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silky4015
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PostSubject: stories   Tue Dec 27, 2011 6:38 pm

CASE CLOSED

George sat at his desk reading the morning paper. The lead story showed a picture of London Bridge falling down.
His office door opened and a dame entered.
George gazed over the top of the paper, his trained eye looked her up and down. His other eye, which wasn't, trained, looked her down and up. Both came to the same conclusion. She was one hell of a dame. Her long blond hair hung in ringlets to her bare shoulders, and her thirty-six, twenty-four, thirty-six figure left little to the imagination.
He teared his eyes away from the flesh attempting to escape from her bodice, "
Yes Miss, what can I do for you?"

"
I need your help! I've been shrustled."

What a pity, he thought, a gorgeous dame like that and she's has to have a lisp.
"
Don't you mean rustled?"

"
No, I mean shrustled. They're sheep, not cattle!"

As a Private Detective, he should have gathered that information from the shepherd's crook she was holding in her right hand.
"
What's your name, sister?"

"
Peep,"
she said, "
Little Bo Peep."

"
Okay Bo, your sheep have gone missing, right?"

"
Yes, but not only mine, Baa Baa Black sheep is also missing."

Without blinking he mused. Two lots of sheep missing, this case could be harder than I thought, "
Right, sister, before I take the case on, I'd better inform you of a few facts;
Number one, I don't come cheap.
Number two, big case, little case, they're all the same to me.
Number three, it's fifty pounds a day plus expenses, two days pay up front."

Her two white mountains quivered, as from their valley she pulled a roll of notes and counted out five twenties.
Well at least I can eat for a while, he thought, "
Thanks sister. I'm on the case as of now."

She left her card and the office.
In five minutes George was on his way down town to the 'Cupboard'. Once it was a corner shop run by a kindly old lady known as 'Old Mother Hubbard'. One night she was burgled, and the place was left empty and bare, so bare in fact, that the poor old dog had to go without a bone for his supper. She reopened the place as a boozer. Cock was her head-barman, and he was George's main snitch.
"
Come on Cock, you know everything that's going on in the underworld, who's stealing these sheep?"

Cock continued polishing the glasses, then placing them across the bridge of his nose, he whispered, "
Well, George boy, I don't rightly know, but ahhh!"

A look of pain spread across his face as he slowly slid below the bar clutching at an arrow sticking out of his chest.
As he hit the deck, the door imploded to reveal London's finest detective, Chief Inspector Wolf, and his side kick Sergeant Sparrow.
"
Hello, hello, hello! What have we got here then? George Porgy in trouble again?"

"
Who! Me? Not this time Inspector, you can't blame this one on me, I've got witnesses."
He swung a thumb over his shoulder to point at a table in the far corner, where a game of dominoes was in progress.
"
So they're your alibi, are they? They saw it all, did they? Well George my boy, I think you'd better look again. That lot there are the infamous ‘Three Blind Mice.’ They were lucky to get away with only loosing their tails on their last job. So you can bet your sweet life that they didn't see a damn thing… ain't that right boys?"

"
Sure is inspector, we ain't seen nuffin."

The inspector peered over the bar at the body. "
Right Sparrow, arrest him for the murder of Cock Robin."

This is crazy thought George. I'm being framed. If anyone killed Cock Robin it would be Sparrow, no one's better than him with a bow and arrow. He was the school champion five years running.
Forensics couldn't find any bow resin on George's coat sleeve and so were unable to prove that it was he who fired the arrow. After an hour in the cells they had to release him, but that hour gave him time to eliminate most of the main suspects, ‘Humpty Dumpty’ was out of the frame, he'd fallen off the wall and injured himself. As for ‘All the King's Horses and All The King’s Men’, they were still trying to put Humpty together again. ‘The Grand Old Duke of York’ couldn't have done it. He was far too busy marching his men up and down the hill. Though George did suspect him of being the one who knocked down ‘Jack and Jill.’ Mary Mary just wasn't the type to go rustling, though she could be quite contrary at times. Then again, she spent most of her days supervising her ‘Pretty Maids’ all in a row. As for ‘Little Miss Muffet,’ she was so frightened by a spider that she ran a mile in under three and half minutes. A new world record I might add. Coward - yes. Rustler - no.
Then it hit him like a right uppercut from ‘Little Boy Blue’. It had to be them ‘Three Little Pigs.’
"
Right you three, I know you rustled the sheep. I also know that you don't have the brains to run a bath, so who is Mister Big?"

"
We can't grass on the boss, George, he'd have us killed."

"
Well boys, lets put it this way, either you squeal, or I'll give you the biggest roasting you've ever had. It will be that bad even the famous ‘Doctor Foster’, who went to Gloucester, won't be able to help you."

The three Saddle Backs were so terrified they began to shake and look like Chester Whites.
"
Please George don't hurt us, it was Chief Inspector Wolf and his mate Sparrow. Wolf threatened to blow our houses down and Sparrow said he would burn them with fire arrows."

"
Right then, as you were forced into this, I'll ask the court to be lenient."

"
Court! We can't go to court! Sparrow's killed once, we could be next."

"
You won't need to go to court boys;
I've got all the evidence recorded on this here Tape Worm. Now get those sheep back to their rightful owners. This case is closed."
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oddball
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PostSubject: Re: stories   Tue Dec 27, 2011 7:01 pm



Nice one John. keep em coming. H

Oddy s

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Gimp
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PostSubject: Re: stories   Wed Dec 28, 2011 11:54 am

Fantastic thank you I love this sort of thing lets hear more from you.
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silky4015
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PostSubject: Re: stories   Wed Dec 28, 2011 10:26 pm

Thanks oddball and Gimp, another one next week.

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therowfamily
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PostSubject: Re: stories   Wed Dec 28, 2011 11:54 pm

Lovely story and in a sort of way it bought back some memories which were fading so thank you very much and I'm looking forward to reading more from you.
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oldun
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PostSubject: Re: stories   Fri Dec 30, 2011 4:19 pm

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PostSubject: Re: stories   Fri Dec 30, 2011 5:16 pm

brilliant g s
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oddball
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PostSubject: Re: stories   Fri Dec 30, 2011 7:19 pm

silky4015 wrote:
Thanks oddball and Gimp, another one next week.


Hi John

I do hope these are going into the book of stories and poetry you are writing for the Silistra Orphanage g

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silky4015
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PostSubject: Re: stories   Sun Jan 01, 2012 11:30 pm

THE EXPEDITION
By John A Silkstone

“Captain,” bellowed the General.
The Captain, sitting at his desk, knocked over his chair as he jumped to his full height of two metres, “Yes General sir.”
“Ha! There you are. Assemble the men on the parade ground and stop hiding behind that candlestick, I can’t see you.”
“Yes sir, right away sir.”
Leaving the chair laying on the floor, the Captain picked up his cap and swagger stick and marched out of the office.
After buttoning his immaculately ironed tunic over his large round belly, the General looked at his reflection in the full-length distorted mirror. His one metre sixty turned to one metre eighty. What a fine figure of a man he thought, as he turned to leave the office.
The parade ground was the large open market square by the city’s main gate. The Captain, having mustered the troops, now watched out of the corner of his eye for the General to appear. On seeing the General, he called the troops to attention. Placing the swagger stick under his left armpit, he grasped its large silver knob in his left hand and marched across the square. Halting three paces away from the General he called out. “The troops are ready for your inspection sir.” At the same time he gave the General a smart salute.
Returning the salute the General inquired, “Inspection! What inspection?”
“Your inspection sir, you always inspect the troops when you call a parade.”
“Yes yes Captain;
that would normally be right, but not today. Today is different. Today… we are going out of the city.”
“Out of the city! You can’t mean that sir,” exclaimed the Captain;
his eyes wide open in astonishment, “Why only the farmers go out of the city, and they only farm by the city wall. If we go out there we could be eaten by an Eleroseros.”
“Rubbish Captain, utter rubbish, there’s no such thing as Eleroseros, that’s something the mothers tell their children to stop them playing on the city walls. Anyway, not only are we going out of the city, but we are going to march to the world’s end, and look over the edge.”
“Look over the edge!” squealed the Captain in a high voice, as he turned white with fear, “The men won’t like that sir;
I think you should ask for volunteers.”
“You’re quite right Captain. I’ll only take the ten most stout-hearted fellows there are.”
“Ten men! You can’t have ten men sir;
there are only nine men in the whole army.”
The General smiled, “Good, I’ll take those nine and yourself to make up the numbers, it’s ever so good of you all to volunteer like that.”
“But General Sir...”
“No buts,” he said, cutting the Captain short in mid sentence, “let’s get started.”
At that moment, the mayor entered the square followed by more of the city residents.
“I say General, what’s this I hear? You’re deserting the city? Taking away the troops? Who’ll defend us if you go?”
“Defend you! Why the city’s never been attacked since the day it was founded, so you don’t need defending, do you?”
“But General…”
“Tut tut your worship, you sound more like my Captain every day. Anyway, it doesn’t matter what you say, the men and I, are going to the end of the world. Open the gates Captain we must be away.”
The General, marching at the head of his troops, lead them through the city gates. They in turn were followed by the now curious city folk.
The baker, walking at the side of the mayor asked, “How far is it to the end of the world?”
Smelling the aroma of fresh baked bread on the baker’s apron, the mayor pointing forward with his finger, “See that tree over there, the one on its own, by its self, and no others with it? Well, from the city wall, all you can see beyond that tree is sky. So that must be the edge of the world.”
“Oh!” exclaimed the baker.
Just short of the trees, the troops started to slow down by taking shorter steps. Halting the troop, the General did a smart about-turn to address them.
“Come on now you men, there’s nothing to be afraid of. You there corporal, you’re not afraid are you?”
“Me sir, no sir, not I sir, I would follow you to the ends of the...,” here his words faltered, “you know what I mean sir?”
“Good man, I knew I could depend on you. I’ll give you a medal when we get back.”
“A medal sir, for me, oh yes please sir that would be fantastic.”
The rest of the troops remained quite, shuffling from one foot to another and none of them looking in the General’s direction.
“Well men, here is my plan. I will go forward to the tree and you lot can follow me later, okay?” Getting no answer he continued, “Well then, here I go.”
The General marched the last few paces to the tree. Standing at its side he peered over the edge of the world.
The troops and city dwellers, gasped in amazement at this brave deed. The General turned to face them, and with beckoning arms, he waved them forward. He gestured so wildly that he lost his balance and fell backwards over the edge of the world.
The soldiers looked at each other in stunned silence. The city women burst into tears and the mayor cried, “I knew it, I knew it… I knew he’d fall over the edge.”
The Captain called for quiet and in the stillness that followed, a voice, faint, and far away, was heard to be calling.
“Helloooo, youeeee, can you hear me?”
The Captain, now on his belly, crawled forward to look over the edge of the world. He couldn’t believe his eyes. What he saw before him, was a long slopping grassy incline that levelled out at the bottom, into a flat meadow. The meadow was covered in wild flowers and a small stream meandering through it. The General was attempting to ascend the grassy slope but lost his footing and rolled back down again. Turning head over heels until he came to a stop at the bottom. Picking himself up, he dusted off his uniform, feeling the gritty dirt beneath his hands.
Looking back up the slope he saw the face of the Captain peering down at him, “Hello Captain, come on down, roll over and over as I did. It’s wonderful, marvellous, absolutely fantastic.”
The Captain, now joined by everyone else, called down to the General, “No thank you sir, you come back up here, it’s safer.”
“I can’t, every time I try, I roll back down again. It far to steep for me to climb.”
“Then how are we going to get you back up again?”
The General thought for a moment then hit on a great idea, “Order the men to remove their shirts, tie the arms together and I can use it like a rope.”
Removing their shirts, the troops tied all the arms together and the corporal handed the bungle of shirts to the Captain. Keeping a firm hold of one end, he tossed the shirts down to the General, who tied the other end around his large waist, the General started his ascent.
The troops, standing in a line, began to pull on the shirts to assist the General in reaching the top.
“The strain’s too much,” yelled the corporal, “the shirts are going to tear!”
“No they’re not,” shouted the Captain, “they’re just stretching a little, keep on pulling.”
Now back on top of the world, the General was having his hand shaken by the mayor, “Well done General well done. I knew all along that you could do it, you’re such a brave fellow.”
The troops also congratulated the General on his great feat of bravery, by patting him on the back.
Happy and smiling, the General and the residents set off back to the city with the Captain and the troops bring up the rear, their now elongated shirt sleeves, trailing in the dust.
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silky4015
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PostSubject: Re: stories   Mon Jan 02, 2012 10:41 pm

Hi oddball,

Re your comment, Hi John, I do hope these are going into the book of stories and poetry you are writing for the Silistra Orphanage.

I was hoping for the book to be out by Christmass. However, things didn’t go to plan and this is the email I sent out to all the authors on the 1st Jan 2012.

Dear ????

Good news and bad news.

The GOOD NEWS, the anthology is still going ahead.

The Bad News, which I held back until today so as now to put a dampener on your festive spirit.

I sent the stories and poems off to a publisher in October, in mid-November they informed me that they had a fire at their premises and that the place was gutted and they will not be back in business for about six months. I contacted another printer who said that they would have the book ready in two week. First week in December I tried to contact them without any result to email of telephone and so I wrote to them. On the 23 December I received a letter from a solicitor informing me that the company had gone into liquidation. Thank goodness no money had changed hands.

I will start looking for another publisher when they are all back to work.

As soon as the book is ready, I will let people know.

John
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PostSubject: Re: stories   Mon Jan 02, 2012 11:43 pm

s

Thanks for update John - sorry you are having problems and I hope they will be sorted soon. We are all wishing you all the luck in the world

Oddy g

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silky4015
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PostSubject: Re: stories   Sun Jan 15, 2012 4:25 pm

A very short story with a play on words

REGIMENTAL BALL
by John A Silkstone

Music filled the air as the ‘Summer Ball’ moved into full swing. General Dogsbody sat at the top table with the officers and their ladies.
“I say Major Catastrophe, things are going rather swimmingly are they not?”
“Yes General, your plan for a Summer ball was absolutely splendid.”
“And you Miss Haps, said the General to the young lady at the Major’s side, “are you enjoying yourself ?”
“Oh, ever so much General, it was kind of the Major to invite me. This is my first Regimental Dance and it’s wonderful.”
“Very good my dear, I believe you know Major Contribution and his ready made family over there.” The General nodded at a table to his left.
“That’s correct General, I went to school with his stepdaughter Miss Shapes, her nick name was Belly Bunter.”
Corporal Punishment, lead singer with the Regimental Band, began a ballad. He caught the eye of Miss Chief, the General’s secretary, as she happly danced by. Smiling, he gave her a wink but she ignored him.
Rumour had it, there was more between the General and Miss Chief than mere work. Corporal Punishment didn’t believe it. Miss Chief was his heart’s desire. In any case, the rumour had been spread by that wicked Miss Leads from the typing pool. One could never believe anything she said. To make matters worse, she was courting Private Problems. The two of them together, w-e-ll, enough said!
After the ball, Mrs. Dogsbody took the lead and walked her husband home. Major Catastrophe said his goodbyes and left with Miss Haps for a discreet little hotel down the road, hoping that there would be no future little mishaps.
Corporal Punishment left the bandstand to find Miss Chief, but he was too late, she had left with a new fellow, Private Means.
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cowshed-sarah
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PostSubject: Re: stories   Tue Jan 17, 2012 4:49 pm

Lovely little stories John thank you and well done on the book your creating .
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