Mr Wospley's Horse
Adventure Number One - The First Free Bus . . .
The Twirleez are revolting in Odle-Kum-Land. It is five past nine and they have been waiting for the first free bus of the day. Every day they stand at the same bus stop and wait for the first free bus. Then they climb on board, wave their bus passes, and ask the Nice Drivver “Am I too early for this?” That’s how they became Twirlees.
But today the Twirlees are revolting. The first free bus arrived. The first free bus stopped. But they couldn’t get on the first free bus of the day. And this had never happened before.
The Nice Drivver looked at them sadly and, shaking his head in disbelief, drove on to the next stop. This was next to the school and some lazy Kool Skids were waiting for the bus to take them to the café for their cross country run. They always had coffee and cakes for their cross country run. The Nice Drivver usually welcomed the Kool Skids because he had been one once and he also hated cross country runs and had always nipped off to his local burger-bar for a snack. But today he just looked at them sadly and shook his head thinking that life could be very unfair.
It had all gone wrong at the stop outside Mopperdops Hall. The Nice Drivver only ever stopped there on Sundays to deliver the Mopperdops for their weekly sing song and to pick them up afterwards, happy and smiling and ready for their roast beef. But today was different. The Mopperdops had left the front gate open and their tenant – Mr Wopsley’s Horse – was waiting for the bus. What’s a Nice Drivver to do? The Horse had his free bus pass between his teeth and he climbed aboard.
That was bad enough. But the horse decided to go upstairs. And horses don’t go upstairs very easily. He turned his head into the stairwell and put his front hooves on the bottom step. And there he stopped. Stuck. Front end halfway upstairs and bum blocking the door. What’s a Nice Drivver to do?
Well, he did what he had to do and drove on to the next stop. And that’s why the Twirlees are revolting. There was no room for them on the first free bus of the day. Poor Twirlees. And poor Nice Drivver. The next stop was at the school where the lazy Kool Skids were waiting. And now the lazy Kool Skids are revolting as well.
This nightmare continued for three bus stops. Then the horse rang the bell. They had got to Vet House and the horse was going in for a pick-me-up followed by a quick trot to the Dofflin Pub for an early morning pint or two or three.
Unfortunately the local Gossips – Maisie and Moppet – were waiting for the bus. They had just heard about old Mr Nobble who had been picking plums at the top of his plum tree. That very morning he had fallen out of the tree and impaled himself on a branch. The ambulance driver had sawn off the branch and put poor Mr Nobble face down in the ambulance with the branch sticking out of his bottom bit. It was especially nice that there were lots of plums on the branch so there was something to much on during the journey.
These exciting events were too much for Maisie and Moppet who were discussing every aspect of the case. So they didn’t see Mr Wopsley’s Horse backing off the bus. And, not having eyes in his rear end, the Horse didn’t see Maisie and Moppet. The Nice Drivver shook his head even more sadly as he saw what was going to happen.
Mr Wopsley’s Horse bumped into Maisie and Moppet and they toppled like two skittles at the funfair. Mr Wopsley’s Horse was shocked that Maisie's hatpin had pierced his bum and he sat down instantly. On top of Maisie and Moppet. What a to-do.
All this was too much for the Nice Drivver. He rang his own bell and drove off as fast as his rickety old bus would let him. And Mr Wopsley’s horse was overcome by shock and started to go. All over Maisie and Moppet who, by now, were screaming loudly.
The noise reached Vet House and Mr Hurriup the Vet came rushing out, tranquiliser gun in hand, to see what was happening. As soon as he saw Mr Wopsley’s horse he groaned loudly. “What has the wretched beast done now?” he asked no-one in particular, and fired his gun a couple of times.
Sad to relate, he had forgotten to take aim and his darts hit Maisie and Moppet who promptly stopped screaming and started to snore. The horse, scared by the shooting, upped and ran. Still going and leaving a river of steamy fluid in his wake. As Mr Hurriup the vet said to no-one in particular, “It’s only Monday morning. Whatever next?”
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