Greetings, felicitations, and fluffy dice.

GREETINGS, FELICITATIONS AND FLUFFY DICE

Now, you probably don’t know me, so let me introduce myself. My name is Jack Rowlands, although people tend to call me Mad Jack. I can’t think why.

Anyway, for my day job, I am an Alley Cat. What’s an Alley Cat, I hear you ask? In a very strange voice, I might add. Well, the Alley Cats are the Bomb Disposal team of National Security Command. So, if you’ve got something that you think is going to blow up, just give me a ring.

It’s a real man’s life in the Alley Cats. We do real man things, like weight training, marathon running, knitting, and highland dancing. And don’t believe everything you hear. One ballet lesson, ONE. Do they let you forget? Do they drumsticks! So, by way of relaxation, I entertain the team with a few of my hilarious stories. Well, I think they’re funny.

In among my own totally awesome original stories are ones based on tales I have heard. Some of them could be described as traditional. My grandfather would have heard them. Others are more modern. Now, I have tried to establish the copyright of these stories, but I have not been able to trace the authors. If you feel I have breached your copyright, first know that it was not deliberate, and accept my apology. Secondly, please let me know, and I will be happy to amend future issues. Now, is that or is that not fair?

Saturday 27 April 2013

Escape From Red Island

"Well, Pastor, looks like we have a problem."

Peter put a friendly hand on Pastor Max's shoulder. They were standing over what was a path to a causeway that joined Red Island to the mainland. Now it was under six feet of water.  Behind them, the members of The Church of Fair Dinkum had packed up the barbecue and sports equipment.

"I messed up, Pete. Shoulda paid more attention to the tides. When's it go out again?"

"According to this, one in the morning."

"We got families here. That's far too late. Any chance of the coastguard coming out?"

"No way to call them. No signal."

"Streuth! I suppose we could stay here overnight and go home tomorrow."

"No chance, Pastor. Weather's gonna turn and there's no shelter here."

They both fell silent as they watched the waves roll further up the shore.

After a while, Max shrugged and marched back to the congregation.

"Well, folks, I'm sorry, but it looks like we're stranded here, unless anyone's got any ideas?"

There were shrugs and murmurs, but no-one offered any suggestions.

Then Danny stepped forward.

"I've got an idea. I won't say what it is, because it will sound daft, but something in me says it will work."

"OK, Danny, do it. Can't make things any worse."

Danny stepped towards where the causeway started and took his boomerang out of his belt. He placed a hand on it and looked up to Heaven and prayed, "Lord, we need a way home, and you can make one for us."

Then he threw the boomerang over the sea. Just as it reached the furthest point, instead of coming back, it spun around and around in the air, faster and faster. An unearthly howl filled the air, and the water below the boomerang started to turn with it until it became a whirlpool. Then the water lifted up into a column, into a waterspout. The water reached the boomerang and continued to climb.

The sea along the causeway receded and solid ground appeared. The congregation grabbed their stuff and walked carefully along the path until they were safely ashore. When the last person stepped onto dry land, the waterspout collapsed and the causeway was flooded again.

From that point on, Danny was known as the Oz Moses.

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