Simon, meanwhile, lay snoring
on Professor D’Urbrayne’s tartan picnic blanket in the middle of the park,
oblivious to the small terrier scampering in circles around him and yapping
ferociously. He had taken the opportunity to inspect the oddly-shaped bottle bank whilst the
professor was indoors and had concluded that the chunk of rusting metal wasn’t
going to shift, so he may as have a rest until the others found a more sensible
mode of transport.
“SIMON… Simon, do wake up, o'
lazy walrus, it’s time to go!”
Simon looked up through
half-closed eyes to see the gangly figure of Professor D’Urbrayne looming over
him.
“Gnnnyrmph?”
“Simon, Bernard and I have
decided you’d better get in the tank first, as you’re the largest and we need
to find out whether it’ll take your weight.”
“Is he calling me fat?”
wondered Simon, intensely irritated at having been woken from a very pleasant
slumber. He had been dreaming of fish. Big, juicy fish…
“Woooom?!” he protested, and
started to propel his lumpen body away from the tank.
“Please Simon… remember how
much you enjoyed our last adventure?”
Simon paused, remembering how
little he’d enjoyed the last adventure, particularly the bit where the
Professor discovered that he had eaten his Thingummywotsit the previous
Tuesday.
“You can have a dozen jars of
pickled herrings for tea tonight if you get in the tank now!”
Reluctantly, Simon agreed,
turned around and belly-flopped towards the tank, followed closely by the
terrier. He then proceeded to indelicately cram the front half of his body
through the main hatch, where he quickly became stuck. Panicking, he thrashed
his tail in an increasingly ungraceful undulating motion until the opening gave
way, causing the entire tank to explode in a spectacular shower of rust, soil
and weeds.
“OI, SIMON, YOU BIG PRAT!”
shouted Professor D’Urbrayne, picking a large shard of tank from his beard and
flinging it at Simon, “THAT WAS MY PANZER!!!!”
“WOOOM!” exclaimed the walrus
from amongst the rubble, joyfully clapping his flippers together.
“I was going to lovingly
restore that tank… I even had a commission from Panzerfest magazine to write an
article about it! I was going to drive it all the way to Poffley End to visit
Aunty Mildred”
Bernard looked on in
bafflement, pondering the strangeness of the universe.
“Professor,” he ventured,
“why did you decide we’d take the tank today in the first place?”
“BECAUSE I THOUGHT IT WOULD
BE FUNNY!” replied D’Urbrayne, tugging at a stubborn sod of earth that had
attached itself to the cuff of his outermost sweater.
Bernard had his own opinion on the humour
value of the incident, but concluded this was best kept to himself. The two of
them bickered for a while about alternative modes of transport, whether to take
ham or tuna sandwiches for their packed lunches, and whether Simon’s recent
behaviour meant he was a good-for-nothing lump o’ lard unsuitable for
accompanying them on their quest. Finally, they agreed to use the Professor’s
newly-restored Morris Van for their epic journey, despite his worries
about scratching the paintwork.
No comments:
Post a Comment