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Benet recognises the disapproving sideways look and knows precisely what it means.
Without being asked anything, he continues, “no I snot been drinking, why dew ask?”
We all know Benet! Walker knows Benet! He’s friendly and he’s well liked. He has a good reputation, and the last thing you’d want to do is create any friction. Alliances are better than conflicts after all.
Walker says, “you must be tired?”
“Yes, I’m tyred, I just need a lickle nap and I’ll be wine.”
As Benet turns to walk away he walks head on, straight into the trunk of an enormous tree! Bashes his nose on the rough bark and says, “sorry madam, I didn’t see you there” as he recognises that his path is currently blocked by a chunky, twenty metre tall woman with six arms and a sprawling, ugly, green hair do.
Benet stops and stares. He notices that the woman has now grown a seventh arm, with two squirrels running along it, scampering about playfully.
“Honestly,” thinks Benet, “what sort of person takes their pet squizzels for a walk in the woods without putting them on a weed?”
Right in front of his eyes, the squizzels seemed to be shape shifting. Were they now Dachshunds? No, relax, just Poodles!
“No, no, little pygmy Rottweilers!”
“Arghh, baby wolves!”
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