by | Jan 27, 2009 | Stories | 0 comments

Neigh! Neigh!

Oddenstein: “Come back with my horse, that’s the last bit of voice I’ve got left.”

Monument having tripped and concertina-ed over a gnomon: “What a grumpy looking gnome.”

Gnomon: “Speak for yourself, sunshine, if you had t sit out in all weathers on top of that sun dial, getting blamed for t weather, you’d be looking a bit miserly.”

Oddenstein with frog, who is holding a large torch while standing on ‘Stein’s tongue and is examining the throat: “Croak”

Frog: “Watch it Boyo, I do the frog jokes round here.”

Sound of thunderous knocking on the floor boards and Muffin the Mule strides past: “Someone want me?”

Oddenstein: “I’m looking for a horse.”

The mule cocks his head, looks round and heel kicks a circular tin in Oddenstein’s direction, which hits the frog who disappears into the deep darkness of the throat.

Some time later and with much vituperation the frog re-appears and is rolling the tin along and dragging a helmet and light while eating a Cornish Pasty.

Frog: “There you go Boyo, good as new.”

Oddenstein: “——–”

Frog: “Well you’ve got to give it a bit of time to soak in.”

A flipper grabs the frog and another flipper grabs the tin…

Oddenstein: “AAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrggghhhhhhh!!!”

Frog: “Works every time, Boyo, nothing like these psychosomatic episodes for putting a crimp in your flippers.”

Oddenstein, holding up a tin of dubbin: “Where’s my horse?”

Frog, doing immitations of ‘toed’ in the ‘ole: “Look you, you said to fix your voice, I’ve done that, see.”

Oddenstein: “Yes, so where is the horse?”

Frog: “What horse?”

Oddenstein: “The sound I usually make. Like a rusty saw in the valley bottom on a truly frosty day.”

Frog: “About the only thing you’d get then, Boyo, would be ‘hoars’.”


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