Читать книгу Little Wolf, Terror of the Shivery Sea - Ian Whybrow, Tony Ross - Страница 13

Tree Stump, Up The Garden.

Dear Mum and Dad,

Still no news from you about rat pies, boo shame.

I am writing this in pencil, but do not sing:

Nar Nar bubbacub, You are just a blubbercub.

You know I hate doing writing in pencil, but it is all Smells’ fault. Today is my worst day this week, because of Smells meeting a raccoon with a mask on in Frettnin Forest. After that he got jealous, saying he wanted to have a mask 2 and be Mister Burgle-Arrr the Robber.

I ’spect you will say, “Oh well done, Smellybreff, my fine baby cub, now you are following in Daddy’s pawprints.” But listen, Yeller and me said well done to him 2! We said, “Fine, well done, you can be a burglearrr, Smells. But only if you stick to robbing ants, piggies ect. OK?”

Sad to say, he did not listen. He went and robbed all my furniture and hid it. So now no bed to sleep on, no chester draws ect. Plus Smells drinking all my ink just for spitefulness. Floors are my worst thing for sleeping on, so it made me get up stiffly in the morningtime needing a warmupp trot outside. Off I went joggingly, then guess what? A moose came rushing! He tried to kill me dead with his horns, a moose! All because of Smells robbing his grass off him!

Yours moaningly,

Little

PS Good thing Normus came along and gave that moose a hard bash.