Andy Stanton - Natboff! One Million Years of Stupidity

‘You’ll see,’ winked Old King Thunderbelly. Then he went back to his palace and dialled John’s number.

‘Hello,’ said Old King Thunderbelly. ‘Is that John?’

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‘No, it’s his wife,’ said the voice at the other end of the line. ‘I’ll just go and get John, he’s having a fart in the shed.’

‘OK,’ said Old King Thunderbelly.

Soon John came to the phone.

‘Hello,’ said John.

‘Hello,’ said Old King Thunderbelly. ‘Do you like this new invention? It’s called a “telephone”.’

‘Yeah, it’s brilliant,’ said John. ‘Now, what can I do for you today, Your Highness? Do you want me to build a wall or something?’

‘Yes,’ said Old King Thunderbelly. ‘I want you to build a wall around Lamonic Bibber.’

‘Why, have you accepted a challenge from a crow or something?’ said John.

‘John, you know me well,’ laughed Old King Thunderbelly. ‘I certainly have.’

About three weeks later the wall was finally

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finished. John had worked day and night to build

it, and it was probably the best wall he’d ever built.

It was made out of stone and it was really high and

there were spikes on it and every few hundred yards

there were signs saying ‘NO CROWS ALLOWED’

and ‘KEEP OUT IF YOU ARE A CROW’. There

were two gates set into the wall and at each gate

stood two beefy guards, each holding a sharp silver

sword, except for one of them who had forgotten his

sword and was holding a massive garlic bread covered

in tinfoil instead and hoping nobody would notice.

‘Now let’s see that crow try and get in,’

laughed Old King Thunderbelly.

Presently a traveller came up to the South Gate

of the Wall of Lamonic Bibber. He was dressed in

a fine coat of feathers and he had a beak and two

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wings and he was about the size of a crow.

‘Hello,’ said the traveller to the guards. ‘ Do you mind if I come in through your gate?’

‘No, go ahead, we don’t care,’ said the

guards. ‘Go right in.’

But as the traveller

stepped forward, the

first guard thought

of something.

‘Hang on a minute,’ he said.

‘You’re not a

crow, are you?’

‘Who, me?’

laughed the traveller. ‘No, of course not.’

‘OK, sorry to bother you,’ said the first

guard. But just as the traveller was about to step

inside, the second guard thought of something.

‘Hang on,’ he said, brandishing his sword.

‘You are a crow. Go away! It’s no crows allowed,

those are our orders!’

‘Blast those guards,’ sulked the crow as he

walked off. ‘They’re cleverer than they look. How

am I going to get into Lamonic Bibber now?’

Well, that crow thought for a year and a

day, and it was the most boring year and a day

he’d ever spent. But eventually he came up with

an absolutely brilliant idea, and when he came

up with it a light bulb appeared

above his head, and that’s

how electricity was invented.

‘I’ve got it!’ said the crow.

About five years later, Old King Thunderbelly was sitting in the castle courtyards, having a sandwich and congratulating himself on outwitting the crow.

‘That was totally easy,’ he said to himself. ‘That wall did the trick no problem. It’s been years and years now and I still haven’t seen that crow around here.’

‘Oh, haven’t you?’ said a voice at that very moment. And looking down, Old King Thunderbelly was astonished to see none other than the crow himself, the very crow he’d been trying to keep out all this time!

‘How did you get in here?’ said Old King

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Thunderbelly. ‘Surely my wall should have

kept you out?’

‘Well might you think so, king,’ said the

crow. ‘But there’s one thing you forgot about

us crows,’ he continued, flapping his powerful

wings triumphantly. ‘We are excellent at

digging. I have spent the past five years digging

a tunnel under that wall with my beak and

finally I have won the challenge and you must

give me all the land of the kingdom and let me

marry your daughter and you must be my slave

forever and fetch me rare minerals.’

‘I don’t remember saying anything about

that,’ said Old King Thunderbelly. ‘But OK.’

And that is how the elephant got its trunk.

THE END

9 700 AD 9

Life and

||

Times Of

||

Saint

Follican

|

(As written by Bene The Elder,

a stinking old monk of the

Order Of The Prawn)

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