Continued from last post

Next came 100 copies of Basil and the Flappy Thing, which caused chaos when ginger cats started rushing around hissing at the sheepdogs and running away, leaving the sheepdogs torn between rounding up sheep and chasing cats.

 Ironically, a box of But What I Really Want is a Box, seemed to contain more giraffes than boxes, which only added to the chaos, especially when the giraffes were followed by lots of toddlers, all called Ollie, who made a grab for all the boxes they’d already gathered, and threatened to have tantrums if anyone tried to take them away.

 All might have been lost if it hadn’t been for a stack of Doodle Mayhem being tipped out of their box...

 “What is the meaning of this commotion?” demanded Miss Roper, striding out of the book, followed by her entire class of infants.

“It wasn’t my fault,” pointed out BottomBook.

“Well don’t look at me,” said TopBook. Both books deferring to the authority of a teacher, though they weren’t entirely sure why...

 “We’re the escape committee,” piped up CheekyBook, not recognising any authority whatsoever, and enjoying the chaos.

“You don’t look like any sort of committee I’ve ever seen,” said Miss Roper, looking round on the off chance that there might be tea and biscuits – if indeed it was a committee... “and what exactly are you all escaping from?”

“Our boxes, and this storeroom,” said BottomBook. “We’re tired of being left here in boxes; we’re going out into the world to be read.”

“Boxes!” shouted lots of little Ollies, some were jumping around in boxes as if they were in a sack race, others were running around with boxes on their heads, bumping into everyone and falling over, but only crying if anyone noticed and asked if they were all right...

“Everyone settle down,” demanded Miss Roper, “...you’re only wasting your own time!” Which wasn’t entirely true, she felt like they were probably wasting her time too, but she didn’t like to admit it. Her class had started to run a mock, and the sheepdogs were trying to round them up as well as the sheep, and the few remaining ginger cats, the ones who hadn’t found a comfy spot, and gone back to sleep till someone found the cat food.

©Anne M Stephenson