The Taming Of The Tights

скачать книгу бесплатно


(bang bang)

Without warning

Not even in the morning

Rastafari

Uh.

I wrote it down quickly in my Darkly Demanding Damson Diary. It looks quite cool. But why have I turned into a Rastafarian at the end?

It was swishing my hair around that did it. I think I was imagining dreadlocks. Maybe that’s what Monty means about finding your Inner Maleness.

Maybe I have an Inner Rastafarian Bloke.

I think Blaise will get my rap though. At least she likes me. Well, she thinks I’m unusual.

The wind had gathered, the temperature had dropped and it felt like snow was on its way. Brrr.

I put my feet on the hot-water bottle that Dibdobs brought me. It’s got a knitted jacket on it. Harold made it at his men’s knitting circle. And I do mean a jacket. With a collar and buttons.

I bet Harold will be able to help me a lot with The Taming of the Shrew – he’s constantly talking about his Inner Woman.

Then something thudded against my window. Maybe it’s a branch blown off by the wind. Or … no …

It had better not be Cain up to his old tricks!

I flung back my curtains and opened a window to the chill night air. There on the window sill was little Lullah!

Or maybe Ruby?

No, it was defo little Lullah because her legs were so long and gangly.

I felt tears prick my eyes as I looked at her. Her owly yellow eyes were staring and blinking back at me. Oh, oh, she’d come to see me!! Because she loves me. I hope she didn’t hear the rap song.

I said, “Little Lullah, it’s me, your big owly friend. You remember me; I give you nice mice snacks.”

She raised her lower eyelids and fluffed out her feathers. “Woooooo.”

I felt so proud. She was wooing at me.

I said, “Wooo to youuuuu tooo. I didn’t mean it about the rap song, it was about other owlets, not you.” And I went to kiss the top of her head.