Stories For Thing

Lola tells Frisbee a story

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Now then, sit up and pay attention. Or, I don’t know, lie back and relax. Whatever works? You remember me, don’t you? It’s Frisbee the cat. I thought I’d tell you a story about a story. It’s called being postmodern. Postmodern is when a storyteller winks at the reader (or the listener), and the reader (or the listener) winks back.

It’s all very intellectual.

Let’s see, it was a Saturday morning I think. My human was wearing her pajamas and eating cereal, and watching TV, and talking on her cell phone. I was trying to take a nap, but my human was being too noisy.

“Meoowshut up!!” I said.

“What you want baby, what you want sugar, huh huh?” My human said, cooing at me like a dove. She could be really annoying sometimes, you know.

“Meoowwould you stop talking like that please! I’m not in the mood. Keep it down. I’m having my third nap of the morning, okay!”

“Ooh! Come here and let me eat you up you cutie little thing! Come here snuggums!” sang my human, between mouthfuls of cereal.

“Ugh! That’s it, I’m going to Lola’s,” I said. You remember Lola, right? That’s right: my friend the Bulldog.

My human opened the door for me, and I left my apartment and walked over to Lola’s house. It was quiet this morning. The birds were tweeting in the trees and on the power lines, insects hummed in the bushes, and traffic whizzed along on the large road nearby.

Okay, so I guess it wasn’t really that quiet.

Lola’s house is large and cozy, but my favorite part is how I can simply walk in by going through the pet door. No having to wait for humans to get off their lazy bums.

“Oh hi Frisbee!” Lola said as I came in. Lola was with her younger humans. For some reason, Lola called her humans Mama and Papa, and Brother and Sister. Weird.

“Wanna play Storytime?” Lola asked.

“Uh, how do you play Storytime?” I asked.

“I tell a story and you get to listen.” Lola said.

I thought about it. This didn’t sound like there would be a lot of fun running around and jumping involved. “Uh, sure I guess.” I decided.

“Great! I’ve got a good one! Let’s go outside.”

I followed Lola into her backyard, where she began to tell me a story about a little Indian princess who took her best men out on a dangerous shark hunting expedition.

“Everything had started off fine,” Lola said. “The little princess took her best ship, the H.M.S. Bookshelf; and her best men, the Jolly Pirates; and her finest sword, the magical Big Bad Mum. — No matter what dangers awaited, the princess was sure to be ready.”

I nodded in agreement. The princess sure did sound prepared.

“But,” Lola trilled, “The monstrous shark our intrepid crew was hunting wasn’t the only dangers they had to worry about. For not long after they set sail, the sky began to darken, and a terrible storm arose out of nowhere.”

I shivered a little when Lola mentioned the storm. Just a little.

“The little princess held on tight, as huge waves crashed against her ship, rocking it back and forth like a yellow rubber ducky in a kid’s bathtub.”

I must admit I was starting to find this all rather exciting.

“’Your Highness! The waves are too strong! We’ll never make it through!’ One of the little princess’ Jolly Pirates shouted. He started to cry.”

I felt bad for this fellow. Being a cat, I know what it’s like to be terribly afrai—I mean—deeply respectful of water.

“’Bloody heck, man!’” Lola said the princess bellowed. “’Don’t tell me we’re done for until you see a bright shining sign that reads: LITTLE PRINCESS WHOSE NAME RHYMES WITH SING, YOU’RE MOST DEFINITELY DONE FOR, SIGNED, YOUR FRIEND, THE PERSON WHO IS IN CHARGE OF KNOWING WHEN LITTLE SHARK HUNTING PRINCESS’ ARE DONE FOR!’”

I admired the little princess’ feistiness. She was very brave.

“Do you mean to say, Lola, that even with this terrible storm, the little princess still wanted to find Billy the Meaniebutt Shark?” Oh. That was the name of the shark the little princess was hunting, by the way. He sounded gruesome.

“Yup, she sure did!” Lola said, “She told her crew: ‘You boys batten down the hatches! Hoist up the main sail! Hold the course for Shark Island! By gum, I’ll make any lad here walk the plank if he doesn’t pull his own weight! I’m a fair princess indeed, but tough as nails, as sure as my name rhymes with pudding!’” Lola made a pretend slash in the air, acting like she was the princess shouting orders and swinging her magic sword around for emphasis.

“’Aye! Aye! Captain Princess!’ the Jolly Pirates shouted,” Lola said. “The men always got braver whenever the little princess threatened to make them walk the plank.”

“It’s called the carrot and the stick,” I nodded. I didn’t tell Lola that I wasn’t 100% sure about that, though.

“’Don’t worry men! I’ll stand at the prow of the ship and hack and slash away at this fearsome storm with my magical sword Big Bad Mum!’”

“Wait a minute,” I interrupted. “Are you telling me the little princess’ sword can cut water?”

“It sure can!” Lola nodded.

I considered this. “Wow! The little princess whose name rhymes with king is awesome!”

“She sure is,” Lola agreed. “She hacked and slashed at the waves all night, as the storm punched and kicked at the H.M.S. Bookshelf, while the princess’ loyal but sometimes scaredy and naughty crew struggled to keep the ship from sinking and falling apart.”

“And even though it was touch and go there for awhile, the little princess’ bravery won the day, and the storm finally gave up and went home.” Lola said.

“‘You make me sick little princess!’ The storm cried. ‘I’m telling my mommy on you!’ The princess stuck her tongue out at the storm. ‘Nyah! Nyah!’ She taunted. ‘Big baby gonna go run to mommy! Waah!!!’ The Jolly Pirates roared with laughter at their funny little captain princess!”

“Whew!” I said, relieved. “I was starting to worry that they weren’t going to make it.”

“Thanks to the princess, they all made it through that awful storm safe and sound,” Lola said, “Oh. Except for the two Jolly Pirates the little princess gave as snacks to a sea dragon, as payment for a pretty new dress the sea dragon was selling.”

“Well, that turned dark rather quickly.” I observed.

“Oh no! It was a bright light blue dress, and it sparkled and shimmered all over. Like calm blue waves in the sunlight…to be continued.”

“Um, uh, okay…So then what happened?” I asked.

“Ah. Ah. Ah.” Lola said, shaking her head. “You’ll have to find out next time.”

“Next time!” I said, annoyed with Lola the same way I get with my human when she does something really annoying. “That’s not the way you’re supposed to tell a story!”

“You can tell a story all sorts of ways,” Lola said. “And my story has parts. Today was Part One. Next time will be Part Two.”

“Part One? Part Two?” I said. I was stymied. It didn’t seem fair somehow, to start an exciting story and then make the listener wait to hear the rest of it.

“Sure,” Lola said. “Didn’t anyone tell you that about stories, Frisbee?”

I shook my head unhappily at a sudden realization. Not only are cats bad at storytelling, we’re also pretty bad at storylistening.

By Saladinho

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ChumChum and Nana

shutterstock_69002632ChumChum and Nana sat on the swing, pushing it back and forth and all the while ChumChum talked about her school, and her friends, Adi, Tara and Mini. Nana’s pet dog Bruno slept with his head in ChumChum’s lap. She tickled him behind his ears, just to see them twitch in his sleep.

“You know Nana, the aeroplanebird is not a bird and it is not small either. When will I get to eat mangoes? Are those mangoes up there on the trees in your garden? Which bird is that? Your garden is so nice Nana. Can I water your plants tomorrow? I want to eat mangoes, Nana.” She chimed in one breath.

Nana laughed her tinkling laugh, “Do you want to walk with me and see the mango trees?”

Bruno sat straight and looked up at Nana. He was as happy as ChumChum to go to the garden. He grabbed his squeaky toy and ran after them on his stubby legs.

There was a hammock tied to two of the mango trees. Nana lay ChumChum on it and then lay down next to her. The sunlight streamed through the leaves and fell on to their faces. ChumChum raised her hand and moved it around to feel the warm rays play on her arm. She giggled “Nana, these sun rays are playing hide and seek with my arm”.

Nana raised her arm and pointed to the top of the tree “See there ChumChum, you see that green little thing? That is a baby mango.”

“But Nana, mangoes are yellow. My teacher showed us a picture.”

“Yes ChumChum, mangoes are yellow. But before they become yellow, they are green. And you know, the green ones are sour and not sweet like the yellow mangoes.”

“Sour like curd?”

“Umm, not like curd. Mango sour is a different sour. Like when you feel naughty and hide behind a chair and jump out in front of Mama and giggle. That giggle is sour. It tickles you.”

“I want to eat the sour mango, Nana, and laugh a naughty laugh.”

Now Nana had been hiding a mango in her satchel for just a time like this. She cut a small piece for ChumChum and herself. “Now we both will eat this after I count to three. Okay? One…two…three!”

ChumChum took a quick bite and the naughty mango tickled her teeth. She shut her eyes tight and squeaked. “NANA! The mango is so sour!”

Nana laughed, and ate her piece of mango and squeaked just like ChumChum.

“I want more Nana!”

Bruno looked up at them, wondered what the fuss was about and ran off to explore the garden. His favourite thing in the world to do.

By Ninja Duckie

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Frisbee’s Nine Lives

tuxedo

My name is Mraomeowkookow, but my human calls me Frisbee. Now everyone calls me Frisbee. Even Lola, who ought to know better. I’m a black cat with bits of white patiently and delicately painted on my paws, and about my face and throat; right around where my Vishudda resides. Everybody agrees that I’m quite handsome. Actually, they say I’m “beautiful”, or “cute”, even though I’m a boy. Oh well, I don’t complain. My human feeds me often enough (sometimes she ignores me when I demand special treats—I let her get away with it because I’m from a noble lineage, and it would not due to make unseemly outbursts).

I have a friend—I guess she’s a friend—named Lola. Did I tell you about Lola? Get this: She’s a dog. A Bulldog, in fact. And they call her beautiful too! I shouldn’t be mean. I like Lola (don’t tell her I said that). I can overlook the fact that her face looks like it’s been flattened in by one of those frying pans my human uses to cook fish for me. Okay, okay, I’ll stop…Lola is a good egg. She’s even shaped like one—if an egg had four legs.

I suppose I should tell you a story. It isn’t going to be a good story, but don’t blame me. For me, to my mind, the best stories are short. Like this: “Once there was a little princess in a faraway land called India. Her name rhymed with string, wing, and ring-a-ding-ding. She liked to wrestle sharks, bookshelves, and wits with her Mum.” The end. Now, if I were the one who had told such an exciting, heart-wrenching story, I’d take a nap right after.

Mm! Fish! I’m hungry. And sleepy. I think I’ll take a nap after all. Don’t go away! I’ll be right back! SNOOOOORRRREEEEE!!! PUUURRRRR!!! Yawn! Stretch! Eat fish!!

I’m back. I had such a great nap. And when I awoke, my human gave me a fish burger. With ice cream and cake…and wine! Okay: I lied about the wine.  My human drinks wine, though. A lot. I remember one day not long ago, my human was drinking wine and eating chocolate, and telling me I was her only friend, when some man human came to visit, with a whole armful of flowers.

My human was so angry at the man. You should have seen her. I guess she doesn’t like flowers. She started yelling and screaming. The man kept stammering “But-but-but—honey I’m sorry! Please don’t be mad!” Not having it, my human chased him away with a frying pan. My fish frying pan. Humans make me shake my head.

With all the yelling, I decided to slip outside my apartment—which is on the second floor of a large complex of neat little boxes stacked side by side— and go downstairs to walk over to Lola’s house, just across the street. I stopped at the sidewalk and looked both ways before crossing. I had to make sure that there were no cars coming, because I’m such a sensible lad.

“Hey Frisbee!” said Whaump-whaump the squirrel. He was in the middle of the street, and he waved at me to come over.

“Get out of the street, Whaump,” I told him.

“Humans don’t own the street!” Whaump said. He liked to think of himself as a rebel.

“That won’t stop them from running you over if you get in their way,” I said. Conversations with Whaump-whaump had a tendency to turn political.

“Come here a second.” The squirrel said. He was holding something in his tiny paws. I was curious, but an ancient proverb came to mind, and I decided to wave him off.

“Pff!” I said. I was busy. I had better things to do.

“C’mon, dude!” Whaump-whaump said “You can go see your girlfriend later!” He giggled at me. He liked to tease me about Lola.

“Sounds like someone’s jealous,” I sniffed. It was a new tactic I’d learned from my human. Pretend that something doesn’t bother you, even when it does. It was called Massive Suggestion, I think.

“You always act like you’re better than everybody,” the squirrel sneered.

“I do not act like I’m better than everybody,” I stiffened. “I am better than everybody.” Perhaps that was a bit uncalled for, being so brutally honest, but the squirrel was getting my back up.

“Scaredy cat! Scaredy cat!” Whaump-whaump taunted.

I started to cross the street, ignoring the idiot squirrel.

“Hey, Frisbee!” He shouted at me, “What’s the use of having nine lives if cats are so afraid to do anything with them?”

I stopped.

I think now would be a good time to tell you the moral of my story. I know you’re supposed to wait until your story’s actually finished to tell it, but it occurs to me how often in life we already know a lesson before we foolishly put ourselves through all the trouble of having to learn it.

Anyway, the moral of my story is this: don’t let silly squirrels shame you into standing in the middle of the street with them.

Okay, now back to the story: I walked over to Whaump-whaump. “What are you holding” I asked, nonchalantly. Nonchalantly. That’s another word for pretending not to care about something.

“It’s an almond,” Whaump said. “Want to play ‘Hurry Up and Catch It’?”

“What’s ‘Hurry Up and Catch It’?” I asked, forgetting to be annoyed that the only thing the squirrel was holding was his lunch.

“It’s a game. You take an almond—or an acorn if you have one—and you put it in the middle of the street, and then you run to the sidewalk and wait until you hear a human’s metal monster coming. Then you spring into the street, grab the almond-or acorn-and run back to the sidewalk before the metal monster catches you!”

I  stared at Whaump-whaump while he beamed at me like a lunatic.

“Do squirrels have something like catnip, only it’s for squirrels,” I asked. “Because it looks like you’re taking it.”

“C’mon! It’ll be fun!”

“You can stay in the middle of the street if you want, but my Spider-Sense is tingling, and I’m going to get out of —HOLY TUNA FISH!!!”

Suddenly, out of the parking lot of my apartment complex, my human’s man came speeding out in his huge red metal monster, headed right for us.

“AAAAHHHH! WE DIDN’T START THE GAME YET!” Whaump-whaump screamed.

I couldn’t move. Neither of us could move. We were frozen in terror.

Just before it was too late, the metal monster screeched to a stop. It was standing nearly on top of us. It smelled of burning rubber, fish pans, and sad roses. It made a large blaring roar.

This time I moved. I ran over to Lola’s side of the street, Whaump-whaump right on my tail, and sighed in relief once I made it away from the huge ugly thing safely.

It took us a few minutes to catch our breaths.

“Hi guys,” a voice chirped happily at us, making us jump.

It was only Lola.

“Hey Lola! We were playing a game!”

I looked at Whaump-whaump. I couldn’t tell if he was lying to preserve our dignity, or if he really thought our terrible ordeal had all just been some exciting lark.

“I want to play!” Lola said excitedly.

“I propose a new game,” I said calmly.

Lola and Whaump-whaump were both intrigued.

“Let’s play “What Do Squirrels Taste Like?”

“What *do* squirrels taste like?” Lola said.

“How do you play that game?” Whaump-whaump asked, suddenly showing signs of self preservation.

I gave him a pointed look. “Oh. I think you know how you play that game. You eat a squirrel.” I narrowed my eyes and slowly advanced on him. “What part would you like to try first, Lola?”

“THAT’S NOT FUNNY FRISBEE!” Whaump-whaump squealed, running away and up into a tree and out of sight.

“Were you really going to eat him?” Lola asked.

I shrugged. Cats know best when to keep their own counsel.

“What happened out here anyway?” Lola asked. “I saw you two running from the street. It didn’t look like you were having fun.”

“It was nothing,” I said.

Cats may have nine lives, but we’re not the best storytellers.

By Saladinho

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Eating People Is Wrong

Congratulations!
First day?
Not to worry, you are off to a great start!
Come this way!

Brains safely ensconced in Head?
Hands check? Feet check?
All systems go?
You’re on your own and YOU can go wherever you want to go.

Streets! Up and down they go. Look a hare!
Hare

Sometimes you will want to go to there.
There are other rather dreary streets, but then I think you should trust your feets.

Also sometimes all streets are horrible,
and almost all incorrigible.
Then turn to page three ninety four,
or maybe head out of this town, so dour.

Out there! Oh, out there!
They say ‘stuff happens’
And it does to people like you but sometimes it doesn’t.

But when stuff does happen,
Fret! Panic! Be normal!
But also, go!
With the flow!

But remember! Eating people is wrong. Also watch out for angry running lobsters.
Lobsters

Strapping young person, you!
Sights! Sounds! Lights! Camera! Action!
Up is the place for you.

You will be good and you will fly to better clouds.
You will be the best and above the rest.

But don’t take my word for it! Because sometimes you won’t!

It is kinda sad and terribly true
Ups come with Downs and a lot of times they come for you.

You could lounge in a trough. Like this baleful starefish.
Starefish

That part is usually rough.

This is when they say the going gets tough.

The streets might suck again.
Darkness everywhere?
A bump and a push and a tumble in the bush.

It could be even worse. You could be eaten by a cute lion.
Lion

But remember! Eating people is wrong.

Maybe a clockwise when it should have been counterclockwise?
Who knows? I don’t!
Take the road less travelled or take the high road?
IT IS PRETTY HARD TO MAKE A DECISION WHEN IT IS YOURS TO MAKE.
QMan

You could try sitting but you don’t look the type to be doing that!

You will find a way. You will get out.

Once more! Oh the Heights! You will go where no ham has gone before!
Spacenaut

There is fun.

But sometimes there isn’t.

I might have left out the sports. You can learn about them on your own.
I am personally into video game horticulture.
Plant

Learning is always good.

There is loneliness to come. And the fears. Oh they are downright fearsome.
Scared me when I met them and I am scared still.
You will want to be scared too. I think it is okay. But what do I know?

Know this. Eating people is wrong.
And sometimes there will be cake and sometimes it will be a lie!

But I think you are an upper and a getter.

Tread lightly. Balance well. Be nice and be well. Look a bug!
Bug

Maybe you will get there!
Oh well, you probably very well will!

Now maybe you shouldn’t waste time listening to me prattle
when there are hurdles to be rattled.
Pinnacle

Poem and Original Artwork by Ninja Dukie’s good friend, Doppey

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Adventures of Fat Louie – Episode 3

Fat Louie

Fat Louie was something of a hero in his class. Fat Louie went to Jungle Tot School. There were many other schools, more expensive than Jungle Tot, for richer animals. Most of his friends from his neighbourhood went to Jungle Tot. Fat Louie thought his was the best School in the world. His best friend in class was Ninja Duckie. She didn’t live in his neighbourhood but lived on the higher end of the river. Fat Louie didn’t mind that because they met every day in class and sometimes on weekends too.

Fat Louie became somewhat of a hero after his last adventure when he got lost whilst going alone to Ninja Duckie’s house for a sleepover and the way he fought off the bees and got their honey. Fat Louie also was big for his age and this meant he was one of the biggest in his class. So nobody messed with him and all wanted him as a friend.

Today Fat Louie was especially excited; today was Ninja Duckie’s birthday and she had invited several friends over to the nearby Portuguese Party Place. Fat Louie had been told that Ninja Duckie’s parents were very wealthy. This is probably why she could afford to have her party at the Portuguese Party Place. Fat Louie had heard of this place but had never been there yet. He wondered what kind of food he would get there to eat and hoped there would be fish. Little did he know that they had 8 different varieties of fish from the small Anchovies to Bombil and Pomfret to the huge Surmai. Ninja Duckie knew this and that is why she asked her Mom to book this place.

Fat Louie had insisted on picking the gift for Ninja Duckie himself. For other parties he was invited to he would let his Mom pick something appropriate. This time he was clear that he wanted candy or chocolates for her. He told his mom exactly what to buy – Fannie Mae’s Chocolate Truffles. He knew she liked them.

This time around Fat Louie was not going to be allowed to go by himself. The moms had got together and cart pooled. He would go in his friend Sid’s mom’s cart along with Sid and another friend Druider. After the party Fat Louie’s mom would come in her cart to fetch them back.

Fat Louie was hoping that there would be music and that they could all even dance. Fat Louie was not the best of dancers. But he was really uninhibited. He did everything with selfless abandon with is heart and soul in it. Ninja Duckie on the other hand was such a graceful dancer. Anything she did seemed graceful.

Fat Louie secretly wished there wouldn’t be anyone, at the party, from the snooty neighbourhood where Ninja Duckie lived. He had met one once and had to restrain himself from taking a swipe at him. He knew he must put on his best behaviour. But what if he was really provoked?

Continued in Episode 4, “The Party & the Intruder”.

By Thing’s good friend Rian

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Roly Polygot

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Tara was in school. Tara was sleepy. Tara was bored.

Tara had just started learning Hindi in school and she did not like it one bit. The characters were squiggly and confusing and not at all fun to draw. What to do, what to do… She stared at the board in mock concentration, then looked down at her notebook; at that incomprehensible alphabet spelled out on the page. She started drawing a little house at the top of the page. The house had a nice sloping roof and a little chimney with smoke coming out of it, just like in her story books. It had 2 big windows with striped curtains and a sturdy door with a pattern of leaves on it.

As Tara stared at her little house with pride, she finished colouring in the large dot that was the doorknob. Almost before she was finished, the door she had drawn opened! Tara’s eyes grew wide. She looked about her hurriedly to see if anyone had noticed anything odd. But everyone was looking at that Hindi teacher. She stared at her book again. By now the door had opened completely and something was visible inside the house. As Tara leaned in to peer inside, all off a sudden, she fell into the house!

What a strange predicament. Tara was inside a house she had drawn on a page of her own notebook. As she gasped and looked around her, she noticed that the house was decorated for a party. There were balloons and streamers and a cake in a corner. She heard music and a bunch of rather strange characters traipsed in from the other room in a cloud of colourful confetti.

Tara stared, confused. These creatures were all funnily shaped. They wore party hats on their heads and were all carrying lollipops and were singing loudly. As they noticed her, they cheered and surrounded her and placed a little plastic crown on her head, the type she had worn at her last birthday party. As Tara gaped at these friendly things, she realised where she had seen them before. On the page of her notebook! They were the Hindi alphabet characters she had just been despairing over. But here they were and they were so entertaining! She joined them in their celebration as they all laughed and danced and played games. When Tara felt it was time she got back to class, after eating lots of cake of course, she bid them all goodbye and left through the same door she had entered.

And there she was, back in her seat, with her head on her notebook. Had it all been a dream? She looked around at her classmates and teacher who were continuing just as before, then at the blackboard. She imagined the alphabets on the board decorated with streamers and balloons and grinned. She had a feeling she was going to like Hindi after all.

Story and original artwork by L’il Pun

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ChumChum and birthdays

chumchum-bday

“ChumChum, tomorrow is my birthday.” Said Mama. “What are you giving me for a present?”

ChumChum stopped colouring her giraffe pink and gawked at Mama “Mama, it is your birthday, so you should give me a present.” She sagely shook her head as Mama giggled, and went back to her colouring.

ChumChum realized she did not know what a birthday was. She only knew that on her last birthday Mama baked her a cake, and called all her cousins and friends for a party. ChumChum loved parties. With her friends and cousins, she played with new toys and blew balloons and laughed and laughed when Dada put on a red nose and a paper hat. Of all her presents, she loved the small trumpet Mama and Dada had given her.

“Mama, what is a birthday?”

Mama pushed her lower lip out. Mama tapped her cheek with the index finger. Mama looked at the ceiling. Mama scratched her head. ChumChum liked to see Mama think. She did just what Mama did when ChumChum was thinking along with Mama.

Mama picked ChumChum up, sat her lap and said, “When you were not yet born, and were still in my tummy, you were a little bit ChumChum. Then you were born, and you were ChumChum. So we like to celebrate that day and call it your birthday. Every year on your birthday day, you become little more ChumChum. There is so much to celebrate because every year a little more ChumChum gets added to our little ChumChum.”

ChumChum chewing on her finger as she listened to Mama.

“So Mama, you become more Mama for me on your birthday?”

“Yes, I do.” Mama kissed ChumChum and gave her a big smile.

ChumChum rushed to her room, and brought five candies with her which she gave to Mama.

“What is this ChumChum?” Mama asked.

“You have been my Mama for all the birthdays I had. I had four birthdays. So you are four more Mamas added to the Mama you were when I was born. And one extra candy because it is your birthday!”

Mama smiled and gave ChumChum the tightest hug ever, so tight that ChumChum whooshed.

By Ninja Duckie

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ChumChum and the Aeroplane

aeroplane

 

Now, ChumChum had seen a plane only in her picture books or high up in the sky from her bedroom window. It seemed so very small up there in the sky. If she closed her left eye, she could almost catch one in her fingers. How did this one get so big? Was there a magic potion that would make it shrink when it flew?

ChumChum wondered how the aeroplane flew. She has learned in school that birds fly. Was an aeroplane a bird then? Was she going to sit on a bird with Mama and Dada and fly off to meet Grandma? She giggled at the thought of sitting on the back of a bird while it flew.

“What ChumChum?” asked Dada, when he saw her standing there sucking her thumb, looking lost and happy and giggly.

“Dada, do we sit inside the aeroplane-bird or on its back? Will there be a seat belt like in the car? May I keep Shark with me or will all these people get scared?” asked ChumChum all at once.

Dada laughed “We’ll be inside the aeroplane Miss and…”

“AEROPLANE-BIRD Dada. Only birds can fly!”

“Yes, yes. Aeroplane-bird. We’ll be sitting inside it. There are seat belts just like in the car and Mr Shark can stay with you. Do you want a window seat ChumChum?”

ChumChum squeaked with glee “YES! Mr. Shark, did you hear. We’ll sit at the window and look out and fly through the sky to Grandma”.

“I’m so happy” ChumChum cried as she set off on her newest adventure.

By Ninja Duckie

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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 Elevator That Went Nowhere

Somewhere in the faraway land of Boombeh, there was a little house. Inside this little house was an elevator. Now you must be wondering, what’s an elevator doing in a little house? But there it was.

People laughed about it, made little jokes about the little house with the elevator. They called it ‘The Elevator That Went Nowhere’.

No one went near the elevator. ‘What’s the use?’, they’d say. ‘Where can this possibly take us? To the terrace of this little house?’, they shrugged the idea away.

But not Thing.

You see, Thing loved elevators.

She couldn’t stop herself from trying this elevator out. The Elevator That Went Nowhere.

So, one fine day, Thing dressed up in her best dress and stepped inside The Elevator. The Elevator was the coziest elevator Thing had ever seen. It had lots of buttons and knobs and lights and fans and wonderful music played inside it. It had a mirror where Thing could see her best dress swoosh around as she twirled and danced around in The Elevator.

‘But where does this Elevator go?’, Thing wondered.

There were SO many buttons with all kinds of numbers (some of them Thing hadn’t even learned yet). Then there were buttons with images and dates and words. There was a button that said ‘I’m feeling lucky’. There was a button that said ‘Spin’. There was a button that said ‘Tweet’.

SO. MANY. BUTTONS.

What a funny elevator, Thing thought.

So she did, what she did on the normal elevators.

She pressed the button with the number ‘3’ on it.

3 – For Thing, Mama and Dada. Simple.

The Elevator made a funny noise and Thing felt as if the Elevator was rushing up a very, very tall building. As if the little house wasn’t so little at all.

After some time, when The Elevator had made enough funny noises, it stopped. The doors of The Elevator opened and Thing stepped out.

In front of her were three musketeers, muskeeting away.

‘TAKE THAT’. ‘AND THAT’. ‘AND THAT’.

Athos, Porthos and Aramis (funny names Thing thought) kept muskeeting till Thing got bored and stepped back into The Elevator.

This time she pressed ‘7’.

The Elevator made all the funny noises again and stopped once more. As Thing stepped out, she could hear faint singing. Straining her little neck a little, Thing saw seven dwarfs walking towards a beautiful little cottage, carrying shiny jewels and singing songs that spoke of a fair princess. Thing went up to them and asked them what the song was about. They told her the song was called ‘The Ballad of the Fairest of them all’, in memory of a dear friend who had gone away to live with a handsome prince. What a foolish girl, Thing thought. Who’d leave these friendly dwarfs and go live with a handsome Prince? But then, she thought, one day, I’ll get married and go live with a handsome Prince as well. Yougottadowhatyougottado.

Or maybe the Prince would come and live with her and the dwarfs? Or the handsome prince and the dwarfs and Mama and Dada and Thing could all live together. In the little House. Definitely in the little house with The Elevator.

Thing said goodbye to the dwarfs(much to their dismay) and returned to the Elevator. This time, she pressed ‘SPIN’, just for some variety you know.

The Elevator began spinning. It spun around like one of those roundabouts at the playground. Everything around Thing was becoming blurry and colorful and there was music to accompany the spinning. The Elevator kept spinning till Thing was so sleepy that she just couldn’t keep her eyes open. And then she slept.

And as she slept she dreamed a beautiful dream – of numbers and words and dwarfs and songs and lovely little houses. When she woke up, all the buttons in The Elevator had disappeared. Only one button remained. The one that said ‘I’m feeling lucky’.

So Thing pressed it.

And the doors of The Elevator opened.

Outside The Elevator was Thing’s home. And in Thing’s home were her Mama and Dada.

As she stepped outside, The Elevator made a funny noise again.

And then it spoke: ‘Even when the world tells you that you won’t go nowhere, Thing, cling to your dreams. Trust them like you trusted The Elevator That Went Nowhere and the world will be more magical than you could ever imagine.’

With those words of wisdom, The Elevator made another funny noise and disappeared.

It probably went back to its little house, Thing thought.

And so she ran into her house and into her Mama’s lap and exclaimed, ‘I’M FEELING LUCKY TODAY MAMA!’.

‘So am I’, Mama said and hugged the luckiest girl in the world.

By Tantanoo

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