THE AMAZING ADVENTURES OF T-BAG (THE STORY!) Jul 1, 2004 17:56:10 GMT
Post by Granny Bag on Jul 1, 2004 17:56:10 GMT
The Amazing Adventures Of T-Bag
Lee Pressman & Grant Cathro
Hello all you boys and girls, it’s Granny Bag here, back again, I love it so much here (really like the images of me, so many great ones to choose from) that I’m going to tell you a story about my grand-daughter Tallulah Bag’s 500th birthday. Its The Amazing Adventures Of T-Bag, I’m reading from the book, for those of you who do not have it, written by Lee Pressman and Grant Cathro, what lovely chaps they are! I’ve even found one of those new fangled internet links about the book with a nice picture. Budge up duckies and I’ll begin the tale of The Amazing Adventures Of T-Bag.
The Amazing Adventures Of T-Bag (More Info)
T-Bag the madcap witch is back with a vengeance!
She is 500 years old today but everyone has forgotten her birthday. That is, until the postman delivers a very strange letter – whatever can it mean? Undaunted, T-Bag and her trusty companion, T-Shirt, set out on a mysterious adventure which will lead them to a Transylvanian castle, the icy wastes of the North Pole and…
Will our two heroes ever get back to the T-Room alive?
The Amazing Adventures Of T-Bag
Lee Pressman & Grant Cathro
‘Make me a cup of tea, boy… and I don’t mean tomorrow!’
It was breakfast time in the T-Room and T-Bag was in a foul mood. She was always in a foul mood but today she was in the foulest of foul moods imaginable. To judge by the expression on her face you’d think she’d been up all night sucking lemons. T-Shirt looked up from the table and knew at once that it was going to be a bad day.
‘I’ll get your tea once I’ve had my Puffed Wheat Popsicles’ he mumbled through a munched mouthful of breakfast cereal.
‘You’ll get it NOW!!!’ barked T-Bag, thumping the table so hard with her fist that every cup, saucer, plate and bowl jumped into the air and clattered down with a crash.
T-Shirt sighed and rolled his eyes. It was definitely going to be a bad day.
‘Oh cheer up Your Majesty’ he piped, pouring her a fresh-brewed cuppa.
‘You know what they say. Smile and the world smiles with you. Cry and you’re on your tod.’
T-Bag fired him a withering glance and sat stony-faced at the table.
‘Cut the cackle, Sonny Jim. Where’s my tea? I need my tea! I’ve got to have my tea!’
‘Keep your hair on,’ smiled T-Shirt with a cheerful grin. ‘You know what they say. Everything comes to him who waits.’
‘Well I’ve waited long enough,’ growled T-Bag. ‘Just give me the tea… and put a sock in it!’
T-Shirt shrugged and scratched his head. Long experience as T-Bag’s T-Caddy had taught him to do exactly as he was told. He handed over the cup of tea and without a glance T-Bag greedily took a huge gulp.
‘Bleugh!!!’ she coughed and spluttered, slowly extracting a horrible cheesy wet sock from the cup. She held it at arms length dangling it before T-Shirt’s grinning face.
‘Do you do this deliberately to torture me or what?’ she said in a despairing voice. ‘Do I have to endure this childish tomfoolery every single day? Do I? Especially on a day like today?’
T-Bag invested these last three words with great significance as if trying to drop an unsubtle hint of some sort of T-Shirt’s unwashed ear.
‘What do you mean a day like today?’ asked the boy blankly.
‘Oh nothing’ replied T-Bag airily. ‘Nothing. Nothing. Forget I spoke.’
‘T-Shirt shrugged it off, sat back at the table and began filling his face once again with Puffed Wheat Popsicles.
T-Bag snorted and drummed the table with her fingers impatiently.
‘You do know what day it is today don’t you?’
‘Uh…Thursday?’ guessed T-Shirt.
‘It’s Monday you ignoramus!’ snapped T-Bag. ‘I thought at least you might have remembered.’
‘Remembered what day it is, you stupid boy!’
With a sound like a sinking ship’s foghorn T-Bag let out a low groan and slumped back in her chair.
All of a sudden T-Shirt’s face lit up.
‘I remember!’ he chimed.
T-Bag sat up hopefully.
‘You remember?’ she asked.
‘Yes’ laughed T-Shirt. ‘How stupid of me! How could I have forgotten? Of course I know what day it is today.’
T-Bag was beginning to cheer up now. She allowed the beginnings of a smirk to take root on one side of her mouth. Alas the smirk was never destined to blossom into a smile.
‘It’s dustbin day!’ announced T-Shirt with enthusiasm. ‘The day the bins get emptied. Don’t you worry, Your Majesty. I’ll put all the rubbish out after breakfast…’
T-Bag’s Smirk had now completely shrivelled and died. Sour-faced and fuming she rose to her feet and exploded in an angry outburst.
‘IT’S MY BIRTHDAY, you fool!’
‘Oh. Is it?’ said T-Shirt without batting an eyelid. ‘That’s nice. Pass the toast.’
‘Pass the toast?’ spluttered T-Bag indignantly. ‘Is that all you can say?’
‘Oh…and the marmalade’ added T-Shirt. T-Bag could barely contain her violent intentions towards her insensitive sidekick.
‘Typical! Just typical.’ She bellowed. ‘You don’t give a tuppenny fig about my birthday do you? No present. No cake. Not even a card. NOTHING! Pah!’
Once again T-Bag slumped down in her chair. A cloud of gloomy silence hung over the breakfast table, broken only by T-Shirt occasional chompings as he munched on his toast and marmalade. T-Bag was quite bewildered. After all it wasn’t every day that you celebrated your five hundredth birthday! She couldn’t understand why absolutely nobody had remembered, especially since she’d been dropping hints willy-nilly for the last eleven months. She was rapidly coming to the sad conclusion that her big day had been completely forgotten, when a sudden clatter from the letterbox gave her a burst of renewed hope.
‘It’s the post!’ she whooped, clapping her hands together excitedly. ‘Go and get it! Quick! Quick!’
T-Shirt brushed the crumbs from his lips with the back of his hand and ambled over to the front door to collect the huge pile of envelopes lying on the mat.
He returned to the table and began to flick through them. T-Bag peered across at him eagerly.
‘Anything for me?’ she said hopefully. ‘Anything for meeeee?’
T-Shirt began to sort through the stack of mail. ‘This one’s for me…and so’s this one…this one’s mine…and this one as well. Oh look! It’s my Puffed Wheat Popsicle Pop Pickers Picture Postcard Poster! Brilliant. I’ve been waiting for this for ages!’
By now, T-Bag was sitting on the edge of her seat, her nerves jangling with anticipation.
‘I’m not interested in that rubbish’ she snapped.
‘There must be something for me…surely’
T-Shirt continued to sift through the pile.
Me, me, me, me, me, me, me’ he declared chirpily.
‘They can’t all be for you!’
T-Shirt had almost reached the bottom of the pile.
‘Hang on a minute,’ he said. ‘This one’s not for me.’
‘Aha!’ cheered T-Bag with a greedy smile, snatching the card from the boy’s grasp.
‘Don’t get too excited your Majesty,’ he said flatly. ‘It’s just to remind you that your library books are overdue.’
T-Bag gnashed her teeth and ripped the card into a thousand pieces, throwing them back like a shower of confetti into T-Shirt’s face.
‘Is that all?’ she demanded. ‘Is that it?’
‘There’s this one,’ he said casually holding out a dazzling golden envelope which had been tucked away at the bottom of the heap. He began to read the name inscribed in fancy flowing letters on the front.
‘To Tallulah Bag, The T-Room…
‘GIVE IT HERE!’ screeched T-Bag frantically, grabbing the intriguing item and hastily ripping it open.
Inside was a matching golden card, but to T-Bag’s bewilderment there wasn’t a birthday greeting to be seen. Instead there was a strange series of pictures, letters and numbers.
‘Who’s it from?’ asked T-Shirt.
‘How should I know,’ replied T-Bag irritated and completely stumped by this mysterious message.
‘It’s just a lot of mumbo-jumbo…somebody playing silly beggars.’
She was just about to tear the card to pieces when T-Shirt piped up and stopped her.
‘Just a minute’ he said earnestly. Let’s have a look at that. It might be something interesting.’
‘Balderdash!’ barked T-Bag, tossing the curious communication across the table. T-Shirt picked it up and studied it carefully.
‘This is a secret code!’ he beamed.
‘Somebody’s trying to tell you something, Your Majesty. Cor. Must be pretty important, eh, if it’s written in code.’
A faint glimmer of interest sparkled in T-Bag’s eye.
‘Important?’ she mused. ‘Let me see that thing.’
T-Shirt handed it back and they both pored over the cryptic puzzle.
‘What in the name of buttered buns does it mean?’ asked T-Bag, turning the card upside down and sideways up in an attempt to make sense of it.
T-Shirt pondered for a few moments then suddenly leapt to his feet.
‘You know what I think?’ he said emphatically.
‘What do you think?’ hummed T-Bag.
‘I think,’ began T-Shirt, exuding an air of great authority, ‘there’s only one person who could make sense of this mystery. Someone who’s a dab hand at cracking clues and all that lark. And that person is…’
‘Granny Bag!’ cried T-Bag excitedly.
‘Exactly!’ nodded T-Shirt in agreement.
T-Bag rose to her feet and pushed the golden card back into its envelope.
‘She may be a little on the weird side, but when it came to this sort of caper, Granny Bag is second to none. Come on, let’s go!’
T-Bag raised her arms, clicked her fingers, and with a ping they were both gone.