Saturday, February 9, 2013

Nine Ways to Outwit a Dastardly Cat





Mabel and Percy are older than Time (to look at them that’s what you’d think)
but don’t you be fooled by their wrinkled appearance and rotting malodorous stink.

For QUICK AS A FLASH they can build things from rubbish, like rockets and robots and stuff,
and all of these marvellous, magical gizmos are cunningly powered by GUFF.

With thousands of poops needed every minute, you’ll wonder ‘just how do they manage?
Well, to make enough gas for their trump-fuelled inventions these oldies eat nothing but CABBAGE. 

Grown in their garden from morning ‘til night, these lovely green veggies abound,
feeding their floofs and their booms and their blasts and their bottom burps all the year round.

But early one morning, they step out the door and they both get a terrible fright,
for there in their garden are thousands of cats, not a solitary cabbage in sight.

The cats have decided this bed of green veg is a heavenly place for a snooze,
even the smell of old cabbagey poops hasn’t given these kitties the blues.

“Shoo,” cries old Mabel, FLAP FLAPPING her hands, but the cats simply sit there and glare;
this little old lady with wrinkly knees, doesn’t give these old moggies the scares.

Poor Mabel and Percy are troubled and worried, these cats are a pain in the bum,
no breakfast, no dinner, no supper, no lunch; no wonder the couple looks glum!

“How can we banish these menacing critters, and set all our cabbages free?”
Then Percy remembers a book in the attic; a title that fills him with glee:




Nine Ways To Outwit a Dastardly Cat



“Perfect,” cries Percy and blows off the dust as he hurriedly turns to Page One:
Mothballs,’ it says, ‘are a cat’s greatest foe, with a stink that will make them all run.

So Mabel and Percy go hunting for mothballs, all pongy and smelly and hard,
then build a great slingshot from knickers and braces and blast them all into their yard.

But they’ve clearly forgotten that ping pong is fun for a puss even when it’s annoyed,
and watch with dismay as a bat wielding cat whacks those mothballs up into the void.

And so they continue to Page Number Two where they read of a magical soap;
a stinky old bar which smells rotten to cats but fills Mabel and Percy with hope.

So they order a tonne of these miracle suds then build a magnificent thing,
that will grate-up and slice-up and chop-up and dice-up more soap than has ever been seen.

It doesn’t take long for the cats to start gagging; they gasp and they gurgle and wheeze,
but then comes the rain, and the soap turns to bubbles that quickly make off on a breeze.

“Oh bothersome bother,” cries Mabel and Percy, while turning to Page Number Three:
Cats really don’t care for the smell of a lemon, spread peelings and then you’ll be free.

Now to get lots of peel you should eat lots of lemons (a thousand, perhaps maybe more),
so they munch and they suck and they chew and they peel, ‘til it covers the whole of the floor.

But soon there’s a rumble, a grumble, a growl and their bottoms are starting to spew,
too many  old lemons can give you the runs and they spend a whole week on the loo.

Mabel and Percy give up on the lemons, and hastily turn to Page Four:
throw pepper all over your garden today and your troubles will walk out the door.

“Yip-pee,” they both laugh, “this one’s easy for sure,” as they sprinkle the grass and the trees,
but both have forgotten the first rule of pepper; it’s sure to make everyone sneeze.

Sss! Sss! Sss!

Achooo!

Ah-ahh-ahhh-ahhhh-CHOOOOOOOO!

Together they sneeze and they sneeze and they sneeze, through the night and then all through the day,
and when they have stopped they discover quite quickly they’ve blown all the pepper away.

Page Number Five says a hullabaloo will drive dastardly moggies away, 
an invisible sound that most cats cannot stand will succeed by the end of the day.

So Percy invents a gigantimous whistle that’s made from a rusty old rocket,
then blows through the end bit as hard as he can to create a fantastico racket.

“Eeeee,” screams the whistle. “Meeeow,” screech the cats as the noise sends them into a spin, 
they race to the left and they race to the right in their bid to escape from the din.

Then all of a sudden it reaches its peak, all the windows explode with a CRASH!
For Mabel and Percy (now hungry and cold) their hopes have been once again dashed!

Feeling down and dejected they find the next page and start to read rule Number Six:
all cats hate cold water, so purchase a sprinkler; your problems will shortly be fixed.

“Oh dear,” cries old Mabel, “we are skint, we’ve no money, how can we afford one of those?”
but Percy, like magic, disappears to his cellar with a barrel, a vacuum and hose.

Soon he’s created a Pump Action Soaker which throws out the water with force,
and drenches the mogs,  from their heads to their tails, with not even a hint of remorse.

But it isn't good news for poor Mabel and Percy (as the cats are now feeling quite scruffy)
they LOVE the new shower that Percy invented and the way that it makes them feel fluffy.

So they turn to Page Seven and get quite a shock to discover what they have to do:
To frighten off cats, says the book of solutions, there’s nothing more scary than ... poo.

LION POO!



Desperate now for a cabbagey feast, Percy scampers straight off to the zoo,
he hopes that the lion has eaten already ... and hopes it has been to the loo.

Whilst tiptoeing close to the sleepy old lion, he looks for juicy big dollop,
but slips on some wee and then falls on the floor with a smack and a bang and a wallop.

The lion wakes up with a terrible fright and pounces on hapless old Percy,
but lucky for him, he is terribly thin so the lion shows nothing but mercy.

No bucket, no poo means no cabbage-leaf stew – so it’s over to Page Number Eight:
To make cats recoil, sprinkle hair on the soil, you'll find the results are just great.

So after much banging and crashing and sawing, there emerges a magical chair;
with shampoo and scissors and blowers and curlers ... and a hat that can make you grow hair. 

“Grow hair, GROW!” cries a hungry old Mabel. And her hair, like a breeze, starts to flow.
“Snip hair, SNIP!” cries a starving old Percy ... but the hair just continues to grow.

It fills up the room, then it bursts out the door, Mabel’s hair is now out of control.
KABOOM goes the house; it has simply exploded leaving nothing behind but a hole.

They’d have turned to Page Nine, but Page Nine is no more. It has exploded. Vamoosed. Disappeared.
“We are doomed, we are done, those bad cats have now won; it is just as we always both feared.”

“Please, PLEASE,” begs old Percy, “Please leave us both be, we are tired, we are frail and we’re famished.”

“At last ...” cries the cats, “those old guff-bags said PLEASE.” And with that they all up and they vanish.

Thus magic exists in a six letter word and to say it is really quite easy ...




Written by Corrinne Garstang
Copyright © 2016 Corrinne Garstang. All Rights Reserved.

























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