Read Online Pwf & The Goblins' Revenge pdf by Kaye Umansky - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kaye Umansky
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fists. Panic, accusations, and a lot of running around and shouting. Two
cases of hysterics, and three of fainting. Macabre wanted to form a posse. Greymatter
wanted to take a vote. Gaga fell out of her tree. Agglebag and Bagaggle came over all funny
and took turns fanning each other. It wasn't often that such dramatic events occurred
during coven meetings, and the Witches wanted to get their money's worth. In the midst of
it all, Pongwiffy was leaping up and down in a ripe royal fury, giving Woody a piece of her
mind.
"Idiot! Nincompoop! Stupid, dozy, wooden-brained plank-head! I see it ail now. You
got caught by Goblins, didn't you? That's where you were all that time when you went
missing. You overheard their plans, didn't you? You knew all along about this, didn't you?
You great sap. You useless cleaning utensil. Why didn't you tell me before? Twig brain!"
Woody hung its head and said nothing. From great actor to useless cleaning utensil
in ten easy insults. Oh, the shame of it all. It was now a broken Broom who deserved
everything that Pongwiffy threw at it.
"All right, all right, that's enough. No need to get carried away. Calm down,
everyone!" ordered Grandwitch Sourmuddle severely. "What's all the fuss? It's only Goblins.
And Goblins are bungling idiots, remember? They don't even have Magic. Watch me. I'll get
our Brooms back with a flick of me wand. Where's me wand. Snoop?"
"In your hand," pointed out Snoop.
"Just testing. Right, then. Watch the sky for returning Broomsticks. Head of beer and
tail of deer, make our Broomsticks reappear!"
And Sourmuddle gave her wand a little flick. Now, at this point, something
impressive should have happened. A rumble of thunder, maybe, and a flash of lightning. At
the very least, green smoke. The night sky should then have swarmed with prodigal
Broomsticks. A glad reunion should have followed. The Goblins would have been captured
and dealt with most severely. Then, everyone could have eaten the sandwiches and gone
home.
Not so this time. Everyone was eagerly craning upwards, but nothing happened.
Well, that's not quite right. What happened was that Sourmuddle's wand gave a feeble little
phut, sprayed a few green sparks then went limp.
"That's worrying," said Grandwitch Sourmuddle, flopping it about like a length of
liquorice. Only had it serviced recently. Hmm. I wonder. Everyone had better inspect their
equipment."
Alarmed Witches scrabbled in their pockets and bandbags. It's surprising how much
a Witch can get in her handbag. Wands, bells, books, candles, crystal balls even fold-up
cauldrons were produced, along with a load of dirty tissues, small frogs, toothless combs,
photographs of loved ones and fluffy old half-sucked boiled sweets. There was a lot of
flicking and muttering and peering and little exclamations of dismay.
"Sourmuddle! My wand's gone wonky too!” shouted Pongwiffy importantly. "Look,
it's all floppy, see? Just like yours." Nobody took any notice. Pongwiffy's equipment seldom
did work, mainly because she never cleaned it.
"I don't know about you lot, but my crystal ball's up the creek," said Sourmuddle.
"Might as well try to see into a cow pat."
Crystal ball owners excitedly agreed that theirs were displaying the same mysterious
symptoms.
"And guess what! The pages of my Pocket Spell Book are all stuck up, with
mysterious invisible glue," cried Sludgegooey. "It's usually egg," she explained to anyone
who was interested.
"Oh no! My best wishbone's snapped!"
"Look, everybody, I can't make little green explosions anymore! See? I snapped my
fingers and nothing happened."
"I don't know about you lot, but my brain’s gone blank. I can't even remember the
ingredients for a basic brew!"
It was true. Bells wouldn't ring, books wouldn't open and candles wouldn't light.
Brains had gone blank of the simplest spells. There wasn't a stiff Wand to be seen. Wand
droop was the order of the day.
"Sabotage!" hissed
cases of hysterics, and three of fainting. Macabre wanted to form a posse. Greymatter
wanted to take a vote. Gaga fell out of her tree. Agglebag and Bagaggle came over all funny
and took turns fanning each other. It wasn't often that such dramatic events occurred
during coven meetings, and the Witches wanted to get their money's worth. In the midst of
it all, Pongwiffy was leaping up and down in a ripe royal fury, giving Woody a piece of her
mind.
"Idiot! Nincompoop! Stupid, dozy, wooden-brained plank-head! I see it ail now. You
got caught by Goblins, didn't you? That's where you were all that time when you went
missing. You overheard their plans, didn't you? You knew all along about this, didn't you?
You great sap. You useless cleaning utensil. Why didn't you tell me before? Twig brain!"
Woody hung its head and said nothing. From great actor to useless cleaning utensil
in ten easy insults. Oh, the shame of it all. It was now a broken Broom who deserved
everything that Pongwiffy threw at it.
"All right, all right, that's enough. No need to get carried away. Calm down,
everyone!" ordered Grandwitch Sourmuddle severely. "What's all the fuss? It's only Goblins.
And Goblins are bungling idiots, remember? They don't even have Magic. Watch me. I'll get
our Brooms back with a flick of me wand. Where's me wand. Snoop?"
"In your hand," pointed out Snoop.
"Just testing. Right, then. Watch the sky for returning Broomsticks. Head of beer and
tail of deer, make our Broomsticks reappear!"
And Sourmuddle gave her wand a little flick. Now, at this point, something
impressive should have happened. A rumble of thunder, maybe, and a flash of lightning. At
the very least, green smoke. The night sky should then have swarmed with prodigal
Broomsticks. A glad reunion should have followed. The Goblins would have been captured
and dealt with most severely. Then, everyone could have eaten the sandwiches and gone
home.
Not so this time. Everyone was eagerly craning upwards, but nothing happened.
Well, that's not quite right. What happened was that Sourmuddle's wand gave a feeble little
phut, sprayed a few green sparks then went limp.
"That's worrying," said Grandwitch Sourmuddle, flopping it about like a length of
liquorice. Only had it serviced recently. Hmm. I wonder. Everyone had better inspect their
equipment."
Alarmed Witches scrabbled in their pockets and bandbags. It's surprising how much
a Witch can get in her handbag. Wands, bells, books, candles, crystal balls even fold-up
cauldrons were produced, along with a load of dirty tissues, small frogs, toothless combs,
photographs of loved ones and fluffy old half-sucked boiled sweets. There was a lot of
flicking and muttering and peering and little exclamations of dismay.
"Sourmuddle! My wand's gone wonky too!” shouted Pongwiffy importantly. "Look,
it's all floppy, see? Just like yours." Nobody took any notice. Pongwiffy's equipment seldom
did work, mainly because she never cleaned it.
"I don't know about you lot, but my crystal ball's up the creek," said Sourmuddle.
"Might as well try to see into a cow pat."
Crystal ball owners excitedly agreed that theirs were displaying the same mysterious
symptoms.
"And guess what! The pages of my Pocket Spell Book are all stuck up, with
mysterious invisible glue," cried Sludgegooey. "It's usually egg," she explained to anyone
who was interested.
"Oh no! My best wishbone's snapped!"
"Look, everybody, I can't make little green explosions anymore! See? I snapped my
fingers and nothing happened."
"I don't know about you lot, but my brain’s gone blank. I can't even remember the
ingredients for a basic brew!"
It was true. Bells wouldn't ring, books wouldn't open and candles wouldn't light.
Brains had gone blank of the simplest spells. There wasn't a stiff Wand to be seen. Wand
droop was the order of the day.
"Sabotage!" hissed
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