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July Break Bingo: Pond
IT WORKED. I wrote something for my July Break Bingo card!
This is for the "Location: Pond" square.
Location: Pond
Biggles, gen, 700 wds
On this peaceful afternoon, there was—until a few moments ago—nothing much going on at this end of the quiet pasture. Perhaps there might have been some excitement at the far end, a few gunshots and the sound of a distant engine starting up. But down here, there was just a picturesque little pond, a few trees with their leaves fluttering in a light breeze, and a handful of drowsy sheep.
The sheep were now clustered in a tight knot under a tree a few dozen yards from the pond, which sported some new accessories, namely: a wing and part of a fuselage and aeroplane tail sticking up the air, and several thrashing, muddy figures struggling to get out of the water.
Ginger was first; he turned back to help Bertie out, while Algy heaved a weakly struggling Biggles onshore with a fist in the back of his jacket and then had to be helped out by Ginger, as they were all covered in mud and he kept slipping back in.
Coughing, Biggles sat up, swiping his hair out of his eyes. "Are we all here? Anyone hurt?" He swept his gaze across the bedraggled little group; his face, under the mud, changed to alarm. "Where's vo—"
"The prisoner?" Algy interrupted. "The one whose ill-advised escape attempt is the cause of our current predicament? That one?"
"Yes, where is he?" Biggles started to rise, fell down, and was then held down when Algy grabbed his arm. "Algy, let go, he might be trapped under the machine—"
"He's over there," Ginger put in.
Von Stalhein, covered in mud and streaming water, was just extracting himself from the opposite side of the pond. With a lithe, eel-like movement despite his sodden condition, he slipped out onto the bank, where he rolled over, sat up, and glared across the pond at them.
"Anyone have a gun?" Algy asked, keeping a grip on Biggles.
"All the guns are at the bottom of the pond, 'm afraid," Bertie said. He attempted to polish his eyeglass on his muddy shirtfront and then looked at it in distress.
"Not to mention the papers we were supposed to retrieve," Ginger remarked. With a swift glance at von Stalhein on the far side of the pond, he added, "I don't suppose there's anything left to retrieve at this point. They'll be so much paper pulp now."
Von Stalhein wrung out his sleeve and plucked a strand of pond weed from his arm, continuing to regard them balefully.
"That means we've nothing to argue about any more," Biggles said cheerfully. He had finally managed to shake off Algy.
"I suppose you're going to tell us that he hasn't done anything wrong and there's nothing to call the authorities about," Algy said between his teeth. He jerked a little, reached into his pocket, pulled out a frog and tossed it back into the pond.
"Well, he hasn't the papers on him, has he?" Biggles said. "You can't arrest a fellow for falling in a pond."
"He crashed the plane!"
"I'd call it more of a group effort," Biggles said. "Anyway, it hardly matters now, does it? The matter's settled, we're safe on the ground and all that's left is to see if there's anything with a winch about, perhaps a tractor." Raising his voice for von Stalhein's benefit, he went on, "We're going to walk over to the farmhouse and find out if they have a telephone and what sort of machinery might be knocking about the place. You're welcome to come with us—get a hot drink and dry off, at least. We can sort the rest out afterwards. Any extra hands raising the aeroplane would be welcome."
"Or you could take advantage of our distraction to run away," Algy said, hopefully.
Von Stalhein said nothing. Calmly he planted a hand in the face of a bolder-than-usual sheep that had wandered up to investigate and pushed it away.
"Come on," Algy said, giving Biggles a hand up. They began straggling muddily toward the farmhouse. After a long moment, von Stalhein got to his feet and followed them, some distance behind, trailed at a further distance by the sheep.
This is for the "Location: Pond" square.
Location: Pond
Biggles, gen, 700 wds
On this peaceful afternoon, there was—until a few moments ago—nothing much going on at this end of the quiet pasture. Perhaps there might have been some excitement at the far end, a few gunshots and the sound of a distant engine starting up. But down here, there was just a picturesque little pond, a few trees with their leaves fluttering in a light breeze, and a handful of drowsy sheep.
The sheep were now clustered in a tight knot under a tree a few dozen yards from the pond, which sported some new accessories, namely: a wing and part of a fuselage and aeroplane tail sticking up the air, and several thrashing, muddy figures struggling to get out of the water.
Ginger was first; he turned back to help Bertie out, while Algy heaved a weakly struggling Biggles onshore with a fist in the back of his jacket and then had to be helped out by Ginger, as they were all covered in mud and he kept slipping back in.
Coughing, Biggles sat up, swiping his hair out of his eyes. "Are we all here? Anyone hurt?" He swept his gaze across the bedraggled little group; his face, under the mud, changed to alarm. "Where's vo—"
"The prisoner?" Algy interrupted. "The one whose ill-advised escape attempt is the cause of our current predicament? That one?"
"Yes, where is he?" Biggles started to rise, fell down, and was then held down when Algy grabbed his arm. "Algy, let go, he might be trapped under the machine—"
"He's over there," Ginger put in.
Von Stalhein, covered in mud and streaming water, was just extracting himself from the opposite side of the pond. With a lithe, eel-like movement despite his sodden condition, he slipped out onto the bank, where he rolled over, sat up, and glared across the pond at them.
"Anyone have a gun?" Algy asked, keeping a grip on Biggles.
"All the guns are at the bottom of the pond, 'm afraid," Bertie said. He attempted to polish his eyeglass on his muddy shirtfront and then looked at it in distress.
"Not to mention the papers we were supposed to retrieve," Ginger remarked. With a swift glance at von Stalhein on the far side of the pond, he added, "I don't suppose there's anything left to retrieve at this point. They'll be so much paper pulp now."
Von Stalhein wrung out his sleeve and plucked a strand of pond weed from his arm, continuing to regard them balefully.
"That means we've nothing to argue about any more," Biggles said cheerfully. He had finally managed to shake off Algy.
"I suppose you're going to tell us that he hasn't done anything wrong and there's nothing to call the authorities about," Algy said between his teeth. He jerked a little, reached into his pocket, pulled out a frog and tossed it back into the pond.
"Well, he hasn't the papers on him, has he?" Biggles said. "You can't arrest a fellow for falling in a pond."
"He crashed the plane!"
"I'd call it more of a group effort," Biggles said. "Anyway, it hardly matters now, does it? The matter's settled, we're safe on the ground and all that's left is to see if there's anything with a winch about, perhaps a tractor." Raising his voice for von Stalhein's benefit, he went on, "We're going to walk over to the farmhouse and find out if they have a telephone and what sort of machinery might be knocking about the place. You're welcome to come with us—get a hot drink and dry off, at least. We can sort the rest out afterwards. Any extra hands raising the aeroplane would be welcome."
"Or you could take advantage of our distraction to run away," Algy said, hopefully.
Von Stalhein said nothing. Calmly he planted a hand in the face of a bolder-than-usual sheep that had wandered up to investigate and pushed it away.
"Come on," Algy said, giving Biggles a hand up. They began straggling muddily toward the farmhouse. After a long moment, von Stalhein got to his feet and followed them, some distance behind, trailed at a further distance by the sheep.
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"He crashed the plane!"
"I'd call it more of a group effort," Biggles said.
Aw.
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Other things I loved: Bertie's muddy monocle, the frog in Algy's pocket, Erich's eel-like escape from the pond, the inquisitive sheep and the fact that everyone, sheep included, follows Biggles at the end <333
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It's all such fun, but somehow, Erich shoving away the bold sheep, Algy's pocket frog and his faint hope that Erich will use the opportunity to escape, continue to make me giggle the most.
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Heck, yeah!
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Wonderful, I love all the little details and the troublesome wildlife (the frog in Algy's pocket! the inquisitive sheep)! <3 One shudders to imagine the team effort involved in delivering them all there...
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AWWW! This is SO him! I mean he just doesn't want to fight people, he wants to make friends, and I think he honestly sees all the spy/sekrit documents business as interfering with that! Talk about nailing characterization with just a line!
I love him and I love this! ♥
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Edited to add: And the frog! *cackling*
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