The Clumsies Make A Mess. Sorrel Anderson

jumped and bumped his head. Then something tapped him on the bottom. It was an elephant. ‘Concussion? This. Is it?’ said Howard, staggering. He shut his eyes, counted to five and opened them again, but the elephant was still there. It was a remarkably small one, about the size of a Labrador puppy. It looked eager, and slightly apologetic.

      ‘Err, hello,’ said Howard. The elephant gazed at him, and said nothing.

      ‘Hmm,’ said Howard. He scooped up some cardboard tubes and went towards the door.

      ‘Well, goodbye then.’

      ‘TOOT! TRUMPET! TOOOT!’ went the elephant, and ran after him.

      ‘Oh dear,’ sighed Howard. ‘Yes. All right.’

      The stairs to the storeroom were narrow and steep.

      They stood at the top and looked down. ‘There’s nothing to worry about,’ said Howard. ‘I’ll go in front and you follow me.’

      Howard started down the stairs and the elephant stayed where she was.

      ‘Come on now,’ said Howard, encouragingly.

      The elephant didn’t move.

      ‘Come along,’ said Howard, coaxingly.

      The elephant backed away.

      ‘Come!’ ordered Howard, exasperatedly. The elephant gave a panicked TRUMPET, did a little run backwards and forwards and launched herself off the top stair on to Howard’s chest.

      ‘Ooof,’ said Howard, and together they bumped painfully down the stairs, and bumped, even more painfully, on to the floor at the bottom.

      When Howard and the elephant got back, Purvis and Mickey Thompson bounced over, squeaking excitedly:

      ‘It’s an elephant! It’s an elephant!’

      ‘Less of it,’ said Howard.

      ‘Why are you all hot in the face, Howard?’ asked Mickey Thompson.

      ‘Mickey Thompson,’ said Howard, breathing heavily. ‘So far today I’ve bashed my shoulder, hit my head, had my bottom prodded and my stomach squashed. I’ve been bumped downstairs and bumped, hard, on to the floor. There’s a pair of talking mice living under my desk and now there’s an elephant too. That’s why I’m hot in the face. Now, somebody put the kettle on while I think what to do.’

      ‘She’s only a baby,’ said Purvis.

      ‘We must look after her.’

      ‘Very probably,’ said Howard, ‘but I don’t know what she’ll eat.’

      ‘Buns,’said Mickey Thompson, quickly.

      ‘No, that’s what you eat,’ said Purvis.

      ‘Elephants like buns. I read it,’ said Mickey Thompson.

      ‘In a storybook,’ said Purvis.

      Mickey Thompson blew a raspberry at Purvis and there was a small scuffle.

      ‘Stop,’ said Howard. ‘You’re jangling my bruises.’

      ‘I think we should look it up,’ said Purvis. So they looked it up.

      ‘Elephants eat grass, small branches and bark from trees,’ read out Purvis.

      ‘Yuk!’ said Mickey Thompson.

      ‘Fabulous’ said Howard.

      ‘They especially like leaves from the top branches,’ he continued.

      ‘Take a look around,’ said Howard. ‘How many branches do you see in here, top or otherwise?’

      ‘Hang on,’ said Purvis. ‘It also says they like fruit, vegetables and seeds.’ The elephant TRUMPETED in agreement.

      ‘That’s more like it,’ said Howard. ‘I’ll go to the canteen.’

      So he went, and came back carrying: