his paws.
But when the beasts arrived on the lawn, far from being greeted as welcome agents of rescue, they found themselves being rudely rejected as unwanted gate-crashers. The contorted bodies belonged to seven of the houseguests, none of whom were even remotely grateful for the arrival of the beasts—who stood panting in their midst, offering help, medical aid, and the possibility of ambulances.
“Do bog off, would you?” Ariadne Ventete muttered as Knot attempted to pat her consolingly on her back. “Eurrrch. I
loathe
dogs. Don't let it breathe on me.”
Tock ambled over to where Black Douglas lay on his stomach, his legs twisted up over his spine, his head straining painfully backward till it touched his feet.
“Bad luck,” the crocodile murmured sympathetically. “Can I get you anything? Some Tylenol? Aspirin? Would a massage help? My back goes like that sometimes—”
Black Douglas collapsed suddenly, his legs crashing down on the grass, his face following seconds later. His shoulders shook and he emitted little sobbing sounds.
“Oh lord,” Tock breathed, aghast. “Guys, get over here. I think we're about to lose this one.”
Black Douglas rolled over onto his back and opened his eyes.
“Yup,” said Tock sadly. “I'll try and do some lifesaving stuff here, but while I'm busy giving mouth-to-mouth, one of you run and call an ambulance.” Sab obediently bolted off to the house, leaving Ffup and Knot to watch in admiration as Tock bent over Black Douglas. The crocodile took a deep breath and grabbed the man's face between his front paws.
“Listen, Tick,” Black Douglas growled. “One kiss and you're history.” He sprang upright and elbowed Tock aside. “Pin back your ears, reptile. We're not ill, not injured, and definitely
not in need of medical assistance. We. Are. Practicing. Yoga. Understand?” Seeing the total lack of comprehension on all the beasts' faces, he seized Tock and rolled the alarmed crocodile onto his back. “Relax,” he commanded. “You're dreadfully tense. Look, you're clenching your jaw. . . .”
“Help,” mumbled Tock. “Mnnng . . . urk . . . aaowww!”
“There,” said Black Douglas, grabbing the crocodile's tail and expertly twisting it into a loose knot. “Now we'll just ease your legs over your back, like so—”
“Nooooo,” wailed Tock. “I'm not designed to bend that wayyyy—OH-NOOO-AAAOWWW!'
“That's what all beginners say,” said Black Douglas disgustedly. “Just relax, you great wuss—it only hurts because you're fighting it.”
“Too right, I'm fighting it!” howled Tock. “Knot, Ffup—
do
something. HELP MEEEE!”
Knot shuffled up and leant over until his furry face was next to Black Douglas's. “Read my woolly, unwashed lips,” he said firmly. “Put the crocodile down.”
“Yeah,” added Ffup, leaning over Knot's shoulder and grinning menacingly. “Or else—”
Sensibly deciding that now was perhaps not the best time to win the beasts over to the joys of yoga, Black Douglas released the moaning crocodile and got to his feet. “No hard feelings?” he said, holding out a hand to Tock.
“No hard feelings?”
squeaked the crocodile. “I've no hard
anythings,
thanks to you. You've turned me into jelly, you brute. I don't think I'll ever walk again.” And followed by Knot and Ffup, Tock limped off across the lawn toward the solace of StregaSchloss.
Seeking to avoid his mother's eccentric houseguests, Titus had forgone breakfast. He was closeted in the map room, hunched over his laptop, and close to despair.
“Come on,” he begged the lit screen in front of him. “Please? Don't do this to me.”
An internal chittering sound alerted Titus to the fact that the laptop had, not surprisingly, failed to respond to his spoken pleas. Onscreen, a dialogue box popped up bearing the glad
tidings:
Mail could not be received at this time.
An error type h:ex//yt occurred.
Titus laid his head on the keyboard
But when the beasts arrived on the lawn, far from being greeted as welcome agents of rescue, they found themselves being rudely rejected as unwanted gate-crashers. The contorted bodies belonged to seven of the houseguests, none of whom were even remotely grateful for the arrival of the beasts—who stood panting in their midst, offering help, medical aid, and the possibility of ambulances.
“Do bog off, would you?” Ariadne Ventete muttered as Knot attempted to pat her consolingly on her back. “Eurrrch. I
loathe
dogs. Don't let it breathe on me.”
Tock ambled over to where Black Douglas lay on his stomach, his legs twisted up over his spine, his head straining painfully backward till it touched his feet.
“Bad luck,” the crocodile murmured sympathetically. “Can I get you anything? Some Tylenol? Aspirin? Would a massage help? My back goes like that sometimes—”
Black Douglas collapsed suddenly, his legs crashing down on the grass, his face following seconds later. His shoulders shook and he emitted little sobbing sounds.
“Oh lord,” Tock breathed, aghast. “Guys, get over here. I think we're about to lose this one.”
Black Douglas rolled over onto his back and opened his eyes.
“Yup,” said Tock sadly. “I'll try and do some lifesaving stuff here, but while I'm busy giving mouth-to-mouth, one of you run and call an ambulance.” Sab obediently bolted off to the house, leaving Ffup and Knot to watch in admiration as Tock bent over Black Douglas. The crocodile took a deep breath and grabbed the man's face between his front paws.
“Listen, Tick,” Black Douglas growled. “One kiss and you're history.” He sprang upright and elbowed Tock aside. “Pin back your ears, reptile. We're not ill, not injured, and definitely
not in need of medical assistance. We. Are. Practicing. Yoga. Understand?” Seeing the total lack of comprehension on all the beasts' faces, he seized Tock and rolled the alarmed crocodile onto his back. “Relax,” he commanded. “You're dreadfully tense. Look, you're clenching your jaw. . . .”
“Help,” mumbled Tock. “Mnnng . . . urk . . . aaowww!”
“There,” said Black Douglas, grabbing the crocodile's tail and expertly twisting it into a loose knot. “Now we'll just ease your legs over your back, like so—”
“Nooooo,” wailed Tock. “I'm not designed to bend that wayyyy—OH-NOOO-AAAOWWW!'
“That's what all beginners say,” said Black Douglas disgustedly. “Just relax, you great wuss—it only hurts because you're fighting it.”
“Too right, I'm fighting it!” howled Tock. “Knot, Ffup—
do
something. HELP MEEEE!”
Knot shuffled up and leant over until his furry face was next to Black Douglas's. “Read my woolly, unwashed lips,” he said firmly. “Put the crocodile down.”
“Yeah,” added Ffup, leaning over Knot's shoulder and grinning menacingly. “Or else—”
Sensibly deciding that now was perhaps not the best time to win the beasts over to the joys of yoga, Black Douglas released the moaning crocodile and got to his feet. “No hard feelings?” he said, holding out a hand to Tock.
“No hard feelings?”
squeaked the crocodile. “I've no hard
anythings,
thanks to you. You've turned me into jelly, you brute. I don't think I'll ever walk again.” And followed by Knot and Ffup, Tock limped off across the lawn toward the solace of StregaSchloss.
Seeking to avoid his mother's eccentric houseguests, Titus had forgone breakfast. He was closeted in the map room, hunched over his laptop, and close to despair.
“Come on,” he begged the lit screen in front of him. “Please? Don't do this to me.”
An internal chittering sound alerted Titus to the fact that the laptop had, not surprisingly, failed to respond to his spoken pleas. Onscreen, a dialogue box popped up bearing the glad
tidings:
Mail could not be received at this time.
An error type h:ex//yt occurred.
Titus laid his head on the keyboard
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