Stories For Thing

Baby Batty and Owleting



Baby Batty was sad. His big sad eyes were moist, sparkling and reflected the brilliant moon. What a night it has turned out to be!

He’d wandered off to a human’s house, you see, and hadn’t been able to remember his way back home on the big tree. And as he rested his tired little wings on the window sill,  a human kid walked in. And oh so loud did she scream! All Baby Batty was doing was sitting on her window sill, peering out into the night, looking for his home. He’d done absolutely nothing to scare her. Hmph, he thought, almost falling off from the window as she ran out of her room. Batty heard her scream for her Mommy.

Baby Batty was sad that humans were scared of him. He never did anything to scare them and yet they ran away, screaming, almost running into walls, their hands in the air flailing around like they had seen a ghost! Well, at least he was home, safe.

Just then he heard some voices from lower down in the tree. He hadn’t heard that voice before. He knew a dog’s woof, a cat’s meow, a cow’s moo, even a human talking without a break on a small something attached to the ears (those humans are a weird lot he thought), but this was different.

“Mommy, Mommy!” Baby Batty flew to their branch,”I heard a new sound. Do you know what that is?”

Bigmama Bat swooped her shiny wings & turned. “Oh they are our new neighbors, Batty. They moved in late last night.”

“Are they bats? They don’t sound like bats.” Batty tipwinged and peered suspiciously over the branch.

“They are a hooting family of Mrs and Mr Owl and their little baby who is . They have asked us to tea. Do you want to come along?”, asked Bigmama Bat as she dusted her wings and spread the night glitter around.

“Ok” said Baby Batty and quickly wore his tiny little mittens.

As he watched BigmamaOwl pour his mama some tea he suddenly heard, “Hey, what is your name?”. All he could see were two bright, round, big, naughty eyes. Baby Batty was taken by surprise. Where did those eyes come from? He almost jumped out of his wings. Phew.

“My name is Batty. Who are you?”

“I am Owletling and this is my new doll”.

Owletling loved to make new friends. At their last hollowInTheTree home, she’d made friends with the tree and all the leaves and the butterflies and the bees. Even grouchy Mr. Bear was Owleting’s friend.

“Do you want to sit on the ledge and play with me?” Owletling’s big bright eyes were wide with anticipation. She did not wait for Baby Batty to say anything, just pulled him after her on to the ledge.

“Why are you sad, Batty?”
“How do you know I am sad?”
“Your eyes told me”
“Who taught you to read eyes?”
“The big tree taught me”
“What happened then?”
“Then one night the big tree shook very hard, like it had the fever. It moaned and groaned and fell down on the road. ”
“That’s very sad.”
“But why are you sad?”
“I frightened a human. And I didn’t have to so a thing. They always scream and run away when they see me. Am I a monster?”
“You are Batty. Battys are batty. They are not monsters. Only monsters can be monsters. The human needs glasses.”
“Even the one with glasses got scared one day.”
“They just need better glasses then, to see that everyone is different.”
“Yeah, and they’ll never be able to fly. And you can. You don’t have to sit in a tin box to fly. Have you seen their tin boxes?”
“Yes, there are some in the sky!”
“And they wear pants!”
“You are so funny, Owletling.”
“Do you want a gummy bear?”
“Where did you get it from?”
“The bear who lived under the old tree made them for me. Its my new toy doll.”
“Lets go to the top branch of my tree. I’ll show you my favourite beach place!”

Baby Batty had made a friend. And he was never sad again. And the next time a human ran away from him scared, he’d laugh – because he didn’t need pants!

By NinjaDuckie

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Kuchu and the Wobble Gang


“Yelp, yelp.” It was Sunday morning, and Kuchu was trying to sleep a bit more. But the constant yelping was not helping. So Kuchu reluctantly lifted his head from the blanket and could see slightly messed up ball of fur outside the window. Kuchu being Kuchu, there was nothing that could contain his curiosity. So he got up and put on his glasses – and discovered that the huddle of fur was actually four puppies sleeping, or trying to sleep over each other, while yelping away to glory. “Where could their mumma be?” Kuchu thought.

It had rained the night before, but this Sunday morning sunny with an extra dose of honey. Going outside – Kuchu noticed that the puppies were hardly a few days old and the huddle was their defense mechanism, against any rabid stray or any evil creature that might want to have too close a look at them. But as Kuchu approached them, one of them, wobbled across and started sniffing his blue slippers. Encouraged by this, his siblings also joined him with tails wagging. Kuchu forgot all about sleeping and got into playmate mode with the Wobble Gang – as he named them.

An hour passed like this. Kuchu’s mother had given up hope for him turning up for breakfast. But there was still hope for lunch, she thought. And in a few minutes, a whitish brown canine appeared in the garden, and started giving threatening looks to Kuchu. “So she’s here finally” sighed our poor Kuchu as he let them go from his lap and on to where they truly belonged. And as he started walking back, he turned round once, and he was sure he could see the slipper sniffer wink at him once. He smiled and entered home.

By The Humerus

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Two Tigers roamed the Land of Thing

Two tigers roamed the Land of Thing
(two very scary tigers)
These tigers prowled the Fields of Floor
And scratched upon the Cliffs of Door
And as they did, they meowed… err… ROARRED
These very scary tigers.

Two tigers roamed the Land of Thing
(two very hungry tigers)
They crouched, their tails going forth and back,
Ready to spring in for the attack!
Luckily daddy filled bowls with snacks
For the very hungry tigers.

Two tigers roamed the Land of Thing
(two very silly tigers)
They leapt to catch the torch… err… moon,
tumbled down Sofa Cushion Dune,
rolled in the Island of Sunny Afternoon,
these very silly tigers.

A princess lived in the Land of Thing
(a very clever princess)
She watched the tigers roam her land,
She fed them with her royal hand,
She got her mama to clean out their sand,
This very clever princess.

Two tigers sat down near Princess Thing
(two very sleepy tigers)
With their little paws, they gave her a tap,
She pulled them on to her royal lap
And they settled down for a loooong cat nap,
Those funny, furry tigers.

By Genesia Alves

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The Singing Fox

Once upon a time, there was a fox.


Yes, that’s how he spelt it.

Fox was special. He was brown and furry. And clever.

Now, you’ll say that all foxes are brown, furry and clever. But wait, this fox was truly special. Because this fox loved to sing. And he would often try to sing for his friends, the other foxes.

But the other foxes would make fun of him. “Stop it. You’re a fox, you’re not supposed to sing” they’d mock him.

Fox would feel bad and slink away. Nobody wanted to hear him sing.

But later, when no one was around, he would step outside his foxhole and sing to the sky. He would sing of the moon and the stars. He would smell the flowers in the field and listen to the gurgling of the stream… and sing his favourite songs.

He was happiest when he was alone and singing.

One day, Fox and his skulk (yes, that’s what they call their group) went hunting for food. At the edge of the woods, they saw a farmhouse with lots of animals. There were Horses, Cows, Sheep, Pigs, Dogs and his favourites – the Hens.

“I hope I find some nice eggs for dinner”, he thought as they sneaked in to the farm.

He was about to enter the coop when he heard something.

He turned and followed the sound until he found a girl sitting on a log of wood, strumming her guitar.

Fox could not resist. He loved the music. He began to sing along.

The girl stopped playing and turned to him.

“You don’t sound like a human, but you sing well for a fox” she smiled.

Fox went closer to her and sat at her feet.

“Let’s play some more songs” said the girl.

And so they played many songs that evening.  They sang of an old man and his farm, of a bird called the kookaburra and a princess called Jasmine.

Suddenly, there was a screech and a big car came through the gate.

“Thing! What are you doing? Is that a fox? Shoo!” shouted a voice.

It was the girl’s Mom.

Our quick brown fox jumped over the fence and ran towards the woods.

When he felt safe, he stopped. His heart was beating fast. His knees were shaking. But he was so happy!

He had never sung so many songs in front of anyone. And Thing had not made fun of him. She had been nice to him!

Fox felt good. As we walked back home he sang more songs loudly.

When he reached home, the other foxes asked him, “Where were you? We kept looking for you”.

“Oh, I had lost my way, but now I’m fine” he said and continued to sing. He was no longer afraid of what they would say.

Thanks to Thing, Fox sang happily ever after.

By Faux Fleur

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ChumChum visits the jungle


At dinner, after ChumChum counted the giggles she had giggled that day at school, Dada and Mama asked her if she wanted to see the animals and birds she saw on TV for real in a big big jungle?

ChumChum’s eyes turned into saucers and she squeaked, “REALLY!”

“Well, do you?”, asked Dada with a grin.

“YES! YES! YES! I do. I do. I do. I want to see the elephants, the hopping deer, the monkeys on the tree. What else Dada, tell me?”

ChumChum couldn’t sit still after that. She prowled all around the house. She told Cwokodile and Shark that she was off to a jungle paahtey! She roared in the mirror like a tigress and giggled at her reflection.

Mama, Dada and ChumChum hopped into the car and drove off to National Park. All the way there, ChumChum made plans. She would take a ride on a rhino wearing her cape and her hat. She would walk about the jungle talking to the trees and the butterflies. Ask them, how are you today? Sit atop a tree and eat berries with the monkeys. Oh what fun she would have. And suddenly, they were there. ChumChum hadn’t even noticed.

Inside Dada bought tickets and they sat in a van that took them deep into the jungle. Chumchum held on to Dada’s hand and looked up at the huge trees. A man with a funny cap and microphone told them about the many things they would see.

Suddenly Chumchum saw what looked like a hill. But it was a very small hill but not too small to be very small. It was as tall as her. And she imagined little people living in them.

“Dada! What is that?”

“An anthill sweetheart.”

Whoa, thought ChumChum, ants make hills too?

“And where are their houses?”

“Hidden inside the hill, baby”, Mama said.

How smart, thought ChumChum. They hide their houses under the hill so nobody can find their chocolates and candies. Ooh, I wouldn’t mind a house like that.

ChumChum had a fun day in the jungle. She saw so many animals. A tiger and her babies, and a lion asleep on the road and peacocks and monkeys and deer and bison and cwokodiles. Though they didn’t let her ride any of them, the mean jungle policemen. Dada carried her back to the car on his back, just like the Mama monkeys carried their babies.

ChumChum was so happy. She knew she was going to have so many more animals to play with in her adventures.

By Ninja Duckie

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Orange the Orangutan

There once was a young Orangutan named ‘Orange’, which was a strange name for an Orangutan, but we will get to that.

You’re probably a smart kid who watches the National Geographic channel and knows that a male duck-billed platypus has poisonous spines on his front legs, but if you happen to be one of those outdoors types that actually prefers to be outdoors playing instead of playing at being outdoors, well, let me give you the short version.

An Orangutan is a large ape with reddish-brown fur and really long arms that lives in faraway places like Indonesia and the San Diego Zoo. ’Orangutan’ means ’Man of the forest’ and people probably called them that because they looked like…well…men of the forest. Granted, they are a bit on the furry side, but no more so than some poor fellow who has had to live in the jungle with no access to hot water and a razor to shave with!

Our friend Orange felt like neither an exceptionally hairy man nor a fruit but, truth be told, he didn’t feel much like an Orangutan either. You see, thanks to the fact that he was named ‘Orange’, and was twice as small as the other Orangutan children; the others would often make fun of him. Now how do you think that made him feel? You can choose from the list below. It’s what teachers like to call a ‘multiple-choice question’ which is fancy language for ‘pick one’:

a. Orange was thrilled the other Orangutan kids made fun of him.

b. Orange hated being made fun of and wanted to stuff their ears with bananas!

c. Orange would crawl into his Mommy’s arms and cry.

d. Orange decided he didn’t care, and played his own pranks on them all the time.

Which one did you pick? I’ll bet it wasn’t ‘a’! And you’d’ve been right…it isn’t ‘a’! The answer is actually ’d’. But whether you got the answer right or wrong doesn’t really matter since this is a story. If it helps, a university student probably wouldn’t have done any better.

So Orange loved pulling a fast one on his friends. Because he was so small, Orange could scamper up trees more quickly than his larger friends, and he could balance out on the thin branches of trees that wouldn’t hold the weight of the others, he could fit into tiny hidey-holes where no one would think to look for him, and he had tiny, clever hands with which he could come up with all sorts of clever things.

On this particular day, Orange was preparing his daily dose of mischief when his irate mother came upon him.

“Orange! I’ve just heard the most alarming story from Mrs. Fleabottom!” She exclaimed in a tone that you might well know from your own mother. You know, the one where she’s about to give you a telling off?

Orange, no stranger to stern words, was playing with his favorite toy: a small, man-made Orangutan. It didn’t really look like an Orangutan, Orange thought. Those humans clearly had something wrong with their eyes. To start with, it had absolutely no teeth. How was it supposed to eat?

“Orange! Are you listening to me?” trilled his mother.

“Of course, I am,” lied Orange, suddenly wondering if humans had any teeth.

“Mrs. Fleabottom said that her nieces threaded her fur through the twigs of her nest while she was sleeping!”

“Did they?” asked Orange innocently, trying to do his best not to chortle. “How rotten of them!”

His mother’s eyes narrowed dangerously, her voice growing icy, “And her nieces said that *you* tied her fur to the nest!”

Orange finally looked up from what he was doing, wounded innocence writ large upon his face. “They’re lying, Ma! I had nothing to do with it! Honest!”

“Orange. I happen to know that Mrs. Fleabottom’s nieces have four left feet and couldn’t tie a knot if you tied it for them and asked them to pull on both ends of the vine!”

“That doesn’t mean, *I* did it!” protested Orange.

“Mrs. Fleabottom’s nieces say they saw you.”


“You stuck your tongue out at them and dashed up a tree.”

“Wasn’t me!”

“When they chased after you, you sat out at the end of a narrow branch that wouldn’t hold their weight.”

“They’re lying.”

“It sure sounds like you, Orange.”

Orange looked sad and pouted his lip as only a young Orangutan can. “They were making fun of me!”

Orange’s mother sighed, “That’s no reason to do what you did, dear.”

“It is too! They make fun of me because I’m little and…and…”

Her voice softened tenderly,”…because I named you Orange?”

Orange nodded, a big wet tear forming in one eye. It broke his mother’s heart to see.

She said,”Do you know why I named you Orange?”

He shook his head. And so she told him.

Which reason do you think it is?

a. Oranges are his mommy’s favorite fruit!

b. Orange was a tiny baby Orangutan, and he looked just like a beautiful sun-kissed orange when he was born.

c. Orange is the color of the sun just after it rises, and just before it sets. A vision that fills Orange’s mom with hope, just as he does when she sees him.

d. All of the Above

You must’ve chosen the right reason! Because upon hearing his mother’s explanation, Orange stopped sniffling and ran to her to give her a big, happy hug.

“You’re the cleverest Orangutan in the forest, Orange. You should use those brains to help the other Orangutans, not taunt them. Otherwise, how are you any different from them?”

It did his heart good to hear that but, of course, he was still secretly proud of the mayhem he’d created!

His mother, knowing what he was like, closed the trap on him: “You know what you have to do, don’t you Orange?”

“Um,” he said, not wanting to say it.

“Yes?” prodded his mother hopefully.

“A-Apologize?” he asked.

His mother smiled.

Orange sulkily made his way (swinging through the trees with long Orangutan arms) to the nest of the grouchy Mrs. Fleabottom. As he slouched into the grove he was beset upon by Mrs. Fleabottom’s nieces.

“Hey there, fruity! Come to apologize to our aunt for that nasty trick you played on her?” said the one in a taunting tone.

“Awwww! What’s the matter?” tittered the other, “Did mommy give widdle Owange a spanking?”

“Actually,” Orange said slyly, “I’m here to collect my reward.”

The two girl Orangutans blinked. They couldn’t believe their ears!

“A-a reward?!” The biggest one sputtered as if a fly had buzzed into her mouth and she was trying to spit it out.

“That’s right,” said Orange, “a reward. Your aunt realized that anyone who could tie knots like the ones that tied her to her nest would have a very special place amidst the Orangutans.”

“But, but, it can’t be!” said the other niece. “You were supposed to get punished for being a terrible Orangutan!”

Orange gave them his most winning smile: “Sorry to disappoint, but I mustn’t keep your aunt waiting!”

As he prepared to go, the nieces hurriedly held him back.

“Wait! If anyone’s to have a reward it should be us: her loyal and sweet nieces! You stay here and we’ll sort this out!”

Orange smiled and waited for them to leave. Then grinning to himself contentedly he went back home.

Later that day, he heard the exciting news. Apparently, Mrs. Fleabottom’s nieces had confessed to the crime of tying her to her nest and, after being scolded very soundly, were being made to pick the fleas out of their aunt’s fur as a punishment!”

Orange chortled at this story for a few moments before he heard a blood-curdling noise of his own.  Can you guess what it was?

Indeed, his mother’s voice calling angrily,”ORRR-ANGGGEEE!!”

By Skate

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