Umpwiffle

Umpwiffle snored.

The previous nights events had proved a little too much for this tired Trungler. He was presently enjoying a moment of peace and quiet, his mind filled with a re-assuring blackness, no thoughts came or went. Umpwiffle was temporarily happy.

Yet something began knocking on the door of Umpwiffle’s mind. The mysterious something guessed that no-one was home and a hazy shadow slipped through the keyhole. Once inside, it started to grow, forming vivid pictures, filled with all the colours of the spectrum. Then, as if someone had released the pause button, they all began to move. The shapes grew voices that were painfully loud and shrill. Umpwiffle’s mind was invaded by a multitude of noise and figures which were now dancing in a circle. Each dancing shape held a bunch of blossoming Fogflops and at regular intervals they began blowing their seeds all over the inside of his head.

‘Aaa-aaa-Chew!’ blasted the unsuspecting Umpwiffle and awoke to find himself face to foot with Tolita.

‘Perhaps that will make you think twice about napping when there’s work to be done,’ she laughed triumphantly, tightly holding the lid on the cone shaped container which she held carefully in one hand. ‘There’s a whole field of Fogflops in here,’ she continued, ‘just so you don’t get any more clever ideas’. There was more than a hint of smugness in her voice.

Tolita knew most creatures weaknesses. It was a shame for Umpwiffle that he was allergic to Fogflops and that every time he caught a sniff he sneezed so hard that his head nearly turned inside out.

The Judgess frowned as she watched the snivelling fool shuffle back to his bench. Feeling the eyes burning into the back of his head, Umpwiffle dutifully commenced noting down and then storing away the bizarre collection of materials which were situated on his work-top. Tolita shifted her attention to take in the entire surroundings of her productivity workshop. There were ninety-two Trunglers in all, each with their own job, designed to make the operation successful. Next to some Trunglers benches were wooden boxes - exactly like those stolen from the Moloks earlier that morning, except now they were empty.

Tolita understood power.

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.

Argghhhh!

The bustling sounds of morning flew in through the open window. The sun was shining and the breeze was dancing with the leaves on the trees.

George sleepily rubbed her eyes as she became re-accustomed with the shapes in her room. She sat up and stretched, letting out an enormous yawn, which appeared to disturb something at the end of her bed.

‘Arghh!’ cried George.

‘Arghh!’ shrieked Ponkle.

‘Arghh!’ yelled the pair of them together.

George flung herself under the bedclothes in the hope that whatever it was she had just seen would disappear as fast as it had appeared. Ponkle, on the other hand, dived under the bed, his whole body quivering with fright.

After a short while, George found an ounce of courage and emerged from under the crumpled covers. She tucked her long brown hair behind her ears and warily scanned her room. So far so good, she thought. She then, ever so slowly, crawled to the end of the bed and lent over.

‘Arghh!’ they both yelled again but this time nobody moved. Their eyes locked and neither could tell who was the most frightened.

Hmm

Sigworth looked at his wrist-watch. A look of concern spread across his face. Odd.

Back to the sack...

‘Ow...Ouch...Ah...Ouch!’ cried Ponkle through gritted teeth.

Boffwunglers were not designed to climb walls and Ponkle disliked the job intensely being petrified of heights.

‘Oeearggh,’ he groaned as he hauled himself onto a rather unstable window-ledge and paused for breath before feeling for the latch.

The window screeched as it was opened just enough for a creature the size of a Boffwungler to squeeze through. As Ponkle entered the room he took a good look around. His eyes darted to and fro across the unfamiliar space and finally came to rest on something in the centre of the room. The creature looked so peaceful and so....comfortable. It had been hours since Ponkle had last slept. He had nearly finished his rounds, after this he could creep home and catch up on some well earned rest.

He stopped as he heard a rumbling sound. It seemed to be coming from the next room. Yes, now he remembered. Sigworth had done this patch last night. He must have been at it again. He had mentioned something about testing it. He’d get found out one of these days and when he did, Ponkle hoped that he would be some miles away. Sigworth may be his cave mate but that wasn’t any reason to get caught up in all of this any more than he was already. Being known as a complete coward often came in quite handy. Folk knew what to expect of you in times of trouble. Very little.

He lifted the sack off his aching shoulder.

‘Sshhh!’ he instructed. Ponkle and the sack did not get along.

He tiptoed (which isn’t all that easy when you’ve got big flat feet) over to the bed. Oh, it did look cosy. Yawn.

‘I wonder what these creatures make their hammocks out of?’ he wondered and to discover exactly that, he lay down his heavy head at the foot of the bed.