DOCTOR GEORGE AND THE HORRIBLE ADVENTURE IN DEEP WOOD

Chapter 11

The Great Crumpet Rescue

The Frightfully Terrible and Thoroughly Horrible Hooligan Boys were on Parade; the plan for the invasion of the rat army and the liberation of the good-looking young girl field mice was about to begin.

General Wesley-Boy stood before his battle-ready force of one brave English fighting field mouse, lance corporal Dougal, and an assortment of crotchety old elves and juveniles - the former farted a lot and the latter wouldn’t stop snivelling; lance corporal Dougal grumbled an awful lot.

“Now listen up you lot!” roared the general as he marched up and down in front of his little band of fighting men. “We’re about to engage the enemy with our new secret weapon!” he shouted just as an old elf let-off a rolling fart.

“I hope that’s not it!” shouted Dougal insolently.

“That’ll be enough of that defeatist-type talk lance corporal Dougal!” The general shouted; he wheeled towards sergeant Pike. “Take Dougal’s name; and the old fart’s as well!” Spike rolled his eyes and scribbled something into his tattered notebook.

“Is he related to Frank Farter?” shouted Dougal.

The general had enough of Dougal’s impudence; he stormed over and stood before him nose-to-nose. Dougal grinned - he liked to see Wesley’s nose twitch when he was really angry.

“You’re dismissed Dougal!” he shouted. “I’m going to court-marshal you and have you shot for annoying me!”

“Oh go on Wesley; please let me stay,” cried Dougal.

The general studied Dougal’s face. “All right Dougal,” he said in a hushed voice; he couldn’t be seen to have favourites. “I’ll let you stay if you promise to behave yourself!” A grin crept across Dougal’s face and he nodded enthusiastically. The general returned his attention to his brave fighting men.

“Now listen up men!” He shouted. “We now have an Air force! And these are our new aircraft!” he said pointing at four brooms leaning against the wall. “They are the very latest supersonic Haemorrhoid 2000 Flying Clappers; they’re called clappers!” he sang like a fat opera singer. “And these are our brave pilots.” He said striding over to the wizards. “Their names are: Howler, Woofer, Screamer and Dribbler.” The wizards milled about clutching their clappers.

“We’re going to blitz those dirty rats!” he bellowed and kicked out at the closest vertical object to show he meant business - it happened to be a clapper!

The Dribbler fell to his knees and gently cradled his pride and joy – it was in two pieces. Tears rained from his eyes and pooled at his knees; his mates rushed over to console him and attach the broken ends with cello tape. They mopped up his tears and helped him to his feet; they glared mutinously at the general!

Dougal nearly split his sides laughing. “At least we now know the Rat’s secret weapon!” General Wesley Boy pointed at him threateningly and mouthed something rude and intimidating.

“The Air Force!” continued the General unabashed “will attack the rats straight after morning tea. He turned to sergeant Spike. “I want lance corporal Dougal to make the tea!”

The sergeant faced the corporal. “You heard the general; I want lance corporal Dougal to make the tea!”

The corporal faced Dougal.

“Get stuffed you mad prick!” shouted Dougal in a fit of temper.

The general decided to forego morning tea and get on with the war.

The four wizards, minus one, threw a hairy leg over their clapper and puffed-off down the runway like a gaggle of constipated turkeys; they hopped, stepped and jumped into the air in an effort to get airborne; but something was dreadfully wrong - their body, mind, and soul just wasn’t in it; they fell back to earth like shot-up pheasants and lay in the middle of their broken clappers and groaned an awful lot. The Dribbler rushed over with his first-aid box to render assistance. The air force was grounded; they were on their own.

General Wesley Boy, sergeant Spike, corporal Pike and lance corporal Dougal pelted into the Castle and bolted the door behind them. There was a sudden pounding on the door; it was accompanied by the sound of desperate voices. The hammering increased in intensity and the voices got louder and more demanding. Spike crept over and pressed his ear to the door. “It doesn’t sound like the wizards!” he said with a sigh of relief and turned towards his mates – they were hiding under a chair. Dougal crept over and peeked through the key hole. “It’s the crumpet!” he yelled excitedly and nearly ripped the door off its hinges in his enthusiasm; the girls rushed in, hundreds of them and all gorgeous! The excitement was too much for poor Dougal and he swooned with a loud, deflating hiss. Spike promptly locked the door behind the last bit of skirt and chivvied them into the safety of the war room where they recounted their harrowing story; the three warriors sat quietly, wide-eyed with lust. Coming to, Dougal jumped to his feet and pelted in the direction of the war room; I’m Jake with an extra leg! He sang as ran.

Apparently the rats had kidnapped the girls in order to draw the Deep Wood field mice into battle on the rats terms and conditions and soundly defeat them; they would then be in a position to take over the Castle from within and so be in a position of ultimate power - a Master Race over all the field mice in Deep Wood.

Ratty, the chief rat, was to become their King. All was going according to plan until flames from the battle between the Eloi and the Wartlock swept through their subterranean city. Many rats died in the ensuing inferno but many more managed to escape into Deep Wood. The girls were left unattended and seized the opportunity to escape; and here they were safe and sound - at least from the rats!