breaking news

Sunday 7 September 2014

McCluskey's Story/Peak Peril: Part 6


“Is that McCluskey?” said the voice in the tube.
“Yes, Chef!” said McCluskey. “I’m sorry about the chocolate!” 
McCluskey explained how he’d been attacked by brigands in the shadows of the Chilly Peaks and how the condor had appeared and made off with the luxury yak milk white chocolate the chef had ordered.
“Well, that’s bad luck, but what am I going to do? There’s a rumour going round the palace about the chocolate and the Emperor must have heard it by now. He’ll be mad if it doesn’t materialise,” said the chef.
Just then the condor appeared out of nowhere again and perched on the blimp’s landing ski. The receiver in the tower ducked down below the window, and pressed a button to call security as the bird flapped it’s long, broad wings to balance itself. A siren started wailing.
“I don’t feel like this now,” said the condor, dropping the chocolate into the blimp basket. “Can I exchange it for a lettuce?”
“What’s going on?!” said the chef’s voice from the tube. “Who’s that?”
Guards appeared in turrets, on walls and roofs and at gates, their armour and helmet glinting in the new day’s sunlight. A strange-looking defence-apparatus came towards the condor, aiming to shoo it off the Imperial Palace premises - with force if necessary.
“Stop!” shouted McCluskey. “It won’t do you any harm! It’s just a bit hungry that’s all!”
 McCluskey let go of the speaking tube, and sprinkled some vinegar on the last lettuce and gave it to the condor.
The strange apparatus came to a halt and the guards watched as the condor crunched the lettuce and swallowed it.
“Got any more?” asked the condor.
“That was the last one, I’m afraid. . . ” said McCluskey. 
The guards raised their weapons ready to attack. The apparatus tensed on it’s long, wiry legs. 
“Don’t shoot!” cried McCluskey.

Terrible, nerve-racking seconds elapsed. The guards gripped the ends of their arrows with their fingertips.
“I’ll bring some more lettuce next time!” said McCluskey.
“OK, don’t forget,” said the condor.
“There’s some other leafy things you might like,” said McCluskey, still eager to encourage the bird away from meat-eating while it’s enormous beak was so close. “There’s cabbage, kale, spinach, rocket and loads of others. They’re all tasty and good for you!”
“OK,” said the condor. It flapped it’s enormous wings and the guards took aim.
“Wait!” Wait!” shouted McCluskey, leaning out of the blimp basket.
The guards held their fire as the condor took off, making the blimp shake.
“I’ve got it, Chef! I’ve got the chocolate!” shouted McCluskey into the tube, as he watched the condor fly off into the distance.


Meanwhile, back in their stinking hideout in the shadows of the Chilly Peaks, the brigands poured rum on their cornflakes. They were still fed up about not getting the chocolate.
“I had it in my hand!” said the leader. “I’ll get that condor if I see it again!”
“What about that pigeon?” said one of the men, and the rest of the crew sniggered.
“Yeah,” said another, “the pigeon that decorated your coat!”
“Splat!” said another.
“Don’t cross the white line!” said another.
The leader scowled and banged his fist down on the table. The men all froze and looked at him.
“Well,” he said, smiling wickedly, “I’m glad it was the pigeon, and not the condor!” 
And they all laughed heartily.




End of McCluskey’s Story/ Peak Peril


© David Severn

Sunday 31 August 2014

McCluskey's Story/Peak Peril: Part 5


McCluskey was determined not to let the brigand leader have the yak milk white chocolate, but when the angry, hairy, guano-stained bandit climbed into the blimp’s basket the smell was unendurable.
“Here! Take it!” said McCluskey, trying not to breathe.
“Ah-ahhh!” said the brigand, grabbing the chocolate. “Well done,  Sonny Jim!”
The brigand jumped back onto the plank and held up the chocolate:
“Look at this, men! The absolute pinnacle of luxury! The acme of good taste! An epicurean masterpiece! Sweet perfection!” he shouted.
“Hooray!” cried the brigands on the deck of their craft. “Quick, bring it back here and let’s share it out!” said one.
“As for sharing, I think I shall have a bigger portion,” said the leader.
“All right! Hurry up!” said one of the men.
“Let me see. . . “ said the leader. He felt the number of squares through the chocolate’s paper and foil wrappers with his thumb. “So that will be twenty-eight for me and.. none for you lot!”
The brigands jumped onto the plank and lunged for their leader. “Mutiny!” shouted the leader, trying to hold the chocolate up out of reach of the grasping brigands.
Out of the murky, pre-dawn sky came the condor. It swooped down on its enormous wings and took the chocolate in its talons, leaving the brigands tottering about pathetically on the plank.
“Hooray!” cried McCluskey.
“Come back, you thieving, overgrown crow !” shouted the leader.
The brigands were surprised when the condor did come back, swooping in and knocking them off the plank like a bowling ball hitting ten pins.
“Strike!” shouted McCluskey.
The brigands screamed and snorted as they were left dangling - hanging on to the plank by their fingertips. McCluskey opened the throttle of the blimp and coasted up and away. When he was at a safe distance he looked back and saw the leader was back on top of the plank, pulling his mutinous crew back up one-by-one, giving each one a reproachful look as they slunk back to their craft.
Now free, McCluskey opened the throttle of the blimp and headed at full whack to the Imperial Palace. The Chilly Peaks were now lit up by the sun.

When he arrived he lined up the blimp behind another craft that was waiting at the tower above the deliveries chute. He could hear the receiver shouting through a megaphone to the pilot of the craft in front:
“Potatoes?! The docket says “tomatoes”, not potatoes!”
“How are you spelling “tomatoes”?” said the pilot.
“T-O-M-A-T-O-E-S,” said the receiver.
“Just a minute,” said the pilot.
McCluskey looked at the clock - he was already late, but this was making it worse.
“Not P-O-T-A-T-O-E-S?” said the pilot eventually.
“No, that’s potatoes!” shouted the receiver. “You’d better come back later with the tomatoes the Chef ordered!”
“So you don’t want these potatoes?” said the pilot.
“No, not today, thank you!” said the receiver. “You can try the Fish and Chip Studio, on the next mountain, they might want them.”
“Thank you,” said the pilot. The craft’s motor whirred as it slowly moved away from the tower.
“You’re late, grocery blimp!” shouted the receiver, as McCluskey moved forward.
“I know! I’m sorry!” shouted McCluskey. “I got lost in a magnetic storm and nearly eaten by a condor! Then I was bombarded with fireworks and then nearly crystallised! And then I was attacked by brigands!”
“Three hundred lettuces, isn’t it?” said the receiver, unsympathetically.
“”I lost some on the way,” said McCluskey.
“How many have you got left?” said the receiver.
“Two,” said McCluskey.
“Two hundred?” said the receiver.
“No, ... two,” said McCluskey, anxiously.
The receiver froze for a moment, just blinking, and then he put down his megaphone and spoke into a tube. When he had finished speaking he put the tube to his ear.
“You’re in luck, grocery blimp!” said the receiver. “Chef says President Bunny isn’t coming after all, so we don’t need the lettuces.”
“Phew!” said McCluskey, relieved.
“Chef says one lettuce will be fine this time,” the receiver said. He held out a large net and McCluskey threw one of the lettuces into it. “And Chef says what about the yak milk white chocolate? You’ve got that, haven’t you?”
“Err... no, I lost that as well,” said McCluskey. “The condor got it.”
The receiver shook his head and spoke into the tube again.
“Chef wants to speak to you,” said the receiver, extending the tube out from the tower towards the blimp with a long stick. “He’s not very happy!”

To be continued.



© David Severn

Monday 25 August 2014

McCluskey's Story/Peak Peril: Part 4


The brigands’ dirty craft drew nearer to the grocery blimp. McCluskey could see them on the deck. They all had twisted hair and knotted beards. They smelt really bad.
“Give us all your valuables!” shouted the leader, gesticulating with a rusty cutlass.
“I haven’t got anything valuable!” said McCluskey.
“Arr... they all say that!” shouted the leader, and all the brigands roared with laughter.
“I deliver groceries!” pleaded McCluskey.
“Groceries!” shouted the leader. “Well, we’ll have your bottles of champagne and your tins of caviar then!”
“I’ve only got lettuces - and I need those. The Chef at the Imperial Palace is waiting for them.”
“Lettuces?!” said the leader. “We don’t like lettuces!”
The brigands all jeered and grumbled.
“Surely you can do better than that?” said the leader. “I’ll bet you’ve got something special for the Emperor. Some chocolate perhaps? We know he’s got a sweet beak. You could give it to us and we’ll let you go on your way with your nasty lettuces!”
There was more cheering from the deck.
“I haven’t got anything!” said McCluskey.
“Hand it over, Sonny Jim!” said the leader. “Come on, we haven’t got all day you know!”
McCluskey was determined not to let the brigands have the yak milk white chocolate. He took one of the lettuces and threw it at the stinking craft. The brigands all ducked and laughed, pretending to be frightened. 
McCluskey threw some more lettuces at them.
“Arrgh, I’m hit!” cried the leader sarcastically, holding his hand to his head. The brigands howled with laughter. The leader picked up one of the lettuces and tossed it up in the air. As it fell, he swished his cutlass back and forward through the air energetically, leaving a neat pile of shredded lettuce on the deck.
“Now, come on Sonny Jim,” he said darkly, “let’s have it!”
McCluskey was determined not to relinquish the chocolate, but watched helplessly as the brigands extended a plank from their craft and the leader stepped up onto it. 
“Get the chocolate out, Sonny Jim!” he said. “I’m coming to get it! There’s no guarantee that I won’t slip and accidentally cut your ear off, but the chances of that happening may be less if you hold the chocolate out so that I can take it easily and concentrate on balancing!”
“Don’t look down!” cried one of the brigands, causing a great laugh from the deck. Without turning around, the leader made a rude gesture towards his crew.
“Don’t fall off!” cried another brigand. More laughter.
The leader wobbled on his high-heeled boots and flung his arms around.
“Shut up, you fools!” he shouted, annoyed. “You’re putting me off!”
“Don’t wet yourself!” cried a third brigand. Huge laughter ensued. Even McCluskey couldn’t help sniggering. Before the leader had chance to act on that advice, a pigeon flew past and got him with a streak of the white stuff.
“Gnah!” shouted the leader, lunging at the dirty bird with his cutlass. “My best jacket!”
Uncontrollable laughter ensued.
“Stop laughing, you filth!” shouted the leader, “you’re shaking the plank!”
But the leader was a hard nut, and he edged along the shaking plank to within a yard of the blimp’s basket.
“Give me the chocolate!” he demanded. “I’m going to eat it all myself - that’ll show those wretches who's boss!” 
“It’s way past its sell-by date!” bluffed McCluskey.
“I don’t care!” said the leader, “so am I!”
“It’s gone mouldy!” bluffed McCluskey.
“I like a bit of mould!” said the leader.
“There are ants crawling around in the grooves between the squares!” bluffed McCluskey.
“Don’t mind!” said the leader.
“It smells awful!”
“I’ll hold my nose!”
“It’ll taste really bad!”
“I’ll be the judge of that!”
“Err. . . “ McCluskey couldn’t think of anything else to say to deter the salivating brigand leader, who now lifted a leg to climb into the basket.

To be continued.

© David Severn

Saturday 16 August 2014

McCluskey's Story/Peak Peril: Part 3

When the blimp settled again McCluskey got up dizzily. He found there was a large hole in the side of the blimp-basket, and a lot of lettuces had fallen out. He estimated there were about a hundred left.
I hope that’s going to be enough! he thought.
McCluskey quickly patched up the hole with some cardboard and sticky tape and took his seat at the controls. 
However, instead of hurrying along to the Imperial Palace as he intended, he became mesmerised by the sight of his new surroundings. The blimp had been blown into a realm of crystals, which sparkled like a million diamonds. Fantastic multi-faceted shapes towered and extended in every direction. As he gazed in awe, he saw clusters of crystal forming and growing in fascinating slow-motion.
Then, after a long time, McCluskey glanced down at his controls and saw there were crystals growing across his dashboard,  and the floor was covered in a glittering crystal carpet. As he checked his instruments and grappled with the controls, crystals grew up his legs. He realised he would soon be covered in them, and twisted the joystick to try and get away. However, the joystick was stuck and made a crunching sound when he forced it.
I’m going to be late! thought McCluskey, still thinking about his delivery, but actually it was getting much more serious that that. The crystals had now reached his knees and were invading the blimp-basket’s windscreen. 

McCluskey pulled the joystick as hard as he could, smashing the crystals. The motor groaned with the sudden exertion, but the blimp barely lifted, and the crystallization continued. McCluskey opened the window and threw out lettuces until he could feel the blimp getting lighter, and soon he was high up above the crystals below, while those that had grown in the blimp basket began to recede and vanish.
“Phew!” said McCluskey.
He then counted the lettuces: there were now only about twenty left.
I wonder if that’s going to be enough? he thought.
He looked at the clock and saw he was now way behind schedule, and set a course for the Imperial Palace, where Emperor Peng Win’s chef would be waiting.
McCluskey took a short cut through the shadows of the Chilly Peaks. It was a risky thing to do, as he had heard about people being ambushed and robbed there. . . A dark, messy craft drew up alongside and a voice shouted incomprehensibly. He could hear other voices in the background jeering and laughing wickedly. Fearfully, McCluskey put on his shellphones and listened to the translated shouting:
“Sweater or we will honk you out of the wide blue yonder!”
McCluskey adjusted the shell phones:
“You have no choice! Hand over your stuff and we may spare your life!”
Oh, no! Brigands! thought McCluskey.


To be continued.

© David Severn

Saturday 2 August 2014

McCluskey’s Story/Peak Peril: Part 2



“I’m not food!” said McCluskey. “I’m not tasty at all. In fact I’m not even edible!”
“I fancy a salad,” said the condor, now at the side window. 
Wow! thought McCluskey. It must be this magnetic storm. Everything’s gone haywire - even this bird’s eating habits!
“You’re in luck!” said McCluskey, throwing a lettuce out. The condor swallowed it whole.
“Got any more?” asked the condor.
“Err.. yes, I think there’s another one...” said McCluskey, knowing in fact that he had about three hundred lettuces on board.
“Any more?” said the condor again, after swallowing the second lettuce. “Got any dressing?”
McCluskey located his emergency bottle of vinegar, happy to cater for the bird as long as it remained vegetarian.
McCluskey fed lettuces one-by-one to the condor, which took a swig of vinegar in between each of them. Eventually the condor said it was full. McCluskey was relieved to see that there were still about two hundred lettuces left - maybe it would be enough.
“What’s for pudding?” said the bird.
“Don’t look at me like that!” said McCluskey anxiously. “I’m not sweet! Not sweet at all, rather bitter in fact!”
“I can smell something sweet,” said the condor.
McCluskey knew what it was. It was a bar of luxury yak milk white chocolate, the Emperor’s favourite, which the Chef of the Imperial Kitchen had added to the lettuce order.
“I can’t smell anything,” bluffed McCluskey.
“It’s a sweet, buttery kind of smell,” said the condor.
McCluskey made sniffing movements with his short snout and said, “No. I can’t smell anything like that.”
“Can I have it?” said the condor.
“Have what?” said McCluskey.
“The white chocolate!” said the condor, lifting one of it’s big feet from the landing ski to stretch it’s talons, causing the blimp to rock again.
The Chef is not going to be very happy about this! thought McCluskey, reaching for the chocolate, but then there was a loud bang and the blimp shook as the condor suddenly took off. The air was now full of bursting fireworks, and McCluskey saw the condor flying off into the distance, where it disappeared behind a mountain.
As the impromptu firework display continued, McCluskey, fearing for his life, tried the joystick again and found he could steer the blimp. Using all his pilot’s instincts he dodged the rockets, aerials, cherry bombs,
chrysanthemums and peonies that exploded all around him.
The fireworks display went on far a few minutes until climaxing with a huge explosion that knocked McCluskey to the floor of the basket and threw the blimp out of the Chilly Peaks mountain range altogether.


To be continued


© David Severn

Saturday 26 July 2014

Kola Nut Hotel: McCluskey’s Story/Peak Peril

Part 1


After he left the Kola Nut Hotel, where the giant creeping plant was temporarily subdued,* McCluskey, in the grocery blimp, flew on towards the Imperial Palace with his cargo of lettuces. He took a short cut through the Chilly Peaks to make up for lost time, but suddenly a magnetic storm blew up and he lost his bearings. McCluskey looked anxiously at his goldfish compass, which wasn’t lined up to north as it should have been. He saw the hands of his clock switching from one random time to another; five-past-two... ten-to-five... half-past-twelve. The needles of the dials on the grocery blimp’s dashboard also flicked from side-to-side erratically. He thought he could navigate by the stars, but when he looked out of the blimp’s window he found the sky was obscured by swirling clouds. The windscreen wipers did an elegant but squeaky tango across the front window.
McCluskey tried to turn around, but he found the magnetic storm had affected the wire connecting the joystick to the rudder, which swung from left to right. He tried to switch off the engine, but that didn’t work either and the propellor kept turning steadily.
So, powerless to do anything, he sat and watched as the blimp zigzagged forward, getting further and further off course into a region of the Chilly Peaks he wasn’t at all familiar with.

McCluskey was wondering what would happen if he was late with the lettuce delivery, when he saw two narrow parallel beams of light ahead, like the headlights of a car. He jumped when he saw that the beams were being emitted from the eyes of a night-flying condor. The gigantic bird had seen the blimp and was now gliding towards it. McCluskey could see it’s long, wings with their broad, purply-brown feathers like the fingers of a giant glove. He could see it’s pink, shaved-looking head and it’s fluffy collar of white feathers. He could see it’s terrifying, meat-eating beak as it got nearer and nearer. Although McCluskey knew he could never outrun a hungry condor, he instinctively grabbed the joystick. The blimp still did not respond, but it rocked and creaked as the condor flew right up and perched on one of its landing skis. The condor flapped its wings to balance itself, and the blimp’s basket was filled with bright light as it looked in through the windscreen, salivating.


to be continued

*Creepers Sleepers

© David Severn 2014

Sunday 11 May 2014

Kola Nut Hotel: Creepers Sleepers Part 4

“Want drink!” said the flower.
“What?!” said Miss Wu, astonished.
“Water!” said the flower.
“It can talk?” wondered Skates.
“Water!” said the plant. “Want water!”
“No water in here!” came Wildmouth’s muffled voice from under his eiderdown.
“There’s a tap on the patio!” said Skates.
“Yes!” said Miss Wu, “lovely cool, wet water from the tap!”
The plant turned away from the balcony and snaked down to the patio below. Miss Wu and Skates watched as the plant picked up the hose attached to the tap and held it over it’s flower-head like a person about to take a shower.
“You have to turn the tap on!” called Miss Wu.
The plant extended a tendril to the tap at the wall of the patio.
“It’s a bit stiff, so turn it firmly,” Skates shouted down to the plant, glancing at Miss Wu, who glanced back. . . The force of the jet of water knocked the plant out instantly. The wild hose then leapt around spurting water this way and that and high up into the air. It sprayed the hotel guests through their open windows and woke them all up.
“What’s going on!” shouted the walrus.
Miss Wu apologised again and ran downstairs. She managed to crawl across the patio again to turn off the crazy water. Skates, Wildmouth and all the guests went downstairs and carried the plant out of the patio and bundled it into the shed. The penguins were happy to stand on guard outside. They took turns playing the musical-box which the plant had dropped on the patio, making sure their ears were covered.

Next morning, Russell Tusks returned from the conference. 
“I found these outside!” he said, plonking several lettuces on the front desk. “Has a letter arrived for me?” he continued, eyeing his pigeon hole.
Miss Wu told Russell what had happened and then took him to the shed, where Skates had taken over from the penguins, who had become exhausted. Skates stopped turning the handle of the musical-box and Tusks unlocked the shed door.
“Hello! Loquentes serpentium plantae?” he said quietly, using the plant’s official name.
“Who are you?” asked the plant.
Russell Tusks introduced himself and told the plant that he would take it to a place where it could live comfortably.
“Like it here!” said the plant. “Want to stay here with the kind birdlady and the funny lion.”
“But the lion isn’t funny - he’s just annoying!” said Tusks.
“Want to stay here!” said the plant.
Russell talked to Miss Wu and they decided to plant it in the field next to the hotel’s vegetable patch; this was the foundation of Russell Tusk’s botanical garden. Word soon spread about the talking plant, and it attracted many tourists to the hotel. Miss Wu looked after the plant and Wildmouth, who was happy to have an appreciative audience for a change, performed theatrical sketches on his balcony to make it happy. 

End of Creepers Sleepers


© David Severn 2014

Tuesday 6 May 2014

Kola Nut Hotel: Creepers Sleepers Part 3

“Look!” said Skates, pointing up into the deep blue sky.
Miss Wu looked and saw a small bright light approaching from the west.
“It’s the grocery blimp!” she shrieked. “It’s McCluskey! He must be doing a late night delivery somewhere!” 
Miss Wu and Skates shouted and waved frantically to get the pilot’s attention. 
“Now what?!” grumbled the walrus.
The plant stopped swinging and snaked up towards the orange blimp’s light. Wildmouth, dazed, held on weakly. The egg-shaped balloon came to a stop above the hotel, and McCluskey opened the window and stuck out a megaphone. 
“What’s going on?!” he said. “Having a party? I’ve got some pickles if you want ‘em. And crackers. Not much else I’m afraid. Just on the way to the Imperial Palace with a load of lettuces - they need them urgently.”
“We’re not having a party!” shouted Miss Wu, as loudly as she could. “We’ve got a problem with a giant creeper! Can you help us, please!”
“That’s a big honeysuckle for sure!” said McCluskey, looking down at the flower which was still climbing towards the blimp. “Mmm....”
“Look out!” shouted everyone in the hotel, as the plant suddenly shot upwards.
The hotel guests shrieked as the plant tried to grab the blimp. McCluskey dodged it with deft movements of the joystick, and lettuces were thrown out of the blimp’s windows as it swung from side-to-side. The guests cheered. Even the walrus was caught up in the excitement, and made more noise than anyone else!
This went on for some time, until eventually the plant started to tire a little. Wildmouth, by now almost completely shaken to bits, took the opportunity to snatch his mirror and scrapbook away from the plant’s clutches, and climbed down dizzily back to the balcony, where he collapsed, clutching his scrapbook and mirror to his chest. 
Miss Wu and Skates looked up again as the gentle sound of tinkling music reached their ears. It was a lovely, peaceful, relaxing melody. The plant, lulled by the sound, shook its leaves and nodded it’s flower up and down as it tried to resist. Miss Wu felt herself becoming drowsy. Skates struggled to keep his eyelids open. Wu looked down at the other windows and saw the pelicans yawning. The penguins were wobbling. The walrus was already asleep and snoring loudly. Wu looked up again through her half-closed eyes and saw McCluskey at the window of the blimp, wearing noise-canceling headphones and gesturing at them. 
“Cover your ears, Skates!” Miss Wu cried.
They looked up and saw the plant was now fast asleep. 
McCluskey brought the blimp down level with the balcony.
“Play this again if it wakes up during the night!  whispered McCluskey, tossing them a small musical-box, which Skates caught in his beak. “It’s a Wangleburger super-lullaby! Now I must deliver these lettuces!”
The blimp shot off into the darkness. Skates turned the handle of the musical-box and a few notes of the super-lullaby sounded, causing a passing moth to fall asleep in mid-air and fall to the patio below the balcony.
“Be careful with it!” said Miss Wu. 
“Play it again, Skates!” said Wildmouth. “I’m going to bed!” The lion got under his eiderdown with his scrapbook and mirror.
Miss Wu turned away from the balcony and said, “We’d better let Mr. Wildmouth get some res...”
The plant darted down and snatched the musical-box from Skates’ hand. 
“It’s awake!” cried Miss Wu.
“It’s mad!” shouted Skates.
“Sneaky snowdrop!” growled Wildmouth, pulling the eiderdown over his head.
The plant held the musical-box and gripped the handle with another of its tendrils.
“What does it want?” shrieked Skates.

to be continued


© David Severn 2014

Sunday 27 April 2014

Kola Nut Hotel: Creepers Sleepers Part 2

Just as the plant got to Miss Wu’s door, she closed her book of verbs and switched off the bedside light. The honeysuckle then sensed a glimmer from upstairs, and crept up towards the door of the suite on the top floor, which Wildmouth, who had fallen asleep on his couch, had left ajar. The lion lay snoring in the flickering candle light with a scrapbook of his photos and film reviews open on his chest. The plant took hold of the candlestick, a mirror, and the scrapbook, and took them out through the open doors of the balcony out into the night sky, where the moon was rising. Wildmouth stirred in his sleep and felt for his precious scrapbook. When his big paws didn’t locate it, he awoke with a start in the now dark room. He got up from the couch and tripped up over the trailing plant. He picked himself up from the floor and tip-toed to the balcony, where he saw the plant growing up into the air with his possessions.
“Hey!” he roared. “Come back with my stuff! Give me my scrapbook back, you thieving thistle!”
The plant now had a big, trumpety flower, and it was admiring itself in Wildmouth’s mirror. The lion grabbed the plant’s stem and started shaking it, but the plant simply absorbed Wildmouth’s energy, turned it’s flower towards him and blew a raspberry. Infuriated, Wildmouth bit the plant, but found it very tough and bitter: “Bhlurrrghhhh!” he cried, blowing and spitting and sticking out his tongue. Then the branch holding Wildmouth’s scrapbook swung down and hit him on the snout with it.
“Right! I’ll get you, you cheeky cheeseplant!” said Wildmouth, raising a foot onto one of the plant’s sturdy leaves and starting to climb. He was a bit scared of heights actually, but he tried to imagine he was in a scene from one of his awful films.
Miss Wu and Skates, woken by all the noise Wildmouth had been making, came onto the balcony to find Wildmouth already about twenty metres up the stalk of the plant.
“Mister Wildmouth!” cried Miss Wu. “What are you doing up there? And how did this giant plant get here?!”
“My dear Miss Wu,” Wildmouth shouted back. “I’ve no idea how it got here, but it’s got my scrapbook!”
Skates thought he must be dreaming as he watched Wildmouth slowly climb the plant. When the lion eventually got to the top he tried to wrest his scrapbook and mirror from the plant’s tendrils, but the monster honeysuckle’s grip was strong and it started swinging from side-to-side to try and shake Wildmouth off. 
“Oh dear!” cried Miss Wu, “Hang on!”
By now, all the hotel guests were at their windows, gawping at the spectacle of the lion being thrown around like a big, furry doll, screaming his head off.
“What is it?” asked one of the pelicans.
“I don’t know!” said another.
“I’ve never seen anything like it!” said a third pelican.
“It’s very noisy!” said a fourth.
“I can’t sleep with all this racket!” said a grumpy walrus from another window.
“I’m sorry about this!” said Miss Wu, leaning over the balcony. “Everything will be under control shortly!”
“I hope not!” said a penguin from a small window.
“Yes, we love it!” said another one.
“Poor Wildmouth,” said Miss Wu. “what are we going to do?!”

to be continued


© David Severn

Monday 14 April 2014

Kola Nut Hotel: Creepers Sleepers


Wildmouth shot out of his suite on the top floor of the Kola Nut Hotel and bounded down the stairs. His acute lion’s ears had heard the squeak of the letter box. He just managed to stop before knocking Miss Wu over like a skittle.
“Is it for me?” gasped Wildmouth, excitedly.
“No, it’s for Russell!” said Miss Wu, showing Wildmouth the letter, addressed to “Mr. R. Tusks, Head Gardener, The Kola Nut Hotel”.
“What?! Again?!” asked Wildmouth, bitterly. “Jumbo-nose gets more fan mail than me!”
“It’s not fan mail!” said Miss Wu. “It’s some seeds he ordered,” said Miss Wu, seeing the logo of an exotic garden centre on the envelope and shaking it, making a rattling sound.
“Can I have some? I’m very peckish!” said Wildmouth, in his most irresistible voice, which he often used in his rubbishy films. “Surely the silly elephant can spare a few...”
“No! Get off!” said Wu. “Russell would be very cross if you interfered with his private mail! And don’t call him Jumbo-nose!”

Wildmouth slunk back up to his room. Miss Wu put the letter into Russell Tusks’ pigeon-hole behind the front desk, next to another small package that had been delivered the day before. Tusks was away at a botanists’ conference and Miss Wu wasn’t expecting him back until the next morning. She greeted some guests, a party of pelicans, as they came in, but then the pelicans dashed upstairs as Skates, the hotel bellboy stumbled into the lobby with a garden hose, spraying water everywhere. Miss Wu ducked behind the front desk to avoid getting soaked.
“I can’t stop it!” cried Skates. “It’s out of control!”
Skates opened his large beak wide to try and swallow the water, but the hose flicked this way and that like a mad snake. Some pottery ducks got shot down as the walls, carpet and ceiling got alternately squirted.
Skates tried to go back outside, but by now he was entangled with the hose and couldn’t walk. The furniture in the lobby, the table, chairs and cushions sounded like a dull set of drums as the jet of water hit them. Ornaments up on a high shelf were knocked off one-by-one like targets in a shooting gallery. And then the water suddenly stopped...
Miss Wu came back into the lobby: she had crawled out to the patio to turn off the tap to which the hose was attached.
“Skates!” she cried.
“Sorry!” said Skates, preparing to be fired.
“I told you to be careful with that tap!” Miss Wu continued. “You have to turn it gently... remember?!”

They set about mopping up. Skates dried the floor and walls as best he could with some old hotel towels and picked up all the pieces of the ducks and the ornaments. He took the furniture out on to the patio to dry out in the cool evening breeze. Miss Wu dried the hotel guest book with a hair-dryer. She was sad to see that some guests’ names had been washed away. 
By the time they had finished it was time for bed. Skates went quietly to the little office behind the front desk, where he had a hammock to sleep in, and Miss Wu went upstairs to her room on the first floor. Neither of them went straight to sleep though. Skates decided to try to fix the broken ornaments to surprise Miss Wu in the morning, so he picked up all the pieces from the floor of the lobby and took them into the office. He got some glue and set to work. Miss Wu did some paperwork, wrote some letters, and made a shopping list for the next day. When she had finished that, she danced around to some old records, read a book, looked at the stars through her telescope. Finally she got into bed and studied some Strawberian irregular verbs.
While Skates and Miss Wu were busy, one of the seeds in Tusk’s letter, which had been soaked with water, started to grow. It took root in the sample of rich, brown super-soil in the other package which one of Tusks' botanist pals had sent him. The monster honeysuckle seedling easily broke through the wet envelope, and crept towards the office’s half-glazed door, attracted by the light. Inside the office, Skates had nearly finished his repair work. That’ll have to do! he said to himself, sleepily sticking a pottery panda’s head on to the body of one of the flying ducks. The plant extended a tendril around the door knob and started to turn it. Skates looked at the clock and, seeing that it was well past his bedtime, yawned, climbed into his hammock and reached out to pull the cord of the light. Suddenly in darkness, the plant let go of the door knob and crept up the stairs, now attracted by the light under the door of Miss Wu’s room.

to be continued

©David Severn 2014