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Tue, 01 Dec 2009
Only showing part one of the exciting story of "Buckets of Rain" from "Willowdown" Part two and three at Jodies Treasure Chest, in diddilydeedotsdreamland. xxx

JODIES TREASURE CHEST

Buckets of Rain

- Part One

  "Buckets of rain!" cried the lumpish crimson-jacketed dwarf trundling down the High street of our town with his ware. "Who will buy my buckets of rain - freshly collected this morning before the dawn !"

  "Get away with you," called out Thomas the Butcher. "I'll have none of your buckets of rain. I have a hole in my shop's roof and this morning I found my storeroom flooded and all my meat perfectly ruined. Move on before I box your ears!"

"Buckets of rain!" cried the dwarf, scowling a little now. "Rain from the edge of the Ancient Forest, freshly dripped from leaf and sky, sweetened with elf song and the dreams of flowers. Who will buy my lovely rain?"

 

  "Bah!" called out Ms. Ethyl Two-Bunions the Post Mistress. as she stood outside the Post Office, searching for the big iron key to its door in his purse. "How are decent folk to know you haven't just dipped your buckets in the village pond? You dwarfs are a sly and shiftless people always looking for an easy way to gull honest God-fearing citizens out of their well-earned money.

 "Selling rain is no respectable way for man or dwarf to make a living. Unless you have a soft chamois-leather with you and care to wash the Post Office windows with your rain-water for a decent shilling, then be off with you!"

  The dwarf glared fiercely back at Ms. Two-Bunions.

 "This is no pond-water, Mistress," he said "and far too good to wash your dirty windows. Why'd you let them get so filthy in the first place?"

  Of course, Ms. Ethyl Two-Bunions bridled at this immediately.

 "Clear off this instant, you horrible little vagabond or I'll call the police. If my husband were still alive you wouldn't talk to me like that!"

  "Your husband is perfectly alive and living with Good-widow Jenkins over the hat shop in Twistle Town two miles away - everybody in the village knows that... even so, I expect he can still hear your voice from there!

 "Buckets of rain!" called out the dwarf, proceeding down the street, his customary native grumpiness lightened considerably by this latest interchange. "Who will buy my buckets of fresh forest rain?"

Part two follows the adverts

Posted 07:50

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