‘Keep off the grass!’ The sign hollered. Thomas Pilkyjeens stood, his little arms folded, and mulled over the order he was receiving from the small wooden sign that stuck out of the ground.
It didn’t seem right that a human being could create a sign that ordered other creatures off a patch of nature.
Could it be that they care for the wellbeing of the manicured patch of lawn and don’t want it crushed, he thought.
‘Maybe it’s not really grass,’ his friend, Major Swaddletoft, began. ‘Maybe it’s a trampoline, which, when stood on, shoots the creature to Mars or Gateshead.’
Major Swaddletoft was full of great thoughts such as that and only shared them with Thomas. He never told them to Thomas’ older sister or his Gran, as they were somehow blind to the Major’s presence.
‘Wouldn’t the sign end by warning others about where they will land if they did stand on the grass?’ Thomas asked.
‘Not if this whole park is a secret army base, with top secret trampolines everywhere. I would keep it quiet,’ said Major. ‘Wouldn’t you?’
‘What are you doing, dingbat?’ Annie, his sister asked, startling Thomas. ‘It’s only grass.’
She then skipped away, laughing, as she sang, ‘Thomas is a dingbat,’ over and over.
‘You should’ve pushed her onto the grass,’ Major Swaddletoft growled. ‘We would’ve have known then.’
‘No,’ said Thomas, shaking his head. ‘She has homework to do later. Besides, Gran wouldn’t be too chuffed.’
Thomas looked back to see Gran hobbling towards them, waving.
Thomas liked his Gran, so he waved once, grabbed the Major by his shiny suit and leapt onto the grass: hoping that Mars had a Metro Centre like Gateshead. There was no point going to Mars if it didn’t have food and a cinema.
Thirty minutes later, during the journey home for dinner, he was happy to report that Mars had everything a young boy and his friend needed to survive.
Annie called him a dingbat again.
But, what did she know?