ch10) later 9pm

“I’ve never seen so much conformity amongst ollypants” she mutters.
“Well you all look the same to us too” retorts oily (boing! Says the bopaline)
“There’s only one of me,” snaps Zobe, snappily “of course I look the same”
“I look completely different” squeaks Greg, hoping desperately that someone will pay attention to him.
“Shutup, echidna,” shouts Phil, counting out the notes, “you shouldn’t even be here, echidna’s can’t join our club”
“Squeak” squeaks the mouse (although possibly not the same mouse as before).
“And you can shut it too!” – that’s Phil again
There is a pause as everybody replays the conversation in their heads, trying to spot what didn’t quite fit.
I’ve never seen so much conformity… I look completely different… shutup, echidna… squeak … you can shut it too… wait! That was it!
The air turns 7 and a half degrees cooler, the silence broken only by the sound of a whole host of uliphants screaming at the top of their trunks and trying to jump on a chair (the bopaline is still occupied by the hippos). The sickening thud of elliefants colliding as they all choose the same chair is rivalled by the horrifying crunch of the chair as it collapses under so many ollyfents. However, they both pale into insignificance next to the tiny whine of an echidna caught in the worst possible place.
No, not Milton Keynes.
“What are they doing here?” comes the muffled voice of Olly from beneath a pile of wrinkled grey elephant.
“Oh, I invited them,” says Zobe, “they’d been locked up in a cage by some nasty people and were all lonely. I thought they could use a good party.”
“We know they were locked up,” replies Phil in a muffled roar, “we locked ‘em up there!”
“Squeak!” says a mouse, who is definitely neither of the mice who had squeaked already.

“I think there’s scope for some more randomness in this story,” says Ben.
“Always scope for more randomness” replies Jude
“What are you doing here?” asks Gimli.
“You can talk,” says Ben, “the mice have eaten you.”
“Squeak squeak!” squeaks a mouse, squeaking twice in case he doesn’t get another turn.
“Oh, good point,” replies Ben, “I haven’t written that part yet.
“ ,“ says Gimli, who has just caught up with the story and been eaten by the mice.

“Oh dear” says Zobe, “what have I done! I didn’t realise the mice were so evil!”
“We tried telling everybody” comes the still muffled voice of Olly, “but they never listen. Keep calling us scaredy-cats.”
“I’m a scaredy-cat,” squeaks a tiny voice from the corner of the room.
“Squeak” barks a mouse who’s already squeaked (although I’m not sure which one).
“Aaaaaarrrgh” screams the scaredy-cat timidly as it bolts from the room.
“ ,“ says Gimli, who isn’t adjusting well to having been eaten by evil mice.
“What’s that you say Gimli?” says Jude, “you have a rather frugal option for getting rid of mice that an old farmer told you about and it really does work? Did you say to use instant mashed potatoes, as they are much cheaper and a lot safer than rat poisons? We should place a few tablespoons where the mice are seen most often; try to keep them out of reach of the dog, just to be safe. The mice will eat the instant potatoes and die because the potatoes will expand in their stomachs before they can fully digest them? That’s an excellent suggestion!”
“I’ll get on with that whilst the story goes on,” says Ben.
“It’s ok Zobe,” says Phil, more gently, as he finally extricates (ooh look! big word!) himself from the heap of elephants. “We know you weren’t trying to upset us, we’ll forgive you.”
“Oh thank you,” says Zobe.
“That reminds me,” says Oily, “I’ve got a letter here addressed to Zobe wan Gavinci – any relation?”
“That’s me!” cries Zobe, forgetting to wonder what it is about the phrase “oh thank you” that reminded Oily about a letter.
Oily hands the letter over and Zobe eagerly rips it open. “You have won second prize in a beauty contest, do not pass goats, do not collect 200 llama points,” she reads, her jaw dropping in amazement. Well, it would do if she had a working jaw and not just a balloon head.
“In which case, I think we’d better get on with the SSAB prize ceremony” says Ellie, who hasn’t spoken recently because I’d forgotten her name. They sat down and Phil started the ceremony. Zobe fell asleep for a while and dreamed about pencil cases. When she woke up Phil was introducing a prize:
“In recognition of extreme bravery in the face (or whole body) of descending elephants, we’re letting our first echidna into the society. I know this is a little radical, but I feel we need to move with the times. So let’s have a big round of applause for Greg, a new member of the society. We have a special welcome balloon for you Greg…”