The adventures of Framlingham cont....

Jongalet had thoroughly enjoyed his day at the procession of wild pygmy smegmice, this only happened once a year in Denzerland, and Jongalet was always first in queue for the feather hole washing.

He was happily reminiscing on his day of satisfaction when suddenly a chimplewick jumped out at him from the mudlake and told him that there were chunga deathspuds floating above Framlinghams house. Now this worried Jongalet as the only time the chunga deathspuds came out was when Framlingham died. Jongalet knew what to do ' He grabbed the nearest chinkle and rolled on towards the carpet of bajanbanie.

When he arrived at Framlinghams flippant fatherland he could see the troopers slowly circling the carpet and Jongalet knew his friend was breathless once more. The vilicious chunga deathspuds were already gnawing at his kiffing snar.

Jongalet took the trusty chinkle and began to batter the pesky chunga deathspuds knowing that his friend would be roused when they left. Jongalet battled all of tomorrowday to save his comrade and finally at tweven o clock the deathspuds melted into a broth of sea urchins.

Framlingham was animate again, and not realising that he had died and his friend had saved him ran to conceal the treasure from his friend. Jongalet revolved towards the door of Framlinghams matchbox home, disappointed that he had not been thanked for wrestling the chunga deathspuds.

Framlingham wondered what Jongalet was doing in his hovel, he hadn't invited him. Then he heard it, the faint glowing aura of the chunga deathspud army and Framlingham decided that he had died again. He took out his ear-piercing notebook and made a note of the date so that he didn't ever return.

Jongalet had already departed by the time Framlingham had noticed his snafu, and was traipsing back through boondocks.

Jongalet was a tall critter, slinky and smooth, his plasterwheels sounded like the mountains when he rolled by. Jongalet had trouble standing still and everywhere he went a whorl of Egyptian stappleberries followed at his feet. Due to his love of pygmy smegmice, Jongalet had also gained an unmistakable hedgehog on his upper left elbow pit, which provided him with small handshakes and flags.

Jongalet was a member of the Denzerland parliament and thought himself part of the gentry. Every week he would take his seat on the travannah with the other members of the fraternity and they would discuss kangaroofish and the problems with the travelling munchkins that parked their craters on the delicate hyana bushes in the forest. Jongalet was a happy fur ball; he had the biggest donjon in the country complete with blellow frames and the stickiest empartingo in the land. He was almost a king.