Bungo and the Window Cleaner

Bungo and the Window Cleaner is the third chapter in the Wombles One.

Meanwhile Bungo had found a handkerchief in his pocket.  All he knew was that he was locked in a giant bedroom.  But the handerkerchief had a name on it!  “D Smith, I’m D Smith!  Mm so now I know who I am but where am I, why am I here?”

Shansi struggled out of the bag, and ran back into the burrow and to Great Uncle Bulgaria.  “Do I live here?” she asked.  “Of course you do, murderer!  And you’re under house arrest!”  Shansi just shrugged and went into a bedroom, which unfortunately was Orinoco’s, but she didn’t scream this time, because it brought back a memory. “Orinoco!” she mumbled, and went to another bedroom, which luckily was hers.  She wondered why it was plastered full of pictures of Orinoco.  “This can’t be my bedroom.” She said, and went to another bedroom, which was Bungo’s, and it was plastered full of pictures of another womble, and it said, “Alderney” underneath each of them.

Wellington was on tidying up duty with MacWomble shouting at him and playing the pipes.  “Ahem  MacWomble, I think this might be tricky to tidy up.”  Wellington pointed to a human who looked like he was a statue.  Even his eyes didn’t move.  “Aye young Wellington it is a wee bit big for your wee tidy bag!”.  Another human came along.  “I can tidy it for you gentlemen.” He said doffing his white bowler hat.  “Thanks” said Wellington “You’re aright for a human that is!”  “Well thank you” said the man who was a classy window cleaner.  He picked up Peter and tossed him into a big white window cleaning van then drove off.

Step, step, step.  Two fluffy white feet walked into Yellowstone Park. Something with red spots on it was thrown into a burrow.  The lights were off, so no one could see anything in there.  The red spotted thing was a white bag.  The red spots were bits of wool that had come out of the bag. The bag tipped over, and a large creature fell out.  It was a womble!  Another womble spun round on a big black chair.  “Greetings.” They said.  “Where am I? Let me go!” said the womble who had fallen out the bag.  “Where you are is not what we are here to discuss.” Said the other womble.  Of course, the one who had been in the bag didn’t know who the one on the chair was, because of the dark.  The womble on the chair continued, “I have been expecting you.  I suppose my new young assistant brought you here?”  The womble who had been carrying the bag stepped in.  “Yes, I did.” She said.  Her voice sounded so familiar.  The womble on the chair pulled down a screen.  It showed a man in a bowler hat, a suit, and an umbrella in their hand. “He is helping us.” Said the womble in the chair.  “But he does not really know what we are doing.  Soon enough, the entire human race will be no more!  Wombles will be the main creatures of the world!  And YOU are going to help with that!” “Never!” said the womble who had been in the bag, then the womble on the chair’s new assistant covered his mouth, and took them to another room.

Back in Wimbledon the effect of the dart was wearing off and Bungo now knew he was a womble.  He also knew that he wasn’t D Smith.  “Hmm so if I’m a womble and D Smith owns this handkerchief then D Smith must have kidnapped me using the handkerchief!” he said to no one.  Bungo threw down the handkerchief and jumped on it to make sure it couldn’t get him. He tried the door but it was locked. Something was poking out of his pocket. It was shiny and sort of pointy. “Mm must have tidied this up, I am a womble after all.  Let’s try it in this hole in the door.”

Bungo pushed the pointy thing in the lock then tried the door again.  It still didn’t open.  Bungo twisted it and the door clicked.  He jumped back in fear.  Doors didn’t usually click at him but he suddenly felt brave and charged at it. The door flew open and Bungo landed in a heap of very hard bowler hats.  “Bungo! I’m Bungo!  Oh!  Orinoco is in bed!  No, he is … on his head!  No, he is staying with Fred! That’s OK then.  Now I’ll head home to the burrow.”

The effect of the dart that had hit Shansi was also wearing off.  She now remembered that she was called Shansi Womble, and that she was under house arrest, but she still couldn’t remember why.  Then there was a horrible, awful, loud noise.  So loud it caused her to remember that she was suspected of the murder of Orinoco, but she still couldn’t remember whether she had actually done it or not.   The sound got louder, so she remembered that she loved Orinoco!  “But if I love him, why would I have murdered him?” she thought. The sound was super loud now, so super loud that her entire memory came back!  Suddenly the noise stopped.  “Why’re ye covering ye ears like that?” asked Cairngorm.  Shansi didn’t answer, so Cairngorm started playing the bagpipes again. Now Shansi knew everything!  Well, everything about Wimbledon anyway.

She walked up the stairs, then the doorbell rang.  Tomsk ran to answer it, then screamed, then there was silence.  Then the womble at the door carried out of the burrow something made of metal with dripping red spots on the end.  Then they turned back, and left something at the door, before heading off again.

A young womble named China knocked on Tomsk’s door.  There was no reply.  She tried again.  Still no reply.  So she put down the tray of breakfast she had brought him, and opened the door a crack to look inside.  Tomsk wasn’t there!  So China rushed down the stairs, immediately to see Tomsk laying, unresponsive, with an enormous wound in his chest.  She screamed even louder than Shansi had when she had seen that Orinoco had been killed. So loud that no one could even hear Cairngorm playing the bagpipes!  Everyone immediately rushed to see what was the matter, even more quickly than when they had heard Shansi screaming.  Great Uncle Bulgaria glared at China, just like he had with Shansi.  Soon enough, she was under house arrest too!

Cairngorm’s bagpipe playing had also given Mrs Peel her memory back.  It also, like it had with Shansi, gave her extra knowledge.  She now knew what Peter planned to do!  She warned all the wombles, and rushed out to stop him. This gave Great Uncle Bulgaria an idea that it might’ve actually been Peter who was the murderer on all three occasions, but he didn’t admit that he might’ve been wrong.

China looked out the door, wiping her tears away.  She saw a straw boater and a red, white-striped, scarf on the step.  They looked exactly like Orinoco’s!  “That’s odd…” thought China.  “I could of sworn we buried these when we buried Orinoco!”

Bungo had picked out a light brown bowler hat before he left the Peel’s house.   He also found a matching brown umbrella.  He was a little disappointed that the brown suit hadn’t fitted him as well but ho hum he carried on down the garden.  “Grrr” said a rather angry badger.  “Hello I’m Bungo” Bungo smiled as he greeted the badger and raised his hat.  The badger was so pleased with Bungo’s manners that he stopped being angry, bowed and went into his sett.

Bungo carried on to the high fence but couldn’t get over it.  Then he had a brain wave.  He hooked the umbrella over it grabbed on, swung over, unhitched the umbrella, flipped it up the right way, opened it and finally floated down to the ground.  A window cleaner in a white bowler hat greeted him there.  The window cleaner tipped his hat and Bungo did the same in return.

“You are in danger Bungo!” said the window cleaner.  “I know! A bad man took me prisoner.  I just escaped.”  The window cleaner lead Bungo to his van in a classy sort of way whilst replying. “Bungo, that was Peter Peel.  He is trying to kidnap wombles like you.”. “Really?” said Bungo puzzled. “Yes” said the window cleaner.

Bungo was scared as he was helped up to the passenger seat in the van.  Behind him Peter Peel could be seen just standing like he was frozen behind some glass.  The van screeched away leaving the common.  However the window cleaner didn’t know he was being followed by a strange black car with a womble driving.