Some whimsical words on whimsical themes…
Big Bigger was up to something. He was digging a hole in the veggible patch and singing. The nomes were suspicious of cheerfulness in one so normally morose.
“Wossee up to?”
A whisper ran around the garden, and Chigger crept closer for a look.
“He’s planting a tree.”
“A tree?”
“There?”
Brenda went to look for herself. “That ain’t no tree you higgerant nome. It’s. It’s… summat else.”
Big finished his hole and unwrapped the thing. It was wide and hollow and he firmed it in carefully.
The empty box read. ‘Acme rocket launcher – for fireworks.’
The nomes all flinched…
Three hours later, when the hosepipe men in the big red lorry had gone, and the biggers with burns and contusions had been treated, peace broke out. The nomes crept towards the ruin of the games room and looked up towards the rest of the house which largely survived undamaged.
“They was lucky,” Granny said before reapplying herself to her knitting.
Movement from the front door stopped all nomely conversation as Big Bigger and his missus came out onto the lawn.
“Was that my fault?” he asked.
“I dunno. Anyway not too much harm done. But no more fireworks. Ever.”
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