Badger the Mystical Mutt and the Enchanting Exchange

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Also Published By The Lunicorn Press

  For Myra McNicol

  ALSO BY MCNICOL & JACKSON

  Badger the Mystical Mutt

  Badger the Mystical Mutt and the

  Barking Boogie

  Badger the Mystical Mutt and the

  Crumpled Capers

  Badger the Mystical Mutt and the

  Daydream Drivers

  Badger the Mystical Mutt and the

  Flying Fez

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  It was three thunderclaps from lightning, and all was eerily still on the lane. In Badger’s garden, where the Mystical Mutt had been practising his latest, spectacular “bowls of toast” trick, nothing moved.

  Badger sniffed the air above. “Any moment now,” he said nervously.

  Suddenly, the sky lit up with a dazzling blast of lightning, followed almost immediately by another flash. Badger counted the seconds between the flashes, then heard the familiar rumble and roll, boom and crack of the storm.

  “Time to take cover before the clouds burst,” thought Badger, frowning at the gloominess above. “Nippy Nimbus must be really cross up there.”

  He quickly gathered up his coloured bowls and his sparkly tablecloth, and ran to shelter in his shed.

  Further along the lane, Pogo Paws and Pickle, the new joint leaders of the gang, were having a blazing row. A travelling circus had arrived in town and Pickle was not happy.

  “I don’t care if you did spend all your puppy years in the circus. We’re not going, and that’s that!” snapped Pickle.

  “But a circus has never visited here since mine left that day,” whined Pogo Paws. “It could be my circus, and if it is … I could see my family again.”

  “Well, if it’s the same circus, and the same family, that left you behind to fend for yourself all those years ago, why would you want to go back there?” she sneered.

  Just then, another bolt of lightning flashed over the lane, followed by an almighty roar of thunder.

  “Quick! The storm is nearly here,” shouted Pogo Paws, grabbing Pickle’s paw. “Over there. We can hide in the bins.”

  “Don’t be silly,” said Pickle. “That’s dangerous. Some of the bins are shiny. We could be struck by lightning. No, let’s go to Badger’s shed instead.”

  As Pogo Paws and Pickle ran towards Badger’s garden, the first heavy thuds of rain fell on the lane. They sprackled clumsily through the crack in the fence and knocked on the door of Badger’s shed.

  “Hurry up! Come on in,” said Badger, ushering the dripping pair out of the downpour, which was now pelting off the roof.

  Pogo Paws and Pickle shook themselves and peered through the window at the torrent of rain outside.

  Pogo Paws shivered. “Thank goodness we’re in here, and not out there.”

  “Surely this means the circus can’t go ahead,” said Pickle hopefully. “The grass will be too squelchy after the rain.”

  Pogo Paws whimpered.

  “Why are you so sad, Pogo Paws?” asked Badger gently. “If it doesn’t go ahead tomorrow, there will be other circuses, and other times. Although, I’ve got a guest spot on the magic stage, so I really want it to go ahead too.”

  As Pogo Paws opened his mouth to speak, Pickle interrupted. “He wants to see if it’s the circus he came from, and if any of his old pals are still there.”

  “It’s not just old pals, Pickle. It’s my family,” muttered Pogo Paws.

  “You’re from a travelling circus, Pogo Paws? I had no idea,” said Badger excitedly.

  Pogo Paws’ tail started to wag slightly. Pickle scoffed “Here we go …”.

  The little dog puffed out his chest and said proudly, “Yes, I was their star acrobat. That’s where I got my name and how I learned to bounce so high. I loved it.”

  “So why did you leave?” asked Badger.

  “I didn’t,” sighed Pogo Paws. “I got left behind by mistake when the circus moved on. It was my own fault really, as I was exploring this very lane. I ran and ran to catch up, but couldn’t find them, and that’s how I ended up here … with her!” He nodded his head at Pickle wearily.

  Pickle scowled.

  As the rain continued, puddles grew into bigger puddles, and weeds sprang up from the muddy grass. It was looking less and less likely that the circus would open the next day as planned.

  At the end of the lane, near the duck pond, the candy striped tents of the circus sagged. The flags, which had been all aflutter earlier, now hung limply. The sawdust was sodden and the trailers were caked in mud. Everything was wet and washed-out.

  “We’ll just have to wait and see,” said Badger hopefully. “In the meantime, I know what will cheer us all up. I can show you my trick for tomorrow night’s show. I’m still a bit rusty, but it’s almost there.”

  Pogo Paws and Pickle both groaned.

  Badger assembled his assorted dinner bowls and stood back. He crossed his paws backwards and forwards, to and fro, up and down, tapped each bowl with gusto and started the spell.

  “One two tickety boo, turn these bowls into …”

  He stopped and scratched his head.

  What’s wrong?” asked Pogo Paws.

  “I can’t quite remember the rest of the rhyme.”

  Suddenly, the bowls began to vibrate, as hundreds of slices of toast burst out in all directions. The buttery toast swirled and birled around their heads, filling the shed. Pogo Paws, Pickle and Badger slipped and slid, and they all ended up flat on their backs.

  “I think you’ve got a bit more work to do on that one,” shouted Pogo Paws, over the crunch and the crumble of the countless crusts.

  Badger smiled sheepishly. “Er, yes. If I could just remember the spell …”

  Backstage at the circus Big Top, in a sturdy cage, behind iron bars, flanked by two vicious guard dogs, there came a roar bigger than any thunderclap.

  The huge beast grunted and lay down in the corner of the cage.

  On a lamp post at the other end of the lane, a poster advertising the circus announced:

  Introducing …

  the only living Minotaur in this world!

  Fresh from the mysterious land of Esterious,

  our star attraction is half-big-folk, half-bull.

  Come and see it … if you dare!

  The next day dawned with a blazing sun. Badger emerged from his shed, sniffed the air and smiled. A moment later, Pickle appeared too, blinking in the brightness of the sunshine.

  “It looks like the circus will go ahead after all,” said Badger.

  “Do we really have to go?” groaned Pickle.

  The shed burst open as Pogo Paws bounced into the brand new morning.

  “Woweeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! What a brilliant day! We can go to the circus today. Hooraaaaaaaaaaaaay!”

  Pogo Paws bounded round Badger’s garden with glee.

  Pickle looked at Badger sulkily, and said: “I don’t want to go to the circus. It’s all he ever talks about. So what if he’s homesick? I’m fed up with it.”

  “Oh, Pickle, look at how happy he is. Surely you can turn that frown upside-down and go along with Pogo Paws. It’s only for one day. Besid
es which, I’ve got my star turn there later this afternoon. Come for me … please?” Badger pleaded.

  Pickle sighed. “Okay, I suppose, if I really must.”

  “Right then, you two, off you go back to the lane, I’ve got some serious practising to do before tonight’s show,” said Badger.

  As Pickle and Pogo Paws headed for the crack in the fence, Badger was already setting out his coloured bowls and trying again to remember the spell.

  Backstage, at the circus, the minotaur felt its eyes sting with tears, as the ringmaster jangled keys outside its cage.

  “Not long now, Beast!” bellowed the moustached ringmaster. “Then you can run free inside the ring, to amaze and astound the crowds.”

  The minotaur sighed.

  “Look a bit more fierce! You’re our star attraction. Get up … now!” ordered the ringmaster, cracking his whip.

  The minotaur ducked and pawed the ground with its chunky boots. Through gritted teeth, it let out an almighty roar.

  “That’s more like it. That’s what keeps our audience terrified. Keep it up!”

  Outside the tent, the sideshows and fairground were in full swing. Music blared, lights shimmered, candyfloss billowed and coconuts shied.

  Pogo Paws and Pickle arrived at the circus.

  “Right, Pogo Paws, you have to win me something for coming here today,” announced Pickle.

  “Of course. Take your pick. Which stall do you fancy?” replied Pogo Paws, with a swagger.

  Pickle looked at the stalls and thought for a moment.

  “I could do with a collar actually. I’ve never had one before, so if you could win me one of them, then I might start to enjoy myself today,” said Pickle.

  “That, my dear, should be easy-peasy lemon squeezy. Let’s head over to that stall there,” pointed Pogo Paws.

  In front of them stood a hexagonal booth jam-packed with every shape, every size and every colour of dog and cat collar. In the middle hung three circular hoops, with a sign that said: “Try your luck at scoop the hoop. Three crunchy-munchy chewy chops for three shots. Throw the ball through the hoop to scoop a prize!”

  Pogo Paws handed over three of his treasured crunchy-munchy chewy chops, and picked up the brightly coloured balls.

  “Stand back, Pickle. Watch and learn!” said Pogo Paws confidently.

  He eyed the hoop and took aim. His first ball bounced off and fell to the ground. Pickle smirked. “Not so easy after all, Pogo Paws!”

  Pogo Paws frowned and took aim with his second ball. It too bounced off the hoop and missed.

  “Hang on a minute!” shouted Pogo Paws. “The balls are too big for the hole in the hoops. It’s a scam. Watch this, Pickle. I’ll get that collar for you.”

  With his third and last ball, Pogo Paws bounced and bounced until he was level with the hoop. He flew forward and squeezed the foam ball neatly through the hoop.

  “There, I won. I’d like my prize now, please,” said Pogo Paws proudly.

  The stallholder scowled and grumbled: “You cheated!”

  “No, I didn’t” said Pogo Paws indignantly. “You cheated! And if you don’t give me my prize, I’ll tell the others on the lane and then no one will visit this stall.”

  The stallholder grimaced, waved his arm across the prizes and told him to choose what he wanted.

  Pogo Paws asked Pickle to pick her collar.

  Pickle’s eyes widened in delight. She took her time looking at them all, and then selected a lilac satin collar with pink lovehearts.

  “Let me!” said Pogo Paws, as he fastened the new collar gently around her neck.

  Pickle smiled adoringly at her hero.

  “Now I’m enjoying myself. Thank you so much, Pogo Paws, for winning me this. Okay, let’s go and see Badger’s show.”

  As Pogo Paws and Pickle took their seats in the audience, the spotlight shone in the centre of the circus ring. The air was thick with anticipation.

  Suddenly, the ringmaster swept into the ring with a flourish, and announced: “And now, for your delectation and delight, be prepared to be badgical-magicalled with your very own local ‘Wizard of Paws’. I give you … Badger the Mystical Mutt!”

  The crowd roared as Badger strutted into the spotlight, his coat swishing and his eyes sparkling.

  He turned around and wagged his tail at his audience, which erupted with thunderous applause. Badger smiled and shook his paws. In front of him was a table with a sparkly red-and-white spotted tablecloth. On top of the table lay three coloured bowls: a red-spotted one on the left; a stripy yellow one in the middle; and a swirly blue one on the right.

  Badger stood back with his head held high. He lifted each bowl and showed the audience that there was nothing underneath, then crossed his paws over the bowls. Sparkles of light swirled around him, and he uttered the spell:

  “One two, tickety boo, three four, toast galore …”

  The bowls rumbled noisily on the table, and as Badger lifted the red-spotted one, he revealed a slice of hot, buttered toast. The audience gasped.

  He lifted the stripy yellow bowl, and there, in front of him, were two slices of toast. The audience gasped again.

  Badger winked, took a bow and pointed at the third blue bowl.

  Just as he was about to lift the bowl to show the three slices of toast beneath, and await his final applause, there was an almighty roar and a pounding of chunky boots from behind.

  The ground shuddered as a huge beast rumbled past, upturning Badger’s table and his precious magic trick.

  The audience screamed as the creature lunged towards them, and ran off in all directions, rushing to escape the mayhem and chaos. But amid all the ruckus, the ringmaster was nowhere to be seen.

  Badger watched in horror as the circus tent emptied in a frenzy. Then he saw the horns of the star attraction — the minotaur — disappear from the ring.

  Later that night, Badger trudged back to his garden, his box of tricks filled with the coloured bowls and cold toast.

  Already, “Wanted!” posters were pinned to lamp posts and tree trunks all over the lane and beyond, for the escaped circus act.

  “My moment in the spotlight was stolen by an escaped minotaur. I can’t believe it!” muttered Badger.

  Just then, there was a rustle at the end of the garden. Badger looked up and saw two horns peeping over the top of the fence. As he moved closer, he heard a sobbing snort.

  “Hello?” he shouted. “Who’s there?”

  “Are you Badger the Mystical Mutt?” replied a gruff voice from the other side of the fence.

  “Yes, I am indeed. How can I help you?” asked Badger warily.

  The horns moved higher to reveal the head of a bull.

  Badger gasped. It was the escaped minotaur from the circus.

  “I want to go home,” snivelled the beast. “I’m fed up of performing every night!”

  “Where is home?” asked Badger gently.

  “My lovely labyrinth in Esterious, but it’s not in this universe.”

  “Aha! That could be a bit tricky with travel then,” said Badger smiling.

  “Yes, but I’ve heard you’ve got a Wim-Wim which goes to the Enchanted Forest. And I believe there’s a unicorn there who can help me,” said the minotaur hopefully.

  “Yes, that might be correct. But the Wim-Wim wouldn’t be able to take you. You’re too big; you’re enormous!”

  “But I heard there might be a portal for Esterious somewhere in a cave there,” wailed the minotaur.

  The minotaur cried again.

  “It’s okay” said Badger softly. “Maybe we could try one of my special shrinking spells, to make you fit into the Wim-Wim.”

  The beast looked at Badger sadly. “I’ve heard about your spells too, Badger. But they don’t always work, do they?”

  Badger twitched and rubbed his white tuft at the top of his head: “That may be so, but my magic in the circus worked okay, until you stole my limelight by escaping.”

  “Sorry about t
hat,” said the minotaur. “But can you still help me?”

  “I’ll try my best. What’s your name anyway?”

  “Minty.”

  “Minty the minotaur. I like it. Right then, Minty, let me think of my shrinking spell, because we need to get you off the lane as soon as possible. There are ‘Wanted!’ notices everywhere. You’re a runaway, and probably dangerous.”

  “I’m not dangerous. I’m a big softie really. It’s only the ringmaster who makes me roar,” said Minty meekly. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance you could magic me up some alfalfa hay, could you? It’s my favourite and I’m starving.” The minotaur smiled endearingly at Badger.

  The Mystical Mutt shook his head. “First things first, Minty,” he said. “We need to make you smaller, not bigger after a feast of hay.”

  The minotaur crouched down as Badger consulted his big book of spells under ‘How to hide a minotaur’.

  “Ah!” said Badger triumphantly. “Found it! So, let’s try this for starters:

  With saffron rice and all things nice,

  Hocus pocus, and focus on the crocus …”

  As Pogo Paws and Pickle walked homewards from the circus towards the lane, Pogo Paws was down in the dumps.

  “Okay, so it wasn’t your old circus! So what?” muttered Pickle, thoughtlessly.

  “But it’s made me feel worse. I’m even more homesick now. I miss my family,” shrugged Pogo Paws.

  “Whatever!” sighed Pickle, and then she spotted the ‘Wanted!’ posters.

  “Look, there’s a reward!” said Pickle excitedly “If we could find the minotaur, we could get a year’s supply of crunchy-munchy chewy chops. Woohoooooooooooo!”

  “Isn’t getting a brand-new collar enough excitement for one day, Pickle?” asked Pogo Paws wearily.

  “Uh oh! What’s that I see outside Badger’s garden,” yelled Pickle. “Look, there it is! It’s the minotaur talking to Badger. Quick!”

  Pickle sped towards the crack in the fence at Badger’s, but there was nothing to be seen. The minotaur had vanished.

  Pickle stopped suddenly. “I’m sure I saw it,” she said, mystified. She peeked behind the wheelie bins, and then into Badger’s garden, but all she could see was Badger holding a bunch of crocuses.