Prince Smurphy Murphy and the Chocolate Mushrooms

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright Š 2016 Gary Compton Published by Shy Bairns (Tickety Boo Press) www.ticketyboopress.co.uk/shybairns Edited by Psymon Marshall Copy-edited by Kit Meadors Cover and all illustrations by Gary Compton Book Design by Garcom Media.

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Prince Smurphy Murphy and the Chocolate Mushrooms by Gary Compton Basset Chronicles Book One Full colour paperbacks, hardbacks, jacketed hardbacks available at: www.danglebelly.com

CHAPTE

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ONE

ing Harvey walked into the doggy treat shop with his entourage following behind him. He looked around, licking his lips in anticipation. As usual, the shelves were bristling with dog treats - except for one.

The King focused on the completely empty chocolate mushroom shelf, his face frowning in disappointment. “Why are there none of my favourite treats today?” he enquired, his voice echoing around the quaint little thatched roof shop.

Professor Magoo came running out from the back of the shop, where he had his chocoboratory and distillery.

“I am so sorry, your majesty.” he grovelled. “I harvested the chocolate mushrooms from Bracken Woods this morning and ran my tests in the chocoboratory to make sure they were doggy chocolate. The test came back as negative…” Professor Magoo swallowed nervously.

“Someone has poisoned the crop, sir.”

King Harvey Basset stared at the empty shelf then focused on Professor Magoo. A look of concern came over the monarch’s face. “Who would do such

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a thing? We cannot function without our doggy treats,” he said in a low voice. “What can we do to solve this problem?”

“I have always dreaded this day and have tried many times before to make my own chocolate mushrooms, your majesty. I have gathered their spores from the forest and tried growing them in the chocoboratory,” Professor Magoo said, stroking his chin.

“But I have failed miserably. All I have managed to make are some chocolate chew sticks which may be useful for the royal house staff but are nowhere near as nice as the chocolate mushrooms.”

Two cocker spaniel dogservants, standing either side of the King, smiled broadly at the news that they might have their own treats. King Harvey pursed his lips, his eyes narrowing in thought as he wondered what they could do.

Then from behind him came the pitter patter of Basset nails on the old stone floors. The King spun on a paw to see Prince Smurphy Murphy swaggering through the door, looking rather pleased with himself.

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He stood before the King wearing his pleated skirt with a dagger strapped to his waist, and his magic cloak tied at the front of his neck with a silver buckle in the shape of a bone. The embroidered cloak covered his shoulders and flowed down to his waist. The Prince bowed in respect with a cheeky smile dancing on his lips. “Dear brother, I have an idea.”

King Harvey raised his eyebrows, expectantly. “I’m listening,” he said, drilling him with his wide inquisitive eyes.

The Prince smiled again. “My liege, there is a valley far away over several high mountains, across many raging rivers and... well…I have been told that the forests there are full of chocolate mushrooms – edible chocolate mushrooms,” he said, confidently.

But…” he paused, his lip quivering. “There will be terrible risks to the Basset army, my liege.”

“And how would you know this?” King Harvey asked.

“The Grumpy Dragon saw us travelling across the Seven Dogdoms in her crystal ball.”

King Harvey scratched his head with his paw and he broke out into a smile. “Aaaaww… what would the Basset Dogdom do without the Grumpy Dragon?

She single–handedly single saved the animal kingdom when the last of the hoomans left. She is a wonderful addition to our lands,” he mused. “We need our treats so we have no choice but to seek poison-free chocolate mushrooms or the Dogdom will become

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rebellious. This could lead to choco-riots, the burning of pictures of the Royal Bassets and might even lead to me losing my throne.”

Prince Smurphy Murphy lowered his head in respect. “In that case, I offer myself and my army to you and we will save the Dogdom from this terrible fate.”

“We must make a plan. Come to the Palace of Wiggly–Bum tomorrow and we will discuss this.”

“It will be my honour,” Prince Smurphy Murphy said, bowing.

King Harvey nodded once and made his way out of the shop.

Professor Magoo followed King Harvey with the silver tray, the empty tray that normally would be full of the King’s favourite treats.

Outside the Grumpy Dragon roared, disappointedly; she would often eat chocolate mushrooms as a dessert after her favourite wild salmon. The Dogdom would not be the same until a regular supply of chocolate mushrooms had been found.

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CHAPTER TWO In which a journey fraught with danger begins. he sun slowly rose over the mountain and bathed the Basset Dogdom in golden light. King Harvey sat on the veranda outside his royal bedroom at the palace of Wiggly–Bum eating a breakfast of grass soup and some of Professor Magoo’s makeshift chocolate treats.

The terrace was King Harvey’s favourite place in all the world.

Marble balustrades lined the veranda, and beautiful carvings of the royal family’s ancestors adorned each of the marble spindles. King Harvey threw his knife and fork onto the table and stood up. He stared across uninterrupted views of Bracken Woods where King Harvey’s much loved and now much missed chocolate mushrooms had grown.

“I can’t eat this rubbish for the rest of my reign!” he raged. “I would give ten pieces of gold for a chocolate mushroom right now.” The King twisted his face in disgust. “Bah! No more, please!”

He got up, and stormed off to the Bridge of Hope. A short time later, he stood on the old stone crossing, tossing a stone into Basset River which flowed under his feet.

What could he do? he thought.

One of his dogservants sheepishly approached him.

“Sir,” he said quietly. “Prince Smurphy Murphy is waiting to see you.”

“Send him out!” the King ordered, more grumpily than he’d intended. The servant disappeared and after a few minutes the Prince walked onto the bridge.

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“My liege, I have worked through the night to get ready for our journey. I have hundreds of Basset warriors ready to travel; dozens of Huskies raring to go and ready to pull our wagons. A dozen lady Bassets have volunteered to accompany us and look after us.

We are armed with daggers, talking fleas, exploding frogs, mailpigeons and the Grumpy Dragon has agreed to come with us as long she has Rottweiler bodyguards to carry her sedan chair.”

King Harvey’s eyes widened. “Can the Rottweilers be trusted?

We don’t want anything to happen to her!”

“Of course, sir, they are a good breed of dog. It was only their hooman owners that sent some of them into madness, but that could never happen now.”

King Harvey nodded his approval. “As long as you are happy, I am,” he said turning to go indoors. “I will accompany you to see you on your way.”

The King and Prince Smurphy Murphy walked into the palace. “I appreciate your confidence in me,” the Prince said, taking the King’s paw and kissing it. “You are a great leader and I will not let you down.”

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The King chatted with his brother as they went through the great hall and into the palace entrance. “I know you won’t,” he said.

Outside, hundreds of the Dogdom’s brethren had gathered to say their goodbyes to the Basset army. King Harvey tried to speak to the crowd but their cheering drowned him out. He looked at them, sternly.

The throng instantly fell silent. “Our chocolate mushroom harvest has been poisoned,” he began, his voice booming.

“Professor Magoo has no answers as to who would do such a nasty thing so we are forced to send half our army across the Seven Dogdoms to the land of the Afghan.” A chorus of gasps filled the air. “I know that no Basset has ever returned from the seventh valley but Prince Smurphy Murphy is confident that he

can bring back chocolate mushroom seeds with the knowledge that the treats, once grown, will be safe to eat. The rest of the army will remain here to protect us from other less friendly dogdoms,” King Harvey said smiling. “I say three cheers for our brave Prince and his fellow Basset warriors!”

“Hip hip hoorah!” Queen Betty Basset shouted.

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“Hip hip hoorah!” the crowd repeated.

“Hip hip hoorah!” yelled the royal servants.

The Queen walked up to the Prince and kissed him on the cheek.

“Take care brave prince, may you and your army have God’s protection at your backs.”

“Thank you, your majesty,” he replied, kneeling with his head lowered in respect. A horn sounded and the first wagon in the procession pulled up outside Wiggly–Bum Palace. There were many carriages, each one drawn by eight Huskies. Prince Smurphy Murphy got onto the lead carriage and cracked his whip. “Wagons roll…we have work to do!” he shouted.

Everyone waved their goodbyes. A cloud of dust from the old dirt track trailed behind the procession as they started their journey across the seven valleys.

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CHAPTER THREE

fter several hours of travelling, the Basset army looked jaded so Prince Smurphy Murphy decided to set up camp at the edge of Mongrel territory. The Bassets had never got on that well with the Mongrels, partly because they were jealous of how handsome the Bassets were but the Prince had a plan to counter this.

Once the Bassets had set up camp, the lady Bassets stood over open fires, preparing grass and onion soup in old cast-iron pots.

The soldiers chatted about the good old days when chocolate mushrooms were plentiful.

They even mused about the very rare occasions when white chocolate toadstools had been found.

The King loved those toadstools so much so that he’d decreed only the Royals would be allowed to eat them. Anyone finding one and tasting it would be thrown in the royal dungeons. None had been seen for many years, and no one knew why until Professor Magoo had discovered that they’d been wiped out by a plague that had been spread by sugar bats a few years earlier.

Prince Smurphy Murphy lay on the grass with his back legs crossed, eating a makeshift chocolate–flavoured dog

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treats. “These are not as nice,” he moaned. “Professor Magoo has done a good job in making these but they are not as tasty as chocolate mushrooms. I hope we will be able to find some in the seventh valley.”

The sound of the Grumpy Dragon’s wings flapping pulled Prince Smurphy Murphy out of his thoughts. The noise echoed around the copse as she turned in mid-flight and dropped down, landing next to the Prince and his men. “We will! I will make sure of it,” she said, fire shooting from her mouth and smoke puffing from her nostrils.

Prince Smurphy Murphy loved the Grumpy Dragon with all his heart, as did all the Bassets. She had lived in an underwater cave on Loch Ness when the hoomans had walked the valleys but had kept to herself apart from helping the odd animal in distress or scaring fishermen who would always catch too many of her beloved salmon. The locals had caught an occasional glimpse of her and had called her Nessie, but she was one of a kind. Her mottled silvery–brown scales kept her warm in the winter and cool in the summer. Her wings looked as light as candyfloss when she flew but they were as tough as old leather when they needed to be.

Prince Smurphy Murphy glanced at the Grumpy Dragon.

“How are you today, Grumps…?” He paused for a second as his consciousness was drawn into her all–seeing eye.

He watched the Major in his mind’s eye, who sat at a table with his generals. They discussed the location of the Basset’s camp and what they intended to do with the information.

Prince Smurphy Murphy blinked out of the reverie. “The Mongrels know we are here,” the Prince informed his senior advisor, General Buzz–Fuzz.

“My liege—” Prince Smurphy Murphy interrupted the general by holding up his paw. “Wait, listen…”

Both Bassets pricked up their ears as they heard rustling coming from the trees. The prince drew his dagger; both Bassets moved toward the noise.

A pair of bloodshot eyes stared out

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from behind the brambles. The general quickly moved in and grabbed the mystery watcher who squealed like a pig.

“Leave me alone,� the dwarf cried high pitched squeaky voice. The in a high-pitched general dragged him into the open.

The Prince puffed out his chest and laughed at the little man. He was about three feet tall with dirty skin, a long

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bulbous nose and greasy unkempt hair. “I’m taller than you,” Prince Smurphy Murphy pointed out.

The Lanky Dwarf looked him up and down. “I am the biggest of my three brothers,” he countered.

“Why were you watching us?”

“Erm… oh… err… I wasn’t,” the Lanky Dwarf stuttered.

Prince Smurphy Murphy twisted the dwarf’s arm. “Don’t lie to me or I’ll feed you to the Grumpy Dragon!”

The Lanky Dwarf flicked his eyes toward the Grumpy Dragon, who licked her lips and smirked. “I do often like toasted dwarf for breakfast,” she said, wickedly.

The intruder covered his eyes but looked at the Grumpy Dragon through his fingers. “Please don’t eat me. My brothers and I live in a hollow tree and we help travellers through these parts for a piece of gold or two.”

“Where are they then?” Prince Smurphy Murphy asked.

“They have accompanied a chocolate prospector to the Land of the Afghan. He wants to buy all their chocolate mushrooms.”

“What!?” the Prince yelled.” You have to help us stop him. I will give you three pieces of gold if you get us there before him.”

The Lanky Dwarf’s eyes brightened and he smiled, revealing his rotten yellow teeth. “That’ll do nicely, sir,” he said rolling his head from side to side, dumbly.

“Okay,” Prince Smurphy Murphy said as he studied the dwarf who stood there in bemusement at the Prince’s attention. The lights are on but no-one is in the Prince thought. “You are one ugly dwarf, my friend.”

The Lanky Dwarf looked at the forest floor in embarrassment. “You could be right, sir. My uncle who was King of our breed, me and my brothers were once the most beautiful dogs that eyes could behold—” “Bassets?” the Prince interrupted.

“No, sir, we were Toy Poodles with coats of

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rainbows on our backs but the Wicked Witch cast a spell on us that turned us into what we are now, banishing us to the hollow tree,” he turned and pointed to his home. “We have no chance of ever returning to our former selves.”

The Prince felt sorry for the Lanky Dwarf. “Why did she do that?

“We were helping ourselves to her chocolate mushrooms and got caught.”

“So why do you still do it?” the Prince asked.

“Well she can’t make us any uglier than we are and we need the money.”

“If you help us, I will help you and try to break this terrible spell.”

The Lanky Dwarf wiped a tear from his eye. “If you did that we would serve you forever.”

“Come with me,” Prince Smurphy Murphy said.

The Grumpy Dragon had lost interest in the Dwarf, and had flown to the loch to collect lunch. Very quickly she returned with several fresh salmon in her arms. Her tail moved from side to side in her excitement as she waddled over to the lady Bassets who would cook them for her.

After the Prince and the dwarf had joined them around the fire, the Grumpy Dragon tucked into the roasted salmon that one of the Basset ladies had prepared for her.

“This is delicious,” she said looking up at the Lanky Dwarf. The roasted salmon completely mesmerized him. He licked his lips with his big red tongue. The Grumpy Dragon felt sorry for him and passed him her half–eaten meal. He devoured the plate of food in seconds. “Thank you,” he said as flakes of fish dropped from his lips. “I am so hungry.”

With his belly now full after a much needed meal, he fell asleep just before sunset. The Lanky Dwarf had settled in with his new friends – he loved them and they loved him.

As darkness fell, a cacophony of snoring wafted into the air above the Basset camp. Prince Smurphy Murphy felt comforted that his men, the Grumpy Dragon and the Lanky Dwarf would get a good night’s sleep. He spent most of that night with his generals, discussing their strategy for the next day.

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CHAPTER FOUR

Which is short but nevertheless, important. ack in Bassetland, King Harvey was training the royal princes and princesses. “Keep your back arched, your chests low to the ground and hold your head high,” he boomed.

“Left – right – left – right.”

The young Bassets were being groomed in the style that the king expected of his offspring. King Harvey had many wives and of course even more children. One of his cocker spaniel servants came running out to him. “Your majesty, the mailpigeons have a message from Prince Smurphy Murphy.” King Harvey clicked his fingers and the two birds landed on a nearby tree. “Give it to me!” the King ordered.

The first pigeon Barry, swallowed nervously.

“Give me a second,” he said. “I’m trying to remember the message,” he said in a strong Brummy accent.

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The King pursed his lips in royal disgust. He did not like to be kept waiting.

The pigeon coughed…“We have reached the Mongrel dogdom,” the pigeon recounted. “We’ve picked up a dwarf on our travels who will help us get to the land of the Afghan. The Mongrels know we are here but I have a plan to diffuse any tensions. Please give my love to the royal family and I will be in touch soon.”

“That’s the end of the message,” the second pigeon, Wayne, confirmed in a Cockney accent.

The King smiled at the two wood pigeons. “I would like you to convey a message to Prince Smurphy Murphy so please memorise this,” he told them. “Tell him that we are proud of him and his men and we look forward to his speedy return with the chocolate mushroom seeds.”

The two pigeons repeated the message several times, memorising the King’s reply. “We will deliver this in person as quickly as possible,” Wayne confirmed.

King Harvey dismissed them with his hand; both birds flapped their wings and disappeared into the early morning sky.

His majesty returned to his lesson. “Come on you ’orrible lot – left – right – left – right!”

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CHAPTER FIVE

Prince Smurphy Murphy gets to meet the Major. rince Smurphy Murphy and his army moved deeper into the Mongrel Dogdom. By now the Lanky Dwarf had settled in. He was so funny – funny to look at, funny to listen to and hilarious.

The Prince reached a cliff top that gave him uninterrupted views of the city of Mongrel. He took out his binoculars to study the landscape but before he could focus properly, voices and rustling came from the trees. Several Mongrels dressed in hidey-holes in combats moved out of their hidey the long grass. “I don’t think you should be here,” one of them said.

“You are?” Prince Smurphy Murphy asked, politely.

“I am the Major, and this Dogdom belongs to me!”

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The leader of the Mongrels was dressed in military clothing: leather boots up to his knees and he looked fearsome. He was half Staffy and half Labrador, with a short ginger mane and a terrible temper, allegedly. The Major had seized power from the old Mongrel King who had been banished from the lands along with his family.

“We come in peace,” the Prince said with a smile.

“It doesn’t look like it. You have a hundred or so Bassets behind you.”

“We seek chocolate mushrooms from the land of the Afghan.

Can you help us through your lands?”

The Major turned his head to one of his generals and smirked. “What’s stopping me taking all your supplies and throwing you into our dungeons?” the Major said, menacingly.

Prince Smurphy Murphy raised his eyebrows in surprise at the Major’s outburst.

Quick as a flash, he whipped his magic cloak from his shoulders and threw it into the air. The

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Major looked at the garment, confusion developing on his face.

“Gigantem illum revelare.” The Prince’s words echoed around the forest, the garment began to shimmer as it floated in the air.

Beautiful pinpricks of light emanated from the magic cloak and they span around it like a tornado. The coloured orbs slowed, forming the shape of a man – a very large man – in fact a giant of a man. The Mongrels stood with their jaws wide open.

In front of them stood a ten–foot, one–eyed giant with muscles on his muscles and a look that would frighten a tarantula into suicide. “You’ll take nothing from my master,” the giant’s words boomed across the valleys, frightening the birds who flew from the trees in terror. “If you do you will have me to deal with.”

The Major and his generals all swallowed hard. “Ohh... ermm ... urr... errr… I never…” the Major stuttered, “…meant I would.

I just said I could.”

“This all seems to be a terrible misunderstanding,” the Prince said, smiling.

“Why don’t we go into the city and talk about this?”

The giant twisted his lip and growled at the Major who seemed intimidated by him. “Yes, of course,” the Major said in a slightly higher pitched voice than normal.

“Excellent! Shall we follow you?”

Prince Smurphy Murphy said.

The Mongrel leadership had had the wind taken out of their sails and looked a little bemused. The giant stood there, his face twisting like a bulldog chewing on a wasp. They were certainly intimidated by his presence.

Prince Smurphy Murphy had won the first battle but could he maintain their new friendship? Only time would tell.

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CHAPTER SIX In which the Major gets a welcome surprise. he Basset army was accompanied by the Major and his men as they entered Mongrel City. The giant had returned to the cloak and the Mongrels seemed happier. The streets of the city were busy, thronged by an array of different cross–bred dogs. There were Labradoodles, Jack–a–Bees, Bees, Cheagles, German Shebradors, Yorkiepoos and many many more. The word had obviously gone out for them to be nice to the Bassets.

Prince Smurphy Murphy led his army and strolled down the street with his normal swagger. As they stopped outside the Major’s main residence, its iron gates opened and they walked up the cobbled drive.

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The Prince signalled by nodding a wink at General Buzz–Fuzz.

Prince Smurphy Murphy was up to something. The General gave the order to one of his men and one of the wagons left the procession and pulled up in front of the Major and the Prince.

The soldier lifted down a wooden box and threw it onto the ground. It split open and its contents were strewn across the granite cobbles. The Major and his general’s eyes nearly popped out of their heads,: they were speechless. The Prince stood with a big smile on his face. “This is a gift from our King. We come in peace and want the Mongrels as our friends and allies.”

The Major picked up one of the bone–shaped dog treats and holding it to his nose. “I have so missed these. Where did you get them from?” he asked the Prince.

“Professor Magoo created them in his chocoboratory back at the Basset Dogdom. Scribes in our Earth history department had read how mongrels loved these treats. Of course they haven’t been around since the hoomans left but we found an old recipe and recreated them.”

Several of Prince Smurphy Murphy’s men off–loaded dozens of boxes. The Major and his generals couldn’t resist the smell and tucked into their much–loved loved treats. “Mmmmm,” t h e Major said with crumbs dropping from his lips. “These are amazing.”

The royal delegation and the Mongrels walked into the Palace of Mixed–Up–Dogs with several of the Major’s men carrying the boxes of Bonios behind them.

“A feast is the order of the day,” the Major shouted. “We have friends to entertain.”

Prince Smurphy Murphy held in a smile, a very big smile as it happened, as he knew they

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had the Mongrels on side for the moment. That friendship would probably only last as long as the Bonios did.

As they entered the grand hall, a Labradoodle lady belly–dancer twisted and turned onto the floor; her beautiful eyes entrancing the Basset soldiers and her smile bewitching the Prince. The Major clapped his paws and servants carrying trays piled high with food, headed to the main table. Prince Smurphy Murphy focused on a tray of chocolate mushrooms. “I didn’t know these grew in your valley?” he said.

“They don’t. We arrested a prospector and his two little helpers who were trying to steal our miniature donkeys.”

“Really?” the Prince’s ears pricked. “And where are they now?”

The Lanky Dwarf stood beside him and could barely hide his excitement at hearing his brothers were in town.

“They are in jail awaiting their bail being paid.”

“How much is it?” the Prince asked as the Lanky Dwarf started to dance up and down on his toes in excitement.

“Five pieces of gold,” the Major told him.

“I will pay this,” he said. “The prospector can help us get to the land of the Afghan, as can the two dwarves.”

The Major thought about it for a second or two. “I accept your offer.” The Major took another Bonio and stuffed it into his mouth. “I think I like you Bassets,” he said with biscuit crumbs falling onto his lap. “I always thought you were stuck up because of how handsome you are but you are down to earth, just like me.”

Prince Smurphy Murphy smiled. He knew he could now move onto the Staffy Dogdom once they’d released the prospector and the Lanky Dwarf’s brothers.

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CHAPTER SEVEN

Where the reader may wish to hold their nose. ne of the Mongrel guards escorted the Prince and the Lanky Dwarf down to the dungeons below the Palace of Mixed–Up–Dogs.

The guard turned a large ornate key in the lock of an old rusty iron door. It creaked open and inside, holding their heads in their hands, the two dwarves sat quietly.

With his back to them, the prospector stood. He span on a heel and stared at Prince Smurphy Murphy. “My God, a common street cat,” the Prince observed.

“Excuse me,” the cat said. “There is nothing common about me,” he said, gesturing with his paw which was dripping in gold jewellery.

“I represent King Harvey of the Basset Dogdom…”

Prince Smurphy Murphy informed him, “…and we are paying your bail. You will work for us until the debt is repaid.”

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“Will I now?” The cat spoke in a rich, French accent. with a hint of attitude. The Prince nodded and smiled his approval.

The Lanky Dwarf couldn’t hold in his excitement and ran over to his brothers, gesturing with his hand. “This is Spotty and… erm… aah… Pumpy,” he said turning red with embarrassment.

“Why do they call you Pum—“ Prince Smurphy Murphy asked.

Before he could finish, a blood curdling noise came from behind the dwarf followed by the most disgusting smell.

“Bah! You stink!” the Prince said, holding his nose!

“I can’t help it,” Pumpy said, blushing. He looked to the floor and discreetly wafted the smell away with his hand.

“We’ll be glad to get rid of this one,” the guard added, dismissively.

Prince Smurphy Murphy smiled at the jailer and turned to the cat. “What is your name, sir?”

“My name is Oreo Montanblat, I’m a Parisian dealer of chocolate artefacts and items of the mysterious,” he said in a strong accent.

“Pleased to meet you, Oreo.” Prince Smurphy Murphy said.

“For the moment you will assist us in visiting the land of the Afghan and once we’ve achieved our objectives, you will be released from this contract.”

Oreo nodded. “Of course, a Frenchcat’s word is his bond.”

The prisoners gathered their things and left the dungeons, accompanied by the Prince and the Lanky Dwarf who appeared to have a new spring in his step now that he and his family were reunited. The Pumpy Dwarf walked past the guard and smiled, cheekily. Then the most terrible sound came from behind him ... phut... phoot... furt... furrt... blop... blip... blap! The guard held his breath but after a few moments he could no longer do so, so he sucked in a mouthful of much–needed air. He slowly turned red as the stench filled his lungs. The three dwarves laughed raucously as they made their way out with the prince.

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CHAPTER EIGHT In which three dwarfs are the centre of attention. reo Montanblat, the wonderfully cultured Parisian cat, sprawled on the Grumpy Dragon’s sedan chair, picking at his nails. She wasn’t happy at the cat’s occupation of her already small area of comfort. Prince Smurphy Murphy had insisted, though. So, as a loyal servant of King Harvey, she’d obeyed the request without question.

The Basset army had travelled all day through the outer limits of the Mongrel Dogdom and had now reached the top of the valley where they could view the Staffy Dogdom, a wonderfully modern metropolis compared to the countrified feel of Mongrel City, but the Prince knew it was run by gangsters.

After ordering the Basset army to make camp, the lady Bassets set up their tables and prepared tea.

While they cooked, the three dwarves caused havoc in the camp. They ran round the clearing like over-excited children, laughing, joking, pumping, burping and swearing.

The smell wafted over to General Buzz–

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Fuzz who fainted at the stench. The Grumpy Dragon brought him round with smelling salts. “You are going to have to get a better diet and also get cleaned up,” she yelled at the dwarves.

“You three are dirty and smelly. I’m going to bathe you!”

“Oh no you’re not,” the three of them replied in chorus as they ran off into the forest. The Grumpy Dragon flapped her wings and soared into the sky. From her all–seeing eye she spotted them cowering in a hollow so she swooped down and grabbed the three brothers. They squealed like piglets waiting to be fed as she took off toward the nearby loch with them in her arms.

From twenty feet or so above the calm waters she released them; they fell like stones into the cold loch, flapping their arms and gasping for breath.

“Wah!!!” the Lanky Dwarf shouted as he came to the surface, splashing and complaining.

“Brrrrrr!!” the Pumpy Dwarf moaned.

“Aaarrggghh!!!” the Spotty Dwarf yelled. “It’s freezing!”

“I think it has more to do with you never having been anywhere near water for years,” the Grumpy Dragon told them.

“I’m drowning,” the Lanky Dwarf screamed as he disappeared under the water.

The Grumpy Dragon tutted and swooped down and grabbed him by his collar. She rose into the sky, smiled wickedly and let him go again.

The dwarf screamed again as he fell into the loch for the second time.

After a few seconds he surfaced, flapping his arms like a duck.

The Grumpy Dragon smiled as a slick of dirt and grime spread around the brothers in ever-increasing ever circles. The Pumpy Dwarf sucked in his cheeks and looked guilty as bubbles floated up around him.

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“Phorrrrr,” his brothers shouted as they sucked in mouthfuls of his stench. They dunked their heads under the water again to avoid the smell.

“Dinner is ready!” Prince Smurphy Murphy shouted.

The Grumpy Dragon swooped down, grabbed the three dwarves and flew ashore, she

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dumped them onto the pebbled beach. They landed in a heap, moaning like there was no tomorrow. But as soon as they realised their tea was being served, they pulled themselves together and ran to the camp.

The Bassets were tucking into spicy vegetable and ginger stew.

The lady Bassets had been foraging in the forest and had come back with their baskets full.

“The Staffys will be trouble, I guess.”

“They will be but they do like the ladies,” the Grumpy Dragon told the Prince. “And lots of parties so if you could distract them, perhaps?”

The Prince stroked his chin while studying the three dwarves who gorged their meal as if they hadn’t eaten for a week. Gravy dribbled down their chins and ruined their newly cleaned clothing. “I have an idea,” the Prince said.

The dwarves immediately stopped eating and pricked up their pointy ears. The Prince walked toward them, and they swallowed nervously. He slipped off his magic cloak and before they could react he threw it over them. They fought like warriors to shrug it off but the cloak was too powerful. “Get off!” one said.

“You’re smothering me!” said another.

“It’s dark in here!” screamed the Lanky Dwarf.

Then there was silence…

And more silence…

“Well hello darling…” a most alluring voice said from under the cloak.

Prince Smurphy Murphy pulled off the cloak and three of the most beautiful lady dwarves stood in front of them. They puckered their ruby red lips and pushed out their chests.

“Hello boys,” they chorused.

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“Perfic!” the Grumpy Dragon observed.

The cloak had morphed the dwarves into lusty ladies and brainwashed them into believing they were Miss Worlds. “Would you like to introduce yourselves?” the Prince asked.

“My name is Damaris,” the blonde–headed Lanky Dwarf said.

“I’m amazing.”

“Call me Scarlett, handsome,” said the brunette, Spotty.

“I’m Serena by name and serene by nature,” the redheaded Pumpy Dwarf proclaimed.

“Lovely to meet you, ladies. I need your help.”

“Name it big boy and I’m yours,” murmured the brunette.

“I just want to be loved,” pleaded the blond.

The three ladies posed and pouted, fluttering their eyelashes and puckering their lips. They were truly a sight to behold. “We are going into town to party and I want you to flirt with the Staffy leaders. Can you do that?”

A chorus of, “We certainly can, darling,” came from the beauties.

“Good!” the Prince said. “I will send you into Staffy City on a Husky–drawn wagon. Oreo and the Grumpy Dragon will come as your friends. I have a surprise up my sleeve for their leader, Don Staffy.”

The three dwarven ladies writhed and wriggled to show off their figures. The Grumpy Dragon…well she just looked grumpy but Oreo purred. “I love a good party; I hope they have some delightful wine. A bottle of Dal Forno Valpolicella 2007 wouldn’t go amiss.”

“Remember the objective of the mission is to distract the Staffys for long enough so that we can move through the Dogdom without being noticed,” the Prince said.

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They all nodded. “Okay, we will take you into the city just after sunrise,� the Prince ordered. The Basset army and its new guests settled in for a quiet night under the full moon.

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CHAPTER NINE The Don gets an offer he can’t refuse. he last wisps of orangey–red orangey red tendrils of light clawed their way over the horizon and brought another dawn to the dog valleys. The Bassets were up early getting ready to escort the three ladies, Oreo and the Grumpy Dragon into Staffy Town.

The Staffys were a tough breed of dog and they’d built their city on the reputation of their leader, Don Staffy. Him and his family were ruthless when it came to making money. Sadly, if you didn’t do what he wanted, he’d make you an offer you couldn’t refuse.

Prince Smurphy Murphy knew Don Staffy liked the ladies so the distraction could work but the only problem was getting the three dwarves, Oreo and the Grumpy Dragon out of there afterwards.

“Hello, darling,” Damaris said stroking the Prince’s ears. “You’re so attractive. Do you want to snog me?”

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Prince Smurphy Murphy twisted his lips as visions of the Lanky Dwarf puckering up flashed through his mind. “Errr… no I don’t think so!” he said. “My loyalty is to the King and him alone.”

“Shame,” she moaned. “You’re so cute.”

The Basset soldiers loaded up one of the wagons with supplies and helped Oreo and the ladies onto the back seat. The Grumpy Dragon refused to squeeze on. “I will fly there myself,” she said matter–of–factly.

The Huskies pulled away; the Prince and his men waved their goodbyes. Oreo wore Prince Smurphy Murphy’s magic cloak.

He’d been schooled in its uses in case it was needed. The wagon disappeared into the forest. The Basset army now waited for the signal to move to the next valley.

After a couple of hours travelling, the party reached a cornfield with a track that led into Staffy Town. In the distance: skyscrapers and modern buildings towered over the city. Certainly, the Staffordshire Bull Terriers had built a magnificent metropolis – the contrast with Mongrel City couldn’t have been more striking.

Several 1929 Buicks approached from the distance with dust trailing in their wakes.

The lead car skidded in front of the group, its tires spinning to a stop on the soft soil. Several burly Staffys got out. The most fearsome one threw a cigarette onto the road and stubbed it out with his foot. He wore an expensive beige Crombie and a Fedora. His men were similarly dressed in black. “So what are you muppets doing in my town?” he said with menace.

“Oh hello Mr…” Damaris asked.

“They call me Don Staffy, gorgeous,” he said with a smirk.

“You like me?” she asked.

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“Sure I do. It’s not hard to like a gal like you.”

“Don’t you have someplace where you can take us and show me and my friends a good time?” she said.

“We’re out of bourbon, lady. Our delivery was ambushed by cops.”

Oreo took off Prince Smurphy Murphy’s magic cloak and placed it over a wooden box that was on the back of the wagon.

He whispered the magical command and the box shimmered and hey–presto! the contents of the box had been replaced with something more useful. Oreo removed the lid. “Will this be any help, monsieur?”

Don Staffy’s eyes locked onto dozens of bottles of bourbon.

“Party time boys!” he said opening one and taking a swig. The three Staffy ladies got down from the wagon and Don Staffy put his arm around Damaris. “You’re my gal now, baby.”

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“Sure, big boy. You’re amazing,” she told him.

“I know,” he said with cheeky grin.

The three ladies and Oreo got into the Buick and they sped off into town. After a short drive (where a lot of canoodling went on in the back seat) they pulled up outside Don Staffy’s Club.

His men got out with machine guns slung over their shoulders and stood threateningly. If anyone crossed the Staffys they’d get shot with a mixture of Skunk sick and Owl poo!

“The cops in this town want me behind bars. The chief is a greedy man, he always wants more. Well ’e ain’t getting any!”

Don Staffy said in his customary strong Brooklyn accent. He was rushed inside by his men: the ladies and Oreo following behind him.

It was party time.

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CHAPTER TEN nside Don Staffy’s club, music drowned out the conversation while Staffy ladies in bikinis danced on the stage. The place was busy, very busy in fact. Don Staffy and the dwarven ladies made their way to the boss’ table and sat down. Two of Don Staffy’s men took the bottles of bourbon and put them behind the bar. “What you having babes?” the Don asked Damaris.

“I’ll have a bourbon and coke,” she said fluttering her eyelashes.

“Make that five,” Don Staffy told the waiter. “Maybe we should have a meal and get cosy, babes?” he said exactly like a dog that always got his way.

The blonde Staffy lady Damaris puckered her lips and flashed her big blue eyes at the Don. “Ooooh are you always this nice?”

“When I want something – I take it,” he said forcefully.

“Maybe a few drinks first, darling?”

The Don clicked his fingers, a dancing Staffy lady wriggled her way to his table. “Hiya! How’s

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my little darling?” she said, sitting on his knee and squeezing his cheek.

“Not bad, not bad at all, baby,” he said. “This is a friend of mine. She’s beautiful. Maybe we could give Damaris and her friends a job?”

“Maybe,” the dancing girl speculated.

One of the Don’s men approached. He caught his gaze and nodded toward an empty table. “Boss, could I have a word?”

“Sure but you better be quick. I’m in the middle of entertaining these gorgeous ladies…” he said.

The dancing girl got up and went back to the dancefloor with the rest of Don Staffy’s girls. The Don and his enforcer chatted, occasionally glancing at Oreo and the three ladies. He came back looking grumpier than the Grumpy Dragon. “Nothing to worry about, just business. Now come on let’s party.” He got up and moved to the dancefloor, gyrating his hips, twisting and turning with his arms moving like two snakes. Damaris, Scarlett and Serena got up and danced around him.

Oreo remained seated; he checked his watch – seven hours left before the magic cloak’s spell ran out of time and the ladies would turn back into the three ugly dwarves. Hopefully they would get drunk and fall asleep and Oreo would be able to give the signal to the Grumpy Dragon who’d relay it to Prince Smurphy Murphy and the Basset army and get them out of there.

After a meal and several more drinks the Don, his men and the three Staffyladies were looking a bit worse for wear so they retired to his hotel suite.

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CHAPTER ELEVEN

Wherein Professor Magoo disappears for a while. ack in the Mongrel Dogdom, the Major and his men had gorged themselves on Bonios for over a week now. They all had little pot bellies because they’d eaten so much. “Pass me another,” the Major ordered his lieutenant.

“There are none left, sir.”

“What, we can’t have eaten them all?” he said stroking his chin.

“I’m afraid so,” the lieutenant reported with a tinge of regret in his voice.

“Damn those Bassets for not leaving more.

Didn’t they say that a Professor Magoo had made them in his chocoboratory… and most of their army is away on a crusade? Maybe we should go down to Basset Valley and bring Professor Magoo back here?”

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The lieutenant smiled wickedly. “Sir, you have the most amazing ideas,” he said.

“I know – see to it,” he said waving the lieutenant away.

Two days later the Major and a select few of the Mongrel special forces sneaked up on Wiggly–Bum Palace. King Harvey had built it on the top of a large outcrop of razor sharp rock and the only way in was up the single track that was protected night and day by the King’s guardsmen.

One of them stood on sentry duty at the guardhouse that was half way up the track. They wore the Royal ceremonial red and black uniform and a bearskin cap. The guard scanned the surroundings for any movement. The Major lay low in the forest and studied them with his binoculars. He made a signal with hand gestures and his men moved quietly toward the guardhouse. One of them inadvertently stood on a branch that gave off a loud crack that echoed around Bracken Woods.

“Who goes there?” the guard shouted as the Major’s lieutenant stood up with his hands in the air. “Sorry, I was looking for Professor Magoo,” he said innocently.

The Major moved closer in a pincer movement while the guard was distracted by the sound of the twig breaking.

“You are under arrest for trespass. No one other than the royals are allowed here,” the guard said to the first group of the Major’s men.

“I don’t think so,” the Major said as he slipped out of the shadows.

The guard held his hands up. “We aren’t going to hurt you; all we want is Professor Magoo,” the Major confirmed.

“H…he is not here,” the guardsman stuttered.

“Take me to him then.”

After checking the guardhouse for any other soldiers, the Major and his men tied up one soldier and

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accompanied the other down the track to Basset Square where Professor Magoo had his shop.

Thunder rumbled in the distance and the clouds darkened. As they approached

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the chocoboratory, light filtered outside like a beacon signalling Professor Magoo was working late.

The Major saw Professor Magoo through the window, wearing plastic gloves and working on his recipes. The major’s men tied up the guard and knocked on the door.

They waited… …and waited.

Nothing seemed to happen – no movement – no noise so they knocked again. “Coming,” Professor Magoo shouted, grumpily. He didn’t sound happy at the interruption. The old oak door creaked open. “Can I help you?” he said sheepishly.

The Major pushed open the door fully and grabbed the Professor. “You will come to the Mongrel Dogdom and help us make Bonios! Once you have shown us how to do it you will be free to go.”

“I think you’ll find King Harvey will not tolerate that arrangement,” the Professor said firmly.

The Major and his men tied Professor Magoo’s hands behind his back and moved into the darkness of the forest with him in tow.

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CHAPTER TWELVE

Containing the smell of skunk poo and owl sick. rince Smurphy Murphy was asleep, as was the Basset army, when suddenly he could hear an intermittent roaring sound. He kept his eyes closed in the hope that it would go away. To his annoyance, the noise grew stronger and more frequent so he opened one eye to check.

The Grumpy Dragon stood on the forest pathway and snorted fire through her nose. “I think it is time to get going,” she said, picking her nails.

“What?” the Prince exclaimed. “The way is clear?”

“Yes, the Lanky Dwarf and his brothers have done a good job and got the Don and his men drunk. They are all asleep now,” she told him.

“Excellent!” the Prince said, getting up from his bed of straw. He nodded to the royal piper who sounded the signal of their imminent advance.

The bagpipes echoed around the forest, disturbing the slumber of the Basset army. Groans came from the Prince’s men as they woke themselves up.

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“How will you get Oreo and the dwarves out of there?” the Prince asked.

The Grumpy Dragon tapped her nose. “Wait and see, handsome Prince – wait and see.” Flapping her wings, in the blink of an eye, she was flying high in the sky. Prince Smurphy Murphy waved; he knew the Grumpy Dragon would not let him down.

She rose above the clouds and headed back to Staffy Town. In her all–seeing eye she watched the Lanky Dwarf, currently known as Damaris the blond Staffy lady, stretch her arms above the covers.

Oreo purred quietly on the couch. Muffled groans came from under the duvet.

“Oh my God my head is going to explode,” Don Staffy complained. “Hello gorgeous. What’s a nice gal like you doing in a dump like this?”

“Giz a kiss,” Damaris said, offering her ruby–red lips up to him.

Oreo checked his watch, his eyes widened in shock.

Five seconds to go!

Don Staffy snuggled up to Damaris and pecked her on her cheek.

“Three – two – one, Oreo said.

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“Aaaaarrrgggghhh!” Don Staffy shouted. “What…in the name of God…????” he screamed like a banshee. Damaris had turned back into the Lanky Dwarf. He still had on his party dress and red lipstick but the spell from the Magic Cloak had worn off.

The Don pulled out his pistol from under his pillow; the weapon fired a mixture of Skunk poo and Owl sick which usually meant the target would hold their breath till they passed out.

Several of the Don’s men burst through the doors. Oreo and the three dwarfs ran onto the balcony. “Get them,” the Don ordered. “No one makes a monkey out of me.”

His main henchman, Luca, pulled out his poo–pistol from his belt and walked, menacingly towards them. The Lanky Dwarf swallowed nervously, as did his brothers. The Grumpy Dragon watched this develop and she swooped down, landing on the balcony and snorting fire into the hotel room. Luca’s hair was toast, as was his silk suit. Don Staffy’s moustache shrivelled to a shadow of its former self. He tried to twirl it but his pride and joy turned to dust and fell to the floor. He didn’t look happy, standing at the bottom of the bed, dishevelled and looking as if he’d been in a pizza oven for an hour. The Grumpy Dragon grabbed the three dwarfs and Oreo and soared into the sky.

The Don ran to the balcony’s handrail, firing his pistol but the smelly soup just bounced off the Grumpy Dragon’s armoured and extremely waterproof skin.

The three dwarves started to laugh raucously, Oreo joined in and the Grumpy Dragon shared an uncharacteristic smile. The Bassets would now be en–route to Red Setter Dogdom where the Grumpy Dragon hoped the welcome would be a little less … smelly and a bit more enjoyable.

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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

In which King Harvey is left fuming. ing Harvey lay in bed and stretched his arms. “Ohh what I would give for a chocolate mushroom right now,” he mused. Suddenly there was a firm knock at the door.

“Come!” he shouted.

“Sir, I have terrible news!” a royal servant said, nervously.

“Professor Magoo has been kidnapped.”

“By whom?”

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His butler offered him the letter. The King roared, jumping out of bed and grabbing the hand–written note... his majesty studied

the letter, his face slowly turning red. “Who does this guy think he is messing with? ‘A few months?’

We need Professor Magoo here for when Prince Smurphy Murphy returns.” He threw the letter onto the floor.”

Queen Betty sat up in bed. She didn’t look her best because she had curlers in her mane. “You have no choice but to mobilise the remainder of the Basset army,” she said.

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King Harvey paced up and down the royal bedroom, stroking his chin. “Get me General Archie Basset,” he ordered. “We shall take back what is rightfully ours.” The royal servant picked up the Major’s note and headed for the door. *** A few hours later King Harvey, General Archie Basset, and the remaining military hierarchy, sat round a very long oak table in the grand hall at Wiggly–Bum Palace. King Harvey sat at the head of the table. He wasn’t happy. He’d already sent a couple of mail– pigeons to Prince Smurphy Murphy informing him of the news.

The message had asked for the Grumpy Dragon’s assistance.

“Have we got enough supplies of Basset weaponry to save Professor Magoo?” he asked the general.

“Your royal highness, we have about one million talking fleas, a few dozen exploding frogs, and some deranged woodpeckers.”

“Will that be enough?

“Yes sir. The leaders of the fleas have assured me that once on the Mongrels they will force them to hand over Professor Magoo.”

“Are they here?” the King asked.

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“Yes, my liege.”

General Archie Basset walked with the King to his drawing room where the fleas and President Splatitandrun waited.

“Ahh Scratchit and Scratchit. I have actually missed you little blighters…” he said scratching his side with his leg as a rogue flea feasted on his royal blood.

“Thank you, your liege, we have missed you too,” they said, their voices squeaky.

“I have a mission for you. Are you up for it?”

“Does it involve annoying dogs and feasting on their blood?”

Will Scratchit said with a wicked smile.

“Mongrels?” General Archie said.

“Get your men together, we shall travel at sunrise,” the King added.

“I’m itching to go,” Wanna Scratchit said, jokingly.

King Harvey smiled but quickly put the lid on the box as he didn’t want them having lunch on his royal blood but thinking about it, one of the little blood–chompers just had. “Who else have we got here?”

“We have President Splatitandrun of the exploding frogs,” the general informed him.

The frogs had befriended the Bassets during the fights for the valleys. They had a unique protection device on the top of their heads, an expanding mucus membrane that filled up like a balloon. Once fully inflated it exploded and covered the prey in smelly, sticky frog–poison which would cause the victims of this amazing defence mechanism to fall asleep so the frog could make their escape.

“Ah send him in,” the King requested.

The door opened and President Splatitandrun hopped in.”

“Your eminence, long time no splat,” he jested.

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King Harvey remembered the day well when he had met the President. King Harvey stank for a week. “Ah yes, certainly a day to remember, Mr President,” he mused. “I need your help in recovering Professor Magoo who has been kidnapped by the Mongrels.”

“Us frogs are always at your service. You know that.”

“I know,” King Harvey said. “Without the Professor we will never experience the smooth taste of chocolate mushrooms again. Gather your men from the Frogdom – you will leave immediately for a rendezvous with Prince Smurphy Murphy.”

“I will make it my business to eat as much grass and weeds as possible from the stinky marshes, as will my fellow frogs. They will not know what has hit them when we explode into their lives,” the President croaked a laugh; the King and his servants joined in the joke and they all laughed and laughed.

King Harvey felt a lot better having done something to counter the Major’s plan. He said his goodbyes and retired to his quarters.

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CHAPTER FOURTEEN Where the Pumpy Dwarf’s smell is replaced by music. rince Smurphy Murphy and his army had escaped the Staffy Dogdom without anyone getting hurt. They’d set up camp next to a river and the lady Bassets were preparing dinner. The Pumpy Dwarf got his violin from one of the wagons and played some good old Irish music.

The Prince lay on his back with his legs crossed, chewing some grass. “I’m looking forward to the Red Setter Dogdom; those Irish dogs certainly know how to make other dogs welcome.”

The three dwarves danced around the fire. “And they like Guinness,” the Lanky Dwarf added.

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“Ah yes I remember that.”

Prince Smurphy Murphy noticed the fire burning out, he clicked his fingers. “More wood,” he told the two Basset infantrymen whose job was to keep it going.

Flapping came from above as the Grumpy Dragon arrived. “It’s getting colder as we head north. Get well wrapped up. I think there will be snow.” *** Further up north the Pumpy Dwarf’s music had danced on the wind. Benji and Winter listened with interest.

“Where’s that coming from?”

“It’s a few miles south, downwind.

“Do you think they might be coming to rescue us?”

Benji lowered his gaze. He knew that too many months had gone by and that Winter’s uncle, King Harvey, would have assumed they were dead.

Benji had taken his wife Boo and their daughter for a Basset waddle through the

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woods and they’d got lost. Instead of heading south back to the Basset Dogdom, they’d gone the wrong way and had ended up several valleys away from home. Benji had found a cave they could sleep in while they waited rescue but that never came.

“Is everyone hungry?” Boo shouted, stirring her pot over the fire.

“Ooh yes!” Benji and Winter said in unison. Mother Boo served up the soup and the family tucked in. “I really hope the Bassets are coming to take us home,” Winter mused. *** “Fffffff psssssshhhh prrrrrrup,” Prince Smurphy Murphy’s jowels puffed in and out, accompanying a hundred or so similarly noisy snoring Bassets.

The dwarves had shared their home–brew beer which was made from wild hops and garlic. They were used to it but Prince Smurphy Murphy and his generals arose with massive hangovers, as well as terrible garlic breath.

The prince approached one of the lady Bassets. “What’s for breakfast?” he asked. Before she could answer she sucked in his temporary halitosis. “Your breath stinks, your liege,” she blurted out before fainting.

Prince Smurphy Murphy grabbed her and held some fresh mint to her mouth. Her nose twitched and her eyes opened. “Get off me, your smelliness,” she said with a wicked smile on her face.

“Sorry Sally. I will learn my lesson.” Mischievous laughter came from below a tartan blanket where the three dwarves slept. The Prince pursed his lips in disgust.

After breakfast the Basset army loaded its wagons and headed north. The Grumpy Dragon was right, it had turned cold and there was snow in the air. It was a day’s travelling to the Red Setter Dogdom so they needed to get going before the weather took a turn for the worse.

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After moving across the valley for half a day, the weather turned.

Driving snow came from the heavens above, whipped into a wall of coldness by the wind. The Basset army were sodden. “We need to find some shelter,” the Prince ordered. As they fought their way through the bracken, they stumbled into a clearing just below a rocky outcrop. Prince Smurphy Murphy was drawn to an opening in the cliff so he and General Buzz–Fuzz went to investigate.

Closer to the cave they heard voices, so the Prince pulled his dagger and sneaked up closer. He heard the crackling of an open fire. He and the general clambered up and entered the cavern.

He got the shock of his life; there was his brother, Benji and his family sitting around the fire eating their dinner.

Winter turned toward him, dropping her bowl onto the cave floor. “Uncle Smurphy Murphy!” she shouted, excitedly. “You’ve found us!”

Benji stood up and hugged his older brother. “I knew you’d come to save us eventually.”

“This is a fantastic surprise,” the Prince said, “we have missed you, terribly.”

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Boo Basset burst into tears. “The nightmare is over, we can go home.” Seeing her tears started Winter and Benji off. That had been the first time she’d called their plight a nightmare but she was right. They could go home to their little cottage, the warmer climes and of course – chocolate mushrooms.

General Buzz–Fuzz ran to the cave entrance. “In here everybody.

We have somewhere to sleep and some new guests.” The Lanky Dwarf’s ears pricked, he clicked his heels and ran over, followed by his brothers.

“More Bassets,” he said, disappointedly.

Prince Smurphy Murphy booted him in the shin. “Be nice, this is my long lost brother.”

“Sorry. I didn’t know,” the Lanky Dwarf said, rubbing his leg while his brothers chuckled at his discomfort.

“We are on a mission for the King. Someone poisoned the chocolate mushroom crop and we are visiting the seven dog valleys to find doggy–chocolate mushrooms we can take home.”

“So will we have to come with you?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so.”

“How exciting – a King’s mission,” Winter mused.

“We will stay here tonight and head for the Red Setter dogdom at sunrise.” *** Boo and the lady Bassets had done a good job of feeding the soldiers. The Lanky Dwarf lay on his back picking his teeth. “That was delicious,” he said. “Very crunchy, what was it?”

Boo’s face developed a big smile. “It’s made from squirrel poo, it’s full of nuts and so good for you.”

The Lanky Dwarf jerked up in shock. “Yuk,” he said. “I will die.”

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“You’ll not die you idiot. I’ve been eating it for months. It’s one of my favourites,” Benji told him.

The Lanky Dwarf ran outside and filled his mouth full of snow.

He retched and retched, mumbling under his breath, but no one could understand the gobbledygook.

Next day the Bassets were up early. They had grass soup for their breakfast. The Lanky Dwarf had nothing.

“You’re not dead then,” the Prince joked.

“I might be soon,” he said lowering his eyes in embarrassment.

“I will become a vegetarian, though.”

“It was veget...” the Prince started to explain. “Doesn’t matter.”

The Huskies had been tethered to the Basset army wagons, and everything was loaded so they set off. Winter, Benji and Boo waved goodbye to what had been their home for the last six months. They’d been happy there but looked forward to going home to their clean doggy-beds and the rest of their family.

The Prince mused on how they hadn’t found any of King Harvey’s favourite treats. The other Dogdoms had their own preferences, of course. He hoped that the rumour of the Land of the Afghan being plentiful in chocolate mushrooms was true.

As they reached the top of a hill, a noise interrupted his thoughts.

He stood up. “Quiet everyone.”

The procession stopped and everyone remained silent. Irish music and the unmistakable rhythm of Red Setter Irish dancers tapping their beat drifted down the wind. “We’re not far away now,” the Prince observed.

“Will there be any leprechauns there?” the Lanky Dwarf asked.

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“I hope not. Three is enough for any dog.”

“The Red Setters like their Guinness though,” General Buzz– Fuzz told them.

The Lanky Dwarf licked his lips. “A few pints of the good stuff will get rid of the taste of squirrel poo,” he said, spitting.

The Grumpy Dragon landed in front of the Bassets. “I’ve just flown over the Red Setter Dogdom. Our timing is perfect – they’re having an Irish dancing contest!”

“I love the Irish,” Prince Smurphy Murphy said. “They are so much fun.”

A short time later, the Basset army reached the dogdom, where a stone-built bridge straddled the river. The buildings were quaint, made of sandstone, and their backyards were full of chickens and ducks.

“You look quackers,” one of the ducks said to the Prince, laughing and flapping his wings.

“I’ve been called a lot worse,” he retorted.

“Are you looking for King Deano?” the duck asked.

“If he’s in charge, then yes.”

“Go to the end of this road and you’ll see the King’s castle in front of you.”

The Prince signalled for the Basset convoy to move. Further down the track the King’s residence came into view. By now the word had gone around the Red Setter Dogdom and many of the locals came out to greet the Bassets.

“Top o’the morning to you!” one shouted.

“Thank you!” the Basset army chorussed.

As they reached the square, Prince Smurphy Murphy could feel the friendliness coming from the Red Setters. he intended to enjoy his stay. There were dozens

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of market stalls offering traditional Irish food and in the corner, several of the Dogdom’s elite, including its King, sat outside an Irish pub, drinking Guinness.

“A warm welcome from the Red Setters,” King Deano greeted, offering his paw in friendship.

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“Glad we could be here to witness such a happy day.”

“Would you and your men like a pint of Guinness?”

“It’d be rude not to,” the Prince said with a cheeky grin on his face. He remembered the time when he used to live with his hooman owners – his dad loved to drink it. Sometimes he’d go to the kitchen and the Prince would sneak up and stick his tongue in the glass and sample the stout. ‘Twas lovely he remembered.

“Fill the bar!” the King shouted to the barmen. “So what brings you to these parts, Prince Smurphy Murphy?”

“We are looking for chocolate mushrooms. Someone poisoned our crop and they were our King’s favourite.”

The Red Setter King spat a salted nut onto the floor. “Yuk! We prefer Guinness, a man’s drink!” One of his entourage whispered in his ear. “I mean a dog’s drink,” he said laughing raucously.

All the King’s men joined him in his stupidness. His assistant whispered in his ear again. “I’m told there are some of what you seek down at Whispering Woods.”

“Why do they call it that?” the Lanky Dwarf asked, nervously.

“Because there’s a tree that talks to you,” King Deano said matter–of–factly.

The Lanky Dwarf swallowed nervously. “What does it say?”

“I hate dwarves,” the King said trying to hold in a smile The Lanky Dwarf’s face twisted. “I’m not going anywhere nead that big lump of wood!”

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“Calm down dear,” the Grumpy Dragon told him. “He’s winding you up; the tree really says I eat dwarves.”

The Lanky Dwarf’s eyes widened and rolled round his head as his brain struggled to understand whether she was joking or not.

“Err... ummm... oohhhh. Really? I’m definitely not going then.”

Just as he spoke, music started playing and the rat–tat–tat of the Irish performers danced across the square. “I love Irish dancing!”

Prince Smurphy Murphy said, doing a little Irish jig.

“Come on, sit down,” King Deano said as the barman came out with two trays of Guinness. “Let’s party!” The King cleared the tables and the Basset top brass sat down. The army and the dwarves mingled with the dancers and the common Red Setters.

The three dwarves gathered in a rugby scrum and Prince Smurphy Murphy heard them whispering. “I’ve heard the tree can put a curse on you,” the Lanky Dwarf told his brothers.

“Will he eat us?” the Pumpy Dwarf asked, letting rip with the most disgusting pump. The smell wafted around them. Several lady Red Setters fainted at the stench. “Sorry I had a blackbird’s egg on toast for breakfast.”

“Blackbird’s egg!” the Spotty Dwarf exclaimed. “They stink!”

Just as he spoke two pigeons landed on the pub roof. “Prince Smurphy Murphy, you have mail.”

The Prince looked up at the messengers. “I hope it’s good news?”

“The message is from King Harvey. He is sorry to report that the Mongrels have kidnapped Professor Magoo,” Wayne, the Cockney pigeon, told him.

“The Major wants him to set up a Bonio factory,” the Brummy pigeon, Barry, added. “King Harvey has sent talking fleas and exploding frogs to help you save him.”

“That should be a help but this is not the news I wanted,” he told King Deano. “I will need to send Basset Special Forces back to save him.”

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“I’ll send my best men to help, Prince Smurphy Murphy,” King Deano offered.

The sound of millions of tiny insects arriving interrupted the debate – the fleas had arrived. “I can’t wait to get my fangs into those tasty Mongrels,” Will Scratchit shouted.

“I particularly like seeing them contorting their pathetic little legs to reach their itches,” Wanna Scratchit mused.

“You have talking fleas? How cool!” King Deano sounded jealous.

“Mail pigeons,” the Prince started. “Tell King Harvey we will deal with the Mongrels and return Professor Magoo to his chocoboratory. End of message.”

The two pigeons repeated the Prince’s words to themselves, as they always did. Relaying the letter accurately was important to them and King Harvey for that matter.

“Ready,” Barry said. His partner in messaging nodded, then they flapped their wings, cooed, and flew off.

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“Can I suggest we now have a few glasses of Irish fally–down water, after all we are here and the Guinness is flowing, and in the morning our lady Red Setters can cook us a hearty breakfast and we can pay a visit to the Enchanter of the Tree at Whispering Woods. The tree mage may be able to tell you where your Professor Magoo is being held?”

“I would never turn down the hospitality of royalty, my liege,” Prince Smurphy Murphy said, gulping down a large mouthful of stout which left him with a frothy little moustache on his lips.

Next day, all was quiet at Tipsy McStaggers, which is where Prince Smurphy Murphy, the Bassett army, and their new found friends had spent the night. A lot of Guinness had been drunk, songs were sung, and Irish tap dancing was performed.

The three dwarves sat a picnic table holding their heads. “I don’t like Guinness, it gives you a headache,” the Lanky Dwarf complained.

“It’s good for your…” the Pumpy Dwarf said as his bum–cheeks wobbled...again!

“Do you have to do that?” the Spotty Dwarf moaned as he squeezed puss from a big yellow spot.

“You lot are an embarrassment to our King,” the Prince lambasted the brothers.

King Deano came out from the pub looking bright and breezy.

“Top o’the morning to you,” he greeted. “After breakfast I‘ll take you to Whispering Woods for an audience with the tree mage but in the meantime how about bacon and eggs?”

“Yum… yumalicious!” the Prince proclaimed. *** After breakfast, a delegation of the prince, the dwarves, Bruce and King Deano made their way to the Whispering Woods. Deep in the heart of the forest, whisperings danced in the air.

“You look tasty.”

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“I bet he’s crunchy.”

“That nose would make a nice sandwich.”

The Lanky Dwarf’s teeth chattered, his eyes widening as he imagined being eaten by a tree.

“Not far now,” King Deano reported.

“Ahh my doggy friends,” a deep voice said, emanating from an oaktree. “And who are these little people you bring with you?”

Just then a knocking sound interrupted the Enchanter of the Tree. Knock, knock, knock! Prince Smurphy Murphy looked around

the group: the Lanky Dwarf’s teeth chattering had gravitated to his knees. They rattled like a woodpecker working overtime – the Lanky Dwarf looked terrified. “Please don’t eat me,” he whispered.

Prince Smurphy Murphy and King

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Deano looked at each other and the King winked. “We come in peace and offer the three dwarfs for sacrifice.

“Nooooooooooooo…” the dwarves shouted in chorus, the Prince allowed a small smile to dance on his lips.

“You are awful,” the tree mage said, looking at the Prince, “but I like you. I like you a lot.”

“I don’t want to be sacrificed,” the Pumpy Dwarf moaned. Phhrtt, firttt, splurrtttt came from behind him.

“Pong, pong, pong alert,” the tree mage joked after sucking in the stench. “You need to eat more fibre,” he told Pumpy, “the forest is full of it.”

“If you let me live, I’ll change my smelly ways,” the Pumpy Dwarf pleaded with the oaktree.

The Enchanter of the Tree looked at Prince Smurphy Murphy.

“So from your thoughts. I can see you want my help in finding a loved one?”

“Yes,” the Prince started. “Our Professor Magoo has been kidnapped by the Mongrels.”

“Has he indeed?” the tree mage said. “Let me see what I can come up with.” The Enchanter of the Tree closed his wooden eyes. The great oak and its branches shook slightly. The Lanky Dwarf and his brothers hid behind a fallen log, their eyes wide and terrified. “I see a Mongrel called the Major, he has your professor locked in a laboratory creating recipes for…” the mage paused, “Bonios—?”

“I’ve never heard of them,” King Deano interrupted.

“They’re a dog treat the Mongrels like a lot but they can’t get them now since the hoomans left,” returned the Prince.

The tree mage opened his eyes.

“My advice would be to negotiate with them. Mongrels are good workers – perhaps they can

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help you get chocolate mushrooms back to the Basset Dogdom in exchange for Bonios.”

“Assuming we find some,” the Prince said.

“You will. I see a forest full of your King’s favourite treats growing wild in the forests of the Afghan Dogdom but be careful; their leader, King Abdul Afghan, is a warlock who practices the dark arts.”

The Lanky Dwarf’s frightened eyes appeared above the fallen log.

“Ohh, not another evil wizard. I’m sick of them,” he whispered to his brothers.

The Pumpy Dwarf shook his head in disbelief. “The tree mage isn’t a wizard, he’s an enchantress so he doesn’t count and maybe Abdul Afghan is misunderstood. We’ll soon find out!”

“Well, all the others we’ve met so far have been, dumbo-dwarf!”

Prince Smurphy Murphy thanked the mage and they headed back to Tipsy McStaggers. King Deano suggested a solution to the Prince. “Why don’t we kidnap the Major and use him as a bargaining tool?”

“That’s an excellent idea! I have a legion of bruisers under my magic cloak. I could call one up and take him into Basset custody.”

“Yes a ten-foot giant is one,” the Lanky Dwarf said proudly.

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CHAPTER FIFTEEN Wagons roll... or maybe not. he Basset army had got their wagons loaded and were heading north. Prince Smurphy Murphy had felt elated at the news that the tree mage had seen a forest full of chocolate mushrooms. They were definitely on the right track.

He also was grateful they’d made new friends in the Red Setters, in particular King Deano who the Prince was very fond of.

“Wagons roll!” Prince Smurphy Murphy said waving to the King who had a tear in his eye.

“I’ll see you at the Mongrel Dogdom,” King Deano reminded the Prince.

The Irish loved Geordies and you couldn’t get more of a Geordie than King Harvey and his brother, the Prince – they liked kebabs, Newcastle Brown Ale, the odd smelly leathery shoe and, of course, chocolate mushrooms.

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Three hours further north, they came to valleys bathed in sunlight.

The Prince sucked in a breath of fresh air – it was great to be alive.

As they followed a track that snaked its way through the forest, the Prince couldn’t help but smile as he thought about the Lanky Dwarf still rabbiting on about being eaten by the tree mage.

At the top of the valley, General Buzz–Fuzz scanned the horizon with his binoculars. “Sir,” he started. “I can see smoke coming from a location north–west of our position. I recommend proceeding with caution.”

“Carry on, general.”

As they got closer, Prince Smurphy Murphy noticed a giant’s shoe. He wondered why he was seeing such a strange thing. As far as he was aware there were no giants this side of the loch.

General Buzz–Fuzz and the Prince crawled to a ridge with a better view. “We need to be careful, General—” As he spoke something behind them suddenly blotted out the sun. “Do you come in peace?” the voice said with the hint of a German accent.

Prince Smurphy Murphy turned to see a huge figure standing behind him. “Of course we do. Bassets are the most friendly of breeds.”

“Indeed they are. My girlfriend, Lady, is a Basset.”

“How did you meet her?”

“At a football match. Us Great Danes love two things: German sausages and football. Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Not yet, but I do have someone in mind.” Prince Smurphy Murphy glanced at Winter who dropped her gaze to the floor and fluttered her eyelashes, turning red with embarrassment.

“You seem like great guys. Why not come to my home: we can have a barbeque and

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you can meet Lady. Maybe even have a game of footy with me and my brothers?”

“Only if we get to taste some of your German bangers?” the Prince said.

“That’s a deal,” the Great Dane said.

“I never got your name?”

“Bruce…Bruce Dane.”

“Lead the way,” the Prince told him. Bruce was nearly twice as tall as general Buzz–Fuzz who followed him through the forest.

Prince Smurphy Murphy stayed back to accompany Winter. She could talk the hind legs off a Shetland pony, the Prince noted, but he really, really, really liked her.

A while later, the group approached Bruce’s home. He’d used an old giant’s shoe that gave him the height he needed and still make the cottage feel cosy. Lady waited outside. The Great Dane stood next to her. “This is the love of my life,” he said, squeezing her paw.

“Lovely to meet you. Are you both married?”

“No,” Bruce started. “I asked the Grand Old Great Dane if he would give his approval to my choice of bride. But he declined because she was a Basset.” Bruce’s voice became emotional. “We decided to run away to Gretna Green to get married but it was just at the time when the hoomans were leaving. The place was like a ghost town when we got there.”

“Well the good news is I am Minister of Bassets back at home. I can deliver your vows and join you together in Holy dogtrimony,” the Prince stated, smiling.

“Really?” Lady said, sounding excited.

“Can you do that?” Bruce asked.

“As there is a Basset involved it is covered by the ministry.”

“Wow!” Bruce said, giving his wife–to–be a cuddle. “We are going to be together forever!”

“What will we call the breed of our children—?”

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“Great Wiggly–Bums,” the Lanky Dwarf interrupted.

The Prince smiled. “Wobbly Danes maybe?”.

Everyone laughed. The Prince knew he’d be tied up for a few days which was fine as he was due to meet King Deano at the Mongrel Dogdom at the end of the week.

Lady walked over to the barbeque which she’d lit earlier and threw on some German sausages. The sizzle released the most wonderful smell. The aroma wafted over the group: Basset noses twitched, twitched again, and then went into ‘twitch’ overdrive.

A short time later, Lady sat on Bruce’s knee after having passed around plates of sausages. The Bassets and Bruce tucked into their supper. Only the birds singing interrupted the quiet and, of course, the Lanky Dwarf slopping food into his mouth and making more noise than the Pumpy Dwarf’s wobbly bottom.

“We are on a mission to discover chocolate mushrooms. They’re our King’s favourite and the ones that grew locally have been poisoned.”

Bruce twisted his face in disgust. “They sound horrible.”

“They are super tasty. You haven’t heard any rumours of where some might be?”

“I might,” Bruce teased. “Tell you what, we’ll play you at a game of six–a–side tomorrow. If you win I will tell you where to find them.”

“Can you put a football team together?” the Prince enquired.

“Indeed I can, my four brothers and my uncle live next to the loch. They will play for my team!”

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CHAPTER SIXTEEN

oday was the day of the match. Prince Smurphy Murphy proudly captained England; they had to win to secure King Harvey a temporary supply of chocolate mushrooms. Bruce Dane was the captain of England’s nemesis, Germany. Like all England versus Germany football games, this was a grudge match.

The group made their way to the loch where an old football pitch had been prepared by Bruce’s uncle Yurgen.

Prince Smurphy Murphy knew the Great Danes had a huge height advantage but the Bassets would combat that with dummy shimmies, feigned wobbles, nipping of bums, tickling of knees, set–pieces and lightning speed. The word had gone round the Dogdoms and a substantial crowd had congregated.

“There’s only one Prince Smurphy Murphy,” the crowd chanted.

England sported their trademark red shirts, white shorts and of course three lions on their chests. The Great Danes proudly wore Germany’s traditional colours of white shirts and black shorts.

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King Deano had surprisingly made it across with a couple of his mates. He would referee the proceedings and the Lanky Dwarf would commentate. The Prince thought it would boost his confidence, hopefully.

“Here we are at the final game of BIFA’s (Bassets International Football Association) Dog World Cup. Old adversaries meet; the winner receiving a wagonload of chocolate mushrooms,” the dwarf said glancing at his brothers and raising his eyebrows, wondering whether he’d done okay.

The Pumpy Dwarf raised his thumbs and smiled.

The Prince and Bruce shook hands at the centre circle and exchanged pennants. “You’re going down,” Bruce said, his German accent slightly mangling the words.

“We’ll see,” the Prince said, twisting his lip into a sneer.

“We’re ready for the off,” the Lanky Dwarf continued. “In fifty minutes we’ll know the winner.”

England fans had congregated at one end of the pitch. King Deano’s men orchestrated the chanting. “England! England! England!”

“For England the team,” the Lanky Dwarf started, “General Buzz–Fuzz in goal, Lieutenant Fred Basset and Sergeant Douglas Basset in defence. Prince Smurphy Murphy and Lieutenant Stanley Basset up front,” the Lanky Dwarf paused and sucked in a breath. “Germany has Bruce as centre forward, his brothers Herman and Heinz in midfield and Yurgen and Hans playing in defence and finally Muncher Dane in goal.”

King Deano blew the whistle. The Prince passed to Stanley Basset who ran at the Great Dane defence. He dropped his shoulder to the right and went left leaving Bruce admiring his own shadow.

Stanley ran at goal, and just outside the box he wellied the ball with all the force he could muster.

Bruce’s brother Muncher Dane dived to his right, his arms extended but he missed the save and the ball hit the post, bouncing back into play. Prince Smurphy Murphy

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gathered it up, did a shimmy around a German defender and looped it over the goalkeeper. He thought he’d scored and adrenalin pumped through his veins but fortunately for the Germans, Muncher caught it safely before it dropped into the net.

The German goalie kicked it down pitch and Bruce, who was twice as tall as the Bassets, headed it to his brother Heinz who ran at General Buzz–Fuzz’s goal. He wacked it, the ball took off for the top corner like a Saturn rocket. The general acrobatically dived and got his body across and up and he palmed the ball over the bar for a corner.

“This is end to end stuff,” the Lanky Dwarf said, his commentary streaming live on the ground’s rusty old tannoys. “The whole German team except the goalkeeper are in the England six-yard box.”

Herman Dane took the corner: the ball found Bruce’s head and the Great Dane headed it past General Buzz-fuzz and into the back of the net.

“Gooooooooooooaaaaalllll!!!” the dwarf shouted. His brother, the Spotty Dwarf whispered in his ear.

“We are supporting the Bassets, you eejit!”

“Sorrrryyy. I forgot,” he said offering a yellow–toothed smile.

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King Deano checked with his linesmen and blew his whistle.

1-0 Germany with five minutes to go until half time.

Prince Smurphy Murphy kicked off by passing to Stanley. He then ran at the Great Dane defence, passed back to the Prince who hit a shot that bounced off the bar straight into the oncoming Stanley who dummied the goalkeeper, going round him and stuck it in the back of the net. He screamed “Get in you beauty!!” removing his top and swinging it around his head.

The Prince hugged him. “We’ve got them now you big bundle of furry loveliness,” the Prince said, animatedly.

“Gooooooooooooaaaaalllll!!!,” the Lanky Dwarf’s words came over all four tannoys at each corner of the pitch. King Deano’s mates all did an Irish jig as the rest of the crowd started a Mexican wave.

“There’s only one Prince Smurphy Murphy,” the crowd sang again.

A short time later, the ref signalled the end of the first half. The Bassets got into a scrum at the halfway line. “We’re doing well,” the Prince advised. “We need to stop them getting headers so when they are threatening our goal, can you tickle their knees with this.” The Prince passed Stanley a feather.

“Brilliant idea, boss.”

“If we can keep them at 1-1, we can hit them on the break and hopefully get a winner.”

King Deano blew his whistle, signalling the start of the second half. The teams gathered around the ball at the centre spot.

The start was tight, both teams giving nothing away. Germany got a corner, and as the ball came in Bruce rose above the Bassets.

Stanley quickly tickled his knees and he fell over, laughing.

“C’mon ref, that’s a penalty surely?” he pleaded.

“Never saw anything,” King Deano said, glancing at

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the Prince and winking, the start of a small smile developing on his lips.

The tactic had worked beautifully. The game was tight as anticipated.

The Prince worried that a draw wouldn’t be good enough for Bruce to reveal the location of the chocolate mushrooms. He signalled his team to up the pressure. Problem was, Germany was being Germany – shutting England down quickly.

Two minutes to go, Prince Smurphy Murphy got the ball in midfield: he ran at the defence, flicked the ball into the air, kneed it up as it came down and headed the ball over the defence. He shimmied past them and picked up the ball as he approached the goal. England fans ran onto the pitch.

“They think it’s all over,” the Lanky Dwarf shouted as the Prince smashed it into the back of the net, “it is now,” he added.

“I think that’s been used before,” the Pumpy Dwarf said sarcastically, letting a wet one slip out of his wobbly cheeks – Psssssssshhhhhhhh..!

“Has it – I think you’ll find they pinched the line from me?” the Lanky Dwarf retorted, confidently.

“Dumb leprechaun,” the Pumpy Dwarf mumbled.

The ref checked his watch, then held his hand in the air and blew for full–time. Prince Smurphy Murphy waved at the crowd, and a huge roar came from the England fans. The three dwarves danced with the Red Setters and Winter threw her hat into the air.

Bruce walked over to the prince. “Well done, you played well.”

“Thank you. You can show us the location of the chocolate mushrooms tomorrow. In the meantime I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise? I love surprises!”

“We’ll get changed first.”

“Of course, I need a shower as well.”

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After the Prince and Bruce had showered and changed, they made their way to a gazebo that had been hastily set up next to the clubhouse.

Bruce looked at Prince Smurphy Murphy. “What are you up to?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” the Prince said, smiling.

As they got closer, Bruce noticed a throng of different breed dogs gathering, all wearing their Sunday best suits and dresses. The Prince stopped just outside the gazebo and offered his hand.

“You’re going to a wedding.”

“A wedding? Whose?”

“You and Lady.”

“Really? You’re winding me up!”

“Nope, I’m not,” the Prince said, nodding to the Lanky Dwarf who, with his new–found tannoy skills, had been promoted to the jukebox. He queued the backing track to the next tune that the prince would sing and had chosen with a little help from Winter.

“Lady, I’m your knight in shining armour and I love you…”

A tear dropped from Bruce’s eye and rolled down his cheek.

“This is our song,” he said, his lip quivering.

The Prince Smurphy Murphy put his arms around Bruce’s waist.

“Come here,” he said, hugging the Great Dane who patted the Prince’s head.

After their bromance moment, the groom and Minister for the day made their way inside. By now, the temporary church had filled with the congregation. Winter had ensured the venue had been filled with flowers from the forests that she knew so well: vases of Bluebells, Buttercups, Primroses and Marigolds graced the gazebo and the smell was to die for.

As Kenny Rogers’ song finished, the church fell

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silent. The Lanky Dwarf inserted a CD and ‘Here Comes the Bride,’ started playing.

Prince Benji, Winter’s father, had offered to give Lady away and they walked down the aisle. Prince Smurphy Murphy had sent a message to King Deano to bring an antique Irish lace dress which was one of the reasons he’d met them early. Basset seamstresses had altered the dress to fit Lady. She looked amazing and a wide smile, a very wide smile, graced her face.

Bruce stood with General Buzz–Fuzz and Prince Smurphy Murphy ministered the proceedings.

“We are gathered here today to witness the marriage between Bruce Dane and Lady Basset. Despite difficulties in obtaining a license I can proudly tell everyone that I am given the authority

by King Harvey and God to bring these two wonderful dogs together in Holy dogtrimony,” the Prince said with a large smile gracing his face.

As the Prince spoke, a most terrible wailing filled the gazebo.

Convulsive bawling came from one of the congregation followed by huge gasps for air.

The Prince scanned the guests, his gaze landing on the Lanky Dwarf who sat in the front row of the pews with his brothers. “Are you having a heart attack?” he asked, his eyes narrowing and a serious tone to his voice.

“No, I’m just so happy,” he said, sobbing and snivelling.

Prince Smurphy Murphy tutted as the Pumpy Dwarf passed his brother a handkerchief and laughed aloud, simultaneously letting one go.

A look of guilt developed on his face.

Three burly Basset soldiers keeled over as they sucked in the smell from a silent deadly fart emanating from the dwarf’s more wobbly than usual bottom. Bruce and Lady

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looked at each other and giggled as the smell seemed like a mixture of German sausages and Guinness.

The three soldiers got up off the floor and moved next to the Buttercups. They all took turns sticking the wild flowers up their nostrils to help resuscitate their senses. They look like doggy hippies the Prince thought.

Prince Smurphy Murphy coughed. “Apologies for the interruption,” he said. “Now back to the service. Do we have the ring?” he said looking at Prince Benji who nervously fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a diamond ring.

One of the lady Bassets had offered the jewellery as she’d told the Prince she loved happy endings.

The Prince continued. “With this ring I thee wed,” he said looking at Bruce. “Do you Bruce Dane take Lady Basset as your lawful wedded wife?”

“I do,” he said, proudly.

The Prince turned toward Lady. “Do you take Bruce Dane as your lawful wedded husband?”

“I do,” she said, a beaming smile tugging at her lips.

“It is my privilege to pronounce you dog and wife.”

Spontaneous applause broke out as Bruce kissed his beloved.

The love couple thanked Prince Smurphy Murphy, turned, and walked back down the aisle.

Outside, most of the lady Bassets threw confetti over the newlyweds. This was the happiest day of their lives. The Lanky Dwarf followed them out, bawling like a hyena. “I wish I could find someone to love,” he blubbed.

Winter comforted him by putting her arm around him and giving him a cuddle. “One day you’ll find a lady dwarf and live happily ever after.”

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“When?” he asked, impatiently.

Winter rolled her eyes. “When you fall in love with someone,” she tried to explain. “I’ll tell you when it happens.”

The Lanky Dwarf clicked his heels and they all made their way to the food tent. Bruce’s brothers had provided many German sausages and a special recipe of German ginger beer.

A few hours later the Prince and the guests had had their 3–course lunch and he sat with Bruce and Lady. “It is my greatest pleasure to offer you and your new wife the freedom of Basset Town. You will always be welcome, as will your sausages,” he said licking his lips. “Also maybe we could expand the football matches to include all Dogdoms? The Dog World Cup has a certain ring to it?”

“That’s a great idea,” Lady said. “We could make match–days family days,” she suggested as she lay her head on Bruce’s chest.

“That’s a plan. I can arrange that once I return with chocolate mushrooms,” he smiled. “You haven’t forgotten about our prize?”

“No,” Bruce said. “I will take you to Lion’s Point where I’ve seen them.”

“Why do they call it Lion’s Point?”

“Before the hoomans left they kept a Pride of Lions in cages at what they called a zoo. Just before the zookeepers disappeared… for good, they let them out and the lions settled nearby.”

The Lanky Dwarf sat under the table and listened to the conversation. “Are they friendly?”

“Most of the time.”

The courage–challenged dwarf’s eyes widened at the thought of being eaten by ravenous lions. “Do we have to go there?” he squeaked, his voice tempered with fear.

“Yes, our King awaits his treats.” ***

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Next day after one of Lady’s traditional German breakfasts a team from the Basset army got ready to get their prize. King Deano approached the Prince rubbing his head. “I have such a headache,” he moaned. “We drank two barrels of Guinness yesterday.”

“I’m fine, the ginger beer was delicious and non-alcoholic.”

“I wish I’d had some,” King Deano said. “We shall accompany you to Lion’s Point and onwards to the Mongrel dogdom to free your professor Magoo.”

“Count me in as well,” Bruce interjected. “My new friends are important to me so I’ll do what I can to help.”

A short time later, the group left Lady, Winter and the lady Bassets chatting about clothes and… more clothes, while the male dogs who were bored with the conversation, headed to Lion’s Point. Two empty wagons were taken to collect the chocolate mushrooms. If they were successful in locating some of King Harvey’s favourite treats and freeing Professor Magoo, he could return both the professor and the treats to Wiggly–Bum palace. At least that would keep the King happy until the Basset army returned from the Land of the Afghan.

“Waaaaggggonnns roll!” the Prince ordered. The convoy trundled up the mud track, while the lady Bassets waved furiously at their men.

After an hour’s travelling, King Deano got out his binoculars and scanned the horizon. “If I’m not mistaken we have Lion’s Point a mile due west.”

Bruce nodded his approval – he knew this valley like the back of his paw. “I know exactly where the chocolate

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mushrooms are. If we come in contact with the Lions, hopefully they’ll have eaten already or we could be toast,” he said glancing at the Lanky Dwarf.

The dwarf’s eyes widened and rolled around his eye-sockets in disbelief. “Why can’t we find a gaggle of dwarf-loving fairies?” he wished aloud.

Later, deep inside Lion’s Point copse, the prince decided to leave the wagons in a clearing. The forest was becoming too heavy to get them through. They’d make the rest of the journey on foot. Suddenly a low rumble of a lion growling reached their ears. The Prince’s heart raced. The Lanky Dwarf jumped onto Bruce’s back and piggy-backed him for safety.

The growl echoed to silence... then again but louder. “Grraaahhhhh!”

“What do we do, Bruce?”

“They’re close, don’t show any fear, they’ll smell it.”

The group moved cautiously through the forest, doves fluttered upwards in front of them which drew the group’s gaze. Two lions stood in front of them. “I hope you aren’t here to cause trouble?” he growled again.

The Prince swallowed nervously. “Of course not, sir. We seek chocolate mushrooms as we travel to the Mongrel Dogdom to free one of our citizens who’s been kidnapped.”

“Kidnapped?”

“Yes, they have him working sixteen hours a day and he sleeps in a metal-cage.”

“Our pride spent years caged at the hands of hoomans. I never thought dogs would do the same—” the older lion said.

“We can help them,” the young lion interrupted.

“Indeed we can and we will. I’ve always liked Bassets so helping you would be our pleasure.”

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“Us animals should stick together,” Bruce said.

“I concur,” the older lion said.

“What are your names?” the Prince asked.

“My name is Maximillion and this is my son and heir, Zeus.”

“Pleased to meet you, I am Prince Smurphy Murphy, this is King Deano and my friend Bruce Dane.”

“What about the three snacks?” Maximillion said, licking his lips.

“Whooaaa!” Lanky screamed.

Maximillion smiled. “I can smell your fear but don’t be afraid, I’m only joking.”

The Prince smiled at the three dwarves who looked relieved. He reminded himself he needed to build their confidence as they’d taken a bit of stick recently. All in good fun though but they did seem vulnerable to criticism.

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Maximillion waved his hand to his right. “You’ll find your chocolate mushrooms over there, under the chestnut tree.”

“Oh my God, really?”

The Prince literally vaulted over a fallen log, pushed his way through the bracken, past the bluebells and… the Prince’s eyes widened. He licked his lips and picked a small one and took a bite. “Hello chocolate mushrooms, my old friends.”

Bruce shook his head in disbelief, a small smile escaping his lips. “You Bassets are nuts,” he said lovingly. He pulled out his woodcutter’s saw and started felling the mushrooms. The bigger ones needed their stems cutting.

After an hour, Bruce ran his arm across his brow. He sweated like a dwarf that had just upset a lion. He chuckled to himself at the thought. A pile of mushrooms lay next to him: the dwarves, the Prince and the Irish lads carried them back to the wagon.

Once they loaded the last one they decided to head to the Mongrel Dogdom. If they got there as darkness fell, it would be easier to kidnap the Major and use him as a bargaining tool to free Professor Magoo.

Prince Smurphy Murphy suggested a nap before they left. The three dwarves sat between the two lions, the Lanky Dwarf’s head resting on Maximillion’s belly. The Prince giggled to himself at the sight. Funny how things change!

The leader of the lions snored, loudly, the rhythm sending everyone to sleep.

A short while later the two talking fleas interrupted the snoring. “We’re here!”

Maximillion tried to swat them away.

“They’re with us,” the Prince said as they jumped to safety. The Prince sat up, dusted himself down and focused on the job in hand. “Right,” he started. “When we arrive,

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Scratchit and Scratchit and their million–strong army of fleas can go into the Major’s residence. Once the fleas have started on him, the discomfort will make him run outside to get away from the infestation, and that’s when King Deano and his men can tie him up.”

“What do you want me and Zeus to do?”

“Once he can’t move you can explain to him that hungry lions shouldn’t be annoyed, and hearing about your good friend being caged has upset you both, and the best way of resolving the problem would be to release Professor Magoo, immediately—” “This is exciting!” the Lanky Dwarf interrupted.

“That’s pretty straightforward,” King Deano said.

“Okee von dokee. We’ll make tracks…wagons roll!” the Prince said.

Bruce coughed… “Errrm I think you’ll find we haven’t got a wagon to roll with. We left it at the clearing.”

“Indeed,” the Prince said laughing. “Well observed!

The group made their way back to the two wagons where they quickly loaded the last few chocolate mushrooms and onwards they went to the Mongrel Dogdom.

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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

hen the Basset army escaped the Staffy dogdom, Prince Smurphy Murphy had sent the Grumpy Dragon onto the Mongrel Dogdom for a recce. Oreo had gone with her as he was the lightest.

From the air they’d managed to build up a picture of where Professor Magoo might be. The Grumpy Dragon had kept the mail pigeons updated with the information.

The Prince felt confident that the plan would work, especially now with King Deano, Maximillion and Zeus helping.

Further north, King Deano signalled for the group to stop. He got out his binoculars, climbed a tree and scanned the horizon.

The sound of Grumpy Dragon flapping her wings, echoed around the forest as she approached. She quickly landed next to Prince Smurphy Murphy and Oreo jumped off. “I’m as stiff as a dwarf’s conversation,” he jested as he stretched his

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arms and legs. The Lanky Dwarf looked at his brothers, but he didn’t appear to understand the joke, so he just smiled.

Oreo grinned. “Professor Magoo is being held at a cottage just outside the Mongrel Dogdom. There is a stone bridge leading up to it and that’s the only way in as the building is surrounded by trees,” the Grumpy Dragon reported.

“Has he been caged all the time he’s been there?” the Prince asked.

“There is a huge dog-run at the back and he’s been seen exercising there but after breakfast Mongrel soldiers take him to their labs to make Bonios.”

The lions growled at the mention of the Professor being held in a metal dog-run. They spent years behind bars at Edinburgh zoo.

Clearly, that experience had left an indelible mark on their minds.

“I’m going to enjoy this mission,” Maximillion said with a twinkle in his eye.

“We should arrive at the location just as darkness falls,” King Deano told everyone.

“I’m starving,” the Grumpy Dragon moaned. “Have we time for tea?”

Prince Smurphy Murphy glanced at General Buzz–Fuzz, who nodded. “I don’t think that’s a bad idea.”

She flapped her wings, “Won’t be long,” she said, soaring into the air and heading for the nearest loch. The lady Bassets knew from experience what to prepare. They got out their pots, peeled some wild onions and garlic. The Grumpy Dragon would no doubt be back with some salmon.

Later, the smell of the cooking pots bubbling away wafted over the camp. The Grumpy Dragon arrived back with several wild salmon. It wasn’t long before tea was

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passed around. King Deano, the dwarves, Bruce and the lions tucked in.

“This is delish,” Bruce said.

“Yeah! Scrummylicious!” King Deano added.

“Not as nice as a fresh mongrel but still tasty,” Maximillion said.

The talking fleas, Will and Wanna licked their lips but they had to fast ready for the Mongrel feast later that night. Prince Smurphy Murphy lay on the grass, his little pot-belly sticking out after his dinner. He glanced at the two wagons full of chocolate mushrooms. “I don’t suppose anyone’s counted them?”

“Nope,” General Buzz–Fuzz informed him.

“One mushroom less wouldn’t really affect anything. We can replace it at the Afghan Dogdom?”

“Easily,” the General said, enthusiastically.

The lady Bassets looked at the Prince. They could read his mind.

Two of them walked over, loosened the tarpaulin and lifted the biggest out.

They sliced the treat up and passed around the plates. “Oh my God,” the Prince said, crumbs of doggy chocolate dropping from his lips. “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

After scoffing the mushroom, the Bassets and their guests settled for a little nap. Then after dark, the mission would commence. *** Maximillion lay stretched out on a grassy knoll, the Lanky Dwarf and King Deano lay with their heads on a fallen log and Prince Smurphy Murphy rested his head on the dwarf’s belly. A cacophony of rhythmical snores played out the overture of full bellies and contentment.

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Will Scratchit was hosting a meeting of senior fleas. “We’ll go in under the door. There’ll be a gap which will give us plenty of room to gain entry,” he informed them. “Then whoever’s on the Mongrels first gets the honey… or their tasty blood if you want to split hairs.” Will and Wanna laughed.

Wanna Scratchit chipped in. “As many fleas as possible can feast on the snivelling little military man until he gives in and runs outside – then cue the Irish.”

“Thanks Wanna,” the Prince said. “King Deano and his men will take the Major into custody and then the lions get to interview him.”

Maximillion licked his lips. “We’re not happy at Professor Magoo being caged for so long. It brings back bad memories for us. I wouldn’t want to be in the Major’s army boots when we get hold of him.”

“His smelly army boots.” Will Scratchit added.

“Did someone mention smelly boots?” General Buzz–Fuzz asked, sleepily. “I like nothing better than chewing on a nice sweaty, crusty leather shoe for an hour or two.”

“Yuk!” the Lanky Dwarf said, waking up.

The Prince licked his lips. “Tasty.”

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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The Bassets are itching for success. blanket of darkness covered the forest; Prince Smurphy Murphy lit burning torches and passed them round as they fought their way through the forest to the cottage where the Grumpy Dragon reported Professor Magoo had been jailed.

A short while later the group arrived at the Major’s cottage. The Bassets and friends hid in the bushes, while King Deano scanned the area with his night–vision binoculars. “All seems quiet,” he whispered. “I think it’s safe for Scratchit and Scratchit to go in!”

The two talking fleas and their million–strong army of scratchiteers stood ready and waiting for the order. “Right men,” Will Scratchit said. “We go in under the front door, the forward party of climbing fleas can abseil up

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onto the Major’s bed and throw down ropes. Once enough of us are on the podgy fat mongrel, feel free to start feasting.”

Inside the property, the Major’s security snored for England, having gorged themselves on Bonios for days. There was little chance they’d be good for defending their leader.

Ropes came down from the advance flea party who’d scaled several beds and their colleagues ascended to their supper. The Major tossed and turned, scratching his belly, his thighs, his ears and anywhere else that itched. The scratchiteers feasted on his blood. Soon the itchiness got too much and he jerked awake.

“You’re lunch,” Will Scratchit told the Major, his voice squeaking in the darkness.

The Major sat up in bed, dropping his legs onto the floor. “Who said that?” he said, furiously dusting fleas from his body. He squinted in the darkness to hopefully identify the intruders but couldn’t see a thing so he reached over and picked up his torch. Lightning it, his eyes widened in shock: millions of fleas covered the beds, the furniture and the floor. “Whaaaaattttttttt!” he shouted and ran for the door.

As he burst outside, King Deano stuck out his foot and tripped the highly trained but highly podgy head of Mongrel Special Forces. The Major tumbled to the floor, looking round to see how he’d fallen. “You shouldn’t kidnap innocent Bassets,” King Deano said in his Irish brawl. “It’s not polite or clever you eejit.”

“We just wanted some Bonios,” he said standing up and rubbing his belly.

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From behind King Deano, a low growl echoed around the copse.

“What the hell is that?” the Major squeaked.

“Oh just a couple of hungry lions…”

“Shut up. There aren’t any round here.”

“You’re not quite right. They were caged at the local zoo but escaped and need their bellies filling.”

The Major swallowed hard. “I’m sure we can come to an arrangement for the Professor’s release,” he offered as several screams of itchiness came from his men. Scratchit and Scratchit were… well... ermm... doing their duty and scratching it.

Maximillion and Zeus came out of the darkness. Their huge shadows covering the Major in fearful darkness. “I will release him straight away,” he said in a high–pitched voice.

“It might be too late for that,” Maximillion growled. “I am quite peckish!”

The Major fell to his knees and babbled like a baby. “Please don’t eat me. I’m not very tasty and I smell.”

Prince Smurphy Murphy came from behind the lions. “If you give me your word that you’ll leave all Bassets and their friends alone then I will feed the lions with some of Bruce Dane’s sausages.”

“I agree, I agree,” The Major acquiesced.

“We may be able to come to some arrangement to sell you Bonios. Our King is always looking for ways to increase the Dogdom’s revenues.”

“That’ll do nicely,” the Major said, standing up.

Bruce opened up his backpack and gave the two lions some German sausages. They devoured them in no time at all.

“Take me to the Professor,” the Prince ordered.

“It’ll be my pleasure,” the Major said, forcing a smile. ***

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The lions, King Deano and Prince Smurphy Murphy made their way out to the back garden where Professor Magoo had been incarcerated. The moon was blotted out by the tall trees of the forest. The Prince lit his torch and waved it around, revealing several sleeping dogs. Professor Magoo lay snoring on a camp bed in the corner of the dog–run. He opened his eyes, sleepily and his eyes locked onto the lions and Bruce in shock.

“Don’t panic, don’t panic,” he shouted. He had no idea what was happening.

“It’s okay, Professor,” Prince Smurphy Murphy said soothingly.

“We’ve come to take you home.”

One more, “Don’t panic,” escaped the Professor’s lips in his sleepiness. “Really? How splendid.”

The Prince helped the Professor off his bed. He was one of the oldest Bassets in the dogdom but everyone looked up to him. He was wise and experienced in life, just like his King. The group made their way outside, General Buzz–Fuzz had brought the two wagons to the front of the cottage. The head of the Basset army briefed two of his men on how to protect the much loved and much missed head choco–scientist as they made a special trip back to the Basset Dogdom.

So it wouldn’t be long before he was standing behind the counter at the treat shop… he had a few weeks’ supply of chocolate mushrooms for the monarch which Bruce had sourced and donated as the football prize.

The Prince took the Major to one side, Maximillion and Zeus stood either side of the Mongrel leader. “You know what I’m going to say?” the Prince asked.

“You want to put me on your Christmas card list?”

The Prince and the lions remained poker–faced. faced. “If we have any more kidnappings, interference or trouble with

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the Mongrels, I won’t be able to stop the lions exacting retribution.

Do you understand?”

“I do,” the Major said, his voice squeaky and pathetic.

“However, if you ask the Professor nicely, I’m sure he’ll make your Bonios and give you a good price for buying in bulk. Our King is all for cooperation in the new world. Conflict should be a thing of the past.”

Maximillion growled. The deep rumble resonated around the copse. “You have a long way to go before you gain my respect, again. Caging animals is bad, whatever the reason.”

“I’m sorry,” the Major grovelled.

“I’m watching you,” Maximillion warned. “You might think I’m not but lions are experts in creeping up on their prey without detection and scoffing them before they even know it. I particularly like the crunch of their weak and pathetic bones so stay true to your word and everything will be fine—” “Right!” the Prince interrupted. “Let’s get the Professor on his way and then it’s onwards to the next dogdom.”

Zeus glanced at his father.

They had an instinctive understanding between them.

“Would you mind if we came with you and helped you on your quest?”

“No not at all,” the Prince said, “the more the merrier.”

Bruce piped up. “Any chance I can go back and collect Lady before we get any further away from her – she will be lonely and can help the lady Bassets with the cooking.

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I’m sure the army wouldn’t say no to the odd German sausage for breakfast?” the Prince joked.

“You and her are part of the family now so I don’t mind at all,” the Prince confirmed.

“We’ll come with you, it wouldn’t be fair to go on your own,” the lions said in chorus.

“Thank you,” Bruce said. “If I leave now, we’ll be back just after sunrise.”

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CHAPTER NINETEEN

ing Harvey had just got up: he’d brushed his teeth, cleaned his ears and stepped onto the scales. Mmmmm! he thought – thirty-three kilos.

He’d definitely lost weight; he blamed not having any chocolate mushrooms for two weeks for his skinniness!

He walked out onto the veranda at the Palace of Wiggly–Bum, sucked in a large gulp of fresh forest air and sighed. The sun had just risen and the birds were busy scavenging for their breakfasts.

One of his dogservants placed a plate of grass soup on the table as the monarch sat down. He heard a voice emanating from the woods.

The King pricked up his ears. “Don’t panic, don’t panic,” the voice repeated.

It sounded like Professor Magoo but surely it couldn’t be.

Suddenly a team of Huskies emerged pulling two wagons. King Harvey got the shock of his life – two lions followed the Professor.

“Don’t panic, don’t panic! They’re with me, your majesty!”

His royal highness smiled as Professor Magoo pushed back the bracken and walked into the field in front of the palace.

King Harvey waved. “Welcome home, Professor!” he shouted.

Several of the King’s dogservants joined the monarch on the veranda, they jumped up and down in excitement at seeing the Professor who had been terribly missed.

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The group made their way to the royal gardens, stopping momentarily for the Professor to rest his hand on a rock. He huffed and puffed like an old steam train but after all he was older than a poop from Tutenkhamun’s camel.

The King waited for him to catch his breath while the lions introduced themselves. “My name is Maximillion and this is my son, Zeus. We are former zoo animals but we escaped when the hoomans left.”

“Lovely to meet you and on behalf of the Dogdom I thank you for looking after the Professor.”

“It was the least we could do.”

“They’ll be great friends to your lands,” the Professor added.

“They helped save me from the Major.”

Professor Magoo nodded to the two soldiers who’d accompanied them. They acknowledged him with smiles and removed the tarpaulins from the wagons. “I present to you a small supply of chocolate mushrooms,” Professor Magoo said.

The King couldn’t hide his excitement and broke off a large chunk of his favourite treat. He popped it into his mouth. Hi lips rolled round like a circus contortionist going into overdrive as he devoured the mushroom.

“Mmmmm! That was fantastic,” he enthused. He signalled to his dogservants to take the mushrooms to the royal kitchens to be stored. “Hopefully, that will last a couple of weeks. How is Prince Smurphy Murphy doing?”

“He has located a large supply of chocolate mushrooms and they are making their way there but progress is slow.”

“We expected that,” the King said clicking his fingers. The two mail pigeons, Wayne and Barry, flapped onto a branch.

“Message to the Prince,” the King started. “Professor Magoo, the lions and the chocolate mushrooms have arrived back at Basset Town. They are in good health and the mushrooms taste fantastic. I wish you luck on your endeavours – end of message.”

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The pigeons repeated the message several times. “Ask him about a pay–rise,” Barry hinted.

“You ask him, you’re older.”

“I think the youngest should always ask difficult questions – it’s pigeon tradition.” Wayne scratched his head with his wing.

“You want to say something?” King Harvey boomed, his voice echoing around the copse before him.

Barry and Wayne looked at each other undecidedly. After a few seconds they flapped their wings and soared into the air. Barry shook his head and cursed Wayne.

“Sir,” the dogservant interrupted. “We have the chocolate mushrooms safely tucked up in the royal kitchens.”

“Excellent. I think we should have a banquet tonight in honour of our new friends, Maximillion and Zeus.”

“Great idea,” Professor Magoo said enthusiastically.

“See to it,” the King said and waved his dogservant away. “I do love a good party especially if we have ginger beer.”

“I’ll have a busy afternoon at the chocoboratory, getting everything ready,” the Professor intimated. “This makes me very happy!”

“You’ve been terribly missed, Professor. I have had to twiddle my paws for longer than I care to remember musing about my favourite treats. The memories of tasty chocolate mushrooms and your ginger and garlic beer were at times painful to recall.”

The King escorted the Professor through the palace and two guardsmen were waiting to accompany him to the chocoboratory. King Harvey was leaving nothing to chance with his much missed choco–scientist.

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CHAPTER TWENTY

he atmosphere was electric in the banqueting hall at the Palace of Wiggly Wiggly–Bum. Guests arrived and dogservants escorted them to their seats. Maximillion and Zeus were guests of honour and they chatted with their new friends. “Ex “Ex-circus and zoo animals have claimed land east of the Dogdoms and they are intent on creating their own animal kingdoms,” Maximillion said. “We have staked our claim in a joint bid with the tigers just over the border from the Bassett Dogdom. We will be neighbours!”

“How fantastic!” Queen Betty praised, her words dripping with enthusiasm.

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“Our ambassador to the United Dogdoms,” King Harvey said, “has given our acquiescence to the plans. Initially our diplomats had concerns but the wild animals reassured us. They will be a great addition to the valleys.”

Maximillion raised a glass of ginger beer into the air. “To the wild animals,” he said, laughing. “But maybe not so wild.”

All the guests raised their glasses. They would be great friends of the King, that’s for sure.

His Royal Highness had been thinking about the animal kingdoms and particularly the suffering the animals had received from the hoomans. Of course, there was the odd good hooman and he wished them well but generally speaking nature and the animal kingdom weren’t allowed to live the way God had intended.

Life had moved on now, thankfully. He knew how happy he felt and indeed all Bassets were at having their own lands, their own laws and their own favourite food which in his case was choccy...chocooooollllaaaate mushrooms. He’d decided to make it his personal mission to help the animals in building their kingdoms too, just like the Grumpy Dragon had helped him with the Basset Dogdom.

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CHAPTER TWENTY–ONE

rince Benji shook Prince Smurphy Murphy awake. “My liege, Princess Winter was taken ill during the night. She has a terrible fever and is delirious. I’ve made a bed in one of the empty wagons overnight and she’s drunk plenty of water but she is hallucinating. I think she’s been possessed by an evil spirit or something.”

“More likely she’s eaten something that hasn’t agreed with her,” the Prince said.

General Buzz–Fuzz checked her over – his hooman owner had been a consultant doctor and the general had picked up a few tips. “She has a terrible temperature and keeps being sick—” “The Chow Chow Dogdom is over the next mountain,” Maximillion interjected. “They are experts in herbal medicine with remedies from the forest. We need to get her there, quickly.”

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Winter cried out in the language of wobbly–gob. No one could understand what she was saying. She indeed seemed delirious, the Prince thought, slobbering indecipherable gobbledygook, shaking her head and staring into nothingness, so getting the Chow Chow medicine men to look at her was probably the best option.

After a short time, the Bassets found a track that snaked its way through the valley to the Chow Chow Dogdom. The Chinese dogs preached peace and tranquility from their several monasteries across their Dogdom.

Prince Smurphy Murphy cracked his whip and the Huskies responded by increasing their speed. Everyone knew the importance of getting Princess Winter to a doctor as soon as possible.

A couple of hours later they arrived at China Town and parked up outside an impressive yellow pagoda which had two huge dragon statues either side of the entrance. Chow Chow monks greeted them.

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“Welcome to our Dogdom, strangers,” the monks said in chorus.

Prince Smurphy Murphy smiled. “Can I extend the hand of friendship from our King? We are in need of urgent medical assistance. One of our group has a fever.”

“Of course,” one of the monks said as they carried Winter inside on a stretcher made from sycamore branches and reeds.

They carefully placed her on a stone bed which was raised eight inches off the floor. “I will get Emperor Liang to assess what may be wrong with her,” one of the monks said.

Several minutes later, a Chow Chow approached wearing traditional Chinese clothing, accompanied by two monks: he clapped his hands, one of the monks bowed and left the room.

The Emperor spoke in Mandarin and the remaining monk interpreted for him.

He smiled broadly at the group. “Welcome to China Town,” he said, lowering himself onto the floor and taking up the lotus position. “Please sit down,” he asked, his legs crossed and his palms turned upwards. “Copy the way I’m sitting.”

The Lanky Dwarf, Prince Benji, Prince Smurphy Murphy and Zeus sat down. Winter lay in front of them.

The Emperor closed his eyes and moved his hands above some crystals arranged in front of him. Energy spiralled and arced around the stones. “We shall meditate for a few minutes.”

Prince Smurphy Murphy and the others closed their eyes apart from the Lanky Dwarf who kept one eye open.

Emperor Liang took Winter’s paw as she spoke in the language no one understood. “I am sensing an evil spirit who was also responsible for poisoning your chocolate mushrooms and has cursed this blessed child.”

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The Prince’s mouth dropped open in shock. “What can I do to counter this terrible act of evil?”

“The Afghans are behind it, specifically their leader Abdul Afghan; he is looking for a wife and I believe he saw Winter standing behind his reflection at Afghan Loch. He will release her from this torment when they are married and will remove the curse on your mushroom crop.”

“Over my dead body,” Prince Smurphy Murphy said, his lips twisting into a sneer. “We want our doggy-chocolate treats but not at the expense of sacrificing one of our own.”

“The Afghan leader is not to be messed with. He will lock you inside his prisons for disrespect to his family name if you don’t allow this. Some dogs have been there for years and live on nothing but bread and water and are put to work as slaves. As a high priest of the dark arts, he has also been known to turn his adversaries to stone. His ornamental gardens are full of figures who’ve been cursed to being statues and I believe he has an army of granite warriors in waiting that he can call up at a moment’s notice.”

A chattering sound interrupted the emperor whose eyes narrowed as he attempted to find the source of the noise. He focussed on the Lanky Dwarf. “It’s all right my son; he will probably use you as his court jester if he decides to enslave you,” the emperor continued. “You look funny so you’ll have to make him laugh and if he doesn’t find your jokes hilarious you’ll get twenty lashes from his henchman using horned nettles from the forest.”

The Lanky Dwarf’s adam’s apple visibly dropped two inches. “Nooooo! I don’t want to be stung to death,” he blubbed.

“It’s okay,” the Prince said, reassuringly.

“It won’t happen on my watch!”

“Not with me as part of the team, either,” Maximillion added.

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“If he touches you, or for that matter, one hair of my beautiful daughter’s coat, I’ll chew his ankles off,” Prince Benji threatened.

“Are there any medicines you can give Winter to alleviate the hallucinations?” the Prince asked.

“Indeed.” Emperor Liang picked up a small bell from the side table next to him and rang it. A single ching broke the silence. Three monks hastily arrived carrying several stone mortars and pestles filled with herbal remedies.

Emperor Liang scooped a spoonful of spices from the first bowl, mixed it with water and placed in Princess Winter’s mouth.

Winter twisted her face as she swallowed the powders. Emperor Liang did the same from all of the bowls.

After a few minutes, the colour returned to Princess Winter’s face and she smiled.

“I feel better already!” she said.

Prince Smurphy Murphy stood up, followed by his entourage.

“Thank you,” he said, gratefully.

“It’s the least we can do. You need some rest so I suggest some traditional Chinese food and then a nap—” Whispering from the corner of the room interrupted the conversation. “How does a Basset cross the road?” the Lanky Dwarf practiced.

“How does a Basset cross the road?” Maximillion asked.

“Slowly!” the Lanky Dwarf laughed.

Maximillion and Benji’s faces remained stony. The Lanky Dwarf twisted his mouth, clearly disappointed and tried again. “Ooooh right, okay here’s another. Knock, knock.”

“Who’s there?” Maximillion asked.

“Lettuce.”

“Lettuce who?”

“Lettuce in, it’s freezing out here!” the Lanky Dwarf

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laughed again but he was the only one that did. His expression dropped and he put his hands in his pockets “I think you are going to get your spotty bum whacked with stinging nettles,” Prince Benji joked as he and Maximillion laughed raucously.

Next day Prince Smurphy Murphy got up early and he went for a waddle around the Dogdom. He thought the fresh air would do him good and with luck a few sniffs would clear his head. The Lanky Dwarf’s incessant joke telling had given him a headache.

He laughed to himself at the thought of the dwarf getting his backside whacked with nettles. Of course, that would never happen but leaving the Lanky Dwarf to his torment was quite funny and at the very least, very entertaining.

The Chow Chows were a lovely breed of dog: thoughtful, knowledgeable and the Prince had offered Emperor Liang a state visit to the Basset Dogdom as his guest once they returned.

After a good long walk, the Prince arrived back at the Pagoda where the Basset army were loading the wagons. Princess Winter lay on the sycamore stretcher. Four Bassets carried her to the wagon Prince Benji had kitted out as a makeshift ambulance.

A small smile danced on her lips and she looked at the ground demurely. “Thank you for getting me here,” she told the Prince.

“I feel a lot better but still not quite one hundred percent.”

The Prince nodded, he didn’t like Winter… he really really loved her. No – he really, really, really loved her! He could see them as a couple with lots of pups running about.

He made a mental note to ask her on a date when they got back to the Basset Dogdom.

“It’s the least I could do, my dear,” he said.

“I will make sure this curse is lifted if it’s the last thing I do.”

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“Aaaaw! You’re lovely,” she added.

A short time later, Emperor Liang approached the Prince with two monks either side of him. “I have a gift for the Princess,” he said, smiling. “This will help protect her from the Afghans and forewarn her of danger. The Enchantress in the glass ball is an ancestor of mine; Wang Shu walked this Earth many, many years ago. Now she is a white witch and she will protect you.”

Prince Smurphy Murphy smiled. “Thank you. This will not be forgotten, your greatness.”

Emperor Liang bowed. “Good luck with your endeavours!”

The Prince jumped onto his wagon and they left the Chow Chow Dogdom.

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CHAPTER TWENTY–TWO

he Bassets fought their way through Afghan Forest.

They had to cut a path through the copse, as it appeared that not many travellers had ever been willing to risk visiting the Dogdom so any tracks had become overgrown, if they existed at all. It was a slog!

A horde of crows circled above them, their screeching echoing through the trees. “They are getting on my nerves,” the Grumpy Dragon complained. She jumped down from her sedan chair and took off into the sky.

Prince Smurphy Murphy laughed watching her chase the crows away. He doubted they’d ever seen such a fearsome sight.

Crow poo rained down from the sky as the terrified horde tried to escape. “I’m covered in it,” a voice blubbed, uncontrollably.

The Prince turned to see the Lanky Dwarf whited out with stinking, smelly, sticky bird droppings. He was undoubtedly the unluckiest person alive, the Prince mused.

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His brothers laughed at his discomfort.

Oreo, who still sat on the sedan chair offered his advice. “You need a lucky charm like mine,” he said touching his cat-shaped pendant around his neck. “I just happen to have one for sale,” he went on, rustling through his pockets and pulling out a golden horseshoe charm on a chain. “You can have this for three pieces of gold.”

The Lanky Dwarf’s eyes brightened. “Can I give you the money when I get paid?” he said, glancing at the Pumpy Dwarf who nodded. “My brother owes me money as well so paying won’t be a problem.”

“Make sure you do!” Oreo said firmly, passing him the charm.

The Lanky Dwarf popped the necklace around his neck and smiled, broadly.

“I’m now lucky, lucky, lucky!” he screeched.

The Grumpy Dragon landed next to the group and looked at the Lanky Dwarf disdainfully. “It could only happen to you,” she said. Four Basset soldiers helped her back onto the sedan chair.

She turned toward Prince Smurphy Murphy. “We are close to the Afghan Monastery, your liege.

Perhaps we should have dinner,” she said, licking her lips.

For the first time the Prince’s band of merry dogs, the odd lion, a dragon, a Persian cat, Bruce and Lady and three dumb dwarves was complete. Everyone attended the last mission and what a mission it would be so they needed full stomachs the Prince told himself.

The Prince nodded to the Grumpy Dragon.

And turned to General Buzz–Fuzz.

Fuzz. “I know the prize of the chocolate mushrooms awaits us,” the Prince said. “But my worry is the Afghans – what are their intentions?”

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“No doubt we will find out soon.”

“It’s a worry what Emperor Liang had said about Abdul Afghan wanting Winter as his wife,” he said.

A short time later and the group’s bellies were full, so the Prince gave the signal to travel. The Lanky Dwarf complained. “Can we not have a little sleep before we start?”

“No!” the Prince said curtly. The dwarf’s shoulders dropped as he got his stuff together.

After a short delay, the convoy moved through the forest. The Prince noticed the path nearer the Afghan Monastery appeared to be well–trodden, unlike the other tracks they’d seen. That pleased him as everyone was tired and the last thing they wanted was to have to fight their way through the bracken like they had earlier.

As sundown approached in the Afghan Dogdom, a full moon eventually popped its head through the clouds. The last few wisps of orange turned inky–blue and the sun set. The celestial ball of light backlit hundreds of bats and crows, battling it out for dominance of the sky. They flitted across the fading heavens like star pilots doing a recce for Satan.

An owl hooted, ter wit ter woo and it echoed around the copse.

The Lanky Dwarf’s eyes widened as he clung onto his charm as if it was the last thing he would ever do.

“Can we not go back to the Chow Chow Dogdom?” he pleaded, his teeth chattering. “I don’t want to die.”

Prince Smurphy Murphy shook his head as they approached the monastery. There was no one to be seen or heard. The building was surrounded by a cloister with marble corridors, granite columns and gothic arches rising from the floor like gladiators protecting the monks.

At the end of the exterior path, an open window looked out onto the Dogdom. Suddenly a monk appeared

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from nowhere, as if a ghostly apparition had materialised from across the veil.

The Afghan leader’s words were accompanied by a symphony of crow squawks that echoed around the monastery to the rhythm of the Lanky Dwarf’s knees knocking together. Prince Smurphy Murphy allowed himself a small smile: he made a mental note to sort the dwarf’s confidence out once they got home – the leprechaun was frightened of his own shadow.

“Your name, sir?” the Prince asked. “We come in peace looking for chocolate mushrooms from your forest.”

“My name is Abdul Afghan,” the stranger answered.

Winter, who stood behind the Prince, moved forward carrying her crystal ball.

“Ah m’dear…you are indeed as beautiful in real life as the reflection I saw in the loch,” he said.

“Don’t trust him,” the white witch and enchantress of the crystal ball said in Winter’s mind.

“Thank you for your kind words—” she said, directing her reply to the Afghan.

“This is Winter, my future bride and soulmate,” Prince Smurphy Murphy interrupted, glancing at the love of his life who looked down at the ground, blushing with embarrassment. The Prince would have preferred to have got down on one knee and asked but he never did things the correct way.

“I can’t allow that,” Abdul Afghan said, menacingly. He clapped his paws and a rumble of thunder reverberated across the dogdom

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followed by huge forks of lightning, one of which hit the Pumpy Dwarf. His clothes smoked, his body crackled and creaked and he went grey and turned to stone. “Oh no!” Winter cried.

“My brother…you’ve killed my brother!”

“Not killed my little big–nosed friend, he is in suspended animation, but I will release him on my marriage to this beautiful lady Basset.”

“Over my dead body,” Prince Benji barked as he tried to grab the Afghan and show him who was boss. Prince Smurphy Murphy and Bruce held Prince Benji back.

“Now is not the time,” the Prince ordered.

The Lanky Dwarf sobbed uncontrollably. “I will never see my lovely…smelly brother again,” he said with tears running down his face. “And he owes me two pieces of gold that I will never get,” he added.

“He’ll be fine,” Oreo advised.

“I hope so as it’s so upsetting…” he paused to gather his emotions… “I only lent him it last week.”

Oreo laughed aloud at the Lanky Dwarf’s insensitivity.

Abdul Afghan must have overheard the conversation.

“You are funny,” he said. “You could be a replacement for our court jester who has unexpectedly become un-funny and is incapacitated!”.”

“What happened to him?” Oreo asked.

“There was a terrible accident involving horned nettles,” the Afghan leader said, sarcastically.

Lanky’s eyes widened, and widened until he crumbled like a rag doll and fainted.

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“No!” the Prince interrupted. “There will be no marriages or anything involving my friends who are protected by their rights as the King’s subjects.” The Prince whipped off his magic cloak and threw it into the air. “Magica hominibus revelare!” he shouted, and the garment disappeared in a puff of smoke. As the cloud of magic dust faded away, a sorcerer appeared.

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“Abdul Afghan, it has been such a long time since we locked magic staffs.”

“Gunawan, what are you doing here?”

The sorcerer paused for a second — whispering voices danced on the wind followed by thunder rumbling around the monastery.

Energy arced and shorted over the stone Pumpy Dwarf. The magic field hummed and grew stronger.

Gunawan aimed his magic staff at the dwarf and a pulse of energy fired at the stone statue. In a flash of light the granite began cracking, starting at the dwarf’s feet and working its way up. Suddenly the Pumpy Dwarf shook his shoulders and the remaining stone fell to the floor. Dust enveloped him for a second but out of the cloud the dwarf could be seen…

“Phyrrrrttt, faaarrrttt, plubalubbbb,” came from behind him.

Abdul Afghan stepped back into the darkness and disappeared.

The Lanky Dwarf ran over and cuddled his brother. “I am so glad you are okay! When will I get my money ?”

“Give me a chance bro, I only borrowed it last week!”

Oreo shook his head in disbelief.

Prince Smurphy Murphy turned to Gunawan. “I and our King are extremely grateful for your help. Would you be willing to stay with us until we’re safe and have chocolate mushroom seeds on our wagons?”

“Of course! I’ve always had a soft spot for you Bassets. You are mini-versions of my breed,” the Blood Hound said, smiling.

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“Indeed,” the Prince agreed. “We will feel a lot safer with you protecting us.”

“I don’t think that’s the last we’ll see of Abdul Afghan – he is a powerful master of the dark arts and will be fuming at having his nose bloodied.”

“Was his nose bleeding?” the Lanky Dwarf asked. “I missed that as I was standing behind Princess Winter and couldn’t see.”

“It’s a figure of speech,” the Prince stated, looking at the dumb dwarf. “Errr…doesn’t matter,” he said, changing his mind as he had no time to explain.

“I will enlighten you on the meaning one day my little friend,” Gunawan said. “I like you funny man.”

The Lanky Dwarf rolled his head from side to side and held in a smile. “And I like you too,” he said, looking at the floor in embarrassment.

“We need to make camp. General Buzz– Fuzz – can you take four Basset soldiers and check the monastery and its grounds, please? We don’t want any surprises.”

“Indeed my liege. I’m on my way, now.” the General stated as he and his men disappeared into the darkness with burning torches.

“I like surprises,” the Lanky Dwarf said, jumping up and down.

“Not the kind I’m thinking about,” the Prince said.

“I’m hungry,” a little squeaky voice said.

“Ah Hector, I wondered

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where you were.” Gunawan said, lovingly. “This is my assistant Hector Squirrel. He’s nuts: he likes nuts, he poops nuts and he dreams of nuts.”

“Yuk,” the Lanky Dwarf spat. “I ate them once and was sick for a week.

The squirrel shook his head and jumped onto the master of the white arts neck, moving back and forth on his shoulders, rubbing his body against Gunawan’s head, his tail tickling his nose.

He pointed his staff toward a pile of logs the Basset infantrymen had been collecting for a fire. The pile burst into flames. “A feast is order of the day,” he said, casting his spell.

Smoke drifted from the fire and into the darkness, then suddenly a gust of wind took it away and revealed tables full of the most exotic food the eye could behold.

The Lanky Dwarf’s tongue dropped out of his mouth, he tried to talk but all that came out was dwarfish wobbledygook.

The Grumpy Dragon picked up some wild salmon canapés.

“Oooh these are delish,” she said, stuffing them into her mouth.

Prince Smurphy Murphy tucked into some beef and onion pie.

“Lovely,” he said, crust dropping from his lips.

Hector sat on the table next to a plate of hazelnuts. “Nuttylicious,” he said, licking his lips.

Winter tucked into some loch prawn vol-au-vents. “Mmmmm these are wonderful,” she said dreamily. *** The General and the four soldiers moved cautiously around the Afghan estate. There was no sign of anyone; the last place to check was a maze at the centre of the ornamental gardens.

General Buzz–Fuzz was worried about getting lost in it so he had the soldiers feed him a rope as he progressed towards the maze’s centre. He’d be able to use it to quickly return to safety, if needed.

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The General turned a corner and his eyes widened – hundreds of stone statues stood before him. They all looked the same, troll–like and fierce. Some carried spears, others shields, while yet others wore daggers on their belts. The sun rose and covered the army of granite figures with the early morning light.

The army of trolls went on for as far as the eye could see. General Buzz–Fuzz swallowed nervously. He felt glad they were statues and not the real thing.

As he studied them he was distracted by a shadow moving behind one of the statues. He squinted and was surprised to see Abdul Afghan trying to hide.

“Aureus exercitus Revelamini, the Afghan shouted.

The sound of cracking interrupted the silence as the figures broke out of their stone shell.

The leader of the army, Ghurid, wore a dark green woven Kaftan and a necklace of bones hung round his neck. His men were sparsely dressed in leather shorts and had golden skin. “We are the Golden Army of Ghurid!” his voice echoed around him.

“You have upset my master which means you and your army must face us on the field of battle,” he continued. “The losers of this encounter shall be cast as statues for at least one thousand years.”

The two mail pigeons, Barry and Wayne, were listening from a nearby tree. “We must get a message to Prince Smurphy Murphy!”

Wayne said, frantically flapping his wings and flying into the early morning sky. Barry had Buzz-Fuzz, he turned to been watching General Buzz speak to Wayne but caught a glimpse of him soaring and followed him quickly. “I wish he’d told me he was leaving!” he cursed.

A short time later, breathless and frightened, the pigeons told the Prince what they’d seen. “There is a Golden Army of Trolls,” Wayne started.

“And they frightened the life out of me,” Barry continued, his wings shaking.

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“They want to fight us,” both pigeons said in chorus.

“Do they now?” the Prince said, pushing his shoulders back and straightening his back. “Scratchit and Scratchit, President Splatitandrun and Woodrow Woodpecker report for duty,” he shouted, his words resounding across the valley. “Mobilise your men – the good name of King Harvey is at stake!”

From a distance: a million fleas were heard marching toward the Bassets, interrupted by intermittent croaking and the rat–tat– tat-tat of dozens of deranged woodpeckers. They won’t know what hit them the Prince thought.

Somewhat closer, the Golden Army of Trolls could be heard marching. The Grumpy Dragon roared, as did Maximillion and Zeus. The Lanky Dwarf and his brothers had got into the large cast iron pot that the lady Bassets used for cooking. The Lanky Dwarf’s eyes looked out from under the lid. “Tell me when it’s over,” he said grasping his lucky charm with superdwarfen strength.

The Prince pricked up his ears as he could hear an engine.

“What could that possibly be?” he wondered.

Suddenly bushes were pushed to one side and a 1929 Buick skidded in front of them. Don Staffy and several of his burly henchmen got out.

“I can explain…” the Prince started.

“No need to,” Don Staffy interrupted. “The Grumpy Dragon came back and smoothed over our slight disagreement.”

The Prince glanced at Grumps who smiled. “I have an old head for a reason,” she joked.

“Sure she does,” the Don said. “I’m here to teach these bozos a lesson. No one messes with my friends.”

The Don’s men loaded their machine guns with skunk poo. “Put some extra owl sick in for good measure.”

The Prince puffed out his chest - this was a proud moment. From behind him came a voice he instantly recognised. “Top o’the

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morning to you. I can’t let you out of my sight without you getting into trouble,” the voice said, laughing. The Prince squinted, as it was still not quite dawn. The unmistakable shape of King Deano stood in front of him and he had his arm around someone. The Prince raised his burning torch and arched his eyebrows in surprise.

“I’m happy to help,” the Major added, a small smile on his lips.

“Perhaps I can talk Abdul Afghan into changing his ways – I did.”

“Indeed you did—” the Prince agreed.

From behind them the sound of the Golden Army of Ghurid marching, interrupted their conversation. Prince Smurphy Murphy pricked his ears. “Prepare to defend yourselves!” he ordered.

“Golden blood, it’ll be like Christmas all over again!” Will Scratchit mused.

“Prepare for it raining frogs and more frogs,” President Splatitandrun croaked.

“Your wooden heads are about to be rat–tat–tattled,” Woodrow Woodpecker chipped in.

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The sound of a million fleas mobilising rose from the forest floor, while frogs leaped and the woodpeckers of Rat–Tat–Tat Squadron flew into the sky. Don Staffy, his men and the Major got behind a fallen log. “No one makes a statue out of me!” the Don said with menace.

“There’s one already in Staffy Square,” one of his men pointed out.

“Is there?” he asked, twiddling his moustache, as they positioned their poo–guns.

The Grumpy Dragon roared fire and Maximillion and Zeus growled as the golden trolls came into sight.

Ghurid stood in front of his men. Scratchit and Scratchit looked up. “Dinner has just been delivered,” they said as thousands of fleas jumped onto the enemy. The golden army, almost to a man, raised their legs and began frenziedly scratching.

President Splatitandrun and his battery of exploding frogs stood in line. One by one they shook the president’s hand.

“Do your duty soldier!” the President said to each one in turn. Dozens of frogs launched into the air. “Whey heyyyyyyy!!!!!” they shouted, landing on Ghurid’s men and exploding their mucus sacks, their stinky, smelly, sticky mucus sacks.

The trolls tried to brush the pungent pong off with their hands but it stuck like glue. Scratchit and Scratchit laughed as they sucked on their blood.

Woodrow Woodpecker and his squadron flew in formation in the shape of a Basset paw. “Prepare to go in men!” he said nasally into his radio.

Woodrow aimed at Ghurid and slammed into the side of his head, shouting, “You’ll have a really bad headache by the time I’ve finished with you.” He started rat–tat–tatting the side of the troll’s head. Ghurid tried to waft the bird away, but the frog poo stuck his hand to his face.

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“Take aim,” the Don ordered the Major who manned the Gatling poo–gun. “Fire!”

A barrage of poo hit the trolls, who fell backward with the force of the impact. The Grumpy Dragon soared into the air and flew over the Golden Army of Ghurid, breathing fire on them as she went.

The troll leader and dozens of his men lay on their backs, their clothes toast and the fleas gorging themselves on their blood. Ghurid held up a white flag. “I surrender!” he said, rather pathetically.

Prince Smurphy Murphy nodded his acceptance and ordered the royal piper to sound the retreat. He glanced at Maximillion, Zeus and Gunawan and nodded toward the defeated troll army.

“I accept your surrender on one condition!”

“And what’s that?” the troll leader asked.

“That Gunawan will return you to statues and he will be the only one with the authority and the magic command to release you!”

Ghurid nodded. The Prince turned to Abdul Afghan. “And you, sir, will make the effort to be friendly with your neighbours and we can all live happily together.”

The leader of the Afghan Hounds allowed himself a small smile. “You are a good dog, Prince Smurphy Murphy. As a gesture of friendship I offer you Afghan Woods which is full of the mushrooms you so crave.”

Almost to a man the Basset army smiled. That was fantastic news.

Gunawan said the magic words and the trolls disappeared back to whence they’d come. The Prince caught Oreo’s attention. “Perhaps you could let the dwarves know it’s safe to come out of their bunker?”

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The Prince laughed as three sets of eyes appeared under the lid of the cooking pot where they’d hidden themselves. “Did someone mention my name?” the Lanky Dwarf asked.

“Indeed!”

The Basset army and their friends spent the next few days loading their wagons with chocolate mushrooms and chocolate mushroom seeds and prepared for the return home. The Prince sent a message to King Harvey with the mail pigeons, telling him of the marvellous news and now the dogs of the seven valleys could live happily ever after...till the next adventure.

THE END

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