⁽There was, once upon a time an old goat who had seven little kids, and loved them with all the love of a mother for her children. One day she wanted to go into the forest to fetch some food. So she called all seven to her and said-⁾
KA-BOOOM!!! Mrs Goat dropped her book in surprise as the sound echoed through the house, closely followed by several muffled shouts.
“Sshhh, she’ll hear you!”
“Not so loud!”
“Shut up! She can hear us!”
“She can definitely hear you!”
Mrs Goat picked up her book and set it down on her bedside table. “Duty calls,” she murmured tiredly. Her hooves went click clack click clack on the polished wood floor as the mother goat went downstairs. “Children,” she called, “whatever you’re doing, it had better not be against the rules!” Mrs Goat waited a few moments, and then started towards the basement. Click clack click clack. Several faint bleats drifted up through the floor. Mrs Goat smiled knowingly. “I know where you are children,” she called again, “when I get down there that room had better be spotless.”
“Hurry! Tidy it up!” a voice cried. Mrs Goat slowly descended the stairs leading to the basement.
“Hurry up she’s coming!!” several voices bleated at the same time. She slowly crossed the small room to the little wooden door.
“There’s no time! Just shove it in there!”
“Where?”
“Over here you idiot!!”
“What are you doing?!”
“Get off me!”
“OUCH!”
“Well if you had moved that wouldn’t have happened!”
Suddenly Mrs Goat threw open the door to the basement. Seven little kids shrieked in unison as a big cardboard fortress came crashing down on top of them. Feathers flew everywhere as the walls of the flimsy fortress tore apart. Mrs Goat glared at her seven guilty children. “So,” she said slowly, “this is why all your pillows are so thin.” The little kids shuffled their feet shamefully.
“We’re sorry, mother,” the eldest mumbled, “we broke the furnace.” Mrs Goat peered into one of the dimly lit corners of the room. There, sitting in a steaming heap, were the remains of the furnace. The eldest kid shuffled his feet some more. “We were trying to light a fire in it, but it sort of…..you know…..” he trailed off and stared sheepishly at his fuming mother.
“I see that you have not learnt your lesson,” she said in a deceptively calm voice. The kids looked at each other in dismay. “I guess you’ll just have to live without the TV for a while.” The kids’ eyes widened as the implications of what their mother had said sunk in. “Two weeks should do the trick,” their mother continued pleasantly, “or maybe three? No, I think…..four will do!” And with that, Mrs Goat left the room. As soon as the door was closed, a great wail erupted from seven little throats.
“What will we do?”
“We’ll miss all our shows!”
“It’s your fault!”
“Who cares? What about the TV?”
“I’ll die without it!”
“We’ll have to try and survive without!”
“We’ll miss Big Brother!!!”
The little kids continued to scream and cry, until finally their throats were sore. When they came back upstairs, their mother was waiting for them. “I’m going into town to get the furnace fixed.” The kids blushed shamefully. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Behave yourselves, no TV, and remember, DO NOT LET THE WOLFS’ SON IN!” The little kids nodded gravely. They all remembered that terrible day two years ago when the old wolf had tried to eat them all. But he hadn’t, which is why they were all standing there remembering it. “I expect a clean house when I get back,” Mrs Goat said as she tied on her bonnet. “The broom is in the cupboard, and the vacuum is under the stairs.”
