A prize For Daddy

The children's daddy has won a prize - but what can he do with a ....... Opps! Thats a secret. You will have to listen to find out what Daddy has won

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Transcript

The Prize

Mr Jones had won a prize in his local supermarket because he was twenty thousandth customer the new supermarket had served.

At first, when he saw his prize, his face looked like a baby’s bottom that had just been smacked, all red with surprise. His prize stared back at him with its face all white and with a little white beard.

But he could not possibly take his prize home. What would his wife say? What would the neighbours say? What would his children say?

His children! Yes, his children, now they would not say anything, they would whoop with joy! Young Jeremy would run around the garden yelling like he always did when he was pleased and Belinda, his daughter ,would squeak and bounce excitedly on her bottom in her pram.

Even so, when the manager of the supermarket handed his prize over Mr Jones refused to take the leash.

“If I go home with that.” Moaned Mr Jones. “There will be trouble.”

Can you guess what Mr Jones’s prize was? It was on a leash, can you guess?

It could have been a dog, but it wasn’t.

It could have been a cat, but it wasn’t.

It could have been a goldfish, but that’s just being silly.

We will have to wait to find out.

“No,” said Mr Jones again in a voice deep with worry. “I can’t go home with that, don’t you have another prize?”

“No!” Snapped the Supermarket manager. “It’s yours, take it.”

Mr Jones walked slowly home leading his prize. Because you can’t take a… Ohups! I nearly said the name of the prize. You will have to wait a bit longer to find out what Mr Jones won.

On the way home, people looked at Mr Jones and his prize and giggled, for there are not many people with a … Ohups!

I nearly said it again.

When Mrs Jones saw the prize she nearly popped. Have you ever seen a mummy pop? Neither have I, ask your mummy the next time you see her if she’s ever popped. I have been told, when a mummy pops, it’s better to put your head under the bedclothes.

But Mrs Jones only nearly popped, so it was all right, there was no mess.

“GET - THAT - OUT - OF - HERE!” She yelled.

“But I won it!” Pipped Mr Jones. Have you ever seen a Daddy pip? I have, but usually Daddies only pip when they are eating an apple. So the next time you see your daddy eating an apple, ask him if he will pip. It can be very, very funny.

“But I won it,” pipped Mr Jones again.

“NOW - YOU - CAN - LOOSE - IT!” Mrs Jones not only nearly popped again but she stamped her foot as well.

So Mr Jones led his prize into the back garden. Mr Peeper, his neighbour was watching over the fence.

“What have you got there?” He giggled, in fact he giggled so much he fell on his back and waved his legs in the air.

Have you guessed yet what Mr Jones had won?

I bet you have not.

It was…A GOAT!

Mr Jones had won a goat and it was staring at him in the middle of the garden.

“What you going to call it?” giggled Mr Peeper.

“A blooming nuisance!” glared Mr Jones as went in, slammed the door and sat down to eat his supper.

The next morning Mr Jones woke up and looked out of the bedroom window. Then he rubbed his eyes, and then do you know what he did? He rubbed his eyes again. Someone had cut his grass!

Mr Jones hated cutting the grass and yesterday it had been so long it had tickled his knees, but now it was short, tidy and looking beautiful.

“Have you cut the grass?” He asked Mrs Jones. Mrs Jones just slid under the bedclothes, she never talked to anyone before ten o’clock.

“Your goat has been eating your grass all night,” giggled Mr Peeper over the fence, because Mr Peeper never missed anything.

Mr Jones did not know what to say. On one hand he was pleased the goat had eaten the grass and saved him from puffing behind a lawn mower. On the other hand he was not pleased he still had the goat, and as he only had two hands, he could not make up his mind whether to be in a happy mood or a miserable one.

The goat was just finishing off the bit of lawn by the fence and making such a noise eating, it gave Mr Jones an idea. He would call his goat Mr Muncher!

“I have got very long grass,” said Mr Peeper. “How about me giving you five pounds and you let Mr Muncher eat my lawn until it is as tidy as yours.”

Mr Jones looked at Mr Muncher, Mr Peeper looked at Mr Muncher, and Mr Muncher looked over the garden fence at Mt Peeper’s grass and licked his lips.

What a good idea! Mr Jones could buy lots of cups of hot chocolate and ice creams with five pounds for Jeremy and Belinda.

So Mr Muncher had a wonderful day eating another lawn for his breakfast, dinner and tea. The next morning Mr Jones went to collect Mr Muncher, but Mr Jones’s face burst into surprise, Mr Muncher was not there!

Have you ever seen a face burst into surprise? Well if you suddenly tell your mummy you have a frog in your tummy, you will see a face burst into surprise.

“Where’s Mr Muncher!” Demanded Mr Jones.

“Ha!” Said Mr Peeper. Now Mr Peeper had a neighbour who was also looking over his fence as well. Do you know what Mr Peeper, neighbours name was? It was Mr Peeperpeeper! Because Mr Peeperpeeper was always peeping at Mr Peeper! If you try and say that you’ll splutter all over the bedclothes.

So Mr Peeper had lent Mr Muncher to Mr Peeperpeeper for Mr Muncher to eat his lawn as well. And Mr Peeper gave Mr Jones ten pounds.

Can you gues why Mr Peeper gave Mr Jones ten pounds?

It was because Mr Peeperpeeper’s lawn was twice as big as Mr Jones’s so Mr Muncher would have to eat twice as much grass, which made Mr Muncher very happy. It made Mr and Mrs Jones and Jeremy and Belinda vey happy as well as there were a lot of lawns for Mr Muncher to eat in the road so they had hot chocolate and ice cream every day  - for ever!

But what you don’t know and what Mr Jones never told anyone who hired his goat is that goats not only eat grass, they eat anything.

Hats, shoes, and, if you leave then lying about, even knickers! They also eat chair legs, carpets, and have even been seen trying to eat bicycles!  But I’ll tell you about that another time, because, that is another story.