins of anchovies in oil, but they are a special order for the Imperial Palace!”
“I don’t think the Emperor would mind,” said Capt. Cookie. “I’ll write a note to explain everything. How many tins have you got?”
“Five,” said McCluskey.

© David Severn 2012

Thursday 8 November 2012

day fifty-eight and water lillies and days 59-61 and puzzle


“We will be making an emergency landing on the lake, as we have run out of juice, that is to say gas, in other words, vegetable oil,” said Capt. Cookie. “No need to panic.”
The cabin crew got everyone to sit down and fasten their seatbelts. 
Capt. Cookie brought his aircraft gently down to the surface of the lake, with a faint splash. Out of the window, Ron saw that they were surrounded for miles around by water lillies. It was a beautiful place. There was a ping! sound indicating it was all right to undo the seatbelts, and all the passengers jumped out into the cool, serene water, and, momentarily forgetting the reason they were there, started frolicking innocently amongst the water lillies. But not for long. Suddenly there was a lot of splashing as they all jumped back aboard the airship. 
“Alligators!” they squawked.
Luckily there were no casualties, but as they all huddled together in the cabin, they realised they were well-and-truly stuck, and the chances of being rescued seemed pretty slim, or as the walrus put it, “We are going to be late!” 
Then it suddenly fell dark, and the waterlilly flowers opened wide and a million frogs started croaking. It was funny at first, but it went on all night long, and the humour was all squeezed out of it by about midnight.
In the morning, Capt. Cookie decided to send out a party in the airship’s small dinghy to go for help, and selected his co-pilot, Lieutenant Chips Temples and the stewardess, First In-Flight Superviser Damson Singsong for the mission.
Of course, no-one knew how long it would take to be rescued, so the captain charged the steward with rationing the airship’s emergency supplies of frozen peas and scampi in breadcrumbs.
Captain Cookie busied himself with maps and compasses, trying to figure out where they were and how they had got lost.
The passengers, for their part, remained quite calm. Luckily, one of the penguins had a 1,000-piece jigsaw puzzle of the Imperial Palace and they spent the first two days putting the corners and sides of that together. The broad expanse in the middle, scattered with the remaining jigsaw pieces was like the lake and the waterlillies.
On the third day, the penguins got the main tower of the Palace done, and then on the fourth day they completed a section of the roof and battlements.
Fred and the spiders kept themselves busy with some mathematics and fly-catching.
Ron read the inflight magazine about ten times and stared out of the window, watching the waterlily flowers daily opening and closing. As he gazed, he thought about everything that had happened. The jigsaw had reminded him of the Imperial Palace’s dungeon and the trial. He thought about the Spy. Ron wondered what Benny was doing. He must have heard that the airship had gone missing.
Just then there was a big cheer, “Yoooohoooo!” as the penguins completed the large part of the puzzle showing the Palace. The penguins high-fived with their flippers and then immediately got back to work on the difficult sky and mountain parts.
Ron looked back through the porthole... Hey! What’s that! It can’t be! Is it? It is!!

© David Severn 2012

Wednesday 7 November 2012

day fifty-eight and volcanoes and parrots and more


Capt. Peters Cookie went back to the airship with his coffee, followed by the crew and the passengers. Ron and Fred and the spiders said goodbye to Benny at the door of the Soup Shack.
“Goodbye, Ron!” said Benny.
“See you!” said Ron. 
Fred and the other spiders ran up and down Ron’s arms and legs excitedly.
Ron took his seat on the airship and looked out of the window. He waved to Benny, who continued waving as the airship rose into the air.
And then they were on their way. Ron gazed at the amazing view of the Chilly Peaks. Beams of light danced around the icy mountains.
Then Ron flicked through the in-flight magazine and started reading an article about Sir Country Cellars, the half-civilised crab-man, but fell asleep. When he woke up, a magic-lantern show had started. It was about the Hanover Furry Slipper Regiment fighting off an invasion by flying ants.
Fred and his friends made a web in one of the portholes and started a game of spider-crackit.
Then some food was served: pickled mushrooms skewered on long fish bones, baby bamboo bullets, oysters (Ron saw all the other passengers gulping them down and going Mmmmmmmmm! but his tasted like spoons), cheese-on-toast, crazy pie with sensible sauce and some other tasty things which were indescribable.
The magic-lantern show finished (the flying ants were defeated) and Ron looked out of the window again and saw the landscape had changed. Now he could see volcanoes. Some were erupting, shooting lava up into the air and down the sides. Some creatures - possibly baboons or dogs - were having fun standing still and running away at the last minute like birdkids playing in the surf on the beach. 
It became very hot in the airship’s cabin and the steward and stewardess brought some ice cream - either grandelicious-candy-sensation or vanilla. 
A few minutes later the airship was flying over a rainforest, which was unbelievably green and the sun stuck out it’s long orange tongue and licked it. Colourful parrots came and flew around the airship. It was like sticking one’s head underwater near a coral reef, except with parrots instead of fish. The parrots flew right past the airship’s portholes, insulting the passengers with some very fruity language which they had learnt somehow, possibly from Sir Malcolms Ha’penny Yoozer-Lotovinc, who had disappeared in the jungle. 
The passengers, those who had not flown this route before, were rather taken aback by the colourful insults, but soon they were joining in with the frequent-flyers, who were shouting obscenities back at the parrots. And in this way the parrots learn some new phrases for the next time. Ron did his best, shouting some of the things he’d heard Benny say.
“Flying fishguts!” he shouted. “Cut up a cuttlefish!”
He even came up with some of his own, such as “Dripping drainpipes!” and “Heaving herons!”
The parrots eventually flew back to their perches as the airship reached the end of the rainforest and flew over a large lake. It wasn’t Watercolour Lake. This lake was much bigger. Some alligators who had been snoozing on the mud at the edge, stumbled into the water, disturbed by the sound of the airship’s engine, which although quite modest, broke the silence surrounding the lake (Shaftsbury Calypso: 5 brakehorsepower, cruising speed 20 knots. Thanks, Pie!). 
The water was very clear and it was possible to see a variety of lakelife, including some miniature aquatic ponies, and some pigmen snorkelling.
Also visible were the ruins of an ancient city which had been built at the bottom of the lake for some unknown reason.
All-in-all it was a thoroughly enjoyable fli...
“Please return to your seat and fasten your seatbelts!” came the captain’s voice. “No need to panic!”
Oh, no! Now what?! thought Ron.


© David Severn 2012

Tuesday 6 November 2012

day fifty-eight and Ron makes soup


“Just go to the left and follow the path. You’ll be there in a few minutes. Just follow the recipe!” called Mars Boulder as Ron ran out of the cave-room.
A few mountain goats, who were hanging around on the path outside Mars Boulder’s cave, scattered as Ron raced down to the Soup Shack. He got there in five minutes with a combination of running, sliding and jumping.
When he got there, the spiders had already made a start and had somehow got two large pans of water on the stove, added stock and chopped up some vegetables.
“Yes, it was a challenge which took all of my engineering knowhow and expertise, but we did it!” said Sir Wellington Moonboots, proudly, running up and down the handle of a wooden spoon which was in the soup. “Nearly boiling!” 
“Great!” said Ron.
The humming of the airship’s engine got louder and louder and then stopped, as it parked on the ledge outside the Soup Shack. All the crew and passengers, including Benny, disembarked and filed in.
“Smells good!” Benny said as he entered the kitchen to lend a hand. 
“I spoke to the Emperor,” he said to Ron, “.. and my hunch was right. Now that S.M.I.R.K. has been thwarted I’m no longer needed in the Imperial Kitchen. The old chef is taking over again today. So, I’m looking forward to getting back to my mountain policebirdforce duties.” Benny, put his apron on. “And I’ve missed this place.”
“That’s good!,” said Ron. “I think I’d better take the spiders back home. After that Fred and I will be making our way back home too. We’ll all get on the airship after lunch.”
“I see. Well, it’s been great! Come back again if you get bored!” said Benny. “Now, let’s serve this soup!”
When all the crew and passengers had been served their soup, Ron said to Benny, “Oh, by the way, I met Mars Boulder!”
Benny looked a little taken aback. “You met..? Did you? What did he say?”
“He asked me where I was from and things like that. And I told him everything that has happened since I arrived in the Chilly Peaks,” said Ron.
“Oh, that’s good. He’s a funny old birdman. I must drop in and say hello!” said Benny.
“Can I have a coffee to take away, Ron?” said Capt. Peters Cookie.
Ron felt honoured to be asked personally. And of course, he knew this was the signal for the passengers to return to the airship.
“Yes, coming right up!” said Ron.

© David Severn 2012

Sunday 4 November 2012

day fifty-seven and a cave


The floor of the tiny pantry opened up like a trapdoor on a magicbirdman’s stage and Ron fell through. He fell for about ten, maybe fifteen, maybe twenty seconds, maybe it was a minute, and landed on a bouncy pile of rubber tree leaves. Ron looked up and he could just see a dim square of light which was the trapdoor. He looked around, and as his eyes became used to the dark he saw a narrow tunnel. He entered the tunnel and followed it. It’s just another crazy dream!  he thought. The tunnel passageway continued for a long time. Ron couldn’t see anything and had to feel the walls of the tunnel with his wingtips, but it seemed quite straight and there were no branches off the main tunnel.
Eventually he saw a thin band of light ahead, which he found was at the foot of a door. At the door he listened, holding his breath. All he could hear was some scratchy old music which he had heard somewhere a very long time ago. Ron gently turned the doorknob and opened the door about a centimetere.
“Hello, Benny!” said a voice. “What brings you here at such an early hour?”
Ron opened the door and saw a cave, except it was not quite like what you would expect a cave to look like. It was about the size of a large living-room and had some pieces of furniture, including a sideboard, a small table, a gramophone, a lamp and in the middle was a kind of deck chair/sofa like thing on which was reclining a strange-looking birdman. 
The birdman, who had been looking the other way, through the entrance to the cave over a fantastic view of the Chilly Peaks, now turned to face Ron.
“Oh! Hello!” said the birdman. “Do I know you?”
Ron looked at him, unable to speak momentarily. The birdman had a white top-quiff-crest and a long red beak. He was wearing a red cape over a suit with boots.
“No, you don’t know me!” Ron eventually managed to say. “My name is Ron.”
“Ron?” said the strange birdman, followed by a pause. ”Hello, Ron! My name is Mars Boulder. I’m pleased to meet you!” 
“Pleased to meet you, too!” said Ron politely. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but I just followed a recipe!”
“One of Benny’s recipes, was it? That’s perfectly all right, Ron!” said the birdman. “Come in! Take a seat!”
Ron hesitated, thinking he should make some excuse and leave as soon as possible, but his curiosity was stronger than his apprehension.
“Do you like music, Ron?” asked Mars Boulder. “I’m sure you do!”
“Yes,” said Ron.
“This is an old recording of the Antipasti Lounging Band,” explained Mars Boulder.
“Mmm,” said Ron. “What’s that picture?”
“Oh, yes. The artist is Foxmonster Fox. Good isn’t it?! Where are you from, Ron?” inquired Mars Boulder.
“I was born on top of a chimney in the Bumblingham Manor,” replied Ron.
“And who is your father?” asked Boulder.
“His name was Raglan Stork. He was extinquished by a flying axe-head.” said Ron. 
“Oh, dear! I’m sorry to hear that.” said Boulder.
“My mother is o.k. though.” said Ron.
“That’s good,” said Boulder.
Ron told Mars Boulder all about his recent escapades, and Mars Boulder listened attentively, cheering or gasping accordingly. When Ron got to the present in the story it was quite late in the morning. 
“I think that’s the airship now, just coming into view,” said Mars Boulder.
“Is it?!” cried Ron. “I’ve got to make soup! Quick, how do I get back to the Soup Shack?!”

© David Severn 2012