Friday, March 12, 2010

This is a little excerpt from my book which I wrote 5 years ago when my first grandson Archie was born and I thought it would be fun for when he was a little older so far I have 16,000 words. It's called "Feathers" and it's all about a training school  to teach young birds how to fly sing and dance. 


Had you found yourself on level 29, you would have been launched into singing lessons. Although it had originally started on level 10, the local residents logged a complaint about the noise being unbearable and extremely irritating so the elders took a unanimous decision to move it 19 levels higher and this was generally accepted to be less irritating.

As Professor Warble was waiting for the first students of the day, she reminisced on last night’s dinner with Gerard. It was all going so well until she attempted to eat the last snail which Gerard insisted she have. She was struggling to open it when at last, with a last sharp tap, the snail finally cracked - and unfortunately so did part of her beak. This in turn changed her S’s into F’s her B’s into P’s with the result that everything she tried to say became seriously jumbled. From then on conversation just got too much, and Gerard decided it was best to fly her home. After 3 attempts at thanking Gerard for a pleasant evening she gave up, but realising she had had a good night all the same she was left hoping that Gerard would call her again. She was brought out of her reverie when the students finally arrived, all trying to get into the class at the same time, causing lots of ruffled feathers and unnecessary pecking to break out.

“Norning poys and firls!”

This strange sound caused everyone to stop dead in their tracks and look at her.

“Er, yes. Good morning Professor Warble.”

“Fight, Pefore we pegin I have to fay that I have a broblem lith my lords boday, so blease porgive me.”

This was too much for some of the students and when two fell off their perches she was not overly amused.

“Fet pack up on your ferches immediately and fop pessing afout” she commanded.

They obeyed but lots of sniggering continued nevertheless.

“Fight, por boday we pan fart with a pong balled ‘Fawn Forus’. This pong as you fnow baws fritten py Peathoven a ferry tong lime ago.”

At that point the sniggering erupted into full-blown laughter and even Professor Warble saw the funny side of it and started to giggle.

“I fink we food fancel the flass boday, fen my feak is fended we pan fart an offer lime. Food pay to you all!” and sweeping up her books and still giggling she left.
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