Directory of Humor Blogs
Rumpus Libbedy and The Dreadful Pit
Tiny rumpus Libbedy Spider took refuge in the furthest recesses of her new home, snuggling inside the puffy coat she had made from the wisp of gosling down she had purchased from a family of ants (who ran a bring-and-buy stall in one corner of their sweat shop), and very happy indeed that she had thought to fill her hot water bottle before the storm set in. Had she been any other spiderling she might have daydreamed, imagining a life filled with all manner of spidery activities, such as web weaving and trapeze acts, trapdoor engineering and food preservation. However, since she most emphatically atypical of her kind, she conjured up her air guitar and banged her way through the latest stylings of The Full Knickers (whose most recent concert at the leisure centre had provoked such angst among the over 60’s that they had devoured the lead singer and four of the roadies, among them the son of the notorious mad-murderer and crime boss, Guppy-Da-Shredder). “The Full Knickers is da shit!” Libbedy liked to say (or, at least, had liked to say before a painful encounter with Great Aunt Dorabella’s flying slipper of retribution).
After a couple of minutes of warm cosiness and doing what she loved more than anything in the whole world (next to eating her mother’s treacle pudding and playing with her brothers and sisters), Rumpus Libbedy Spider told herself how very lucky she was, safe and sound and with plenty of good things to eat (how fortunate it was to have a mother who had taught her how to cook). There was, of course, a quite dreadful pit in her heart waiting to be filled by her family when they were returned to her, but Libbedy had no doubt whatsoever they would be reunited in the fullness of time, if not before. As she put it to herself, she may have been the one who’d gone away, but (as in the case of all little children) it was everyone else who was lost.
Tiny rumpus Libbedy Spider took refuge in the furthest recesses of her new home, snuggling inside the puffy coat she had made from the wisp of gosling down she had purchased from a family of ants (who ran a bring-and-buy stall in one corner of their sweat shop), and very happy indeed that she had thought to fill her hot water bottle before the storm set in. Had she been any other spiderling she might have daydreamed, imagining a life filled with all manner of spidery activities, such as web weaving and trapeze acts, trapdoor engineering and food preservation. However, since she most emphatically atypical of her kind, she conjured up her air guitar and banged her way through the latest stylings of The Full Knickers (whose most recent concert at the leisure centre had provoked such angst among the over 60’s that they had devoured the lead singer and four of the roadies, among them the son of the notorious mad-murderer and crime boss, Guppy-Da-Shredder). “The Full Knickers is da shit!” Libbedy liked to say (or, at least, had liked to say before a painful encounter with Great Aunt Dorabella’s flying slipper of retribution).
After a couple of minutes of warm cosiness and doing what she loved more than anything in the whole world (next to eating her mother’s treacle pudding and playing with her brothers and sisters), Rumpus Libbedy Spider told herself how very lucky she was, safe and sound and with plenty of good things to eat (how fortunate it was to have a mother who had taught her how to cook). There was, of course, a quite dreadful pit in her heart waiting to be filled by her family when they were returned to her, but Libbedy had no doubt whatsoever they would be reunited in the fullness of time, if not before. As she put it to herself, she may have been the one who’d gone away, but (as in the case of all little children) it was everyone else who was lost.
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