Their last name was Turfunkel and more than anything else; people seemed to forget they were two different people or that they had names at all and just called them “The Turfunkel Twins.” Like it was some kind of title or something.
It was lucky they were twins and had each other even if Pen was really annoying sometimes with all her girly stuff in HIS room. A name like “Turfunkel” doesn’t get you much in school. Just a bunch of awful nicknames like the Turd-funkel twins or the Tur-funky twins or the Ter-ukulele twins.
At the moment they were kind of happy to see the ugly cat because they’d been grounded for a whole week this time and it was kinda boring up here in their room all day. School days weren’t so bad, but Saturdays were loooooong and it was nice and sunny outside. They might have snuck out and climbed down the maple tree, but their dad was a smart man and he’d been working in the flower beds and the garden all morning with one eyeball on the window.
Well—climbing out the window wasn’t exactly an original plan so maybe that one eyeball was sort-of deserved? But really, this time a whole week of grounding including all of Saturday just seemed a bit much when what happened last Saturday wasn’t really Chris-n-Pen’s fault at all. I mean, who knew that mom was going to come home early…right as they balanced the little red wagon at the top of the stairs with their diaper-baby sister in it saying “Ride-ride-ride!”
She blew her top like a haystack this time! I mean they weren’t really going to do it, right? Well, Pen really didn’t like baby sister with her pink ruffles and everyone cooing and bringing presents for her so she wouldn’t feel bad when it was their birthday, but Chris kind thought she was cute once she got out of the baby crying thing and all.
Dad came in to calm mom down. They both secretly agreed he had some kind of super powers as far as mom was concerned because he got her calmed down in a jif, plunking sister into her arms, whisking the red wagon out to the shed and scooted them both right up the stairs and out of her sight super-fast.
The only thing that gave away his mad was the two eyebrows beetled into one big one and the deep sigh as he shut the door to their room saying, “I’ll bring up supper in a bit. We’ll talk about this later, until then you’re in for the night.”
“I think it’s sick,” Pen said, petting Sambala who looked even more miserable than before.
“What, the weird cat?”
“Yeah, it keeps holding paws to its head and meowing a lot,” she said.
“You know we’re supposed to stay in, we’re grounded,” Chris said sternly.
“But, we’ve got to sneak it out and have dad look at it, this could be our ticket out, our good deed! I know it will work. Dad’s a softy! We could be out of here officially by bedtime…I promise.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before. OK, we’ll try it.”
Chris and Pen scooped up the cat in an old hoodie and tip toed to the door. They paused to listen and didn’t hear anything. At the bottom of the stairs they could see mom was busy in the kitchen. Dad would be in the family room reading like he always did before dinner.
Softly making their way down the stairs and past the kitchen door with its wonderful smells of spaghetti and meatballs with garlic bread (which seemed to perk the ugly cat right up) the twins popped up right under dad’s nose. First the eyebrows beetled again and the two held their breath for the lecture, but then he saw the forlorn cat and of course he forgot all about how the twins were supposed to be grounded and were in BIG trouble with mom—again.
“Aw poor little guy,” dad said, automatically checking him over. Reaching for his vet bag, he pulled out what looked like a tongue depressor and quickly found the problem.
“Twins, his tooth is all rotten. I’m going to have to pull it,” he said, already distracted and planning on how to do it. “It’s so loose. It’s half out already, no wonder he’s meowing so much.” With a quick yank the rotten tooth was out.
Chris n’ Pen petted ugly cat and made up nice things to say like, “You’re such a pretty kitty” (which was clearly untrue) since “You’re such a strange kitty with a big head and too much fur” would have been much more true. Sambala gave a great yowl and jumped right out of the twin’s dad’s arms dislodging a mouse which scurried away. Up the stairs ugly cat went, forgetting all about the yummy dinner he’d been dreaming about moments before. The startled mouse was just as fast. “Was that a mouse?” Chris said. Dad just shrugged and led the way to the dinner table. Mom seemed to have forgotten how mad she’d been, distracted by making dinner which was a huge relief to Chris and Pen.
Dad sent them back to their room right after dinner, but that was OK because pushing mom too far was never a good idea. Turns out, ugly cat didn’t leave; the twins found him curled up on Chris’ bed which was by far the messier of the two and his friend the mouse was laying neatly on Pen’s pillow.
“I think we have some new pets,” they said together, thinking alike as twins often do.
“I think we have some new kids to help,” Mimba whispered.
“Of course, that was the plan wasn’t it? Mmmm…leftovers?” Sambala said, already feeling better and dreaming about food.
The End
© 2014 Kristina Blasen
***
To read more about the Unstoppable Turfunkel twins and the adventures of Sambala the Mighty and Mimba the Wanderer check out the full book June 2014.
CHOCOLATE SHAKE HAIKU
By James Gordon
Nothing taste better on a warm summer's day than a chocolate shake.
© 2014 James Gordon
MARLEY AND THE NOSE GNOME
(A scary short story for children)
By Chris Raven
Marley hid under his duvet as he had done now for the past week or so. He was curled up small. Not a single bit of him was poking out from beneath the covers. Every night since the Nose Gnome had first come, Marley had run to his bed very fast after turning out the light. He had to quickly jump under the duvet before the spiteful little creature could catch him and steal his nose. The only way to banish the nose gnome each night was to recite the old nursery rhyme his mother had taught him when he was very small. Marley held his breath and thought about the words very hard.
Nobody knows where the nose gnome goes,
When the nose gnome goes to town,
All they know is when the nose gnome goes,
The nose gnome cannot be found.
Marley waited in the dark, still under his duvet. He was getting really hot now and was finding it hard to breathe. Very carefully and quietly, he pushed his hand towards his pillow and made a small tunnel to let in some air. He arched his neck towards the hole and breathed in the cool fresh air.
Marley froze and held his breath again. There was something heavy sitting on his bed. He could feel it down the end by his legs. It was the kind of weight that wakes you up on Christmas morning. But seeing as Christmas wasn’t for another month yet, Marley doubted he would find a Christmas stocking at the end of his bed. Marley didn't know what to do, so he tried the second verse of the nursery rhyme but this time he said it out loud, in a whisper under his breath.
Nobody knows what the nose gnome knows,
Or what the nose gnome can do,
All they know is that the nose gnome knows,
All there is to know about you.
Marley heard a giggle. It was more of a cackle really, all deep and throaty. Marley was so scared he could not even move. He just had a horrible tingly feeling all over his body. Marley couldn’t stand it any longer. He couldn’t just lie there and wait for the Nose Gnome to grab him and steal his nose, could he? Marley decided to do something about it. Remembering the last verse of the rhyme, he suddenly sat up; throwing the duvet off, and shouted the last verse out loud in the hope it would scare the Nose Gnome away.
Nobody knows why the nose gnome rose,
Why is he here do you suppose?
I will tell you why the nose gnome rose,
He’s af
ter your pretty button nose.
The final words of the rhyme came out of Marley’s mouth in a quiet, frightened mumble, as he looked into the dark sparkly eyes of the creature that was sitting cross-legged at the foot of his bed. It was a small creature, grey and wrinkly, and it was dressed in a light brown tunic over dark brown trousers. Bare-footed, the creature held on to its own ankles as it rocked back and forth laughing to itself, tears rolling down its cheeks. Its head looked far too big for its body and in the middle of its face was a large knobbly nose that drooped down and hid most of the creature’s mouth. All Marley could see of the mouth were the two ends sticking out either side in what looked like a wide toothy grin.
“That was a fine rhyme you were reciting there Marley,” the creature said in his deep voice.
Marley tried to turn his head to quickly look for his younger brother and sister in their bunk-bed against the far wall but his eyes had trouble looking away from the creature’s hypnotic gaze.
“Don’t worry about them Marley,” the creature explained. “They won’t wake up, they’re fast asleep.”
“Are you the Nose Gnome?” Marley finally asked.
The creature nodded, grinning from beneath his droopy nose.
“Are you going to steal my nose now?” Marley asked nervously.
The creature suddenly burst out laughing again.
“No, Marley, I don’t steal children’s noses,” the Nose Gnome reassured him. “I like children. It’s my job to look after them all and protect them.”
“Is it?” Marley asked. “I thought you were the monster under my bed.”
The Nose Gnome shook his head again, chuckling.
“No, Marley,” the Gnome reassured him, tears of laughter running down his cheeks again, “I’m not the monster under your bed, not at all. But I have a magical nose and I use it to sniff out trouble.”
“Oh!” Marley said, beginning to feel a little safer. “So you are not here to eat me then?”
The Nose Gnome continued to laugh, wiping away a fresh batch of tears.
“Oh, you are funny, Marley. Of course I don’t eat children, as I said before; it is my job to protect you.”
“Protect me?” Marley said, beginning to feel a little uneasy again. “Protect me from what?”
The Nose Gnome did not laugh this time. In fact he looked very serious. He looked very serious indeed.
“I am here, Marley,” the Nose Gnome explained, looking Marley square in the eyes, “to protect you from the real monster under the bed.”
Marley gulped and then he felt something strong bash into him from under his mattress, making him bounce into the air. As Marley landed back on his bed and bounced a few times, he could hear a grumbly growling sound from underneath. Marley looked at the Nose Gnome, who was looking down at Marley’s side. Marley followed the Nose Gnome’s gaze and saw that he was looking at something really terrible. He saw a large pale long-fingered boney hand crawl up from under the bed and grab the edge of his duvet. The Nose Gnome quickly leant forward and gave the monstrous hand a sharp slap. The hand quickly withdrew and disappeared back under the bed with more grumbly growling sounds, along with some mewing and not a little whimpering.
“Excuse me,” the Nose Gnome said, as he rolled over on to his belly and lowered his head over the edge of the bed to look underneath it.
“Is that you, Nigel?” he said in a firm voice.
Marley heard some more growling and whimpering.
“You leave the young lad up there alone now, do you hear?” the Nose Gnome said. “This one is not for your pot.”
There was more growling and whimpering.
“That may be as it may Nigel but you are not to eat this child, am I clear?”
The monster under the bed continued to whimper and mew.
“Now be off with you,” the Nose Gnome said firmly. “Go on. You go home now”.
The whimpering and grumbling continued, but got quieter until it was gone.
The Nose Gnome pulled himself back up on to the bed and gave Marley a broad grin.
“Well, I doubt you’ll be having any more trouble with him tonight,” he said proudly, you take care now and I’ll see you tomorrow”.
With that the Nose Gnome suddenly and completely disappeared with a ‘plink’, leaving Marley wondering if he felt safer now or whether he should feel more scared.
The End
© 2014 Chris Raven
SURPRISE!
By Charlie Dee
On the floor the giant paint pots lay,
Filled with colours from pink to grey,
To give our mum and dad a treat,
By making their bedroom complete.
With our hands full of squishy paint,
We begin to draw and create,
Swirling colour, magical lands,
Paint the walls with artistic hands.
Dolphins, cupcakes and towering trees,
Gumballs, tigers and bumbley bees,
All on the walls in broad daylight,
Our great artwork is quite a sight.
We hear footsteps coming upstairs,
So we go hide behind some chairs,
We cannot wait for them to gaze,
Upon our stunning colour maze.
Enter the incredible room,
That is when dad starts to fume,
And when we hear mum’s screams and cries,
We both jump out and shout ‘SURPRISE!’
© 2014 Charlie Dee
“Original Concepts by James Henry Thomas Present”
The Wacky Adventures of Bob & Dill
“BARRACUDA BLAST”
As written by Donny Swords
“Banzai!”
“Wahoo!”
“Yes awesomeness!”
“Yeeeeeeah!”
For a rooster, Bob was getting good at surfing.
Hawaii was great Maui was just his kind of place.
The waves were fun to ride, and the luaus just fantastic.
For him Maui was gravy, a blast.
The rooster thought about getting a slushy, just to beat the heat, but surfing was too fun.
Besides, he loved the sun.
He could not stop.
Bob barely thought about Dill.
He could be such a pill, a party-pooper.
Surfing was super!
Meanwhile, back at the Motel 8, life was not so great…
For Dill, luaus were terrifying.
They roasted pigs at those parties, and he was a pig.
This the pig did not dig.
He hid mostly, inside the dark room…
While Bob had all the fun, the pig was building a laser gun.
Since he did not have thumbs, he found a gullible boy named Tom to help him.
The boy was kinda slow, all he did was grin.
While Bob wore his red and white striped shorts, and his zany yellow sunglasses, riding a surfboard Dill was getting ready for war.
Hawaii had done this to him, made him a war pig.
He wore a flak jacket, with jungle print, zippered over his back.
Over that, he wore Kevlar, protecting him more.
He had combat boots on, totaling four.
He was building the laser, because the other gun was too big.
A bazooka is big for a pig.
Dill did not want to hurt anyone.
That would not be fun.
There are many kinds of wars.
Like the pretend ones, that you play with friends from next door.
As a pig, Dill just wanted to prove a point.
You should not be mean to pigs just because they oink.
Luaus are awful to pigs.
Dill did not want to be part of that gig.
It just felt wrong.
Therefore, Dill worked hard to get his laser done.
Bob came into the room then.
The rooster wore a cocky grin.
“Dude, I’m amped man.”
r /> “I did some awesome angling,” Bob righteously said, as seaweed hung from his head.
The seaweed stayed where it was, just dangling.
“Bob what are you saying?”
“This is no time to be playing!”
The pig looked seriously riled.
Dill’s mood was not mild.
“Whoa- what a minute bro-ski.”
“What is that I see?”
“It looks totally tubular to me.”
Bob the rooster said, with seaweed still on his head.
“You can be such a doorknob.”
“It is a bazooka Bob.”
“You have kale on your head.”
“If you are not careful the Hawaiians will bake you like bread.”
“They are mean.”
“To them we are just something to eat.”
“Around here, chickens are rare.”
“Don’t act like you don’t even care.”
Dill grunted like a pig, earning a nod from Tom- the kid.
“Whoa man, make love not war bro.”
“We are too far from the mainland, let this go,” Bob said.
The radical rooster dreamed of going boss on a big gun.
Not like that one of Dill’s… or the one he was trying to build.
A big gun is a long surfboard like 9 feet, and riding one would be neat.
Bob wanted to catch a wicked wave, to cruise big surf all the way to the boneyard, the place where waves break and everything is great.
“Look Bob, you think you are being cool.”
“Don’t be a fool.”
“They are not above roasting you like a duck!”
“Don’t be a schmuck,” Dill said, being a pig head.