breaking news

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

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