Paws and Claws

“Will you turn down that rubbish music” Mr. Sea growled “All I can hear coming from that old speaker is noise! Just  horrible, very bad, completely unpleasant noise”.

 

“And how exactly do you expect me to do that? I do not have thumbs, this beak of mine is for eating not for turning down the volume on an old speaker. I am, after all, a chicken” said a rather peevish chicken peevishly. 

 

Mr. Sea could see he was not going to win this battle of wits with a plain, old, ordinary chicken, so he decided to walk over to the radio and turn it off himself, thus ending the stream of ugly sounds coming from the old speaker. 

 

“What time is it anyway, shouldn’t you be off somewhere laying an egg or something”?

 

“I am a boy.” Apollo began.” Boys do not, in fact, lay eggs”. Apollo rolled his dark little eyes so violently, it appeared as if they would fall right out of his little chicken head. 

 

Mr. Sea was an ordinary man with sandy blonde hair. He was as robust as Santa, but half as jolly. He and Apollo had been friends for quite a long time; in fact Mr. Sea and Apollo had been pals since Apollo was a little brown egg. So, it is very understandable that they would, from time to time, get on each other’s nerves. Today, Mr. Sea and Apollo were trying their best to clean up The Old Book House because they were expecting a new arrival. 

 

The Old Book House was not simply another house made of books, there were many of those in Dýraríki. What made this particular house special was the fact that it also doubled as the town's library because it had the very finest books comprising its walls. Its chimney, its steps, even the  windows and doors were made completely of books! 

 

Other book houses were fine, there were some comic book houses; but they weren’t always the best on rainy days and there were a few medical books houses, but they always had a funny smell to them.But this book house, the book house had such lovely books made of leather, with such titles as Charlotte's Web ,Gulliver’s Travels or The Hobbit written in deep golden letters upon the spines. 

 

Here at the Old Book House, anyone could collect a brick and take it home to enjoy before they returned it whenever they wanted. Why, there was one summer where so many citizens of Dýraríki were so eager to read, that the Old Book House almost collapsed. 

 

“I’ll tell you another thing Apollo…”

 

“Shhh”, clucked Apollo. “I hear something”.

 

“What”?

 

Apollo strained to listen.

 

“What do-”

 

“Quiet will you?” Apollo snapped. “ It sounds like it is coming from the vegetable garden.”

 

                                       “Rough! Rough! Rough!”

 

The two old friends in The Old Book House just looked at each other for a moment. 

 

“What is that?” asked Apollo. 

 

“Rooooooough…rough…that’s rough”

 

The pair approached the backdoor which led to the backyard where the vegetable garden was located.

 

“Roooooough! Rough! Rough!”

 

As the door swung open they got an eye full of  a long, flexible dachshund muttering loudly to himself.