‘I don’t believe it!’ exclaimed Dragon as he and Wabbit flew with the wind. ‘Look!’
Dragon pointed to a house-rocket hurtling towards them from below. From above it looked like an Edwardian bungalow with a red tile roof. Orange flames shot out the bottom of it.
Wabbit shuffled on her saddle and cocked her left ear. She frowned. ‘I’ve never seen a flying house before. Have you, Dwagon?’
‘This is not the time for cogitating,’ Dragon replied. ‘Get us out of here.’
Wabbit startled, for Dragon wasn’t usually so authoritative, but it was quite nice. Wabbit dug her feet into Dragon’s great lizardy scales and gripped the reins. She felt his wings churn the air around them as they abruptly changed course out of the path of the flying house. Presently it drew alongside them.
Wabbit crouched low and whispered in Dragon’s ear. ‘Why has it stopped, Dwagon?’
Dragon was puzzled too, until, upon looking around he noticed a black and white cow holding up a stop sign. ‘Whoa up, Wabbit,’ called Dragon. ‘Air works.’
Wabbit looked about her. ‘Air works?’
They weren’t the first in the queue. In front of them was a woolly mammoth with a banjo strapped to his back. He looked quite forlorn, as if he’d already been waiting long enough.
A creaking sound announced the opening of the front door of the house. An owl stood in the doorway.
Dragon politely tipped his head. ‘Hoo doo yoo doo.’
The owl appeared pleased at Dragon’s formal greeting for he ruffled his wing feathers and his eyes grew large and round. Wabbit gasped. She was constantly amazed at Dragon’s formidable linguistic skills.
The owl tittered, then replied. ‘Hoo doo yoo doo, too yoo.’ He waved a wing theatrically.
Wabbit giggled. Dragon had got the owl’s language exactly right. How clever!
‘What’s the hold up?’ asked the owl looking past Dragon and Wabbit, past the woolly mammoth and past the cow with the stop-go sign. There didn’t appear to be anything worth stopping for. It was a perfectly clear blue day, no holes in the sky that owl could see, no stampedes of mice on the horizon – which was a pity; the prospect of fast food on a burst across the forgotten dimension was always something to look forward to.
Dragon cleared his throat to address the woolly mammoth. ‘Excuse me,’ he said. ‘Why are we waiting?’
The woolly mammoth appeared shocked; that is, he swung his great trunk sideways and blinked at Dragon.
‘Because we’ve come to a stop sign,’ he said sleepily. Then he tutted and rolled his eyes. Honestly! It was obvious wasn’t it? Some creatures! He turned back to face the cow with the stop-go sign and for good measure he stomped his front left foot, just to show a little bit of impatience but not too much, for woolly mammoths were actually famous for their tremendous patience.
Wabbit dropped Dragon’s reins and stood on her carpet saddle. She sighed; there was nothing she loved more than the feel of tickling wool on her bare feet. Dragon chose well in this saddle. She stood as tall as she could to gaze past the woolly mammoth and past the cow with the stop-go sign. If anybody could see what they were stopped for it was her. When she was a rabbit she ate all her carrots just as she was told to and as a result she had twenty six twenty seven vision – which was quite good.
‘I can’t see anything,’ she moaned.
Suddenly the sound of music came from the house. It was honky tonk piano.
‘If I’m not mistaken,’ said Dragon, ‘that’s honky tonk piano.’ He smiled broadly and owl’s tapping foot did not go unnoticed.
Wabbit clapped her hands. ‘Are you having a party, Mr. Owl?’
The owl blinked. ‘Whoo?’
‘Yoo,’ Wabbit replied.
But the owl was whisked out of the doorway by a puffin who wore a red puffer jacket.
‘Why don’t y’awl come on in?’ the puffin called. ‘May as well be neighbourly while we wait.’
Dragon frowned. They really should be looking for an alternative route – after all, they were on a quest. Whoever partied at air works in a flying house?
But Dragon felt the familiar tug on his ear. He knew as soon as the puffin issued his invitation it would be irresistible to Wabbit. She loved a good time.
A little shiver ran through Dragon’s scales as Wabbit whispered in his ear. ‘Sounds like a party, Dwagon,’ she said. ‘Can we go?’
Dragon sighed. He looked wryly at the woolly mammoth who had overheard and as soon as Dragon caught his eye he wiggled his head back and forth then abruptly turned back to the cow with the stop-go sign.
‘Well, er,’ he stalled. He never gave in to Wabbit straight away. It was a rule. He liked to let her think she’d won him round.
‘Do you think Mr. Mammoth might like to come?’ asked Dragon. ‘I see he has a banjo and is therefore most likely a party animal.’
This was too exciting for Wabbit and she clapped her hands and slid down Dragon’s tail. Wabbit took Dragon by the hand and the puffin stood aside to let them and the woolly mammoth in. Wabbit’s eyes sparkled as she took in the opulence of the room. The ceiling was as high as a kite, the dance floor as grand as a piano and the turquoise strobe lighting as dizzying as a September moon.
And the guests! My, she could never have guessed at the strange array – but if she had thought very hard she should have guessed for there was nothing ordinary about a flying house stopped at air works.
‘Oh, Dwagon,’ she exclaimed.
She and Dragon suddenly felt underdressed. The puffin had in fact only donned his puffer jacket to come outside. He removed it to reveal a waistcoat of new five pences laced at the back with liquorice straps – raspberry ones, and buttoned at the front with three very severe looking bumble bees. In his fob watch pocket was a grocery list that his wife had given him before time warped, which turned out to be so long ago that the ink had faded and only the imprint was left.
‘Come on in,’ said the puffin. ‘The more the merrier.’
Dragon ah-hemmed. He didn’t quite know where to put himself. This mixing and mingling scene was not his cup of tea at all. He swept his great lizardy tail across the floor in a nervous sort of quiver. Suddenly three dancers scooted underneath the swish and came up laughing and slapping each other on the back. Dragon’s tail had cooled them down wonderfully and they crowded around him hoping he would do it again.
‘Hey, Dragon,’ called an emu who had a twinkle in his eye and a diamond in his front tooth. ‘Can we slide down your tail?’
The emu’s friends echoed the request. Dragon assessed his new acquaintances. They certainly were dressed for a party. A rather plain looking brown bird wore a yellow mask and a sparkling chandelier on his head. He winked at Dragon.
Another, a chap wearing a tuxedo and who took very small steps flapped his flippery flippers and a third bird wore a laced boot on her nose and a most flattering nearly pink tutu.
‘Oh yes,’ exclaimed Wabbit. ‘That’s a fine idea. Let’s slide down Dwagon’s tail.’
She scrambled up onto Dragon, followed by the puffin, the emu, the miner and the shoebill and shrieked with laughter as she slid down Dragon’s great lizardy tail.
The woolly mammoth did prove to be a party animal. No sooner had he come in, he set himself up in a corner and plucked his banjo until the cows came home; which in fact the cow did. The cow with the stop-go sign stood hesitantly at the door. No one had invited her to the party. But she did have some very attractive numbers in her ear; a blue tag said number thirty nine and a red tag in the other ear said number ninety nine, which she was very proud about since both numbers were multiples of one and three which when added together made four, which was her favourite number since she had four hooves, four stomachs and four boyfriends, which was why she had so much jewellery.
The cow knocked on the door with her stop-go sign but nobody took any notice so she let herself in. As she did so, Wabbit slid off Dragon’s tail, her pixie dress flying about her knees, right into the cow. They land
ed in a heap on the floor.
The shoebill came to the rescue. She slipped a shoe horn out from her back pocket and wedged Wabbit out of her predicament.
‘Oh, Mrs. Cow!’ Wabbit exclaimed.
‘Miss,’ Miss Cow quickly corrected Wabbit.
‘Yes, of course. I do apologise,’ said Wabbit. ‘Have you finished work for the day?’
Miss Cow looked puzzled. ‘Work?’
Wabbit picked up the stop-go sign which had landed on the dance floor with the GO up.
Dragon’s interest piqued. ‘You are the stop-go cow, are you not?’
The cow dropped her bottom lip, which had a gorgeous emerald stud in it, thanks to boyfriend number three, who was really numbers forty four blue and sixty five green.
The owl shuffled into the melee. ‘Come now,’ he said having dropped his snobbish accent, ‘we don’t want any drooping bottom lips around here.’
He handed the cow a glass of strawberry flavoured milk with a paper cut out of Queen Victoria hanging from the rim. ‘You must join the party until it’s time to go again.’
Suddenly Wabbit was very thirsty. She hopped away to get a drink for herself and Dragon while Dragon grooved to the honky tonk piano and the banjo. But Wabbit was always easily distracted; even when nothing exciting was happening she could distract herself with nothing but a thought.
And distracted she was. She’d almost filled her glass when a red door caught her eye. She found herself drawn to it and the giddy music in the room could have been a thousand years away. She tripped