Monday, 11 October 2010

Monday 11 October | Exercise 12 retelling of a spontaneous story

Sometimes in the morning, I tell Podgey stories to wake him up - they are mainly designed to make him laugh enough so that falling back to sleep is no longer possible. Finding myself in a good mood but without much hope of writing anything 'weighty' today - I thought I might try retelling the story in written form.

Recapturing something that was spontaneous, silly and completely improvised seemed like a worthwhile exercise in writing. I'd say it has been only somewhat successful - and to really work, it would need editing further - time I don't think this little story really deserves... It didn't have a theme this morning - and my attempts to insert some sort of moral colour are clunky at best.

The next couple of posts will be a catch-up affair for completeness sake. I am aware that if I am really despondent about my effort, I demure on the write up. Which is silly and counterproductive.

Permission to fail cap'n Luli...

Permission granted ensign David...

For the tale of Puddington Podge and the enormous fart ...
Early one morning Puddington Podge was out in his garden, tidying up the pots and poking the compost bin, when he felt a deep forboding rumble in his tummy.

"Oh No!" Thought Pudding Podge, "I know what that means ..." as usual Puddington Podge's first thought was in fact way off the mark - he thought it meant his tummy was jolly hungry and it was time for a Puddington Podge special breakfast feast.

Puddington Podge was wrong... As he headed back to the kitchen to fix himself a deliciously carb-rich breakfast he let rip an enormous, buttock vibrating, dance like no-one is looking, fart.

The crow in the apple tree looked shocked. The cat on the wibbly, wobbly wall looked shocked. Even the worms in the badly organised compost bin turned to each other in alram and looked as shocked as creatures without faces are able to look. However, no-one was more shocked than Puddington Podge himself. For it was his sincere belief that he never EVER farted - least of all out-doors.

The enormous fart was so-oh loud and so powerful that it had lifted poor old Puddington Podge right off his feet, carried him over his beloved shed and deposited him higgledy piggledy into the alleyway behind the gardens.

"Oh no!" Puddington Podge exclaimed as he realised that he couldn't get back into his garden. Despite much huffing and puffing he couldn't shoulder the gate open, because behind it was the rusty old BBQ that he himself had shoved up against it.

Ah Podge. If only you had fixed the gate and cleaned the BBQ before putting it away for the winter, then you would be able to return to your garden now and no-one would be any the wiser.

Puddington Podge couldn't get out through the big iron gate at the end of the alleyway either, because he didn't have a key.

Ah Podge. If only you had put that key onto your keyring last week instead of leaving it in the kitchen drawer all mixed up with all the other lockless keys that no-one dares chuck out. Then perhaps you wouldn't be stuck in the alleyway now.

There was nothing for it. Puddington Podge would have to call to Luli for help. Oh dear... Luli was in the shower singing her own versions of Take That songs loudly and badly (if he could be permitted to say so - which he did under his breath, so there.) She couldn't hear his cries for help over the sound of her warbling and the running water...

Ah Podge. If only you had let Luli hop into the shower first this morning, then perhaps she would be in the kitcthen now, making breakfast and able to hear your distress shouts. Alas she can't.

Puddington Podge was well and trully stumped. If he let out another huge fart, who's to say where he would land. He wasn't at all sure he'd be able to control his height or direction - he might land in the neighbour's tree or in a pond or on top of Phil's courgette cold frames.

Puddington Podge was starting to get really, really worried and whenever he got worried his tummy would rumble even more and as it rumbled Puddington Podge became more and more concerned until finally he let out the biggest, LOUDEST, and frankly smelliest fart that anyone had ever, EVER heard, felt or smelt.

Phil ran out to check his courgette cold frames. The cat shot off the wibbly wobbly wall into the next door neighbour's bush and the worms all took cover in the centre of the badly organised compost bin. Only the crow stood calm, and glassy eyed - moving from one foot to the other to better witness the awesome sight of Puddington Podge rising up, as if powered by an invisible jet-pack. He clamped his arms tight to his body, pointed his toes towards earth and twisted his considerably well stocked body into a perfect Fosbury arc as his enormously huge fart propelled body shot back over the shed and headed straight for the rubber mat outside the still open kitchen door.

"oooohhh oooohhhhh zowwiee mamahhhh!" Yelled Puddington Podge more for effect than anything else, as he rocketed across the garden and landed in a heap, just missing the waterbutt with a hole in it...

"What on earth?"... "Puddington Podge what are you doing messing about in the garden, and what it that revolting pong?" Luli eyed up Puddington Podge with her most imperious stare...

Puddington Podge looked so forlorn and smelt so awful, Luli felt on the whole that he must have suffered enough, so rather than chastise him any further she said what she always said - when Puddington Podge got himself into one of his scrapes... "Oh Podge!"... then she yanked him up off the rubber mat and headed inside to make him some toast...

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