Inspiration - Chapter 8

"Here Arthur, here's one for the front page. 'Little green man on little green scooter spotted in Islington'... I ask you, you'd think they’d have more things to worry about than little green men, what with the disappearance of all those people, of course I say people, they were advertising executives but then we can't hold that against them can we – well of course we can't, they’ve vanished... oh, sorry, I didn’t realise you were on the phone..."

"Agatha, Agatha, are you there?" said Arthur, but the phone remained resolutely unresponsive.

a woeful tale

"where are my sandles gone!?"
dear Zobe wails
distress well displayed
on her face.

"have you seen my sandles,
billy bob jones?"
"no, ma'am,
they've left not a trace."

"i lent them to you, then,
dear herman, my friend?"
"no, but i wish your young heart
i could mend."

"oh where will i find them?"
our Zobe girl cries,
where did i put them?
where do they hide?

look under your beds,
in the back of your fridge,
leave no stone unturned,
as long as you live,

for even this moment,
as homeward we go,
our Zo hath no sandles,
though she needs them so.

meet Henry

 

Henry the bat

Henry cast a sly glance around the room. This was before he remembered that, being a bat, he was in fact blind. He decided to ignore this minor hindrance. He was the main character in a story which would be mostly read by people. He was clearly going to be personified in their minds. So surely, reasoned Henry, he could borrow the eyesight of his human models?

Hoping that this sounded intelligent enough to convince the average reader, Henry cast a sly glance around the room.

This is what he saw:

      One small aquarium by the big double doors;
      Several institutional looking chairs;
      A desk with hundreds of official looking bits of paper behind it;
      Some tattered posters demonstrating the potentially horrific results of not brushing twice daily.

Henry knew all about these dangers. His orthodontist, Dr. Stone, had made sure of that. Dr. Stone was, incidentally, the reason that Henry was here. Much as he despised the man for ruining his smile and stealing his voice, he couldn’t just ignore what he knew. Dr. Stone was in mortal danger. And Henry was his only chance… 

Inspiration - Chapter 7

Groggily, the little green man with a water pistol’s thoughts swam into focus. His vision followed reluctantly as he replayed the last few minutes’ events in his head. They didn’t make any more sense second time round and he was just about to start on the third viewing when he heard groaning from behind him. Taking care not to make any noise or unnecessary movement, he turned his head to see the annoying human he’d hit with his first water pistol shot. She was lying face down on the ground in front of the very determined old lady who had attacked him. An Agatha Christie paperback appeared have taken on a life of its own and was trying to find a way around the prone body on the grass. Fearful that it could be part of a cunning plot by the stainless steel saucepans, the little green man with a water pistol edged across the grass towards the front of the house. Reaching the gate he picked himself up and sprinted around the house to the road where a little green scooter sat with the engine still running. Swearing profusely, the little green man with a water pistol gunned the little green scooter’s engine. Realising that he was just making it wet, he dropped the water pistol, jumped on the little green scooter and rode off up the road.