LITMIR.BIZ

      When all the soup had been served, or spilled, and Smiggles released, the King thought the Party needed livening up. Most of the Bottersnikes under the table were asleep. So the King started throwing things. The rest of his presents, the rotten fruit, were excellent for livening up the Party. Against a water pistol the Bottersnikes were helpless, but when the King threw rotten fruit they scraped it up and threw it back. The Party went fast and very furious. When the fruit became squashed to pulp they threw Gumbles instead — Gumbles could be thrown again and again.

      Quite soon the King became tired of throwing the Party — he was being hit too often. Blowing a fierce blast on his whistle he yelled: ‘Half time!’

      Smiggles, who was very sore at missing so much of the fun, especially about the tail, took no notice. He hurled his last Gumble — it happened to be Tinkingumble — and scored a direct hit on the King’s nose. This made Smiggles feel much better; less fortunately, it made the King swallow his whistle. It went on whistling inside him each time he took a deep breath.

      The King was exceedingly angry. His ears glowed, his tummy whistled. He unwrapped Tinkingumble from his nose and rolled him in a tight ball to throw back. As he was about to throw, a loud tink sounded, clear as the call of a bellbird.

      ‘Hooray!’ shouted Tinkingumble. ‘It wasn’t lost after all. It only got stuck.’

      ‘Quiet!’ yelled the King. ‘Feep!’ went his tummy.

      Tinkingumble couldn’t help it. The King was squeezing very hard and it made him tink madly, like a cash register in Woolworths — every one a good idea.

      ‘That’s the one what causes all the bother,’ said Chank airily.

      ‘Cleversnike!’ the King snarled, and threw Tinkingumble at him. The tinker bounced and rolled under a bush, where he sat down to sort out all the good ideas that had come unstuck.

      ‘Ar, it don’t matter,’ said Glob, helping himself to Chank’s bottle tops. ‘Clunks are better’n tinks any day.’

      Before this could be proved the King said: ‘I will make a speech. Then we’ll have a sleep. Then we’ll throw some more Party. Grab them Gumbles and pop ’em in the jam tins.’

      During the throwing the jam tins had been scattered far and wide, so to save themselves bother the Bottersnikes squashed the Gumbles together in one big mass in the empty soup tureen, saying they’d sort ’em out in the morning. This was worse for the Gumbles than jam tinning because those beneath could hardly breathe, but there was no help for it and there they had to stay while the King made his birthday speech.

      The speech was long and dull. At first the Bottersnikes sat on the table and listened, pounding with their spoons at the important places, then one by one they dozed off and at last the King put himself to sleep with his own speech. Only Smiggles was awake — he had been hung up again to prevent the disappearance of the soup tureen. Old Smig wasn’t having much of a Party yet, but there was still two and a half days to go.

      The Gumbles knew this too. Inside the soup tureen they were struggling and wriggling to escape, and they had found that they were not stuck to the bottom of the tureen as it was still slippery with thick red soup; but they were stuck fast to each other because the Bottersnikes had jammed them in so tightly.