Brays Predicament by Peter Morri

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Brays Predicament by Peter Morri Powered By Docstoc

Chapter 5

Brays Predicament

by Peter Morrison

SO I have told you a plotted history of “this place” and I have told about some of the challenges of Bray and Ringworm, but before we get to the present, there are a few more challenges Bray and his friends have to overcome. You may or may not remember, but when I began the first story of Bray, I told you there was a knock on his front door. It was never explained who was knocking on Bray’s door, as he was out at the time. It was in fact a reed warbler, dressed as a policeman, (In fact he was a policeman) holding a Clock Gondolier, very nervously and twitching like a Raving Digarridodo Canary Rooster, a very rare beast indeed. These creatures are very big yellow chickens that constantly run throughout their entire lives. The only time they stop is to sleep and that happens every 4 days. Before they wake up, they start to twitch up and down, creating a large hole in the ground by the constant bumping. The noise emanating from their beaks has been known to wake the dead. If it weren’t for the fact that they run at such a furious speed, they would have been eliminated years ago. When they do fall asleep, they enable an elaborate cloaking device rendering them invisible. You could never cling on to a Raving Digarridodo Canary Rooster because their feathers are very slippy. When Bray returned from his travels to Gooseland, Armadillontine and The Forest of Knowledge, he was too tired to notice the reed warbler at his door,. He just barged in and fell asleep. When he was woken again by the reed warbler knocking on the door and asked if he had been harbouring frogs, he replied, “I don’t have a harbour,” and went off to Dinky’s place. (It was only years later that Bray was left a harbour by a rich harbour owner in his dying will.) On his return, the reed warbler was still there holding The Clock Gondolier. “I’ve told you, I don’t have a harbour,” said Bray “Have you been to the theatre then,” replied the reed warbler. “The theatre? No I have not” as he shook his feet at him. “Well can you explain why there is a pantomime Tyrannosaurus Rex running about this place shouting Bray’s got my frog and hissing a the poor Clock Gondoliers?” “It’s a curious coincidence. Maybe there are two Brays,” said Bray. “Aren’t pantomime Tyrannosaurus Rex’ banned in this place?” “Well that as maybe two but the fact is.” “The fact is nothing,” Bray intervened, “he has nothing to do with me so I bid you goodbye.” and slammed the door. The reed warbler put the Clock Gondolier down and went off mumbling to himself “This is not a job for the faint hearted.” Bray wandered out and he came across a big poster on the corner of the main square. It was advertising a brand new musical at The Majestic Theatre called, Bray and The Forest of Knowledge.

2 “Blimey,” Bray said to himself, “They’re quick off the mark I’ve only been back an hour or so. How could they know already? Unless they had inside information, but even so how could they write it and rehearse it so quickly.” Bray’s wandering into The Forest of Knowledge had made him a much more aware creature and he was thinking things he would never have thought before. His knowledge of the theatre before was truly zilch, but now he appeared to know somewhat more than the average Am-Dram thespian. He thought of going to see the first nights performance, but he didn’t want to go on his own. Bray wandered up to Dinky’s and told him what had happened. “How could they do it all so quick? Unless there is some discrepancy in the time & space continuum, it’s almost impossible for anybody to know what happened. I haven’t even told you all the story yet.” Dinky frowned and said, “Well whatever, it’s on in the theatre so let’s go.” Bray agreed and off they toddled. The Majestic Theatre is absolutely enormous, covered with overgrown Donkey Vine, it houses at least 2000 dinosaurs or 2,000,000 frogs. Mixed audiences are not allowed, just in case a riot breaks out. A riot did once break out in the similar sized Rumba Theatre at the other side of this place. The plot where the theatre stood is still empty like a monument to what happened that day. The riot created so much energy, it made whole theatre implode and not a trace of anything was found. Reed warblers from everywhere conducted umpteen investigations, but got nowhere. There were no witnesses, as everyone there had perished and so it was pure speculation what really happened. Some say one of the monks stole a bag of popcorn from a ractosaur and that started the whole thing and others say a soul surviving Giant Belted Gibberish tried to gate crash, but nobody really knows. It was dinosaur day at The Majestic and the queue stretched for four miles. They take all the seats out on dinosaur day for obvious reasons (to get more in), but even so Bray and Dinky managed to get to the front of a crowded house. Something plummeted down from the ceiling and stood right in front of them sniggering at his good fortune. It was Pterodactyl looking all smug and sneaky. Pterodactyls’ are very conceited creatures and think they are above everything else, which they are when they are flying, but on the ground they’re very susceptible to being kicked by large Brontosaurus’ like Bray. The pterodactyl did receive a kick, but from Dinky and that was the last of him. The curtain went up and an enormous pantomime brontosaurus came on followed by a principal frog. These characters were supposed to be Bray and Ringworm, heavily made up to look quite fierce and frightening, which we all know just isn’t true. They all looked on, in awe as the story unfolded infront of their eyes. All that is except Bray, who had fallen asleep in the middle of first half, when the story got to the part, where he’d fallen asleep in Gooseland with his tail in the lake. He was woken up by the thunderous encore echoing around this

3 enormous room. It sound liked a war chant left over from G&A Wars as they were now called. The crowd cried for more and more and all in all there were ten encores, which turned out to be a record. Bray was completely non-plussed by the whole affair, owing to fact, he didn’t really like the theatre or large crowds and he’d missed over half of it anyway. The Theramonte Oval Coypew taxi driver who drove them home was very complimentary about the show. He’d seen it on rodent day the night before. Most of the theatre critics are Theramonte Oval Coypews and they can close a show down at the stroke of a quill. On the whole, they usually write endless garbage about this place and they are responsible for 90% of the literary output in this place. The smaller Elementary Oval Coypew usually take all the swimming trophies. Theramonte is a derivative from Full Monte or Whole Hog meaning all the way. Theramonte Oval Coypews go all the way when it comes to size and personality. They are without doubt, the funniest creatures ever to exist and have been known to reduce people in their company to tears of laughter within minutes of they meeting. By the time Bray and dinky exited the taxi, they were rolling in bellyaching spasms, unable to catch their breath. Bray had never laughed so much in his life. The funny thing is, they could not remember a word that the taxi driver had said, but they couldn’t stop laughing. “What’s so funny?” said Ringworm “Hello old chap,” replied Bray, “You’ll never know co.’s we don’t.” “Been to the theatre then?” “How did you know?” “You’ve got posters stuck all over your body.” “Posters; where?” “Everywhere,” laughed Ringworm, “On your tail, on your head, everywhere sir.” “Oh not that sir lark again Ringworm, come on it’s me you’re talking to, not The Lord Stallion,” barked Bray. “OK I forgot, I just fell into the old ways again. I’m going tomorrow night to see this flipping play, as it’s frog night. Will we get any royalties?” “What do mean is the queen going?” “No stupid, I mean money for telling our story.” Crackled Ringworm. All this time Dinky remained silent, just taking in the night air and listening to this banter and still laughing at the taxi driver. He understood now what attracted these two, totally opposite creatures, to each other. They never stop talking to each other and just ramble away completely oblivious to anything or anybody else around them. In a way he became slightly jealous, but not for long because after all, Ringworm was a friend of his too. The next day Ringworm got himself ready to go and see this mysterious play, still wondering how they could have done everything so quick after the event. It was almost as though they had written it before he and Bray had done it. He decided to go with his cousin Colin, a very nice frog who was a custom to smoking illegal substances. Colin was an Out Of His Tree

4 Frog, who never called anybody Sir, just “man” and “cool” and the occasional “Get down”. Out Of His Tree Frogs were quite rare around this place and were usually found living in communes where most of them learned to play the saxaphonia, not unlike the saxophone we know. The difference is Saxaphonia is plural and has to be played by three frogs. This can sound excruciating if all three frogs decide to play something different, rather like three people on a piano playing three different things. Ringworm knocked on Colin’s door “Hi man,” said Colin. “We’re late,” replied Ringworm. Colin thought the world of Ringworm and thought he had the coolist name on the planet. “Better late than pregnant,” said Colin. “What are you on about?” “Just a musical term about pausing.” “Never heard of it and anyway the only music to my ears is the sound of Clock Gondoliers.” “Can’t argue with that cousin.” They drifted into the main drag where the Beacon howls and the Flying Compasses could be heard dwindling molecules of stringent gas into the lazy evening atmosphere. “What a vibe” There was indeed a strange atmosphere and Ringworm had sensed it before. As they turned the corner, a large crowd of frogs confronted them and all in a very nervous mood. Bray looked towards the theatre and to his dilemma, it had gone. It wasn’t there. It had just disappeared. As he looked more closely at the theatre he could just make out a holographic image of it varying in intensity. This must be something to do with fact that they could put on a play so soon after the real thing had happened. It looked as though it was suspended in time and the frogs were becoming more nervous “We want our money back,” they started shouting “Lets start a riot,” cried one frog. When frogs riot it can be likened to Giant Battling Auger Ants on the march. They eat everything in sight and each other. It’s something genetic and a very prehistoric thing. It’s a madness that can be started by one frog, but it very rarely happens. Ringworm saw the symptoms pretty quickly. “Let’s get out of here,” he whispered to Colin. “Cool Man,” replied his cousin and the two slipped away through the back streets and alleys until the reached Bray’s house. Ringworm unfolded the story to Bray who replied, “No worries.” This was a very confident Bray he’d not seen before. Not an ounce of complacency and it was almost as though he could take on the world and all its problems. “Your kettles boiling over,” mumbled Colin. Bray went into hysterics.

5 “Thank Porpoise for that,” exclaimed Ringworm, who was worried Bray had become too cocky. He needed to be level headed, they had big problems to solve and this was not a time to go all strange. “We need to find the Gibbet Licker,” said Bray. “We need his trolleybus.” “What on earth for?” asked Ringworm. “We have to go to the Forest of Knowledge to find out what’s happened. Only there will we gain the knowledge of what is happening now and what is about to happen.” “But what if the parallel universe comes back?” asked Ringworm. “it won’t come back, it’s gone forever.” “Here we go again. You coming Colin?” asked Ringworm. “Yeah man why not. Too many crazy frogs round here.” “I hope you know what you’re in for Colin,” said Bray “Have you ever been eaten by a frog?” came Colins reply. “It’s five past nine,” hollowed a near by Clock Gondolier. “They give me the creeps,” said Colin, “I hate the time. It makes me feel mortal.” “You are mortal,” Bray delivered with air of authority. “Lets go,” Ringworm interrupted, “We have to find the Gibbet Licker and times flying even for an immortal.” The Gibbet Licker and his Trolleybus now lived in a bus station in the centre of this place. There are all kinds of buses in the station including tramcars and old pelican drawn carriages. There are water pumps, old traffic lights, crocodile saddles, asteroid balloons, beaval wings, automatic elevating baking tanks. There are some remnants of an old pie bell that apparently rang its last ring in the bus station, making everybody deaf for miles around. These were conversations that followed. “How much is it?” asked a passenger. “What.” Replied the driver “What.” “What.” They reckon the word “What” was the most used word since “Oven gloves” two centuries earlier. Oven gloves was repeatedly repeated for ten years as a punishment to the rebellious Geese taken prisoner by the Blue Armadillo’s during the G/A wars. Apparently the chief lieutenant’s wife bought him a pair of oven gloves for his birthday and the first time he used them, he burnt his arms off back to his elbows. He told his wife it was the best present he’d ever had. Because of the unusual length of his arms, he could never buy a uniform off the shelf, but now his arms were shorter, he was all made up. The three reached the Gibbet Licker’s house just as a Clock Gondolier retorted, “Ten to ten.” Bray knocked on the bus station door. There was no reply so he knocked again and again. He clearly wasn’t in and this was a bad omen. Gibbet Lickers never go out at night unless it’s an emergency. So what kind of unearthly force tempted the Gibbet Licker from his

6 evenings abode. Then from across the road a neighbour shouted out of her window, “He’s gone to see a chap called Bray.” “Porpoise Christie,” Bray gasped. “Porpoise what?” asked Ringworm. “Oh I don’t know what I said. I was just mumble jumbling but we’ve got to get back.” Just as the words came out of his mouth, a trolleybus pulled in. It was The Gibbet Licker returning from his unsuccessful journey, but he turned to smiles at the sight of Bray and Ringworm. Two for the price of one he thought. “Come in I’ll make tea.” “Thanks,” said Bray. “Whose your friend Ringworm?” asked the Gibbet Licker “This is my cousin Colin, he’s an Out Of My Tree Frog,” replied Ringworm. “That’s good, that’s good.” “Why did you go to my house? I thought you lot only went out at night only in emergencies,” Bray inquired. “I heard about the frogs rioting and wanted to make sure Ringworm was OK,” They all sat down and drank tea and told the Gibbet Licker their tale till the early hours of the morning. Sunrise was disturbed by the Clock Gondoliers cry of, “It’s 5 o’ clock.” Back To The Forest Of Knowledge They set off for The Forest Of Knowledge at six o’ clock, knowing again the grave danger they were putting themselves in. “They’ll be no solicitors there now,” exclaimed Ringworm. “No but I’m sure something else will have taken their place,” replied Bray. Colin was totally no-plussed by all this banter about solicitors. He was quite content to smoke away on his jazz woodbine. He’d heard about the Ractosaurus’ and quite fancied hanging out with one even though he knew how dangerous they were. He had no sense of fear at all and in actual fact he had no sense of anything. He’d been numbed by the years of body abuse he’d thrown upon himself and Out Of My Tree Frogs live to be a ripe old age. They never get wound up or tense or ever worry about anything. They reckon there is one that is alive today that was around in King Snip the Ships time but nobody ever met him. He’d done well to get through the period of Beavorpot and his cronies as they literally used to eat frogs for breakfast and throw away the legs. Out Of My Tree Frog was a delicacy and only served to royalty. Apparently the consumption of these amphibians created a calming effect and so became very expensive so Beavorpot made it eat illegal for commoners to eat them. That’s why most of them left this place for a quieter and more humble environment. “I could murder a pie,” said the Gibbet Licker. “I could smoke the sky,” said Colin. “I could drink you dry,” said Ringworm

7 “I’ll pass this one by,” said Bray This coincidental diatribe ended up as one of the most quoted pieces in the history of this place. It was included in the song, “Every Banana Can’t Be Wrong” and numerous other works of literature. It would have been lost in the annals of time had it not been for the fact that the Gibbet Licker had left the trolleybus voice player in the record mode. This was then transmitted back to the bus station and Mrs Pencilvania wrote it down. . Mrs Pencilvania was always on the end of a phone, talking and talking and talking and only occasionally coming up for air. She had steel blonde hair and you see her girdle line. When these words came through from the trolleybus she wrote them down and put them in the Gibbet Lickers personal draw. She had a bit of a crazy soft spot for the old Gibbet Licker but he was too dumb to notice. One day things would be different. One day the Gibbet Licker would see Mrs Pencilvania in a different light, but not yet and not until this predicament was safely out of the way. They arrived at the Forest of Knowledge bang on nine o’ clock in a very apprehensive mood, that is all except Colin. He was grinning from ear to ear after being up all night on ganja. “What a place man, who stole the leaves?” said Colin. “It’s winter you cloth head,” replied Bray “This Forest of Knowledge has two winters. One in summer and one in winter.” Ringworm announced in a very profound way. The Forest of Knowledge was having its desired effect. However, the Forests power or its strangeness affected not everybody. Colin was totally unaffected and was rather bemused at the sudden outbursts of knowledge coming from somebody who is normally regarded as a buffoon, hero or not. He was of course referring to Bray and though he didn’t mean any harm by his thoughts, he knew he was right. The Gibbet Licker noticed a sign nailed up behind a tree, but the words were backwards. It was because he could see right through the tree and the words were mirror imaged through the back of the poster. When they went round the tree and read the poster, they gobsmacked. It read, “Beaverpot is back from hell,” in large red writing. “Nobody comes back from there man, not even Beaverpot,” croaked Colin. “Don’t speak frog speak everyman and don’t think I didn’t understand you. In here we can understand everything,” Bray replied angrily. Everyman is the language spoken by everybody in this place and was introduced by King Snip VII to enable all creatures to converse with each other. It was very unusual to here anyone speak in their native tongue and almost unheard of. Not many creatures could even remember their native tongue and could only say all but a few words. Colin on the other hand seemed remember all of the original frog language. So the Forest was working on him after all. Ringworm then realised he could speak frog and Bray started to remember old dinosaur and creek tongue. Creek tongue was peculiar to Brontosaurs’ and other herbivores from that time and soon became a forgotten language just before the great night of the comet. The time when everybody thought that the dinosaur had become extinct, when if

8 fact everybody new they had been frittered away by a convex in the time and space rule, catapulting them to and from this place on a continuous loop. Back on earth in normal parallel, the human beings didn’t know of this and still think to this day that the dinosaurs became extinct and that the planet earth has just five dimensions. There’s no Forest of Knowledge in the first parallel, just rain forests and desserts. “Where is hell?” asked Ringworm. “Somewhere between here, there and now,” replied the Gibbet Licker. “Is the penguin married,” asked Colin. “Who’d marry him?” Bray reacted “Better the penguin you know,” said Ringworm. “Or the Porpoise you don’t,” said Colin. “So where’s heaven?” asked Bray. “Somewhere between the penguin and the deep blue sea,” assured the Gibbet Licker. “Have you got a name?” Bray asked the Gibbet Licker. “He’s called Stamp Collector,” said Ringworm. “How did you know that?” asked the Gibbet Licker. “I suppose it’s being here.” “So Stamp it is from now on then,” said Bray, “After all this time we’ve found out your name.” “If that’s what you wish, it’s no skin off my nose,” said Stamp, which is peculiar owing to the fact that the nose of a Gibbet Licker is covered in fur. “My name is actually, Stamp Album Collector. I changed it by dipole from Stamp Collector. They called me Stamp collector from my days as a trolleybus conductor, when I would stamp peoples’ tickets. When I became a driver, I wanted to lose the image of being a conductor. In the world of Gibbet Lickers, conductors are regarded as very, very important people and I just wanted to be a normal creature like you guys.” “I’m sorry I asked,” replied Bray. “Well lets get on with the reason why we ca……….,” and before Ringworm could finish, he and his colleagues found themselves in the presence of Beavorpot, looking down at them from the cockpit of a forest copter. These helicopters had very small rotor blades that spun round at a fearsome rate. The small blades enabled them to fly in forests at great speeds. Beavorpot landed in their midst, disembarked and shook everybody’s hand with great glee. “Are you really Beavorpot?” asked Bray. “Indeed I am and what’s more I can help you,” Beavorpot explained his change of heart just before he fell down an enormous hole, leaving his legs behind. This was a great comfort to Colin “Everybody at the time thought you had been taken by the penguin,” Bray intervened, “It’s in all our history books.” “Well I was indeed taken by the penguin’s daughter, who turned out to be a charming girl and not at all what I expected.” “Then the penguin is married,” Colin remarked.

9 “To quite a few people,” Beavorpot went on, “He has hundreds and thousands of children and they all reach a certain age and stay at that age.” “And what age is that?” asked Ringworm. “21,” replied Stamp. “Quite right,” returned Beavorpot, “Quite right.” Beavorpot began to pace around and every so-often whirled around and jumped up and down like a petrified plumb bob. “The thing is, I learnt a lot in that hole and I seem to have been given eternal life. I think the penguin’s daughter took a shine to me and gave me back my freedom here in the Forest of knowledge.” “So how can you help us?” asked Bray. “I know where your performing artists are and where the theatre is.” “They’re right here in this forest,” said Colin. “Quite right, quite right,” said Beavorpot. “So what do you know that we don’t?” said Colin “They are spare clones of you made by mistake by Dr Bumblebinder who had some spare balloon dust and goose feathers in his hat. Unfortunately one of his patients by a pure mistake happened to say the words If it’s like this tomorrow I’m going swimming even if it isn’t. and whoosh: one Bray and one Ringworm and one Gibbet Licker. I don’t know anymore than that, the forest won’t tell me.” “So there’s another one of me around here,” said Stamp “Looks like it and we need to find them and the theatre,” said Bray. The Gibbet Licker managed to conjure a large tomato pie out of thin air. He was expecting a potato but this was a bonus. Beavorpot was amazed at this feat of magicianary (Magicianary is a common word in this place. It basically means “Magic”). “How did you do that?” asked Beavorpot. “Easy, we Gibbet Lickers’can all do it and we can see through things every 1st Tuesday,” replied Stamp. “Quite right,” said Bray. “Who said that?” Bray asked. “I did,” said Bray. “But you just sounded like me.” “I am you,” “No you’re not, I’m me.” “So am I.” Then suddenly from behind the large Glum trees came Bray’s clone followed closely by the other two clones. The three clones of Stamp, Ringworm and Bray stood before them. For some strange reason they were all wearing tartan scarves. “How did you get here and where did you get those scarves?” the real Bray asked. “We don’t know how we got here, but we were given the scarves by the hospital,” said Ringworm’s clone. “Hospital?”

10 “Yes, the one in this place where Dinky was,” answered Bray’s clone. “How do you know Dinky?” asked Bray. “I know every thing you know,” replied Bray’s clone. “We all do,” added Ringworm’s clone. “The only difference is, I don’t have your gifts,” Said Stamp’s clone. “Thank porpoise for that,” replied Bray, “So these are the actors and that’s how they know all about us to the last detail.” Ringworm muttered to Bray under his breath, “there’s an anti cloning spell somewhere, but I don’t know the formula.” “I do,” whispered Colin who had just woken up. Colin was asleep while all this was going on and he just caught the tail end of it all. He did know all sorts of strange spells and things and it was no surprise that he just might know this. We need somebody to draw a cardboard cut-out of all three of you, then I can weave my spell. “Where the sheep’s head will we find an artist round here,” said Ringworm. As true as Porpoise make little apples, Stamp made the greatest manifestation of his life. A sheep with easel, paint, palette and brushes appeared from thin air. “Don’t move,” the sheep said, “I’m in a hurry.” He sat behind the easel and painted a scaled down picture of Bray on a bicycle, on a piece of cardboard. He then proceeded to paint the other two on bicycles as quick as lightening. As soon as he had finished, he disappeared. “I couldn’t hold on to him for much longer,” sighed the Gibbet Licker. “That’s OK, he’s done a fine job,” exclaimed Colin. Colin started to write strange words on the back of the paintings. On Bray’s picture he wrote; Bray ye nay canny stay today so go away and play I say. On Ringworm’s picture he wrote; Ringworm clingworm sin my binworm always flingworm go to Beginworm On Stamps picture he wrote; Gibbet Licker flicker slicker please hitch hicker on your biker “Amazing,” said Bray, “I didn’t know you were a poet.” “I dabbled a bit in my youth,” Colin replied with a new freshness to his voice. “Can this be a new vocation?” asked Stamp “Maybe, maybe.” “You could be poet laureate of this place,” said Bray. “I doubt it,” replied Colin, “I never went to school.” “Well that doesn’t matter, I think you’re good.” “Come on we’ve got work to do,” croaked Ringworm. Colin sprang to life and started gathering Cubuta leaves and Parrot nuts. He put them under his hat and mumbled these strange words, Conacabbitakabackinlarkercrackerwackybackyclonaslackytackybuggerofii. As soon as the words left his lips, the clones were gone. “What did you say?” asked Bray.

11 “I don’t know I just made it up as I went along.” Apparently he could have said anything as, long it was said by an innocent with full conviction, the spell always works. This was a very far-fetched affair but far more bizarre things were to come. “Where’s your picture?” Colin asked Bray. “What picture?” “The one the sheep painted.” “What sheep?” It was then Colin had a horrible thought. He’d either frittered his real friends away or he’d somehow frittered himself away to some other part of the forest with the clones. It turned out to be the latter and he’d lost his hat. Back in the forest where the real Bray and friends were, all that remained of Colin was his hat. Colin thought that if his hat had been left behind, it just needed his cousin to put it on and say “Colin” and he would return. Ringworm did find Colin’s hat and put it on, but kept saying it’s my cousin’s hat not Colin’s. At the other end of the forest the clones were asking Colin where they were and how did they get there. Colin tried to explain to them that they were clones made by mistake and eventually they would disappear. This news made them angry and they started to shout at Colin. This shouting was interrupted by the most horrendous noise and they were soon aware of the presence of a large male Tyrannosaurus Rex but it wasn’t Jock. “My lucky day,” said the Rex, “I love Out Of My Tree Frogs.” Colin being out of his tree had no fear of predators and this made the T Rex really angry. By now the clones had hopped it “I hate clones, they don’t taste of anything,” the T Rex remarked. “How do you know they are clones?” Colin asked. “I’ll tell you when I’ve eaten you,” said the Rex and with one quick gulp he was gone. This gulp just happened to coincide with Ringworm saying Colin. “So there you are Colin,” said Ringworm, “I’ve saved your hat.” “You saved my life,” replied Colin “What do you mean?” “I’ll tell you when we get back to this place. I’m starving,” croaked Colin. Stamp managed to conjure up a plate of chips. As they left the forest they were overtaken by a small group of Raving Digarridodo Canary Roosters going hell for leather. These were being chased by a group of Reed Warblers who were in hot pursuit “What goes on?” cried Stamp. “They’ve escaped our custody,” came the reply and they were gone. “Canary Roosters are always being arrested, but no one can ever prove their guilt,” said Bray. “I wonder what they’ve done?” Ringworm yawned. “It’s twelve midnight,” shouted a field of Clock Gondoliers. The trolleybus pulled into this place and passed The Majestic Theatre, which was now fully restored, to its former glory.

12 “What a strange week it’s been,” said Bray. The weeks were always strange in this place. It is a strange place. “Can I drop you off?” Stamp said to Bray & co. “No we’ll catch a cab. We need a good laugh.” Said somebody. What happened to Beavorpot? Oh that’s another story. As the cab pulled in front of Bray’s house, a large Symbidium was waiting there with a telegram and it read, “Mrs Bumblebinder has been kidnapped, please help me.” It was signed Dr Bumblebinder.

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