No Tour for Wombat

Wombat sat slumped on his favourite chair... his body aching all over.. He'd given up the idea of riding in Le Tour de France.. His bike shorts pinched too much and he kept falling off his exercise bike. Wombats just weren't built for riding bikes.

The sealer for him was when he tried to practise hill climbing. He didn't have any hills near him so Wombat decided to train on his stairs. He opened the front door... wheeled his bike down to the letter box... lined himself up with the staircase and took off. The bit up the path was OK.. he flew over the doorstep and across the landing. His dream of wearing the polka dot jersey was looking good... but then he hit the stairs... Wombats are strong - everyone knows that. Wombat could dig up a storm and his legs were bulging with powerful muscles, so Wombat knew he had the strength to get up the staircase. The problem was that his bike wasn't so keen....

He hit the first step and the bike stalled. Wombat went sailing over the handlebars, did a couple of somersaults mid air and came to a crashing halt at the top of the stairs. Did it count if you got to the top of the hill without your bike???

Waterworld for Ants..

Wombat finished his breakfast of Wombat Cereal and Wombat Juice. The bike shorts were starting to pinch around his rather ample girth. He did enjoy the padding though, and could sit around on it all day. Wombat went to place his dishes in the dishwasher but froze with fear at what he saw. Dozens of ants roaming around the dish racks!!! He backed away slowly and grabbed his glasses so he could see the full extent of the horror before him. Wombat, his heart pounding, peered over the edge of the dishwasher. The ants seemed to be looking up at him with expectation in their eyes... Waiting for something... He looked closer and realised that they wore bathers or board shorts and were carrying little towels! What were they thinking??? Wombat went to the cupboard to get a soap tablet and carefully - ensuring he didn't touch any of the ants - placed it in the soap tablet holder thinggy.

Wombat looked back at the ants.. they seemed to be cheering. They were lining up at the top of plates and on the edge of cups. They thought this was some sort of Fun Park!! They were waiting for Wombat to turn the water on so the 'rides' could begin! Wombat shook his head. As much as he hated ants he couldn't bear the thought of their disappointment when their 'rides' turned deadly.

"You're all going to die!!" he said - speaking slowly and clearly - not sure if ants understood 'wombat speak'. The ants just cheered. Wombat tried again.. "The water gets hot!!" The ants jumped up and down. "GET OUT WHILE YOU CAN!!!!!" The ants just looked up at him and waved.

Wombat shook his head, stood up and closed the dishwasher. He'd tried. Couldn't do better than that. He pushed the buttons on the dishwasher.. Nothing. Wombat pushed the buttons again... Nada.. zilch.. the dishwasher was dead. Typical! He'd had the chance to rid himself of a few ants and as usual the world was against him! Sighing deeply Wombat padded over to the couch, flopped down and tried to drown out the faint chant of "We want water!"

Training for Le Tour...

Wombat - resplendent in new, yellow Lycra bike shorts - commenced intense 'Tour de France' training for the day. Three french sticks, five wedges of fromage and two glasses of bordeaux. Being a vegetarian, Wombat wasn't keen on trying frogs legs or snails, but he had found some green jelly frogs (with legs) so figured they would do just as well. It wasn't easy training so hard, but Wombat figured if a job was worth doing, it was worth doing well.

While watching 'le Tour' on television Wombat had quickly picked up the fact that it was important to keep eating to maintain energy levels. That was why Wombat knew this was the sport for him. Eating was his speciality!

Vive le Wombat!

Wombat lay in his warm, cosy bed watching 'Le Tour De France'. "I could do that..." he thought to himself as he reached for another Wombat Bar (chock full of tasty wombat goodness). "A bit of training... a few exercises... buy some Lycra... and I'm there." He could see it all.. The crowds cheering, throwing french sticks and fromage, dazzled by his skill, his daring, his speed.....

Wombat, filled with a new motivation (to wear the yellow jersey for Australia) pulled himself out of bed and up onto his exercise bike. The bike (which had been specially modified to cater for his rather short, stocky legs and arms) groaned in protest as Wombat began pedalling. Round and round went his legs and Wombat imagined himself riding in the breakaway group. The peloton bearing down on them at breakneck speed. Tour leaders crashing in front of him - but Wombat skillfully avoiding the mash of flailing arms and legs... He rode harder as he imagined the finish line coming into view.. Sweat pouring down his nose and dripping onto his fur..

Wombat squinted down at the gauges on the bike to see how far he'd ridden. 0.02 kilometers! He'd better slow down! Didn't want to suffer a burn out on his first day of training. Wombat pulled himself off the exercise bike and slumped to the floor where he lay panting, trying to catch his breath. Maybe he could enter a different 'Tour'. There must be smaller countries than France to ride around....

The Finger of Death...

Wombat woke to the sun streaming through the window and landing on his face. "Humph... stupid sun..." He looked at the clock and thought...Oh.. fair enough... Mentally apologising to the sun. It was 12.30 pm after all. He stretched his paws out to their fullest extent and thought ...I suppose I'd better get up... Not one to rush things, Wombat finally dragged himself out of bed at 2.05 pm.

He lumbered down the stairs and - after eating a few chocolate bars to keep his energy levels up - Wombat decided he'd better do some gardening. Squinting at the clear sky as he opened the back door, Wombat had a bad feeling about all the physical exertion he was planning to do. It couldn't be good for him...

He grabbed the gardening gloves off the table and eased them onto his paws. (It's not easy for a wombat to find gardening gloves that fit on account of their paw shape.) One claw in, two, three, ... something was wrong with four... The claw didn't seem to go down as far at the others. Wombat pushed a little harder. He felt a slight 'pop' and something moved... Wombat pulled the glove off his paw as fast as he could and flung it down on the table. Out of the glove limped a large, black, furry spider... Wombat screamed his girly scream and watched the spider drag itself down into a crack in the table.

White faced, Wombat stared at the glove, then at the place where the spider had disappeared. It could have bitten him! He could have been lying dead right now - or at least in excruciating agony!!! (Assuming the spider was poisonous.) He stood there until his heartbeat returned to normal.

Shaking his head Wombat retreated back into the cosy warmth of his home, consoling himself with the fact that at least it hadn't been an ant. With spiders they come in ones or twos.. with ants they come in millions...

Alien Invasion...?

Wombat moaned with pleasure "...mmmmm.. mm.. .. mmmmmmm...." Nothing like a long hot shower to get the fur glistening again (and ensure there were no ants hiding there..) He had heard somewhere that you could think yourself thin. He concentrated all his mental capacities (such as they were) onto an image of himself as a wombat hunk. Thirty seconds later... nothing. No result! He still couldn't see his feet when he looked down. So much for that thirty seconds -which he would never get back again!! He finally turned the water off, got out of the shower, shook himself wildly and sprayed on some Eucalyptus scent. Lady wombats love the smell apparently - it said so on the bottle so it must be true. It reminded Wombat of an old farm joke.... "What did the sheep say to the shearer?" Answer: "Eucalyptus!! (You clipped us)" Ahhhh hahahahaha.. yeah... well.. OK then.... It used to be funny.

Wombat lumbered down the stairs, humming quietly to himself, and decided to go check the letterbox. For some strange reason he had forgotten to check the mail the other day, so there must be something there by now. Walking to the front door Wombat noticed a strange object hanging from the window frame. At first he felt the familiar terror rising through his body like a deadly disease..... , but then he realised that it was too big to be an ant and his fear magically dissipated.

Wombat went outside to get a closer look. It was a strange dangly thing moving gently with the breeze. Wombat sniffed it. Seemed to be made out of twigs and leaves (almost good enough for a wombat to eat), but it had an 'other worldly' look and smell about it. Wombat padded inside, grabbed his camera and went back to take a photo of what must obviously be the beginning of an alien invasion. Didn't worry him. Aliens don't eat wombats..... do they?

Dog Day Afternoon

Wombat hummed quietly to himself. .."mmm...hmmm..mm...hmmm.." He looked at the clock and figured it must be time for the postie to call. Wombat lumbered up to the front door, undid the lock, undid the slide bolt, undid the security door, and walked out into the sunshine... He took a deep breath of fresh air.. He sniffed... took another breathe of air.. and sniffed again.. Something was not quite right. Wombat looked down at his garden. There, lying as calmly as you please, was a big lump of dog excrement! Wombat looked up and down the street... not a dog to be seen. Wombat looked down at his garden again.. The dog poo was still there.. He covered his eyes and stood there shaking his head. "Why?? Why me????"

Muttering quietly through clenched teeth, Wombat dragged himself back into his kitchen, grabbed a plastic bag, and dragged himself back outside to 'deal' with the poo. He deposited the full bag in the rubbish bin and planned his response. Wombat scratched his head, looked up at the ceiling, looked down at the floor and scratched his head again. (It takes awhile for Wombats to plan responses.) "Ah ha!!!" He had it! Wombat lumbered back to the kitchen again and grabbed a big container of pepper. He went back outside and liberally sprinkled pepper where the dog excrement had been. "Let's see you sniff that!!" he said to himself and swaggered back inside - completely forgetting to check the mailbox.

A Bad Day...

Wombat stood at the kitchen window looking out over his backyard. Wombat surveyed the sky and wondered whether it would rain or not. Would it be worth starting some gardening?? He glanced at his reflection in the window. Something was not quite right... He looked again. There, on the fur at the top of his head he saw a slight movement. Wombat grabbed his glasses (he's as blind as a fruit bat without them) and squinted at his reflection again. What he saw horrified him! An ant on his fur, swinging gently with the movement of Wombat's head, was waving at him from his vantage point. Wombat screamed a long girly scream.. "...aaahhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!"

He ran around the kitchen swiping wildly at the ant with his paws, scratching himself in the process (wombats have sharp claws). The ant thought it was great fun and wished he had thought to bring his three thousand brothers and sisters with him. Wombat was beside himself. His pathological fear of ants driving him to ram his head into the kitchen cupboards in order to rid himself of the ant. At last the ant was dislodged and crawled away to tell of his adventure.

When Wombat's friends came to collect him to go bowling, they found him curled up in the corner of the kitchen, in the fetal position, sucking a tea towel and murmuring something about ants taking over the world. It had been a bad day.....

Cotton..

Wombat looked down at his raggy underwear.. Hmmm.. looks like wombat needed to do some repair work. He waddled out to the laundry to get a needle and thread. Wombat put on his glasses (because Wombat is as blind as a bat). He placed the needle between his teeth and searched for the end of the cotton. He searched, and searched, and searched... " Aaahhhh!!! Stupid cotton!!!!" Why do they hide the ends??? What is the point!!! Wombat tore at the reel of cotton with his strong fingernails. He bit at it with his strong teeth. Finally the cotton reel gave in and the end fell away from the rest of the cotton. "Hmmph...." grunted Wombat. Wombat = 1, Cotton reel = 0

Cabbage...

Wombat was scrounging for food - as he usually did - when he remembered the only joke he could remember...
A man was walking along the road with a long leash in his hand. At the other end of the leash, tied on securely, was a cabbage. The man walked along, humming quietly to himself, oblivious to the stares he was attracting. Finally another man came up to him and said .."er.. excuse me... why are you taking a cabbage for a walk?" The man looked at his leash, saw the cabbage and slapped himself on the forehead. "Cabbage!!! The guy at the pet store told me it was a Collie!!!!!... (cauliflower)
Aaahhhhhhh hahahahahaha!! Wombat cracks himself up. Then he remembered, no one usually thinks that joke is funny. Funny about that! Oh well..

Ants

...Wombat wonders why ants have it in for him. He's just making a cup of coffee, humming quietly to himself, when he looks down to see an ant waving up at him. Wombat growls, grabs a wiper and sends the ant to ant nirvana. No ant trail to follow... just one ant.

The trouble is there is never usually just one ant. Wombat hates ants. They mock him and they seem to have free range of his house. They never stick together.. it's always one ant.. then another further up the wall.. or a small group in the bathroom (the bathroom for goodness sake.. what could ants possibly want in the bathroom!!!)

Wombat is sure that the ants have meetings to decide how to frustrate him and turn his fur grey. He imagines their meetings. "I know..." one ant will pipe up. (The small one in the back who wants to make a name for himself.) "Lets spread ourselves around the house - check out the kitchen sink, the bathroom floor, the lounge room floor etc. and make sure Wombat never sees where we get in. Then, when he's hopping mad, lets meet in the dishwasher for a group hug!" "Brilliant!" The other ants cry and off they go to carry out their devilish plan.

Wombat opens the dishwasher.... dishes covered in ants. "AAAHHHHHHhhhhh!!!! he screams, races for the dish washing tablets and sends the ants to a watery grave. There are two things he's sure of.. the ants will be back, and soon a guest will complain about a dead ant in their (heavy) crystal glass. Wombat hates ants.