The adventures of Mumps – Mumps meets a might-be monster …

Halfway through the most excellent snore ever, Mumps was wokey-up by something crawling across the end of his nozzle. ‘Probably that buzzy fly,’ he thought. But when he opened his eye it wasn’t a fly at all. Mumps could only open one eye, not because he was a pirate ‘Ah-haaa!’ but because the other was stuck together with sticky sleepygoo.

By the side of his sleeperbox stood a funny looking thing, and if Mumps hadn’t been quite sure that “There Are No Monsters” he might have said that that was what it was. Still, to be abso-defi-certain he asked anyway. Well, you never really know do you?

“Are you a monster?”

“Might be,” the might-be monster said. “What do they look like?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen one.”

“Do I sound like one?” Mumps listened and shook his head; he’d never heard a monster but he had an idea that monster might be all shoutybite and grumblegrowl like his mum was in the mornings sometimes.

 “Do I smell like a monster?” Mumps sniffed hard, which made his stuckedyup eye pop open. The might-be monster didn’t smell like poo, but then it didn’t smell noseynice either.

“Not par-tic-u-lar-ly…” Mumps answered; it was the biggest proper word he knew and he really liked it. “You just smell wet.”

“Well, it was raining just before you arrived.”

Raining? Raining in his Room? Mumps had never had rain in his room before. He’d had plenty of shadownasties and makeycries, but never, ever, rain. Mumps looked outside and around his sleeperbox. Now that he had both eyes open he could see that this wasn’t his room at all. This was outysidey!

“Where am I?” Mumps asked the might-be monster.

“One question at a time.” The might-be monster replied. “So; if I’m not a monster - just what am I?”

“Errrr… you…are...um…an…um…’ Mumps thought hard, so hard he could almost feel his brain creak. “Yes, you…are...um… an…umm… a thingummyjig!

Yes, that was it. The might-be monster was actually a thingummyjig! Mumps smiled and tried to clap his hands at his own cleverness, but his hands missed each other and he just ended up slapping his arms with a flarff.

“Mmmm… a thingummyjig, I like that.” The thingummyjig said; trying out his new name. “I’m a Thing-um-my-jig.” He repeated, taking it slowly and capitalising his new title to make himself feel important and because -- titles should always start with a capital letter.

“Please Mr Thingummyjig…” Mumps thought the ‘Mr’ might flatter the Thingummyjig - just as long as it wasn’t a Miss, Ms or Mrs - and persuade him to answer his question; “Where is this place?”

“This is the country of Nincompoop. I expect that you want to be taken to my leader. Yes?”

“No. Why would I want to be taken to your leader?”

“Because that’s what you’re meant say in situations like this. Now come on we don’t want to keep Hisself waiting. Hisself wouldn’t like that.”

And with that, the Thingummyjig lifted Mumps up into the air and swung him onto his hairy shoulders.

“Hold very tight please, we’re off to see the… actually, I don’t think he has a name either, but we’re off to see him anyway.”