Pwf & The Goblins' Revenge pdf (4 page)

"Down wiv de Waller Smell."

"That's settled then," nodded Sproggit. "Chop it up. Chop chop. Thas the ticket."

"’Ang about," interrupted the biggest Goblin, nearly bursting with eagerness. His

name was Plugugly, and
he had an idea!
This was a novel experience for him. "Nar, look,

listen! I gorran idear. A ransom note. See, ’ere's wot we do. We writes dis note to ol'

Pongwiffy sayin' as ’ow we got ’er Broom ’ostage an’ we demands a bagger gold. ’Ow's dat?"

Of the two plans, Woody much preferred Plugugly's. However, to its dismay, it found

itself in a minority. Everyone thought Plugugly's suggestion was terrible and said so. A

ransom note? Hah! GoId? Poo! What was the point of gold? There was nowhere to spend it,

stranded as they were in the wilds of the Lower Misty Mountains. But Plugugly didn't want

to abandon his idea.

"Orl right! Orl right den," he shouted above the boos. "Ferget de gold. Let's arsk fer

sumpfin else. Der......I gorrit! A free bagger rubbish, fer our Hallowe'en bonfire. Better still,

an invite to der Witches' Hallowe'en Party!"

This idea was greeted by mocking howls of derision. Go to an old Witch party? Not

on your nelly! Why, no Goblin worth his braces would be seen dead at an old Witch party.

What was Plugugly thinking of? Where was his pride? Etc etc.

"But dey always ’as a better time den we do,” argued Plugugly stubbornly. "Dey

always got balloons. An' funny ’ats. An' stuff to eat. An' dere's dancin'. An' dat gurt big

bonfire. Put ours to shame last year, dat gurt big bonfire. I mean, even wivout de Waller

Smell, we never seems to make a successful raid, do we? We always gets foiled."

The Goblins nodded and gnashed their teeth, green with envy. It was true. These

Witches knew both how to protect their rubbish and how to celebrate in style. Every year,

on Hallowe'en night, the Goblins had a miserable time sharing a small pot of boiled stinging

nettles around a titchy, sad, damp apology for a bonfire, whilst over on Crag Hill, the

Witches merrily pigged themselves on sausages and baked spuds by the light of a crackling

conflagration that lit the sky for miles around. And why? Because that mean ol' Pongwiffy

always got the pick of the rubbish and refused to share, that's why.

“Well, anyway, a ransom note's out," remarked Stinkwart, who had suddenly

thought of something.

"Why?"

"Cos none of us can write," explained Stinkwart. And that was true too.

"I still say we chop it up," insisted Sproggit stubbornly. "No one's ’ad a better idear. I

mean, what else kin yer do wiv a Witch's Broomstick?"

There followed a long silence, while the Goblins thought about what you could do

with a Witch's Broomstick. It wasn't often they had a stroke of luck like this. They must be

able to turn it to their advantage.

Over in the shadows, the subject under discussion swallowed hard and trembled.

"’Ere! We kin burn it," volunteered Lardo in a flash of inspiration. "We kin make a

bonfire of it, see, an' set light to it. ’Ere! We kin do it on ’allowe'en! As a sorter protest, see.

That'd really spite them Witches."

"Hooray!" cheered Slopbucket. "Let's do that!"

"’T woulden make much of a blaze," pointed out Eyesore. "Look ’ow thin it is. Only

last a minute or two."

Woody shuddered at the thought. It really didn' like the way the conversation was

going.

"Chop it up. Chop it up," intoned young Sproggit, eyes glazed.

"Shame there's just the one," said Hog. "If we ’ad more’n one, there'd be a decent

blaze. But don't."

"Chop it up. Chop it up."

"Wait a tick," said Plugugly suddenly. "’Ang about. I fink — it's comin’, don't rush me

— I fink I gorra plan!"

The Goblins didn't look convinced.

"No, really," insisted Plugugly. "I ’ave. Listen. All right, so one Broomstick don't make

a bonfire, I kin see dat. But like ’Og says, a lot of ’em would! So why stick at de one? Let's

capture anuvver one, and ’ave .. er.........free. Or is it four? Anyway, you get de idear. Den

we'll capture anuvver one and anuvver one. See? Den, when we got all of ’em, we hides ’em

so de Witches don't know where dey is."

"Where?" asked Eyesore.

"I dunno yet, I ain't worked out all de details. Down a ’ole or sumpfin. But you get

the gen'ral idear? We takes ’em ’ostage, den we tell de Witches we'll set fire to ’em, unless

dey agrees to our demands. An' if we can't fink of any demands, we'll burn 'em anyway."

There was a pause, while the Goblins thought about it.

"See?" said Plugugly proudly. "Told yer I ’ad a plan, din I?"

"Issa plan all right," agreed Eyesore. "But it's full of ’oles, innit? I mean, ’ow we

gonner get our ’ands on the rest of the Brooms? Eh? I mean, they aint gonner conveniently

fly this way so young Sproggit ’ere kin knock ’em outer the sky wiv bricks, are they? They're

not all dozey like this one."

Beneath its ropes, Woody nearly died of shame.

"Eyesore's right," agreed Slopbucket. "The Witches keep ’em locked up at night.

We'll never get away wiv it."

"Chop it up. Chop it up," droned young Sproggit.

"Wait a minute," insisted Plugugly. Success had gone to his head, and the ideas

seemed to be positively bursting out. "Dere's one time when we could do it. Tomorrer night.

Coven night. We could do it while de Witches are ’avin' dere meetin' up on Crag ’ill. All de

Brooms are in de Broom Park, right? All conveenently in de one place, see? Now what we

does is, we sneaks up, under covera darkness, like, den we....."

" ’Arf a tick! I ’eard a noise. That there Broom awake and snooping on our plans!"

broke in Lardo. "Come on, boys! Let's tease it. Tease break!"

Everyone welcomed the diversion. All this plotting and planning was all very well, but

it made the brains tired. A tease break was just what was needed.

Poor Woody. Suddenly surrounded, it tried to look proud and indifferent as the

Goblins poked fun.

“Chop chop," taunted Sproggit, pretending he had an axe. "Chop chop."

"Where's the matches? Somebody fetch me the matches!" bawled Lardo. Eyesore

did a mocking monkey dance, and everyone fell about laughing.

"You know, I never seen a Witch Broomstick this close to before," said Hog, wiping

his eyes. "Nuffin’ special, is it? Wonder ’ow it works?"

"Dunno," said Slopbucket. "I s'pose there's a Magic Word or sumpfin."

"Sure to be," agreed Lardo. " ’Ere! Wouldn't it be good if we knew wot it was? Then

we could ’ave a go at flyin' it. Worra larf eh?"

The Goblins looked at each other, amazed that they hadn't thought of that before.

Fly it! Of course! They slapped their knees at the thought of the laugh it would be.

"’Ere!" continued Lardo. "Let's just try it wiv a few words, eh? Never know, we might

hit on the right one."

The Goblins thought about possible words.

"Aber Cadaber." (That was Eyesore.)

"Open Sesame Seed?" (Hog, not too confidently.)

"Eeny Meeny Miny Mo!" (Stinkwart)

"Fee fi fo fum...." (Slopbucket)

"’Ubble bubble toil and whatsit..."

"’Ickery Dickory Dock....."

Through it all, to its credit, Woody managed to maintain an aloof air of distain. The

suggestions got more and more stupid, and finally trailed out altogether.

“’S no good," remarked Eyesore. "It ain't gonner fly, an' that's that. Tell you what,

though. Seein' as it's our slave, an' it's anuvver week before we burns it, it might as well do a

bit o' sweepin'. Place could do wiv it."

"Good idear," said Hog. "Cut it loose, Sproggit. Plugugly, roll back that boulder a bit.

We'll get a bit o’ fresh air in ’ere. All this plottin's makin' my throat sore."

Woody could hardly believe its luck. It held its breath as Sproggit fumbled with ropes

and chains and padlocks, armed only with his teeth and an old fork. At the same time,

Plugugly waddled over to the front boulder, and moved it an inch or two to one side.

Freedom was in sight.

"Right, orf yer go," commanded Lardo. “Let's see yer do yer stuff. Sweep!"

Woody didn't need to be told twice. It swept all right. It swept Sproggit to one side

and Lardo to the other. It swept a clean path through the rest of the Goblins, cleverly

avoided Plugugly, who was too big to be swept, squeezed through the gap in the boulder,

flung itself into the air and was off like a bat out of hell before the Goblins knew what had

hit them.

Whooosh. Gone. Just like that.

Dawn was breaking as Woody flew homeward. That meant it had been in the Goblin

cave all night! Oh dear. What a disaster.

As it flew, Woody's mind was a jumbled mass of seething emotions. Sheer, blessed

relief, of course. That was top of the list. But after that, shame. Caught by Goblins, of all

things. Why, everyone knew the Goblins never caught anything. Even a glow worm could

outwit a Goblin, because Goblins were
stupid.
Oh, idiot, idiot!

It sunk further into gloom as it reflected on what would happen if the story got out.

A public warning at the very least. Most probably be grounded for weeks. The other Brooms

would be ashamed of it. People would point, and say in loud, sneery voices, "There goes the

Broom that got captured by Goblins". Worst of all, it would have to face Pongwiffy, who

would go on and on and on and on and
on.
She might even do what she was always

threatening, and chop it up for clothes pegs. Oh horror.