Sheila Chain Stories (Lent 2015)

These are to be cantabrocentric lampoonings of the "Mr Men and Little Misses" genre :)

Three chains have so far been completed! The stars are page-ends. We might one day make the pictures!

Mr Wrangler (CHAIN 1)

Mr Wrangler lived, in full rigorous splendour, in the greatest quadrangle in all of Wrangleville, opposite a scowly bewigged bust of Sir Throatsac Toadon.

* * *

Sir Toadon's glowering face was the very epitome of Wrangleville, hence its position in pride of place, in the great quadrangle of the town.

Despite the fitting mature of the bust, Mr Wrangler did not approve and began brewing a plan...

* * *

First he introduced slanderous salamanderous spawn into the elaborate complex of fountains surrounding Sir Throatsac's bust.

* * *

Then, quietly cackling, he started a Twitterbook rumour that the true priority of the Croakulus in fact lay with an overlooked Continental Amphysibcist called Lisbet Salamander.

Oh my, isn't that Mr Wrangler a smart little acadamphibian!

* * *

Unfortunately this annoyed Lisbet sufficiently to interrupt her holidaymaking on Kepler-296e and initiate her Unix coding against Wrangler's illuminati codes.

* * *

And so Mr Wrangler was hauled before the Underwater Dean, incandescent-green under his showercap lined wig.

* * *

``Vexatious malutterances unbecoming of Unidemia!"

he shrilly gurglaimed in a hissyfit of bubbles

``Prepare to be rustermitted, disbursiemolumentectomized and praelectorminated" ...

* * *

``Down with libel, down with larking!"

lambasted Lisbet from her Unixversity OS,

``Disbursiemolumentectomize this loon with indeanstructable babloons!"

* * *

Poor Mr Wrangler!

But then an elderly Newt swam into the Underwater Dean's punitory vestabularium, preceded by a ponderous file labelled

``Forgotten works of my Grandfather's Grandfather, Sir Eyesac" ...

* * *

The file, known as Siren Kermit to it's filemates, sommersaulted through infintesimal wormholes from desk to bench to the dean's wig and glutionously gobbled up papers and processors and all trace of misdoing and ill-intent, be it tree-pulp, digital, or incorporeal soul based, before it landed with a bellowing belch in a tray labeled Burpeaucracy.

* * *

``Extraordinary!" cavitated the Underwater Dean ebullionaceously, gills aflare. ``We must depedestalifragiballisticexpelliarmidize that galtiflecting Chorusmeister-General of the Blusterosterous Loudmouthocracy, Sir Throatsac...

* * *

and install in his stead our rightful idol-apparent, Sir Eyesac Newton! Can Tritony College destipenderize the requisite emoluments, Aerorespiratory Bursar? If not, I am quasidisposed to auction my ternary Perruque-d'office!

Little Miss Mewls-Only (CHAIN 2)

Little Miss Mewls-Only lives in a little cottage with ears in a little street in Humanton.

* * *

Little Miss Mewls-Only skipped along to the grocery store.

``How many onions would like this time?" asked Mr Greene-Grossart.

`` Au, au, aeuw" mieupled Little Miss Mewls-Only.

* * *

A fast factorial of vidalias, shallots, leeks, reds, and springs parachuted in and were paid for with a stash of silly string and elegantly disappeared in a brown bag.

* * *

``Conclusive" grumbled Mr Eyesac-Toadon, abstracting from Little Miss Mewls-Only, "but where do I get a wooden spoon from?"

* * *

``meuw?" enquired Little Miss Mewls-Only, somewhat unsure of herself because only some humans understood her, her own humans for sure and a few others; and in any case Mr Eyesac was mottled green with webbed feet,

* [pullback sequence from 2-face close-up to what Eyesac is wearing] *

and dressed in a powdered wig, a labcoat emblazoned with "Wrangleville Guilde of Alchymistes", and an enormous badge proclaiming "Aske me about Opticks!"

* * *

"Mieu mew ma mewchelmy, mieu mew ma mewpmicks?" confabmewlated Miss Mewls-Only, conmewsed concerning the contents of Mr Toadon's conspicuous tome. She couldn't help but conjecture as to what sort of contemptible conflagrations he could conjure with his concentric eyesac rings.

* * *

``Ah, Opticks" he snorted, ``Do not the Dragonflies which differ in Refrogibility differ also in Axolotibity; and are they Newt by their different Iguanons separated from one Alligator, so as after separation to make the Colours in the Tree-Frogs above described?" all eminently rolling his eyes.

``Miew!" said Miss Mewls-Only, half admiringly and half yawning.

* * *

``I do not know what I may appear to the world, but to myself I seem to have been only like a Tadpole playing in the shallows, and diverting myself in now and then finding a smoother pebble or a tastier Dragonfly than ordinary, whilst the Great Pond of Truth lay all undiscovered before me" he shrugged in justification.

* * *

Mewl!' was Little Miss Mewls-Only's disdainful response as she slowly backed away from the Optiks promoter and out of the shop. Little Miss Mewls-Only carefully picked her way along the highstreet, towing her bag of shopping on a wheeled turtle basket, hoping to avoid further encounters with members of the healthcare profession and their talk of deep ponds of truth...

* * *

She saw him in the distance disappearing on the shoulders of two gigantic moles, only a green speck under a blue sky. What a warm and sunny afternoon in Humanton.

* * *

"Miewtiful," she mewsled, bidding Toadon admieu, Off to chop onions and brew shallot stew.

Little Miss Over-Exuberant (CHAIN 3)

Little Miss Over-Exuberant tripped out of bed in her haste to greet the new day. It was going to be a good one, she just knew it.

* * *

Flinging the window open she beamed down at the street below, dashing the window box to the ground and cracking one of the window panes... Maybe it was going to be another of those days...

* * *

The last time such a day had made it past the circus border patrol and immigrated, lightning had struck the icy sidewalk and frozen in place.

* * *

After climbing the ladder of lightning, a sneak tickle attack of flying koalas and rabbits had causes such a fit of giggling that stars rained down and fertilized the lollipops fields.

* * *

She then tripped over the bare stump of a lollipop tree and rolled into a crevasse ... that never ended...

* * *

Aquatic Amphibians Alchemically Assaying Azote... Baritone Bullfrogs Boorishly Bemoaning Brachistocronicity... Curly-Wigged Crested-Newts Calculating Curvilinear Coordinates...

* * *

The things one finds down LSD mines.

* * *

How Little Miss Over-Exuberant had escaped from that psychadelic mine she couldn't quite divine, only that she had caught a ride home on serpentine line from platform 9 at the bottom of a jug of mulled wine. In any case, today was brand-new, or so she said as out the window she flew.

* * *

Till buoyed she was, by a great plume of smoke, so down she looked to espy its source...

* * *

Dungaree-Donning Dalmatians Doing Dope... Eyeballing Eeyores Exhaling Electric Eels... Flabbergasted Fruitbats Filibustering Fermentor Fumehoods...

* * *

And so she eclipsed the tangerine trees into the marmalade skies, as a girl with over-exhuberent eyes.

* * *

Where cardboard crocodile constructing peoples eat pillow pies and Pleistocene porters with lepidogobius meat ties...

* * *

"Hello and good morning!" She screamed without warning. Please may I try a pillow puff pie?

* * *

And contrary to all expectations, such a pie blinked into existence before her very eyes,

* * *

accompanied by a silver spoon, held aloft by a dozen pinstripe butterflies.

* * *

Two hours later, and humming with the taste of fizzing bees and sugared laundry, Little Miss Over-Exuberant galumpfed down to the shops,

* * *

full of joy and causing minimal disturbance to either personages or property. Maybe it wasn't going to be precisely one of those days again...


Sheila Chain Stories (Easter 2014)

CHAIN 1: Cat-and-mouse tale of Magic versus Science...


Once upon a Ponzi time,

A cat sat in a magic hat.

Wait she did, for the quantum field mouse to propagate by,

scintillating photonic tail ablaze aft,

loop-corrected radiative whiskers to the fore,

and delicate aromatic ears so alert to either side.


'Where are all the mice?'

the cat asked the magic hat,

but the hat was resting and merely

blew puffs of coloured smoke at the cat.

The cat coughed, and left choaking on the smoke

to find a more sustainable source of mice elsewhere.


The cat next gambolled into the maths department.

But the algebraic field mice therein were rational creatures,

who cryptographically hid their associative nuzzles,

distributive paws and cyclotomic whiskers

well within the folds of algebraic curves inaccessible to all cats

bar those who possessed PhD's in Galois Theory.


And so, finally, the cat, by now very hungry, entered the biology department.

A feisty feast awaited the cat, critters of every kind.

Reiro, elegans, melanogaster... xenopus and gallus,

rhesus, rattus, arabidopsis and finally the Mus!

Fat and happy as the king jack-o-lantern she left the lab for

a well deserved digestive nap - the cat mosied her way into a neighbouring department, seeking warmth.


In the bowels of the Chemistry department such a cupboard was found,

but hours later when the cat woke she found to her horror

that the fume cupboard arond her had shrunk

(although it was she that had in fact grown),

inelegantly she climbed out and

worked as a lab technician for the rest of her nine lives,

snacking occassionally upon the radioactive rat escaped from physics.


CHAIN 2: The Fifth Mammoth


Once upon a Ponzi time...

Harry Hackitt sat still to finish fabulating a tall tale called

`Piri-piri amidships': a paradoical plagiarism of paranoid Pteppicymon's

ptenuous ptimes at the Spice-Assessing School of the Seafaring Spicers' Guild...

Suddenly he heard the curious sound of someone gently rapping, rapping at his chamber door.


Fed up of the local kids and their incessant games of knock-knock ginger,

Harry pulled on the flush chain above his desk,

triggering a cascade of slime, then confetti onto the small creature,

that sat shivering on his doorstep.

And then the door was burnt down...

revealing eight boxes of cereal that had been forgotten.


Or had they? For, upon closer inspection, it transpired that

the structure was only disguised as cereal boxes

when actually a boisterous baby mammoth burst forth

from the melted cereal box-door-ice

and nested nicely in the Nestle

that Harry Hackitt had stock piled next to his (ex-) front door.


This trapped Harry inside, which whilst good for his epic and swashbuckling tale,

was not such good news for Harry, who was rapidly emptying the fridge.

"Right", he thought to himself, "it's going to be me or the mammoth"

and marched towards the front hall, bristling with cutlery...


He managed to prise some chocolate away from the happily munching mammoth

and into a trail leading to the empty fridge.

The not-so-little fellow still managed to fit in there,

and happily snuggled asleep, leaving Harry Hatchett able to conclude

his other tale about Vetinari the veteran pet-paediatrician

and his feud with the insidious Unsmelled University.

Of course, he then followed this up by

driving to the Co-op in his Mini to purchase some butter ...


CHAIN 3: Jack and the ... Flying Spaghetti Monster?


No-one, not even Granny May, knew where the battered cardboard box had come from,

it was an unacknowledged member of the family that had always

been sitting there in the pantry as a repository for cans of beans.

However, when it fell on the floor, the youngest family member, Jack,

noticed that a can of spaghetti hoops had cunningly found its way into the box!


He greedily opened the box, only for the spaghetti to jump out,

take root and extendibly power their way up through the ceiling...

Or what others thought was the ceiling,

but to Jack had always looked like the planet Abronthalia,

which was actually his home planet...


And so, with yearning, up the spaghetti he began to climb,

when Granny May shouted out, in her polyphonic voice:

'You forgot to do your washing up!'