One sunny morning, old man Be and old man Sad got up out of their hammocks, went down their slide and fed the hippopotamus her normal breakfast of peas on toast. The two old fogies went on to eat their regular breakfast of fish and chips with a pickled egg. Fully refreshed, they went for an early morning stroll, leaving the penguin at home for once but, as you will be pleased to hear, they took their pet mouldy sausage with them for a change.

As they walked along, admiring the lions grazing on a particularly smelly pile of socks, they could not resist the temptation of tip-toeing into the meadow. The lions stared at them, shocked at their stupidity. And then it started.

The lions did what lions do best - chased them! Desperately clinging to their sausage, they raced over the top of the steaming pile of socks. And it's old man Be in the lead.

They were joined by a boy. (Don't ask me where he came from, it's something to do with diving out of windows.) They arrived in a strange place. All four (you hadn't forgotten the sausage, have you?) paused to look at their surroundings. It was a big stone-walled room, roofless with a huge wooden door on the left-hand side.

The boy ran up to the door and opened it. As it sprang open, a large roll of carpet unrolled before their feet revealing a compass on the ground.

Old man Sad leaned down to pick it up. As he did so a high-pitched voice spoke these words,

"Put me down, you big-honked personage."

Would you have put it down? He sure did.

They pegged it through the door only to find themselves hurtling through the air. You didn't spot the cliff so why should they? They landed comfortably on the back of a passing dragon who took them somewhere rather odd.

It was a baseball pitch. They landed tidily behind the catcher. A ball kersplated on Mr Sad's conk. Another hit the boy on the shin. The next clobbered old man Be on the bottom.

With the offending balls they struck back. It was the ref's turn to go bananas. He chased them off the pitch shouting,

"And you can take your mouldy sausage with you!"

They ran faster than even you can imagine out of that pitch and on to the ever-ready dragon (they're good like that, pretty handy for story writers, eh).

Jack Healy-Goodhand, aged 8

Walton Junior School


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