General English-"A Dog Named Brian"_Mr.Toby Bond

A Dog Named Brian

Name : Neny Novitriana

NIM : 2006100824

Class : 10-18A

Account : 1123

Wimple the Witch was having trouble with her cat. Now, as you know, all witches need a cat. No cat, no spell. They just won’t work without the magic spark from a cat’s eyes. So when Wimple had trouble with her cat – it was big trouble.

“You’re a great big useless heap of for,” she shrieked of Montgomery, who was lying on his back with his paws in the air, snoring. “Can’t you think of anything better to do than sleep all day?”

Wimple drew back her large foot and booted him across the room – no mean feat since Montgomery weighed nearly as much as sack of coal. Montgomery rotated in mid-air twice and came to rest on his paws with a faint of surprise.

His feelings were more hurt than anything. True, he had slowed down a trifle lately, but frankly, he was getting on a bit now. He’d used up eight-and-a-half lives and all he wanted was a bit of peace.

Wimple put her hands on her hips and glowered at Montgomery, who had keeled over on the spot and fallen into an assistant slumber.

“Right!” she screamed. “That’s it!” It was time to get another cat. One she could rely on. In two shakes of a rat’s tail she was astride her broomstick and on her way to the Paws for Though cat agency.

“I want a sleek, hard working black cat with a flash of genius. Experience in turning into frogs and vice versa would be preferred,” she said, to the bored-looking witch behind the counter.

“No,” the assistant said.

“What do you mean – no?” said Wimple.

“No cats lefts on our books. We’ve had a run on them this week.”

Wimple turned purple.

“All we’ve got left is a dog called Brian.” White Wimple stood there, speechless, the assistant went into a back room and came back with a huge blood hound who looked rather depressed. He knew just what would happen. The always took one look at him and shrieked with laughter.

He’d spent three years learning to be a Witch’s Personal Assistant and now nobody would hire him.

“I’ll take him!” said Wimple suddenly. She was a desperate witch. “I just wish he wasn’t quite so big.”

The first problem was that there was no way Brian was going to ride on the broomstick. When he got on it just wouldn’t budge. So poor Wimple had to walk all the way home, carrying her broomstick with Brian lolloping along behind.

Back home, she decided to try him out straight away on a spell. She had an excellent recipe brewing in the cauldron, designed to turn bacon sandwich into roast beef with roast potatoes, Yorkshire pudding and Brussel sprouts, her favourite meal.

“Right – er – Brian, all you have to do is sit there and stare at the cauldron until it starts to bubble.” Brian looked quietly confident. He’d passed cauldron starting with gradet.

“I’ll go and find that good-for-nothing cat and tell him he’s fired!”.

Brian sat and stared dutifully at the cauldron. It was a very big cauldron and even Brian couldn’t see inside it. So he didn’t know whether it was bubbling or not. He thought he’d better check and put his paws upon and titled and crash! It toppled oer. All the bubbling liquid flowed onto the floor – and oven Montgomery felt very strange for a minute and then turned into a Brussel sprout. Wimple, following behind, stopped dead in her tracks.

“You stupid dog! Quick, we’ll have to mix another spell.” She thumbed through her recipe book until she found Brussel sprout – Into Cat, page 62. “We need some toadstools. Go and get some this minute!” Poor Brian was felling very embarrassed and loped of into the garden, determined he would prove himself this time. He came back carrying a basket full of toadstools.

Strangely enough, Wimple didn’t seem pleased. She was staring out of the window with eyes like saucers, clenching her fists.

“You’ve – just – trampled – all – over – my – magic – herbs,” she said, very slowly. “The ones that have taken me a year to grow…” Brian though that now would be a good time to disappear for a while.

When Wimple had calmed down, she mixed the spell, muttering to herself about stupid dogs and cats, and managed to restore Montgomery to his previous her recipe book into the cauldron and it disintegrated in a Puff of smoke.

That was the lost straw. Wimple was literally hopping mad. She jumped up and clown and stamped her feet, hopping all over the room. Then bump! Her head hit the shelf where she kept all her secret jars and bottles. A big dusty jar marked Frog Mixture teetered on the brink, the fell over, the thick green liquid pouring down onto Wimple’s head.

When Brian and Montgomery crept in a little later, Wimple didn’t seem to be there. There was just this small, rather bewildered frog sitting on the floor.

Brian looked up at the shelf where all the bottles were higgledy piggledy and saw the upturned jar. He looked at Montgomery and Montgomery looked at him. Then they both looked at the frog.

They ran over to where Wimple’s recipe book was kept, but there was no sign of it anywhere! Brian and Montgomery would just have to try and remember the right spell between them. Montgomery rushed out into the garden and nibbled off some squashed herbs. Brian took down the jar marked Pickled Slugs and another the said All Purpose Slime – Top Quality. They mixed all the ingredients together in a spare pot and stirred it with their paws. The frog looked on and blinked silently. Together, the cat and dog sat and stared hand at the spot. Slowly, it began to bubble With that, the frog made a sudden heap and landed in the pot with a plop.

And out came – Wimple! She was a little slimy, to be sure, but it was definitely her. When she’d dried herself off and had a couple of chocolate biscuits, she felt much better. Wimple sat on her wooden stool and patted Montgomery and Brian on the head.

“I was wrong about you two,” she said finally. “A with couldn’t have two better assistants.” She shuddered as she remembered sitting on the floor with green skin and big feet. She would never turn anyone into a frog again. After she’d thrown away all the frog mixture she could find, she found a big juicy bone for Brian and a tasty kipper for Montgomery. “What a team!” She cackled and tucked in to her roast beef and Yorkshire pudding.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Candy Wallace (2002) A Dog Named Brian