Pwf & The Goblins' Revenge pdf (12 page)

mudder. Every so often they would stop to bawl insults at each other and pass their hats

along.

Once inside, the fun really started. There was better class entertainment for a start.

A sinister figure with a paper bag over his head(?) turned the handle of a barrel organ. A tall,

quiet chap with a bolt through his neck played the spoons. An enterprising Fiend was selling

commemorative badges saying "I Raided Pong's Dump" followed by the date. A lipsticky

gnome in big earrings had taken over Pongwiffy's garden shed and turned it into a

fortune-telling booth where she dished out lashings of doom to anyone fool enough to poke

his nose in. In order to give herself room she had turfed out a rusty old rake and an ancient

coal shovel she'd found cluttering up the place.

There were refreshments too. As the ultimate insult, Pongwiffy's hovel had been

turned into a tea hut.
Teas
said the sign over the door.
The Management Accepts No

Responsibility
said the small print. Pongwiffy's very own kitchen table and chairs had been

placed outside, and two Yetis in filthy aprons moved around with a tray, wiping up spills

with
one of Pongwiffy's very own cardigans!

Next to the tea hut, there was the inevitable hot frogs stall. The hot frogs were

proving rather more popular than the vegetarian alternatives — a choice of fungus burgers

or curried nettles served on a bed of lightly toasted pine needles.

But the main attraction, of course, was The Rubbish. Perfect bonfire fodder. It made

you drool. It made you want to dance and sing. It made you go a bit funny in the head. All

that lovely rubbish, just sitting there waiting to be stolen. Yipppeeeee!

Once the punters were inside the gate, a sort of rubbish fever came over them. They

raced madly for the teetering piles, falling on choice items with wild triumphant cries. Some

dived head-first and vanished. The lucky ones got rescued by their mates. It was like gold

prospectors coming across a particularly rich seam.

Everyone seemed to have their favourite sort of junk. The Skeletons, efficient as ever

formed a non-human chain and passed prized ultra-burnable chair legs along the line into

the boot of a waiting hearse. Two Mummies bumbled around with a horsehair sofa. They

kept bumping into things as they tried to find the exit.

The local chapter of Hell's Gnomes jealously guarded a pile of old motor bike tyres.

The Ghouls seemed to go in for old newspapers in a big way and were carting off hundreds

of mouldy back issues of
Witch Weekly
and the
Daily Miracle.
Two Werewolves, having the

double advantages of superhuman strength and nasty sets of gnashers, got more than their

fair share of the ever-popular broken wardrobes. A small Dragon by the name of Arthur

made off triumphantly with a whole grand piano, giggling to himself.

A demented-looking furry Thing with a tee sir which said
Moonmad
raced around

madly with an old pram. It was clearly an indecisive sort of Thing, as it kept changing its

mind, emptying everything out, and starting all over again. The abandoned junk was then

swooped on and picked over by Banshees with carrier bags and a Troll with a stolen super-

market trolly.

It was a shocking sight. So much greed. So much stealing. And all the brain-child of

one lampless Genie.

"Come in, you two mummies, your time is up," Ali Pali announced through the

megaphone, adding "Okay, you can go in now," to a waiting she-demon with a small hand

cart. Not surprisingly he was feeling very pleased with himself. Things were looking up. All

his carefully laid plans were bearing fruit. Why shortly he'd have enough for that nice little

solid silver number he'd always had his eye on. The one with the twirly handle and that

elegant spout. The one he'd always fancied. By the end of the night, he'd have enough to

buy it outright. If his luck held.

"What's goin’ on ’ere then? What you doin’ wiv the rubbish?" enquired a passing

Zombie from another wood, squinting curiously into the tent. (Zombies are almost as dense

as Goblins.)

"I'm cleaning up," explained Ali Pali, and laughed until he choked.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN – Treachery

Can you imagine this scene from the air? All the lights and noise and bustle? And can you

imagine the effect such a spectacle might have on a posse of twelve well meaning AWOL

Broomsticks who have come sick-visiting?

On the whole, the Brooms had had a smooth flight. A bit of minor turbulence here

and there, and a small detour to buy Lucozade and grapes but otherwise uneventful. Until

they got a bit closer to their destination, that is, and suddenly become aware of
a

mysterious glow in the sky!
It appeared to be coming from Pongwiffy's rubbish dump up

ahead. Instant panic.

Huh? Glow in the sky? Where? How? Why? What?

Understandably, the Broomsticks were feeling a bit jittery. Bear in mind that they are

a law-abiding sort who don't even break the speed limit often, let alone go sneaking off on

wild mercy errands without permission. The long, cold flight had done wonders to dampen

their enthusiasm. They were already wishing they hadn't come. Already anxious to get back

before someone spotted they were missing. Quite honestly, a mysterious glow was

something they could have done without. However, having come this far, the Brooms felt

duty bound to investigate. Slowly, hesitantly, keeping close together, they approached the

Dump and peered down.

Nothing could have prepared them for the shock. They were instantly thrown into

confusion. What a revelation! What a bolt from the blue! They came to a ragged halt,

skittered about a bit, then bobbed unsteadily in mid-air, skulking behind the odd whispy bit

of cloud and trying to blend in with the treetops. Eyes on stalks, they stifled screams and

goggled disbelievingly at the scene below. As if to rub salt into the wound, a sudden puff of

wind tugged one of Ali Pali's posters from a tree trunk and hurled it skywards. It got all

tangled up with Stumpy's bristles. Stumpy didn't need to read it in order to twig what was

going on.

The
Dump had been invaded!

The ultimate crime.

Oooer.

Yes indeed, Pongwiffy's pride and joy was crawling with unsavoury riffraff who, can

you believe it, appeared to be helping themselves. Oh, the bold blatancy of it! Lights, music,

theft on a grand scale! Oh, the deceit of it! The sheer cheek of it! Whatever would Pongwiffy

say?

The Brooms were terribly shocked. Not one of them had a clue what to do.

Uncertainly they milled about, agitatedly scanning the ground below for any sign of Woody.

It was hopeless. The garden shed appeared to have been taken over by a fortunetelling

gnome and Woody was nowhere to be seen. Their poor, suffering friend had most probably

been carted off by some crazed rubbish-happy lout as part of his/her/its haul. Oh no. Grapes

and Get Well cards suddenly seemed inappropriate.

Far below, one of the Hell's Fiends glanced up. Suddenly, hanging about seemed

inappropriate as well.

"FLY FOR IT!"

As one, the Brooms turned, pointed towards Crag Hill and took off at a hundred

miles per hour, screaming their bristles off. And that's why Pongwiffy, Hugo and Woody,

flying along at a sedate five mph, suddenly heard a faint whistling sound. Then, to their

great dismay, they were faced with the unsettling sight of twelve stampeding Broomsticks

heading straight towards them at incredible speed with no obvious intention of stopping.

"It's the Brooms! They've escaped from the Goblins! They're bolting! Emergency

dive!" shrieked Pongwiffy, clutching onto her hat. And Woody did. Only just in time.

With a blast of wind, the Broomsticks passed overhead, missing them by a whisker.

"Phew! Vell done. Broom. Zat vas a near vun!" remarked Hugo a short while later. At the

time, the three of them were clinging precariously to the sharp top of a pine tree.

Woody said nothing. It was still recovering from the shock. After all it had been

through, being forced so rudely out of the sky by its own mates was the very last straw.

For once, Pongwiffy had nothing to say either. Mainly because she had a small

branch in her mouth, but also because she was so very depressed. Everything seemed to be

going wrong. Oh, why oh why did all this have to happen when she should be putting her

mind to fund-raising for the Hallowe'en party? It just wasn't fair.

"Come on. Mistress, cheer up," coaxed Hugo, "Look on ze bright side. We find ze

Brooms, jah? So! Ze main problem is solved. Und ve still in vun piece. Und l ’ave plan."

"You do?" said Pongwiffy, perking up. "What is it?”

"Ve go ’ome," said Hugo. "Ve climb down zis tree, valk to ze ’ovel und ave a nice

cuppa bogwater. Ve cannot be far from ’ome. I pretty sure it over zere, look. Near zat glow

in sky."

He waved his paw in a vague southerly direction. Both Pongwiffy and Woody

brightened up.

"Agreed," said Pongwiffy. "Tonight's been one long disaster from beginning to end. A

nice hot cuppa will do us all the world of good. You go down first, Hugo. Then if I fall, at least

one of my feet will have something soft to land on."

"Okay. I go now — but vait! Vat zat?"

"What's what? By the way, I've been thinking.
What glow in the sky?"

"Sssssh!" hissed Hugo. "Look!"

Silently, he pointed below. Pongwiffy looked down — and nearly fell off her branch

in shock. Passing below the very tree in which they perched, shuffled two Mummies.

Moonlight glinted off their bandages. Everyone knew them, because they were the only

Mummies for a thousand miles. As thieves, they were at a very distinct disadvantage.

"Ees Xotindis and Xstufitu," breathed Hugo. "And, Mistress, look! Look vat zey carry!"

Between them, Xotindis and Xstufitu carried a sofa. But not just any sofa. Oh no. This

sofa, until very recently, had enjoyed pride of place in Pongwiffy's own living room! It was

the nastiest sofa that anyone could ever dream up in their wildest nightmares. It was

exceptionally awful when new, but you should have seen it after Pongwiffy had had it for a

few years. It was stained with sloppings and crisp with crumbs. Three springs burst out of

the seat. It was old and disgusting, and Pongwiffy loved it.