Читать книгу ‘…startled by his furry shorts!’ - Louise Rennison - Страница 69

I grabbed a piece of toast from the kitchen to ward off death. Angus was happily chewing on something in his basket. He is better fed than me.

On the way out of the front door I heard Mum screeching like a banshee. “Bob, Bob, that horrible furry thing is eating my tights. Stop him, stop him!!! Trap him with that chair!”

Then I heard some crashing and Dad shouting and cursing. Mum hadn’t finished: “Of course you haven’t broken your leg, Bob. Anyway, never mind about that, get him… Oh bugger, now he’s in the laundry room. Oh dear God, he’s doing a poo in the ironing. That is it! They are going, they are going!!!”