A Tiny Trick or Treat

Tiny Trick or Treat

“‘Ere, Marvin, wot’s goin’ on?”

“Not entirely sure, mate. Was just going’ aht and I ‘eard this twitterin’ like at my front door and noticed these three tiny witches on the step. I think they’re wot’s makin’ the twittering.”

“Is that them things that look like beetles runnin’ and jumpin’ abaht?”

“Yeah, if you looks close, you can see they’s really tiny witches. Abaht an inch tall, each of ‘em, I’d guess.”

“Wot do they want?”

“Dunno, mate. Me old ‘earin’ can’t make it aht. Think they’re speakin’ too ‘igh-pitched fer me.”

“‘Ang on, Marvin, and I’ll nip round and see if I can ‘ear ‘em.”

“Good idea, Bernie. I’m gettin’ nowhere ‘ere.”

“Right, now let’s see wot we can see. I’ll just get down to their level and ‘ave a listen.”

“Yeah, I tried that but it didn’t ‘elp.”

“Blimey, mate, I think I can make it aht. They’s speakin’ English, I think.”

“Well, that’ll ‘elp for a start.”

“‘Ush, Marvin. Tryin’ to ‘ear ‘em.”

“Okay.”

“Ah, that makes sense. They says it’s Tiny ‘Alloween and you ‘ave to choose between givin’ ‘em a treat or gettin’ a tiny trick.”

“Wot sorta treat do they want? Ain’t got no sweets or anythin’.”

“‘Ang on, I’ll ask.”

“Careful, Bernie. You don’t want to deafen ‘em.”

“I’ll be careful. Squeaky, squeak squeak, squeakedy-squeak?”

“Didn’t know yer could speak squeak.”

“Very funny. They wants yer cat.”

“Me cat? Wot the ‘eck would they want me cat for? Bloody thing’ll prob’ly eat the little blighters.”

“They says not to worry abaht that. They can handle it cos they knows spells to control it.”

“I dunno, Bernie. Seems a bit dangerous to me. Mittens is a terror to the mouses ‘round ‘ere. She’ll make short work o’ these tiny things.”

“I guess that’s their problem, Marvin. They’re insistin’ on it. It’s either the cat or they blasts yer ‘ouse, they reckon.”

“Blasts me ‘ouse? Am I s’posed to believe they can do that? Look at the size of ‘em!”

“They’ll give you a demonstration. Watch that gnome in your garden, they says.”

“Bloody ‘ell, they blew it to smithereens!”

“They reckon they can do that to yer ‘ouse.”

“I guess it ‘as to be the cat then. Wot do they want it for?”

“Transport.”

“Transport? ‘Ow the ‘eck can a cat be transport?”

“I’ll ask.”

“Well?”

“Apparently, cat’s are transport between worlds for tiny witches. Like brooms only diff’rent. The cat they were drivin’ went ‘aywire and left ‘em lost in this world. They need a replacement.”

“Well, it seems I ‘ave no option, Bernie. Tell ‘em I’ll call the cat. Mittens! ‘Ere, cat, got a s’prise for you. C’mon Mittens.”

“Blimey, Marvin, first time I ever saw a cat come when it’s called.”

“Me too, mate.”

“Will yer look at that? Little buggers are ‘eadin’ straight for it!”

“Climbed up its legs, I think. Can’t see ‘em in the fur now.”

“Argh! Bleedin’ flash nearly blinded me. Cat’s gone!”

Word Count: 496

Note: The accent is supposed to be Scouse (the Liverpool accent, in other words). The distinctiveness of Scouse is in its pronunciation rather than in the words used and so it is not as recognisable in print as is Cockney, for instance. I tried hard.