Tochts fae Tushie Truncherfaece
Kale castin
Therty years is a blink in trowie time. I can mind da first edition o da Shetland Life laek hit wis yisterday. Feth, A’ll niver forgit dat day.
Aabody kens hoo trows live for centuries. Hit can tak aboot a hunder human years for a trow tae fully mature. Therty year ago wir Gutteryaggle wis a peerie baby trow and da boys wirna aald ava. Imagine whit hit is laek for wis haein bairns aboot wir feet for sae lang?
I mind dat Halloween weel. I tocht hit wis time wir boys learnt some guid trowie tricks. I wid learn dem da finer skills o kale castin.
“Dey ir far ower peerie for dat onkerry,” complained Meenie. “Can du no bide hom an read dis new magazine?”
“Na, na. Plenty time for dat. If wir boys ir gaein tae growe up tae be guid trowie citizens dey need tae ken hoo tae cast kale,” I telt her.
“Ower weel,” sighed Meenie buryin her nose in da Shetland Life.
So I set aff tae da rigs wi Muttontief, Uggledlugs and Snurtysleeves. Dey sprang trowe da hedder filskit wi excitement.
“You’ll hae tae be quiet when we tief dis kale,” I telt dem. Hit wis a boannie still nicht an ony noise wid kerry.
Wance at da rigs I got dem doon on dir hookers so we couldna be seen.
“Can we no tak twartree tatties or neeps?” axed Uggledlugs.
“Na, na,” I shook my head. “Da traditional castin vegetable is kale.”
Suddenly we wir caught in da glare o a blinkie. We aa froze laek fairt rabbits in headlichts.
“Dunna move a muscle,” I whispered. “Yon’s laekly da crofter checkin for kale casters.”
I don’t tink da boys even took a breath until we could see da blinkie headin back in da direction o da crofthoose.
“I tocht we wir had it!” said Muttontief wi relief.
“Da coast is clear,” I smeeged, grabbin a kale kastik an haalin hit wi aa da pooer I could summon.
Da boys yokkit een atween dem an pooed wi aa dir might. Uggledlugs gied a trowie squeal as he lost his grip an flew trowe da air an landit atween da neep rigs.
“Boy, hadd dy wheest!” I warned him.
We draggit da kale alang da grund headin for da croft hoose. Da boys startit tae pleepse as dey baffled alang wi da kale. I realised I wis richt, dey wir needin toughened up if dey wir tae growe up tae be decent trows.
“Noo, if we baal dis in da crofter’s door he canna accuse wis o tiefin onything. He’s joost gittin his ain kale delivered tae his ain door. Wha can argue wi dat?” I axed.
“Naebody,” da boys sneestered.
Noo, on my coont we’ll run tae da porch door, baal in da kale an den run laek da deevil,” I instructed.
Da boys nodded dey wir ready for action.
“Wan . . . two . . . tree!”
We ran kerryin da kale atween wis. I jamp up tae open da door. We heard a click an we wir suddenly floodlicht under da glare o a lurid licht abune da door. Da boys stood in a dwaam.
“Baal in da kale an leg it!” I hissed.
Wi aa dir strent dey liftit da kale an fired hit in da door. Dere wis an almighty smash an we wir shooered wi splinters o gless.
“Feth, you’re broken da inside porch door. Run!”
We ran for wir lives. I lookit ower my shooder an could see da faer in da boys een as dey tried tae keep up. Dey struggled trowe da hedder wi remarkable speed. As I lookit back at da crofthoose I could see da crofter standin under his flood licht wi his hands tirnly on his hips.
We didna stop til we wir safe undergroond. When we burst in pechin Meenie led doon her copy o da Shetland Life.
Uggledlugs leapt into her airms greetin.
“An whit skills has du managed tae learn da boys, Tushie?” she axed sarcastically.
“Em . . . A’m learnt dem dat kale castin isna a tradition tae be used on modern hooses wi gless porch doors,” I said pickin up da new magazine. I wis ower blyde tae hae da Shetland Life tae hoid ahint.
Hope your Halloween wis mair fun.
Tushie Truncherfaece
