Moose in Gaol, Bad Dreams, Euro TV, Breaking In
Funnier - more gruesome - somewhat less edited - chapters 8 - 11
Moose has been arrested for something he probably didn't do - he languishes in a cell full of misfits... introduced in chapter 8, but lets cut to the next juicy bit
Moose stifled a yawn too. He must have been up for nearly twenty hours and desperately needed to sleep. He stumbled over towards a space against the wall
"I say I say I say, there's a vampire sucking the back o' your leg" chirped Lonny
"Enough already" brayed a donkey in a green hat, who'd just been woken up by all the noise.
"No, seriously Olive, there's a vampire sucking the back of his leg, look"
Moose turned round suddenly - all the other animals stared at his legs too - even the camel hunched up in the corner open one eye and stared, nosily.
To Moose's horror there was a leathery looking bat clamped onto the back of his knee, sucking away greedily where the bulldog had bitten him earlier.
"Roooooaaaargh" he roared, "DO YOU MIND?"
"Oy, get out of it Lee," said Bugnah (the kangaroo), thumping the bat quite forcefully into the air.
"Hmmmmm, I was enjoying that" moaned Lee sinisterly in a surprisingly deep voice for a bat.
"I betcha were, where's that bleedin' cat when you need him."
"A bleeding cat," continued the bat, still slightly winded, "sounds delicious, let me at him."
"Hey Doc, take a look at this, he's losing quite a bit of blood here"
"Hrrmmph" grunted the camel and slowly lifted his head, lazily unfurled his legs and - eventually - stood up. In the meantime the gathering of prisoners were treated to another performance by Lonny and Donny.
"Tiddlee diddlee diddle,
Tiddlee diddlee dee,
A great big bulldog
Bit him on the knee"
Tiddlee diddlee diddle,
Tiddlee diddlee dee,
Along came a vampire
And THOCCKK!
Olive the donkey had tossed his hat at the singing budgies, walloping Donny right in the midriff and carrying Lonny backwards with him.
"Bull's-eye" exclaimed the donkey.
By this time the camel had made it to his feet and ambled over to Sir Trawberry to take a look at his wound.
"Hmmm, nasty," he said. "never mind, this should do the trick."
He stepped away from the Moose, raised his hind leg and called out
"Say ninety-nine"
…then peed all over Sir Trawberry Moose's leg.
'Trick I learnt in the desert old chap" he said in the most extraordinary old fashioned British accent.
Sir Trawberry Moose was aghast. And speechless.
Lonny and Donny were not.
Tiddlee diddlee diddle,
Tiddlee diddlee dee,
Along came a camel
And tiddlee diddle did 'ee
Doc, the camel, looked up at the budgies and gave them a withering hate-stare.
Then he smiled and turned to the moose:
"Antiseptic, old bean. Camel pee, donkey pee, Himalayan cow pee… even moose pee, I shouldn't wonder. Cleanses the wound. Sterile you see."
"Ye-es," responded Moose cautiously, "I had heard that somewhere before. Wasn't planning to try it out quite just yet. All the same, hope you know what you're doing."
Moose was not at all sure that this strange looking camel knew what he was doing - a camel in a ski resort: odd; a camel in a prison cell: disturbing; a camel with a distinctly phoney British accent: extremely suspicious.
What was he in for? Fraud? Murder? Urinating in a public place?
Moose, who was never a brilliant judge of character at the best of times, looked a little worried.
"I'm so sorry, we haven't been introduced. How very rude. My name's Toot, Zhivago Toot, and you must be…?
"Zhivago?" thought Moose, "a likely story! Whoever heard of a camel called Zhivago. I'm pretty sure Zhivago's a Russian name. This guy is definitely a fraudster. Poisoner too, no doubt. Zhivago! Who's he trying to kid? Not me."
Moose could contain his thoughts no longer:
"Zhivago? That's Russian isn't it?"
"Yah, hard to believe isn't it, Mother was a big fan of Omar Sharif. Loved the movie, soppy old goose. Dreamt about Omar the night she had me. First name that came into her head."
Moose was still suspicious, but was prepared to accept his story, for now,.
[footnote: there are camels in parts of russia and mongolia- little known fact - there seem to be more camels in the ex USSR than there are in Egypt]
"And your name is…"
"Moose, Trawberry Moose."
"What - the Trawberry Moose? Sir Trawberry Moose? The legendary North American detective moose? By jingo indeed."
"Tiddlee dee,
tiddlee dee,
pom-ti pom-ti pom" sang Lonny and Donny, strumming the bars of the cage with their beaks.
"Now, now boys, a little respect if you please," demanded Zhivago the camel.
"What was that Doc?" chimed Bugnah (the kangaroo). "Royalty in our midst is it?"
"No, not exactly," began the Moose, "just a minor…"
"never had much time for royalty meself" continued Bugnah. "All airs an graces and fancy footmen, what have they ever done for us?
"Well I suppose they…"
"Always bickering an fighting an spending yer taxpayers money on cucumber saahhndwiches, I mean what's the point? Nah, if you ask me they should all be…"
"Nobody did ask you though Bugnah old chap" intervened the camel, who clearly had no qualms about silencing the loudmouthed kangaroo, even if he was a bit nifty with his fisties, as it were.
"Steady on Doc" answered Bugnah, "I mean the workin' man has a right to…"
"I'm sorry Buggahs old bean, I just need you to ahh put a sock in it for a moment, I really must concentrate on this leg wound - still bleeding don't ye know."
"Ah well, yeah why didn't you say so mate, yeah right, what's the matter with him then?"
"Vampire spit."
"yeah I saw it, vicious little git, bit 'im pretty hard, till I caught him with the ol' left hook"
"Not bit, spit," explained the camel. "Vampire spit contains a natural anticoagulant that stops the blood from clotting up and forming a scab. This allows the blood to continue flowing…
"out of my leg and into the vampire's mouth. What a marvellous system, " said the Moose, who loved ingenious solutions, particularly those thrown up by nature. "Moose blood on tap, splendid. My blood on tap. Yikes. "
"Nat so much, eh Rudy!" chipped in Olive the donkey.
"Now, continued Zhivago, "the good news is that the bleeding is washing the wound clean, the bad news is that I'm going to have to do ... this: " he ripped a piece off Sir Trawberry's fine linen shirt, "and this…" he scrunched it up and pressed it hard against the cut on the back of the moose's knee. "Olive old china, would you mind lending us your straw?"
"Do I have to? I mean, I've been chewing on this one for a day or two already."
"Precisely. There's a good chap. Most kind. Hold this for a jiffy will you Buggahs. Tightly now."
While Bugnah the kangaroo pressed the pad of cloth firmly against the wound, Zhivago tied the long soggy strand of straw around Moose's leg to hold the pad in place. Because the straw was so thoroughly moist, it wound round easily without snapping.
"There you go. Tickety-boo in no time."
"Oh, er, my word, yes, very good, thank you, so um, good, so you're a doctor are you?"
"Good gracious, no."
Everyone laughed
"But…"
"Just a…"
In chorus, all the inmates, including Bugnah and Olive, Cadger and Jack-Jack, Lonny and Donny joined in:
"…little trick I learnt in the desert, old chap."
"I see," said the Moose, who didn't really see at all, but was so tired, he didn't really care either. "Well, if you don't mind, I think I'll try and catch 40 winks before sunrise."
Sir Trawberry Moose yawned, stretched his arms out as far as he could, lay down and fell asleep. He dreamt he was in a forest, in his forest, back home in River Forest, running through the snow, between the trees, down a gentle slope, towards the gap in the trees where the sun blazed through, into the clearing which had become a vast Russian plain, running, running, running, past a bunch of camels, one of whom called out "Hello old chap" in a ridiculous English accent, past a glade of sweet smelling green Eucalyptus trees, complete with sleeping koala bears, past a glade of christmas trees complete with sleeping reindeer, running running, running, the cool fresh air coursing through his nostrils, running, running, running, the warm sun beating on his back.
Meanwhile, back at the hotel, Mole was having a nightmare.
He dreamt that he was wide awake, he couldn't sleep, there was a drip, drip, dripping in the corner of his room. He got up to see where the dripping was coming from, but the moment he reached the corner of the room the drip, drip, dripping stopped. The moment he got back into bed the drip, drip, dripping began again. He got up again, the same thing happened, the moment he reached the corner of the room the drip, drip, dripping stopped. The moment he got back into bed the drip, drip, dripping began all over again. Sometimes the dripping was really loud and wet, sometimes it was much quieter but even more annoying.
It was dark, very dark. He tried to reach the light switch, but couldn't reach it. He stood up in the bed but still couldn't reach it. He got out of bed and picked up the stool, placed the stool on the bed and climbed onto it to reach the light. The stool shook, he held out his arms like a tightrope walker to regain his balance, the stool settled for a moment, then the whole room shook and the stool wobbled and both stool and mole came tumbling down with a thud. Mole landed on a pile of dirt. Damp, stinking, dirt. All around him it was still dark, very dark. He was shivering, his teeth chattering, the ceiling still dripping, creating a horrible rhythmic tune, a rattling, shivering, chattering, clattering, drip, drip dripping evil tune. It clattered along like an old fashioned train, with a huge black engine puffing out dark stinking smoke, an engine with hollow, grey, jagged eyes getting closer and closer as he limped into the tunnel, his broken leg stabbing with pain as the clattering, rattling, shivering, stinking, smoky black engine came closer and closer and rrreeeeeeaaaaaaccccccchh the screeching of metal on metal echoing along the tunnel walls… rrreeeeeeaaaaaaccccccchh… it was now so close…rrreeeeeeaaaaaaccccccchh… he was going to die… rrreeeeeeaaaaaaccccccchh. He could see a bright, bright light, it was hurting his eyes… rrreeeeeeaaaaaaccccccchh… his eyelids peeled themselves apart… rrreeeeeeaaaaaaccccccchh… the bedside telephone was buzzing so loudly it was almost jumping off the table in excitement.
Rrrreeeeeeaaa… "Hello?"
"Mole, you lazy lump! We thought you'd wandered off again. What are you doing?"
It was Blueberry Bear.
"Oh, hi Blue, what time is it?"
"Nearly nine o'clock. We're all in the dining room, trying to work out what to do. Will you be joining us? Or do you have other plans?'
"Oh ha ha, very funny, yeah, sorry, I was asleep. I'll be down in a few minutes."
Guaca Mole switched on the TV while getting dressed, hoping to catch a report on last night's terrible events. It was one of those cheesy breakfast shows that leap from major news stories to lottery numbers in the blink of an eye. An oddly hairy looking chicken was reporting on the latest attempt to break the world sneezing record - a cocker spaniel with dangly ears, a longhaired ginger Persian kitten and a fluffy chinchilla rabbit, all allergic to one another had locked themselves in a warm room with a mountain of feather pillows and a bowl of pot pourri. The spaniel was chasing the kitten into the pile of pillows, sending duck feathers flying everywhere, while the chinchilla rabbit was being interviewed by the hairy chicken.
"So when did you first realise you had a gift for sneezing?"
"Yeah. Right. Well Frieda, the first time I, I, I aaaahchhooo"
"Gesundheit"
"Thank you. Yeah, er the first er, the first time I, I, I aaaahchhooo"
"Gesundheit"
"Oh, thank you, yeah, er…"
Mole switched channels. "Meine Damen und Herren, wilkommen, bienvenue, welcome to Dreams Are My Reality! and here's your host, Doktor Sigmund Frog."
There was thunderous applause from the studio audience as a large green and brown speckled frog plopped into the middle of the screen. He had huge horn rimmed spectacles and a wispy little beard dangling from his chin. He grinned, showing a row of at least 20 chunky gleaming (and undoubtedly false) teeth in his wide, wide mouth. "Hello darlinks, so good to be viz you today of all days, and vot a show it's gonna be today, I tell you. But before ve begin, I hef a letter here from vun of our fewers in Chermany, miss Wilhelmina Drippenkopf, lets hear it for Wilhelmina, ladies und chentlemen… Javohl, Vay to go, Villie; can ve call you Villie?
Guaca Mole was about to turn the TV off and head downstairs to join his pals for what was left of breakfast, when he heard the Frog say "…drip, drip, dripping from the ceiling. Und every time she got outta bed, ze drip, drip, dripping stopped. Schtumm. Well my dear Villie, according to the traditional dream interpreters the 'drip drip dripping' as you call it, symbolises ze approaching of enemies marching towards you. Better change the locks eh Villie or the bogeymen are gonna get you, heh, heh, heh, chust my little choke eh, Villie, but seriously…"
The phone rang again. It was Bear, sounding pretty angry:
" Are you coming or what?"
"Yeah, just a moment, I'm just watching something, I'm just
Blue called back to his fellow friends "He's watching the blooming TV up there I can hear it"
"For goodness sake Mole, don't you realise… Poor old Moose has been…"
Guaca Mole had the TV on so loud he could hardly hear what Bear was saying. Dr Frog was now croaking on about "running through a long dark tunnel symbolises a return to ze primal state of fear" or some such mumbo jumbo.
" and we've got to do something about it. Now. Or would you rather… Mole, are you listening?"
"Yes I know, I'm sorry, I'm coming, I'm…"
"Careful now, you don't want to miss your 'tee vee' show do you."
"I said I'm coming."
Mole finished dressing and went downstairs to join the gang.
Breakfast was no longer being served, but there was a warm jug of cocoa over on a trestle table by the wall, next to a small pile of assorted bagels and black bread.
[hypernote Bagels originally come from Austria where they are were called beugels].
On a hotplate there was a silver basin smeared with the yellow crusty remnants of the morning's scrambled eggs.
Mole was worried that everyone was going to be really angry with him for being so late, but to his surprise:
"Come on Moley," said Fay, "we've saved you some cheese."
"Come and sit here poppet" added Raquel Rabbit, pulling back the chair next to her. "Cocoa? It should still be quite warm."
"Oh, thanks, yeah, great."
Spiders Muffy, Tuffy and Zog had climbed up onto the trestle table. "Poppy seed bagels coming your way!'
Muffy took a flying leap and landed on the back of Guaca Mole's chair, a trail of spider silk dangling behind her. From their she hopped onto the table and fastened a long thread to the base of the rather tacky little vase in the middle of the table. She whizzed back up to the table along the now taut silk thread, looped it around the toaster and slid back down to the table.
"All lines in place Cap'n!" bellowed Muffy
"Look out below!" hollered Tuffy and he launched the first of three poppy seed bagels along the spidery wire. As they hit the table the vase wobbled, teetered and swayed, but each time it remained upright.
"Wouldn't it have been easier to get up and fetch them yourself" grunted Bear.
"Easier, maybe. Fun? Gnat so much," answered Zog.
Mole took a swig of cocoa and stuffed a hot buttered bagel into his mouth. "You know what," he mumbled, shoving the firm fleshy dough into his cheeks so he could talk and eat at the same time. "I had this awful dream last night. I kept on waking up and there was this dripping noise in my room, I don't know what it was, water or blood or something but every time I got up it stopped and then, oh yeah, there was another bit where we were all at that restaurant, the dumpling place, and all the lights went out and these freaky dogs came in and raided the place and they dragged poor old Moose away and this greasy haired horse turned up and…
Everybody was staring at Mole. Blueberry Bear's jaw hung loose as if he were shocked by something Mole was saying or doing.
"Oh I'm sorry," said Mole, "I shouldn't be talking with my mouth full should I. Sorry fellas." He took another swig of cocoa to wash the bagel down. This pause in the stream of words gushing out of Guaca Mole's mouth gave Raquel a chance to cut in.
" Er… that wasn't a dream"
"Oh yes it was, cos every time I got up the dripping stopped and every time I lay down again the dripping started and…"
"No," said Raquel firmly. "Moose and the restaurant. It wasn't a dream. It really happened. Moose has been arrested."
This time Guaca Mole's jaw dropped."
"That's assuming they were real police dogs," said Mouse, nervously.
"Fay's right," continued Raquel. I called the police station last night and they wouldn't tell me anything."
"They told her to call back in the morning. She called back this morning and they said the desk clerk wouldn't be on until 9 o' clock."
"It's already 9 o'clock," said Muffy, "do you want me to call them again?"
"It's alright," said Raquel, "I'll do it. Blue, can you pass me my porky-talky?"
Blue picked it up with two fingers and held it away from him as if it smelled bad.
She dialled the station again.
Bip bip bip bip bip bip bip bip,
Bip bip bip bip bip bip bip bip
I think it's engaged.
Why what does it sound like?
"Bip bip bip bip bip bip bip bip"
Wait a moment, see if anyone answers, said Muffy, clearly the most patient one there.
Bip bip bip bip bip bip bip bip
"No, I really do think it's engaged."
"That's it" grunted Bear, "let's get down there now and find out what the heck's going on"
"But we don't even know if they were real police dogs" said Fay.
"All the more reason to get down there. Perhaps they can help us with
our enquiries."
"Next."
They all started talking at once:
"It's about our friend Moose"
"Sprachen sie Englisch?"
"Good Morning officer, we…"
"Why did you…
"What 've you done with Sir…"
"One at a time please."
Bear spoke first: "We're all together officer"
One at a time.
We're trying to find out what…
One at a time, please. The rest of you go back behind ze line please. Now.
Name
Bear. Blueberry Bear.
Occupation?
Restaurateur.
Papers?
Pardon?
"Your papers"
"Oh er, yeah, I got my passport somewhere, hang on a minute."
Mole went white. He was glad that Bear had come forward to speak - because he'd left his own passport in the hotel. In the movies you could be arrested for not carrying your papers on you at all times - and this was way too much like the movies.
"Ahem" coughed the desk sergeant.
"Yes I, just a second, I..'
The desk sergeant's eyes narrowed and he emitted a low rumbling sound.
"Yeah, just a… here it is."
The desk sergeant looked disappointed.
"Seems to be in order. Well? What can I do for you Mr Bear?"
"Well it's like this. We were wondering if you might have a friend of ours staying with you at the moment. A certain moose."
"A moose?"
"Yeah sort of like a big deer, only bigger, with massive great antlers and…"
"Thank you, I do know what a moose is"
"Oh yeah right"
"And he's a 'friend of yours' is he?"
Bear was quiet for a moment.
Fay squeaked, ever so slightly.
"Well, er yes, as a matter of fact he is," continued Bear. "Only last night, a bunch of assorted combat dogs, some of them in uniform, burst in on us and took him away. Now we were assuming they were members of the police force, but if they weren't we were hoping you could help us find out what's happened to him."
"Hmm, a moose you say. Name?"
"Trawberry. Sir Trawberry Moose."
The desk sergeant raised his eyebrows.
"One moment please, I'll check the overnight log. Arnie! Keep an eye on zis lot will you. Any trouble, book 'em."
They all sat still. A few minutes later the desk sergeant came back. Sorry, no record of a Strawberry Moose coming in. Afraid I can't help you. Try missing persons.
"But…"
"Goodbye Herr Bear."
"but I don't think you understand…"
"Goodbye Mr Bear."
Arnie, an immense, overmusculated bull mastiff lumbered over to supervise their departure. One by one, Blueberry Bear, Raquel Rabbit, Fay Mouse, Guaca Mole, Muffy and Zog shuffled out of the police station, feeling helpless.
"What are we gonna do?" whimpered Fay. "If it wasn't the cops who took Moose, who was it?"
"I wouldn't be so sure," said Bear, who didn't trust many people at the best of times.
Back in the police station Arnie grunted "Do you want me to tail them, Boss?"
"No, it's alright" said the Desk Sergeant, "zey ain't goin nowhere." He held up Blue's passport which he'd slipped under a file.
Tuffy, who'd crawled up to the ceiling, heard every word.
"Maybe we should go to the embassy?" wondered Muffy.
"Well there's not gonna be an embassy in Saltzbruck is there" responded Mole dryly.
"But there might be a consulate," said Raquel. "Why don't you check on your porky-talky?"
Mole was the most technical of the gang and he tapped away at his porky-talky.
"She's right you know, [american/forestian/lakeland/canadian/great lakes/british}? Consul, 73 Grunerstrasse / Stroessnerstrasse, Saltzbruck. According to the map…" he clicked a couple more buttons, "that's about four blocks from here."
73 Stroessnerstrasse was a fairly smart old building on the outside, stone facing, pointy gothic arches, but inside it was a little shabby. The consulate was on the second floor. The elevator had a sign on it saying "out of order, cleaning" so they trooped up the steps and found a large dark brown door with a brass plaque on it.
Raquel rang the doorbell. They could hear it drrringing inside but there was no reply.
She tried again, it drrringed again. Again there was no reply.
Bear tried the door knob. The door creaked open. In the room was a sofa, three easy chairs, a beautiful antique wooden writing desk and three pictures, a portrait of the Queen, a portrait of the American president, George S Eagle, and a picture of a wily old beaver wearing a bright red toque on his head, emblazoned with the word 'Leafs'.
"Perhaps we should wait here," said Mole.
"Excuse me!" called Blue, "Anyone at home?"
There was a rustling sound and then another door opened.
"Eeess no here" said a little round faced sheep wearing a black dress and frilly apron.
"Eeess out to lunch."
"That's what we've heard," chuckled Blue.
"But it's only ten o'clock," said Fay, somewhat appalled.
"Yess" said the sheep.
"What time will the consul be coming back?" asked Bear.
"Yess" bleated the sheep.
No, I mean what time will he be coming back?
"Yess" bleated the sheep.
"Eleven o'clock? Twelve o'clock?"
"Yess" bleated the sheep.
"One o'clock?" tried Mole.
"Yess" bleated the sheep.
"Where's he having his lunch?" asked Raquel
"Yess" bleated the sheep.
"Yes, good, where? Donde? Wo?
"Eeess no here" bleated the sheep.
"Well thank you for your valuable assistance,"declared Blue. "We'll be off then."
"Meessing you already" bleated the sheep as they turned and trouped out of the door.
Back in the police station, Tuffy, who as you will have cleverly noticed did not shuffle out with Blueberry Bear, Raquel Rabbit, Fay Mouse, Guaca Mole, Muffy or Zog, but instead had hidden under a wooden bench and, when no one was looking, scampered up to the ceiling and tucked himself in on the beam thing supporting the fluorescent lights (are you still following?), Tuffy, had found his way into the ventilation system and was crawling around the station, peering in through the vent shafts, room by room, searching for signs of Sir Trawberry Moose. He had even been down to the cells, where he'd seen a motley bunch of animals, a kangaroo with cauliflower ears, a camel wearing a tea towel, a donkey with a pork-pie hat, a sleeping cat and pair of noisy little birds. He was about to go down and ask them if they'd seen Moose when he spotted a big fat crinkly leather bat hanging from the rafter, just a few feet from the only vent in the room. It looked asleep, but he wasn't sure - not knowing much about bats. Usually he'd have just asked Guaca Mole, who seemed to know something about everything, or Bear who had years of experience and acted like he knew everything, or even Moose, who knew all sorts of odd things, but stuck up a heating vent in the dungeons of Salzbruck police station, he had to count on his own experience, which was limited. He had a horrible idea he'd seen a movie once, in which these screeching bats with scary little faces dive-bombed a family of innocent spiders and ate them all up. Do bats really eat spiders? Tuffy wasn't going to hang around and find out.
Just as he was leaving the dungeon area he heard a loud, raucous voice coming from the cell.
"Ere, doc. You know that reindeer, Sinbad or whatever 'is name was. Do you reckon 'e was for real, or what?"
It was Bugnah, the kangaroo.
"I thought you said his name was Rudolf" mumbled Jack-Jack the cat drowsily.
"No one asked you, Fleabag" jibed Bugnah.
Jack-Jack growled. Or snored. Hard to tell.
"Nah, seriously, Doc, what d'ye reckon eh? Poncey accent wasn't it! Always a giveaway if you ask me. Didn't sound like any reindeer I've ever heard."
"I think you'll find he was a Moose" drawled Zhivago in his own extremely poncey accent.
"Reindeer, Moose dear, all the same to me" chuckled Bugnah.
"Careful, you'll get the budgies going," warned Cadger the badger, also half asleep.
Tuffy heard the word Moose and stopped in his tracks. He crept back along the pipe towards the cell, hoping the bat couldn't smell him.
"Yeah, what were they on last night? Too much poppy seed on the old bag o' bagels if you ask me."
"You may be right there, Buggahs, you may be right."
"Still, time to get some exercise in boys, what d'ye reckon, eh? Quick one-two round the old cage, eh"
"Do you have to, Buggahs dear boy? Some of us aren't quite as full of beans, don't ye know."
"Aaoooah," yawned the donkey.
"Morning Olive, you ready for a quick trot round the block?"
"Is it morning already? Or have yesterday's tomorrows come to haunt us all again?"
"Very nice, Olive, couldn'a put it better myself" chimed Bugnah.
"That's for sure" whispered Olive.
"What?"
"Some of us didn't get a great deal of sleep this morning, my friend."
"Guess not. Up half the night with the bleedin' reindeer, sorry 'Moooose' "
"then up again at five when the brown shirts came to get him."
"Aah. Is that what the noise was? Blimey, 'e must 'ave done something serious then, eh?"
"Maybe, maybe not…" added Olive, thoughtfully.
© 2004 dolcevitamedia inc.
All inquiries to comments@strawberrymoose.com
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