24 February 2006

Dave


Once upon a time there was a little Yorkshire pudding called Dave. He was a frozen pudding and he lived in the back of a family freezer. He had fallen out of some plastic packaging years before. The freezer door would open and close, open and close, daylight or electric light streaming in brightly but nobody ever reached to the back of Dave’s shelf. He felt very neglected and unwanted. “Nobody wants me,” he said, whereupon the frozen peas and frozen prawns would giggle ungraciously.

Then one day, someone who lived in the house left the freezer door open. It was probably the teenage monster. Dave felt the electric light on his frozen surface and he thawed just a little – just enough to flex his little legs and arms. Very gingerly, he clambered out of the freezer, finding himself shortly on an expanse of terra cotta floor tiles.
“Which way shall I go?” wondered Dave.

Ahead of him he saw a plastic cat flap in the green external door. He reached up, huffing and puffing, pushed and then he was out, outside in silver moonlight. After all those years in the cooler, Dave was free.
(To be continued – VISITORS - OUTLINE SUGGESTIONS FOR CONTINUATION WELCOME)

3 comments:

  1. Poor little Dave. Surely someone out there in the blogosphere can give me a bit of an idea about how to advance his story....Please?

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  2. Little Dave was wandering around in the new-moonlight (i.e. dark), lost and lonesome, when he stumbled over the nob-heeled boot of the great and fearsome Hitman B.

    "Watch it!" Hitman B snarled, and then his eyes lit up. "A little Yorkshire Pud! I'm gonna eat ya, little fellow."

    "No, no," Dave the Pudding said. "I don't want to be eaten. I want to go to America and see all the casinos. I crave the bright lights and the warmth of a Las Vegas sunset."

    "Stick with me, kiddo," Hitman B said. "I'll put you up with a nice dame who will treat you right and you'll run one of my little casinos until you prove your worth."

    "This dame," Dave the Pudding said, "She doesn't..." he gulped, "She doesn't have a convection oven, does she?"

    "No," Hitman B said. And then he chortled, "But she does have an Aga range."

    "Noooooooo!" Dave the Pudding cried, and he began to run. As he ran, he sweated gravy, and Hitman B was momentarily deterred by chasing Dave the Pudding as he (Hitman B) started to lick the gravy off of the ground.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Sunshine & the "great thaw"...the elusive cat...does one need an SPF to protect against freezer burn?

    C'mon, c'mon. I'm waiting in deep anticipation! I love it, so far.

    ReplyDelete

Mr Pudding welcomes all genuine comments - even those with which he disagrees. However, puerile or abusive comments from anonymous contributors will continue to be given the short shrift they deserve. Any spam comments that get through Google/Blogger defences will also be quickly deleted.