Day 19 - The Trouble With Rules and Regulations...

‘The Golden Cap!’ says Tancrow Pete, taking charge of the situation in his capacity of the new Wizard of Oz, or King of the City of Rusty Duck, or whatever. ‘Do you still have the Golden Cap?’

A look of hope and joy spreads across the face of Dorothy Miggins.

‘Of course!’ she says. ‘It’s here, in my pocket.’ And she pulls the Golden Cap, looking a bit crumpled, from the pocket of her gingham pinafore.

‘Put it on,’ says Tancrow Pete. ‘Make a wish! The flying monkeys will take you all home.’

‘What about you?’ says Dorothy Miggins, looking at Mrs Slocombe who is still panting a bit with the whole hot-air balloon malarkey. ‘We’re going to be travelling by monkey sledge again. Any more panic attacks imminent or are we going to have to tank you up with Pernod?’

‘I’ll be fine with the sledge,’ says Mrs Slocombe. ‘And a dash of Pernod,’ she adds hurriedly, not wanting to pass up the offer of some Christmas cheer. ‘It’s just balloons. I think I must have been frightened by one as a chick.’

‘Yes, well this is no time for psychotherapy,’ says Dorothy Miggins. She closes her eyes and wishes for Bob Frapples to appear with his band of flying monkeys.

‘Hello, good lady!’ says Bob Frapples, landing before her. ‘You are ready to make your second wish, yes?’

‘I certainly am,’ says Dorothy Miggins. ‘I wish you to take us home, to Much Malarkey Manor on the Three Counties Border.’

‘Ah,’ says Bob Frapples. ‘Bit of a problem there. We are monkeys. We can’t fly over deserts. And, as you know, the City of Rusty Duck is surrounded by deserts.’

‘You can’t fly over deserts?’ says Dorothy Miggins, incredulously. ‘Says who?’

‘Sir David Attenborough, I think,’ says Bob Frapples. ‘It’s all the racing snakes. Terrifying to watch a baby monkey being chased across a desert by a writhing mass of racing snakes.’

‘I think you’ll find that it’s baby iguanas who get chased across deserts by writhing masses of racing snakes,’ says Dorothy Miggins.

‘Erm, I don’t think so,’ says Bob Frapples, a determined look in his monkey eyes. ‘Anyway, it’s in our contract. Rule 12 Section c) subsection iv. Flying monkeys are not obliged to travel across the deserts surrounding the City of Rusty Duck.’

‘Then we are stuck,’ says Dorothy Miggins, folding her wings across her chest and wondering where and when it will all bloomin’ well end, much like the author.

‘I do have one suggestion,’ says Bob Frapples, who is aware he still has obligations appertaining to wish fulfilment.  ‘And that is we take you to the castle of Gloria Glinda, the Good Pumphrey of the North. She lives in Quadling Country and she will know how to get you home.’

Dorothy Miggins sighs. ‘Do I have a choice?’

‘Not really,’ says Bob Frapples.

‘Then I wish you to take us to Quadling Country,’ says Dorothy Miggins.

Within seconds they are waving goodbye to Tancrow Pete and within minutes they are approaching Quadling Country. In the far distance they can see a beautiful pink castle. It is twinkling with lights and tinsel. There is a huge inflatable Santacorn and Snow Llama attached to the turrets. The surrounding woodlands are dusted with snow and everything looks very Christmassy indeed.

‘I wonder if Aunty Em Bennet and Uncle Henry Tootsie have put up the Christmas decorations at home,’ says Dorothy Miggins, wistfully. ‘I  wonder if they will wait until I return before they put Gonzo the Fairy on top of the tree.’

The sledge grinds to a halt.

‘Here we are,’ says Bob Frapples. ‘Quadling Country, as requested.’

Dorothy Miggins frowns. ‘But the castle is way over there,’ she says.

‘Your wish instructed us to take you to Quadling Country,’ says Bob Frapples. ‘And that is exactly what we have done. You didn’t say anything about taking you to the castle itself.’

‘Are you always this pedantic?’ says Dorothy Miggins.

‘Yup,’ says Bob Frapples. ‘But you’ll be okay. Just follow the path through the woods. It will lead you directly to the castle gates. Goodbye!’ And he leads his band of flying monkeys into the sky.

‘I’ve still got one wish left, you know,’ shouts Dorothy Miggins, shaking the Golden Cap at them, angrily. And knowing darn well that the path through the woods that leads to the castle will also lead to another problem of some sort. She is very astute, is Dorothy Miggins.