Satire – Tomcat Tompkins – 117

“Now we’re here, I don’t like it, anyone on the ridge will see us coming, the other side was better, but now it will be crawling with people looking for those two you concussed. Oh, hold on Clifford, we’ve missed something.”

        She pointed to the hillside where a hedge and low wall ran up to the trees.

        “We can hide behind that,” she said, “and then when we reach the trees, see there, we can look down on them again.”

        “Let’s do it,” said Tompkins, “I am appreciating the breakfast even more.” They got out of the car and climbed over the wall before scooting up the slope, keeping a close eye on the trees ahead. They reached the ridge line, slightly breathless, but unnoticed.

        “Tomcat,” said Filly sotto voce, “there’s someone in the trees just below.” She put up two figures and pointed down the slope.

        Tompkins looked where she was pointing and almost blew a fuse. His good pals, well he thought they were good pals, Ginger and Wet Bob, were scouring the undergrowth. He watched them move towards Filly and himself. He looked around and realised no one else was in shouting distance of the two men.

        “Same again, old girl?” asked Tompkins. Filly nodded.


        After placing Ginger and Wet Bob over the same gate as Morty and Ferdy, Tompkins looked at his wife with amusement.

        “Where next, Filly?”

        “Back to the village, Clifford, at this rate the whole gang will be draped over that gate by noon.”

Published by Julian Worker

Julian was born in Leicester, attended school in Yorkshire, and university in Liverpool. He has been to 94 countries and territories and intends to make the 100 when travel is easier. He writes travel books, murder / mysteries and absurd fiction. His sense of humour is distilled from The Marx Brothers, Monty Python, Fawlty Towers, and Midsomer Murders. His latest book is about a Buddhist cat who tries to help his squirrel friend fly further from a children's slide.

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