Monday, November 28, 2011

Day Seven

From Andrea:
"I must find a way to bweak thith dwead cuwse!" he continued meditatively. 
     The very faint sound of stifled giggles burst from outside his chamber door. He glared severely at the door, wishing intensely to throw some verbal abuse at the unseen mocker. Glancelot turned again toward the mirror, probing at the splinter of bone with his tongue. 

     "Ow, Muvvah!" he wailed desparingly (but softly), "if onwy your spiwit would guide me again!" 

     "You could say please," said a familiar bass voice. 

     "You!" shouted Glancelot. 

     The ghostly dog nodded. 

     "Perhapth," Glancelot continued, remembering his manners, "you have a message fwom my Muvvah that will help me?" 

     "I might."

"First," demanded the ghostly dog, "Answer me this:

"I am the tiniest bomb, ticking 1200 beats
before dropping the weight of a penny
on some unsuspecting intruder
to my territory.  

Who am I?"

Those words were already nothing more than ghostly echos as the Labrador vanished back into thin air. 

"A Widdo!" cried Glancelot. "Just wah I needed! A widdo!" 

 Glancelot sat down gloomily on the edge of his bathtub until the servant finally arrived with the bath salts. As the door opened, a tiny object shot through opening, knocking the servant aside. 

"A bird!" said Glancelot. "The tiniest bird!" 

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My quick report
Your tender rebuke
Three wise-men