It was almost 300 fathoms of winter, and everything in Badger the Mystical Muttâs garden was a little bit crumpled.
The frozen leaves crumpled and scrunched under Badgerâs paws. His famous time-travelling contraption â the Wim-Wim for a Wowser to wind up the weather on a wet day â had a crumpled crank shaft. And Badgerâs pal, Timmy (the cat with the crumpled ear) was in a spot of bother.
Timmy was keen to join the local gang of misfit mutts which was now led by Snif, a street dog with a fearsome reputation. But no cat had ever been allowed to join the notorious all-dog gang ⦠and Timmy wasnât just
any
cat.
He was a cat with an unusually crumpled ear. He was also a cat who was famous for allthe wrong reasons. For Timmy could clear the lane instantly with his enormous snot-covering sneezes.
Badger had tried and failed to persuade him that joining Snifâs gang was âNot a Good Ideaâ, but Timmy would not listen.
So, Badger had to get his Wim-Wim working again. Then he could take Timmy to the Crystal Cave and find a way to get him into the gang. He looked fondly at the Wim-Wimâs tilting feet and wilting brolly.
Badger munched on some toast, scratched his head and pulled his red-spotted neckerchief closer around his neck. The freezing temperature was nipping at his nose and, with every munch, he could see his breath in the air. It was so cold that even the duck pond had completely frozen over, and all theducks had scarpered to somewhere cosier. He peered at the Wim-Wimâs fuel tank, and wondered if its fuel had frozen too.
He joogled the contraption from side to side and heard a sloshing sound.
âHmmmâ he thought âAt least
all
of the fuel hasnât turned to ice, but it still doesnât sound like thereâs much in there.â
The Wim-Wim ran on Haboba Juice, a very strange brew indeed. Badger reached into the shed and pulled out a can. He looked at the label to check if any of the ingredients were likely to freeze. He read out the list, item by item, and pondered.
âChilli peppers?
Theyâre
not chilly, theyâre hot, so they should be okay.â He took another bite of toast.
âCarrot mush? Well, that does have some water in it, but still â¦â He scratched his chin.
âSyrup of figs? Now that should keep the Wim-Wim running, and is surely far too gooey to freeze?
âAnd last but by no means least, the burp of a big-footed Yeti. Thatâs a tricky one.â Badger swallowed his last morsel of toast and burped. âOops, pardon me,â he chuckled.
He filled up the Wim-Wimâs fuel tank, shoogled it a bit more and waited. But nothing happened. It didnât clatter. It didnât clang. It didnât pant or putter. Instead, the rotor blades on top wilted a little bit more.
Badger frowned
âOkay, Iâm worried now. It isnât like the Wim-Wim at all. This calls for one of my Badgical-Magical spells.â
He rubbed his paws together then rummaged in his favourite plant pot for the perfect potion. He pulled out some nuts and bolts, tools and soap, and a pile of pongy old cloths, then set them out alongside the tin can of Haboba Juice and closed his eyes.
Sparkles of light appeared around him as he uttered the magic words.
âMonkey wrench and soapy cloths
,
Spanners and sparkles, and juice that froths
.
Make the Wim-Wim stop its tilting
,
and save its rotor blades from wilting.â
Badger opened his eyes and stood back feeling very pleased with himself.
The Wim-Wim spluttered and stuttered,and glowed faintly. Badger held his breath and hoped.
But then, the Wim-Wim faded into silence again.
âOnce more,â he sighed. âAnd this time, with Badgical-Magical gusto.â
âMonkey wrench and soapy cloths
,
Spanners and sparkles, and juice that froths.â
Badger shook his paws and shimmied his bottom. He scrunched his eyes shut.
âMake the Wim-Wim
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