My son, Ashton, and I, were playing around writing ‘interesting stories’. He insisted that I publish them on my blog, so here’s the first one!

Mr Kiwi, of number five Kiwi Hall, Ashton land, was having a very relaxing day today. He had a deckchair in a sponge, and today he even had some cocktail stick arms. All in all, apart from the rain, it was a good day for Mr Kiwi. Well, it would have been, but then somebody dropped him. He was a little bruised on his back, and a little damp because he leaked. Other than that, Mr Kiwi was feeling pretty good about life.

Then he decided that he’d like to go on a long journey. Now, a Kiwi usually only has one experience of a long journey. That’s when he gets plucked off his Kiwi tree, thrown into a great big mixer, and out he pops at the other end to get packed into a crate, and then shipped off around the world. Usually he starts on a lorry and then he’ll go on a plane. Plane rides are scary for Mr Kiwi, because at the end of the plane ride, what happens to Kiwis? They usually end up in somebody’s fridge to be eaten.

Our Mr Kiwi had some additions this time. As we discussed a moment ago, he had cocktail stick arms. And he also had cocktail stick legs and a cocktail stick deckchair. He thought, if I can make that deckchair into a bike, or something else, I might escape before somebody peels me and eats me. Somebody’s already drop me, and I’ve already bruised, but I could escape, and I could live forever more as a travelling Kiwi.

So what did he do? He took the deckchair, and he shaped it into a bike. He had a little bit of a problem when he tried to make the wheels. You see, wheels made of cocktail sticks tend to be square, or very close to square. How would they ever go round? Mr Kiwi wasn’t sure. He ended up twisting them more and more. He broke a few, whilst trying to make himself a cocktail stick wheel, but eventually he had two that were a reasonable size and shape, made up on his bike.

Then, he got his bike out, and he started pedalling. The last thing that Ashton saw of Mr Kiwi was him flying through the kitchen, bouncing over the kitchen doorway, and over the grass. Mr Kiwi found it quite tricky getting over the grass. There were quite a few guinea pigs. They looked at him and said, “lunch!”

Mr Kiwi worried and pedalled faster. But it was hard pedalling uphill to the top of the garden. At last he hid under some grass. Unfortunately, the guinea pigs followed him. “Oh no,” said Mr Kiwi, “you’ve caught up!”

And what did he do? He jumped off of the bike and onto the guinea pig’s back. Have you ever seen a Kiwi man with cocktail stick arms and legs riding a guinea pig? No, you’re right, I haven’t either. It was absolutely utterly crazy. What kind of world was I now in, where a Kiwi man with cocktail stick arms and legs was riding a guinea pig? Was I in some kind of strange dream world? Maybe.

But that was the last we saw of Mr Kiwi man. He and his guinea pig had scarpered. (Although he had to promise the guinea pig that he’d take her to a land of grass and guinea pig food, otherwise she still threatened to eat him.)

The end