Back to the bag....

George breathed deeply as she studied the absurd creature. The first thing that struck her was that whatever it was, it was extremely hairy. Yet there was something about it which put her more at ease. It may have had something to do with the fact that it had a rather funny face which made anyone looking at it want to break into an enormous smirk.

‘Who...I mean.....What.....?’ she stuttered but then, when the thing eagerly started to shuffle out from under the mattress, George thought better of trying to communicate with it and leapt back on top of her bed and retreated behind a thick feather pillow.

Ponkle thought it might be an idea to introduce himself, after all, it would be rude not to.

‘I’m...’ he began in his poshest voice, ‘a Boffwungler.....Ponkle’s the name, of the village of Gitwit, deep in the valleys of......Oh...’ he stopped, realising that this poor creature was stiff with shock and was now gripping her pillow as if preparing to use it against him.

‘Please,’ he said softly, ‘don’t be afraid. Look at me, I’m harmless.’

George eventually dared another peek at what she could only describe as an ugly little creature. This couldn’t be happening. Her powers of reasoning then walked in through her mind’s door and apologised for being late.

‘My imagination’s better than I thought,’ she whispered to herself, her eyes suddenly lighting up. After all, she certainly had no need to be afraid of something which her own mind had created.

She put down the pillow and nervously smiled back at the Boffwungler. Good, at least they had established contact. George’s curiosity was growing by the minute. Ponkle, on the other hand, was trying to disguise a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, often known as panic. He was here...now...it was morning.....he was history!

‘What are you doing…?’ began George, edging her way further towards the creature to get a closer view.

All of a sudden, Ponkle Boffwungler sprang into action. He ran to the open window and checked each direction. He appeared so filled with terror that George thought that the devil himself was propping up a ladder against her window and was about to join the party.

‘What’s the matter?’ said George, feeling sorry for the poor thing.

‘She’s going to have my guts on a plate...and my head for that matter. Always likes a good dinner. Hide...must hide!’

With that, Ponkle clambered onto George’s bed and dramatically threw himself under the covers. Alternatively, George leapt out of the bed and over to the door. This was obviously a figment of her imagination, however, she did not wish to share a bed with it.

‘Don’t you see!’ it said desperately. ‘She knows. I’ll not be back in time. She’ll think it’s a plot against her and that I’m a traitor....or maybe she’ll just think that I’m a lazy good-for-nothing who’s more trouble than he’s worth. Don’t you see?’ Ponkle said, lifting the covers just enough to get a good view of the girl. ‘Whatever she thinks means I’ll never see the light of day again’.

George was completely puzzled. The strange creature who had made a temporary habitat in her bed was panic-stricken but never mind that, she thought, as she noticed something lying on the floor which did not belong to her. Why hadn’t she seen it before?

George, unnoticed by Ponkle, made her way towards the inviting sack which was lying in the middle of the room. Her mind was busy wondering what was inside. More importantly, she wondered why it appeared to be moving.

As she drew closer, she heard a low moaning sound, like a litter of whimpering animals. She slowly leaned forward and her nimble fingers began to untie the tight string. She could feel the excitement of whatever was inside and felt something moving up towards the opening of the bundle. She bit her lip. Just one more knot to untie and...

‘DON’T TOUCH THAT!’

George dropped the bundle and as she did so it let out a furious growl. She turned to see Ponkle stood on her bed, his face white and his eyes wide. One moment more and there would have been trouble.