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April Fool!
The Storyteller leaped from his bed in three enormous bounds. The thirteen cats scattered North, South, East and West yowling madly as he narrowly missed two tails, three left paws, and a couple of whiskers.
He cavorted crazily down the stairs singing "Hi ho Silver Lining" at the top of his voice, landed at the bottom and rushed into the kitchen to put the kettle on.
Before he had time to draw the curtains he heard the front door open and there, dressed in yellow pvc from top to toe (souwester, long mackintosh and high-stepping wellies) was Serena Serendipity, his neighbour - a lady of uncertain age with lots of freckles and her beige hair, under the sowester, tied up in bunches.
"No time for trifles like cups of tea and the rest." she whispered (being called Serendipity you see she could never raise her voice above whisper-level). "Time to go!"
The Storyteller eyed her up and down thoughtfully, little cogs and wheels could almost be heard turning in his head and coming up with 'RAIN, RAIN, RAIN'! He burrowed briefly in the cupboard under the stairs and came out with an enormous golfing umbrella, an especially waterproofed long bright red coat, his normal bright yellow hat and one of those see-through plastic affairs you place over your head and tie under your chin - you know the sort of thing.
As he stood waiting to venture out into the storm he caught a glimpse of himself. His grey curls were springing fetchingly from beneath the see-through plastic affair, his lopsided glasses were lodged on the end of his red bobbly nose and he thought...just to himself of course...
"Don't I just look the bees' knees?" He sighed softly and threw open the door.
He stopped on the front doorstep and looked around him in confusion. The sun was shining brightly, not a cloud in the sky. The birds and rabbits who lived and worked in his garden stopped what they were doing (oh, digging for worms, nibbling lettuces - THAT kind of thing) and started to snigger.
He turned to look at Serena who, by now, had run back into the house and was squirming with laughter on the sofa. There he stood, done up like an intrepid explorer in the middle of a rain forest, his eyes puzzled behind his lopsided glasses.
"APRIL FOOL!!" Serena whispered loudly (yes I know that doesn't follow but she DID!)
The Storyteller's mouth curved up uncertainly for a minute or two.
"Oh, I see!" he said thoughtfully. "THAT sort of a day is it going to be? I shall have to be prepared!"
When they had both changed back into their summer outfits (matching slightly shorter bright red coats, yellow sun-hats and robust sandals - typical storytelling gear in fact) they set off for their day out.
Oh, sorry, forgot to tell you where they were going. The local Mayor had asked them to appear at St Sebastian's Church Fete and they were much looking forward to it. They had promised to go early in order to help get the stalls ready.
They got into Serena's bright green mini and she turned the key. Nothing. She turned it again. Nothing. She looked at the Storyteller.
"Could you...would you...I hate to ask, but...I really need you to get out and push." she murmured softly.
The Storyteller climbed painfully out of the car (minis may look good and, normally, go well, but they are the devil to get in and out of you know), trudged round to the back and put all his weight into pushing.
Yes, you've guessed it. Before he had managed to push the car an inch, the engine started up, the car shot off, The Storyteller landed flat on his face in a big pile of mud and Serena could be heard whispering "April Fool!" to her heart's content 200 yards down the lane where she waited for him to catch up.
This time The Storyteller's mouth only managed an upward curve for a second as he settled himself back into the passenger's seat.
They made it to St Sebastian's vicarage - where the fete was to be held, without further mishap and were greeted by the Very Reverend Ronald Rubbergles who whisked them into the garden and thrust a cup of coffee at each of them. They sipped dutifully, turned blue from shock, coughed for quite seven minutes whilst the Very Reverend Ronald Rubbergles rolled around the grass hysterically.
"APRIL FOOLS!!" he screamed with laughter. "Couldn't resist putting mustard in your coffee - good joke eh?"
Serena and The Storyteller looked at each other with mixed feelings. The Storyteller was, actually, secretly quite pleased that, this time Serena had been at the end of the joke but was finding it difficult to lose the hot, mustardy taste from his tongue. Serena, although smiling serenely, was seething inside, her freckles darkening with each minute which passed.
Mrs Potterington from the Women's Institute bustled over.
"Could you help sort out the jumble for the jumble stall please?" she breathed noisily (some kind of spring fever apparently).
"Of course!" cried The Storyteller joyously. "That's what we're here for!"
Serena looked less pleased. She had thought she would be helping with the cakes, or the sewing stall or, at the very least the coconut shy, NOT messy, miserable jumble for heaven's sake. She followed reluctantly.
The table was there, the pot for the money was there, a chair or two behind the table for quiet moments were there, but, apart from three large cardboard boxes in front of the table there didn't seem to be any jumble.
The Storyteller opened the first box.
"Oh, there's some stuff in here, look Serena! It looks quite good stuff too."
He started laying it out on the table.
"Could you start pricing it up please, Serena? Come on, stop sulking, it's a lovely day and, honestly, some of this stuff is VERY nice indeed."
Serena sauntered over and, without thinking, picked up rather a nice dress - silver lame with purple bows all over it. She looked at it casually. Then her head jerked up, her mouth began to tremble, her eyebrows disappeared into her hair, her bunches twanged out straight on either side of her head, and...she very nearly shouted:
"THAT'S MY DRESS!!"
She grabbed the cardboard box and practically disappeared inside, pulling out trousers, crop tops, sweatshirts and pedal-pushers galore.
"THESE ARE ALL MY CLOTHES!!" she cried and sat down on the grass to sob. Her freckles faded and her bunches wilted quite frighteningly you know.
Meanwhile The Storyteller had opened the next box. In there he found his spare long bright red coat and a selection of yellow hats. He stood up and wiped his forehead wearily.
Giggles could be heard coming from behind a nearby gooseberry bush and Serena crawled over to look.
There, crouched down with their heads between their knees were Mrs Potterington and the Right Reverend Rubbergles laughing fit to burst.
"APRIL FOOLS, APRIL FOOLS, APRIL FOOLS!!" they repeated over and over again.
Serena and The Storyteller retreated (with their clothes of course) to a quiet corner near a rhododendron bush and discussed the situation.
They kept well out of the way until 3 o-clock when it was time to open the fete and do their bit of storytelling I can tell you! They were taking no more chances.
The Storyteller made a nice little speech to open the fete, making no mention of it being 1st April at all and then Serena joined him for the Storytelling session.
Before they started they asked Mrs Potterington and the Right Reverend Rubbergles to volunteer to help. They explained that the tale they were to tell needed to be "acted out" for it to have its full effect and asked the mischievous pair if they were happy to do that. They were and so...the tale began.
They told of Morris Dancers (Mrs P and RRR - for short - jiggled and juggled, forward and back, waving pretend swords and shaking their feet). They told of leap-frogging leprauchauns (Mrs P and RRR jumped over each other time and time again - quite well I have to say). They told of George and the Dragon (Mrs P was the Dragon and RRR chased her, poked her with his imaginary sword, she chased him and so it went on). Finally they told the tale of the first Olympic Games in Athens all those years ago (Mrs P and RRR jumped, they sprinted, they threw pretend javelins, they hurdled each other and, finally, set off around the garden on the final marathon).
Funnily enough, after thirteen circuits they disappeared, only to be found two hours later flat on their backs in the goldfish pond being nibbled curiously by RRR's recently acquired koi carp. As they opened their eyes and shook off the final nibbler from their persons, they looked up and saw two faces looking down at them.
The face with the lopsided glasses perched on the end of his red bobbly noise and the grey curls sticking to his, by now, rather hot forehead said:
"So who are the April Fools now I wonder?"
The other, freckled and bunches-framed, face nodded quietly and said:
"Me too!"
The moral of this tale is: BE VERY CAREFUL UPON WHOM YOU PLAY YOUR APRIL FOOLS TRICKS!