I Was NOT Wiggling

It was 3AM. We were in the twin room. My wife was in dreamland a few feet away, I was propped up on about seventeen pillows, snuffling like a pig. Nine hours on the road had done nothing for my cold. Knowing how irritating it can be sharing a room with a snuffling pig, squirming constantly to get comfortable, I had spent the past five hours diligently keeping still.

A cockerel crowed. At 3AM for goodness' sake. I could have done with a gun. My eyes wandered lazily around the room, the only possible weapon was my electric toothbrush. I could teach that half-wit cockerel a valuable lesson with an electric toothbrush.

Vroom, vroom, vroom!

#Squawk!#Peck!#

Vroom, vroom, vroom! Wuhahahahaha...

Unfortunately the damn thing was probably half a mile away. Uncomfortable, I shifted my position slightly.

"Stop wiggling, wiggling," snapped my wife, who was asleep and swears she doesn't remember this.

"What did you say?" I asked, knowing full well what she said but playing along.

"Wiggling!" she replied vehemently.

For the record I wasn't wiggling, and I certainly wasn't wiggling, at the very most I had conducted a half-wriggle.

I ignored her and focused on the cockerel. Maybe I could conjure up some flying tarpaulin (see last post), or better still a pack of wolves. Or even better, a motley croud of cruel children, armed with electric toothbrushes and peashooters.

Vroom, vroom, vroom! Pop! Thwack!

#Squawk!#Peck!#Flap!#Squawk!#Peck!#Flap!#

Wuhahahaha. I would make a great wizard.