Morning froglets,

Well, today’s short story is going to be all about my best friend, Herring Gull Harry, and his encounter with some itching powder.

Earlier this week, I hopped down to the local market by the river and bought some itching powder off a joke stall and took it with me when Herring Gull Harry and I went on a fishing expedition to Pilchard’s Stream.  We made a camp in a nearby meadow and got on with some serious, uninterrupted fishing for our supper.

When I had caught enough fish for the day, I hopped back to our camp. Herring Gull Harry was still busy trying to catch fish to fill up his bucket.  I went into my tent and saw the packet of itching powder in my bag and an idea occurred to me.  Well, froglets, how could I (or indeed anyone) resist?

I popped my head outside the tent and saw that Herring Gull Harry was busy concentrating on his fishing.  Quick as a flash, I hopped into his tent and sprinkled the itching powder in his sleeping bag before returning to mine with an expression on my face as though butter would not melt!  Meanwhile, Herring Gull Harry was still busy with his fishing.

Later on that evening, when Herring Gull Harry had finished getting ready for bed, he went to his tent, said goodnight and climbed into his sleeping bag.  He still had his torch on which lit up the whole of his tent so I had an excellent view of him snuggling down in his sleeping bag …. and then, froglets, he started to scratch.  First, he scratched his arms, then he scratched his legs, he scratched his back and then (and this is the best bit, froglets), the next thing I saw was he suddenly jumped up out of his sleeping bag and did this funny, hopping dance around his tent as he scratched furiously to try to stop the itching.  He was leaping around like some demented lepracorn.  It was so funny to watch.  My sides were hurting as I laughed into my sleeping bag.

Sadly though, the fun ended all too soon as Herring Gull Harry hopped and leapt his way to the river and jumped in the water to stop the itching.  He got the powder off, dried himself and returned to his tent.  He turned his sleeping bag inside out and went to sleep without any further drama.  Disappointingly, froglets, the fun was over for the day but buying the itching powder had been so worth it just to watch his face.  He was hopping mad and as for his dancing….well, methinks, there are just not the words in the world to describe it.  Maybe – it could be that his crazy dancing is the start of a new craze ….

Oh, talk of the devil, here comes Herring Gull Harry to see me now.  I had better go.  Speak to ya soon, froglets.

Errol 🙂