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“It’s the 57th Creative Challenge theme, so I have to do it,” Ann remarked to her editor. “Obviously”, she added.

“What do you mean, obviously?” asked her editor (Ann had forgotten his new name in the second book, and toyed breifly with the idea of making up a new one ~ perhaps Rumbold the Pale?)

“Well, I would have thought that was obvious, Godfrey!” Ann replied tartly, secretly delighted that she’d remembered the old boy’s name. Notwithstanding, Ann continued to make little ‘cuh’ and ‘tut’ noises, and rolled her eyes a bit, until Godfrey eventually replied.

“Spiggot on the spike freak, Lingenburg Dash”.

“I beg your pardon?” Ann looked at Godfrey in astonishment. “Holy Moly, I said that earlier myself, whatever does it mean?”

“I haven’t got a clue, dear,” he replied. “Just popped into my head, you know, how it does…” His voice trailed off as he stared into space.

“I’ll google it.” As Ann started the search, she realized she’d completely forgotten that she was doing the 57th Creative Challenge entry. “Blimey O Riley, what am I LIKE” she said to herself, with a wry grin ~ she wasn’t altogether sure what wry meant, but somehow she felt it was wry ~ “Now what was the theme again?”

“Misery Loves Company” Godfrey piped up. “And dare I say, it’s rather obvious what has occurred here.”

“What do you mean, obvious?” retorted Ann, somewhat snarkily, although nowhere near as snarkily as Lavender might have said it.

Godfrey resisted the urge to respoond with a few little ‘cuh’s’ and ‘tut’s’, and chose to simply smile enigmatically.

Ann scowled at her old freind and said “If you don’t spell it out, you maddening old coot, I’ll write you out of this story. I’ll delete you.”

“You can write me out of YOUR story if you wish, but I may continue to write YOU into MY story.”

“Oh Gawd, WHAT?” Ann said to herself. “Where did that come from?”

“Ann, let me explain.”

“You sound just like Elias, Godfrey!”

“Ha! Ha! Ha!”

“Ahahahahahahah”

“Now shut up and pay attention”

“Elias would never say that”

“That’s YOU saying that, Ann, to yourself,” said Godfrey.

“YOU said that Godfrey, it’s right here in black and white!” retorted Ann.

“It’s never black and white, Ann, and it’s only here in black and white as ME saying it because YOU wrote it.”

“Well there’s no answer to that” replied Ann. She went to put the kettle on.

Ann returned to her computer with a steaming mug of tea.

“Now, shall we get back to the point, Ann?” inquired Godfrey, with a wry grin.

“I must look up that word later”, Ann mused. “I seem to be inordinately fond of the word wry tonight, I wonder why. I Wonder Wry…”

“ANN!” Godfrey shouted. “Back to the point!”

Ann looked pained. “What point?”

“The point of this story, and the obvious occurence therein.”

“Welp, you’ve lost me there, Gordon, there was a point?”

“Oh My God, this could go on all night” Gordon was wringing his hands.

“Good God Gordon, didn’t see you come in!” exclaimed Godfrey.

Ann was giggling helplessly. She was rather pleased with the way she covered her faux pas over the editors name.

“‘Ann was giggling helplessly’; you see Ann, there is your clue!” Godfrey said excitedly, as he read aloud what Ann had just written.

“OH! NOW I get it! D’oh! Nonsense loves company! Giggling loves company! No wonder I couldn’t stay focused on misery!”

lavender stop story ~
exclaimed, “whole string needed!”
taking jorid present questions
sense lovely funny close create
creating patterns
possible game

Ann Tattler beamed in delight, unable to conceal her pleasure and surprise. She had scraped in a pass for “Continuity Class for Complete Beginners”. It had taken months, but under the excellent tutelage of Prof Frantic Moose, she had finally cracked it.

Her next hurdle was “Meaningful Writing for the Scattered Brain”.

Her pleasure evaporated somewhat when she read the pithy course description.

Things most profound can be found in the most shallow conversation. Prof Leone Laminae

Sadly, I am not sure that “profound” is one of my strong points, she confided later to her twin sister Sally.

They’re all as mad as hatters here, Heliptrope said to himself, as he looked in on the snoring pair before making his escape. It was a blessing in disguise when old Lavvie left me for Oleander.

Before long Harvey was snoring like a wart hog too. Lavender had promptly fallen asleep again after reprimanding Heliptrope in no uncertain terms for waking her up.

Well, I may as well go out, Heliptrope decided. I think I’ll wear my new eau de nil shirt.

And please just stop barging in here unannounced! Unless you are back to explain the “Eau de Nil” remark, called out Lavender from her bedroom where she a moment ago she had been snoring like a wart hog.

Oh, lifting cupbaords. For a minute I thought he was yawning about all the short comments.

What on earth are you on about now, Heliptrope? asked Lavender, a trifle crossly.

Perhaps I will ask Mr Ark about “Eau de Nil” mused Lavender later that evening to Harvey.

Lavender your musing is really getting irritating. Can’t you ponder or something instead?

Well your nasal twang gets on my nerves but do I complain? retorted Lavender, snarkily, hurt by the unexpected outburst from her friend.

AH HA! shouted Harvey, with his distinctive nasal twang. I KNEW it was you really you Heliptrope! This is about W.A.R.P.E.D. and the dreaming fiasco isn’t it!

Dreaming fiasco? I can assure you that this is not about any dreaming fiasco. Although I shall be sure to mention this “dreaming fiasco” to the Fellowship upon my return, said Heliptrope, snarkily, feeling a little put out that his cover had been blown so quickly. No this is a message for Lavvie.

What is it? Is it about the piglets? I still feel guilty about giving them away.

Heliptrope sighed. Quiet both of you. The message is this: “Eau de Nil”

What? Eau de Nil? What in the name of Flove is Eau de Nil?

Heliptrope smiled mysteriously and took his leave.

Lavender’s embrace had very nearly dislodged Heliptropes curly grey wig, revealing his bald head. The Messengers of the Fellowship were always carefully disguised as bossy old bats, cunningly concealing their true identity.

Now, now Lavvie dear, you know I detest hugging. Grandma Heliotrope extricated herself from Lavender’s embrace. It is so bohemian. If you wish to show me affection then a smile will suffice. A cup of hot vegemite would not go amiss either. Then I have an important message from the Fellowship for you. Sadly, you really have managed to get yourself in a pickle this time my dear Lavvie.

“I love it when you talk nonsense in that sexy voice, Tina!” said Sam, unexpectedly poking his head round the door. “Say something rude!”

Tina rolled her eyes again, and harumphed.

“One liked rabbits and the other liked fish
And they all went rowing in a pink plastic dish.”

How’s that?” suggested Heliotrope helpfully.

What would be a good last line? asked Harvey.

What for? Lavender was distracted.

I am going to try my hand at creative writing. Seeing as I can’t do my nose lifting any more. So listen:

Sputum & Pistachio, Editors At Large
Lived on the river in an old blue barge
One liked rabbits and the other liked fish

What do you reckon?

doesn’t bloody matter they all make a tasty dish, suggested Lavender

Dark….
common?
Keep images;
hear others…

Eyes

Recent movements.
Heard,
Follow…
Kept questions.

Individuals

Library ~
Thanks, come fact!
Littleton smile:
deal?
feeling… rather….

Cat!
Ones eye…

Accept self.

Tuning into her other focus Becky, which was happening with an alarming increase in frequency, Yoland scribbled down a few lines of what might loosely be termed poetry.

Methinks it’s time to ponder not
Upon the box of black and white
Methinks the time has come again
To thinketh not and ponder not
Upon the need to clear explain.
Begone, oh wordy facts, begone!
And leave me free to talk some rot
And note and jot alot of snaps
Of this and that, beguiling snips
Of snaps and wisps, of tongues and lights;
Hums and sparks of nonsense blips
And plates of eggs and french fried chips.

I’m running out of steam, said she

Report back now, Immediately

Toot! Toot!

“What I really love about this, Yoland” Grace said when she’d read her friend’s poem, “Is that it really is complete rubbish. I mean, it’s not cleverly pretending to be rubbish, it really IS rubbish. But I am feeling the energy, and I feel that you enjoyed posting utter rubbish, and that’s the feeling that counts.”

“Er….thanks, Grace…I think,” replied Yoland with a smirk.

“You rude tart” she added.

Lavender was not really sure she understood what Harvey was talking about.

Poor thing. Does he feel like a frog with no sense of purpose? she wondered. The injury to his nose had been devastating of course, yet Lavender firmly believed that there was purpose to all things.

If you don’t believe that, then the whole system falls down, she had said to Harvey, in her sympathetic AND adorable voice.

What system is that? asked Harvey gloomily, wishing he had a voice like Lavenders. Since the accident there had been a distinct nasal twang to his voice. He thought miserably of how quickly W.A.R.P.E.D. had released him from his contract following a complaint from Sha and Glor after he had dropped the four poster bed. The additional weight of dear Lavender had just been a little too much, even for HIS nose. Not only that, he had he lost his weightlifting vocation and his good looks were also severely compromised. The surgeons had not been overly optimistic that his nose would ever completely recover.

well you weren’t really THAT good looking, said the softly voiced Lavender, hoping to cheer Harvey up.