Rusty Jungle Stories.

Harry Boo Boo

Deep in the jungle
was a fox
A fox that watched the deer’s
Frolic and hop
at night
Under the star lit skies.
The fox’s eyes shone
Pearly green
Like the moons of Venus
With twitching ears
And licking lips
The fox had many tricks
To weave in out of trees
Rush
Quacking in fox language
Like a duck
Making conspiracies
To take over the land
Singing over and over
In toothy head
And bushy dreams
I am floating river
I move like a leaf
I am floating river
I move like a leaf

Until one day outside of the jungle
Upon the road
The fox was struck by a car
And taken down to lie

Dead for all the world to see

It’s at times like these
The stars shine so bright they like to present us
With magic eyes

Swimming purple light

One boy thinking of how it would be
If he picked up the dead fox
By the tail
And swung it round and round
Letting the fox swirl
Rushing through the air
Before eventually releasing his grip
Upon the foxes tail
Letting go like a Scotsmen throwing the hammer
and away the fox would fly
Flying fox
Before landing with a smudgy slump
Thwump
Crack!
a few more broken bones

The boy walked on
Entertaining his idea
In mind alone

The next to walk along
And spy the body of the dead
Fox was an old man

Who thought to himself
What a tasty treat
A fine tea a fine tea

For this old man would pick up any animal
From of the road whilst singing himself into a frenzy
Cats, dogs, rabbits, squirrels, hedgehogs, badgers toads.

Yet in the broad daylight
The old man was not happy
To disturb the resting body
Of a animal gone away
For fear of what
Other people
Strangers or what not would say
So he decided to wait
And come back for the fox
Later that night
when he could be all alone

The next to walk along the road
And see the body of the fox
Lying at its side
Were two boys who had grown into men

They had just enjoyed a lunch together
Sharing stories
Of unwind
And making each other laugh
With the present past and future
A beautiful time
Disbelief
That the landlord
Would come outside of his pub to the river where they drank
Alongside many a stranger
To say
We have a table ready for you now
Step inside
Yet lo and behold
Out of the double doors the landlord stepped
To cry out loud
Each man’s name
Which made them both think
We should have given him joke names
Table for the right honourable
Professor Snoffaloffaguss
And Sir Arnold Jenkins
Next time well make up some names
And invite some more friends
Well Lo and Behold
Out the double doors once again the landlord steps
This time to cry out loud in his blustrous voice
So loud that all the people, ducks and swans by the river are disturbed from their chatter
Table! for the right honourable
Professor Snoffaloffaguss
Sir Arnold Jenkins
Sammy Pink Hat
Harry Boo Boo
The Lady Cleopatra
Sir Reginald quackington – at which point what a happy coincidence quack quack quack went Sir Regi who happened to be sitting on the river he waddled his way past the raised eyebrows of the bemused landlord and on through the double doors into the pub turning back to squeak two more cheeky quack quacks out of his beak
And Sammy Pink Hat...
For a long while Sammy Pink Hat didn’t show up
No Sammy Pink Hat
Until sometime later
A lady wearing a giant pink hat
came a skipping by the river
nonchantly tipping her hat
Goodday goodday she sang as she skipped along the river to many a stranger
all the while the landlord of the pub scratched his head
scritch scratch scratch
for he was a rather struck oddly
in the most ooh de lally like way
it was indoobiddily
turning out to be
one of those
Golly what a day’s


When they came upon the fox
A dead fox lying by the side of the road
I think the two men stopped
For a moment
Then they carried on
and one said to the other
What if you were to kiss that fox
And it would then turn into
A beautiful girl
A princess
And you end up together living happily ever after
Maybe that's why she's a fox

But she’d be covered in grit
Came the reply

No she wouldn’t she be the most beautiful in all the land, a Princess
There wouldn’t be any grit

She’d be covered in grit

Not after the kiss

But the best man at the wedding would know that all along the bride no matter how beautifull came from grit
And what sort of story would it be Ping! Ping! Ping! of how did the happy couple meet, because the groom used to go round kissing dead animals!

Ah well that would all depend on whether you believe that the man who married the fox
Went round kissing every single dead animal or in fact just kissed that very same and only that very same one we just passed by

I believe he went round kissing every single animal
So much so I’m going to become one of those vigilantes, I’ll gather together a group and well make sure that he doesn’t get to kiss anymore

That makes me think that you are the man that goes round kissing all the dead animals
And the whole setting up a vigilante group is just a excuse so you can secretly kiss all the dead animals


What if your ideas were real? What if there really is no such thing as make believe?
Deep in the jungle silence speaks a thousand words or maybe just one... bingo
Pit pat pit pat footsteps walking further away
A light bulb flickering on inside of someone’s head

It’s never too late to simply turn around and go back the other way
Fire
It’s a times like these the stars shine so bright they like to present us with magic eyes

Swimming purple light

Mate I’ve got go back
What where are you going
Whoosh
There was no time to explain
running running full pelt back down the road
I am floating river I move like a leaf
To the fox lying by the side
Covered in grit with broken bones
A brave man stoops down with no fear of what anyone will think
To give a dead fox lying by the side of the road
A kiss smack upon the lips
He was right.
She is beautiful. A princess
and as neither of them the fox nor the man were covered in grit
They both lived ever after happily happy as floating rivers moving leafs.

Later that night when the pink white lemon sliced sky had given way to the dark and the moon sat watching down from amongst the clouds all alone just as he liked it came the old man to an empty patch by the side of the road where once the fox had lie.

The old man was quite at a loss as to what to do, and his stomach made a strange gurgling noise that cut through the quiet of the night.

Gurgle wurgle purgle.

Relax your fear all those with kind hearts. Don't worry. The old man did not have to stay hungry for long, as nearby. His ears picked out a sound. It was a song. It was the sound of some singing nettles growing in a bush, chanting in weedy voices,

fry me boil me
A fine tea a fine tea



Ill never eat meat again thought the old man looking up at the stars and then down at the singing nettles.

When he got home the old man had himself a fine tea of nettles and rhubarb. Rhubarb was his cat. Only joking. He didn’t have rhubarb at all. He had Potatoes. Next doors rabbit. No truthfully, after going back to find that the fox had vanished the old man made a pact with the moon and stars to never to touch so much as a cats whisker of meat ever again.

It was an enchanted night that the old man swore himself of eating any animals dead or alive for underneath the slivery beams of a full moon is how he came to be a vegetarian.

A vegetarian that devoted the rest of his life to travelling round the world with nothing but the clothes upon his back and a stick. He now knew that his purpose in life, his duty was to give honey back to the bees.

Deep in the Mountains of the Himalaya. Inside the valley of the beekeepers. The old man was stung to death. It seemed the bees didn’t want the honey back after all.

craw craw
The vultures The vultures
a fine tea a fine tea.


Now that rather cruel boy that entertained the idea of throwing the fox round and round like a Scotsmen throws the hammer. He could be inside your head or maybe even in me if that's true then only time will tell what history will be.

What about the other man. The best man. The dead animal vigilante. The friend that believed that no matter what, the beautiful girl would always be covered in grit.

Well after the disappearance of his friend that kissed the fox. He of course did what any sensible man in his place would do and went all over the world kissing every dead animal he came upon. All in hope of finding a beautiful girl or being transported to another world.

In the end he went a bit mad from lack of food, fear of vigilantes and sleep.

Soon a bit mad turned to completely totally tropical fruity loopy flying watermelon

Bananas

Coco coco

and he began to sing out loud and over and over with seemingly no end, Jenny Penny lemon and cake Jenny Penny lemon and cake Jenny Penny lemon and cake Jenny Penny Lemon and cake.

Until finally one night in Bermuda, thankfully, he found the body of a dead turtle, crashed out upon the sand. Kneeling down on the beach the man bent forwards and kissed the turtle smack bang on the lips.

It shook. The turtle shook.

Eureka!
Declared the man. Before turning rather disappointingly into a moth.

A moth that you yourself might even be able to see. Stay up late. Look out at night inquisitive eyes. Is it he banging his head again and again upon your light bulb. Listen. Carefully listen. If you can hear with magic ears some moths whisper in the air,

eureka eureka eureka

maybe you’ve found something more rare in this life than a four leaf clover. That is the moth that is he. The friend of the man who kissed the fox, the best man, the moth that was once upon a time the dead animal vigilante.

Jenny Penny
lemon and cake
kissed a turtle
and made it shake.

Of course we all know in our heart of hearts that right at the centre of every Rusty Jungle story is Sir Reginald Quackington. Well Sir Regi he had a lot of fun in the pub. Rolling a six sided die on the floor and inventing a game, the rules of which if you’d like to play went something along the lines of quack quack quack.

Afterword’s Sir Reginald left the pub which was called the Anchor to float back down the river with his friends Sammy Pink Hat, the Lady Cleopatra, Professor Snoffaloffagus and Sir Arnold Jenkins. They looked forward to their next adventure together talking laughing telling jokes and quacking all the way.

Yes yes but what about Harry Boo Boo?

Harry Boo Boo!
Harry Boo Boo
Me Beauties.
What a yarn
Alas
Perhaps for you shiny little tigers and fruity eyed sultanas
that there Harry Boo Boo
Is a completely different story for quite some other day.