Old Man Gedansk…. The Beginning By: Tom Wilson

16 May

The wind is whipping its way from the north east, bringing nought but cold and sleet, the biteing bitter cold is enough to make a grown man weep, but not Old Man Gedansk.
He sits there out on his front porch, oblivious to the weather due to his moose fur pants, moving his knife with unmatched skilll, tis a weapon of creation not to kill, because though his bones may be brittle, Old Man Gedansk cant half wittle, turnng out the most intricate pieces of art that were just lumps of wood when he did start, and as he eyes his latest creation, his dog called Mutt sighs at his station, curled upon his masters feet, he glances up in hope of a treat. Old Man gedansk looks down at Mutt, he cant belive a dog could have such luck, and as he passes Mutt a little snack he leans over to scratch Mutt’s back. He remembers how he found Mutt left for dead, in a ditch with one eye and missing a leg. He took Mutt home and on finest steak he was fed, and by the fire was placed his bed, And while at Old Man Gedansks feet he lays, only love for his master can been seen in his gaze, and while Old Man Gedansk Whittles away, Mutt looks out through the drizzley haze, ready to leap to his masters defence, when ever the post man trys to pass the fence.
Poor old mutt he had such rotten luck, this why he is the state he’s in today, was born in a bin and boy life was grim as his brother and sisters were taken away, by kind hearted people who passed on there way, past the bin where mutt felt he was doomed to stay. Then on a sunny wednesday afternoon, mutt felt his time had come, to have his earesed tugged by kids, and told off for eating dads slippers by mum, because all at oce he felt his world move and so poked his head out for a better view where a big burly man was carrying bin and all to words a big truck with hi side walls, and into this truck the bin was tossed and into a mountain of rubbish mutt was nearly lost, but for mutt he thought he was in doggy paradise, all those smelly smells that only to dogs smell nice. A then the trucks engine gave a mighty roar as it it set of towards the dump and to mutt’s new home mutt felt for sure, that a loving family at the end did wait but he wouldnt find out until it was too late…..”Bad luck mutt when he was a pup”
The truck tipped mutt out at the dump, the massive stinking festering lump, of all the rubbish thrown away, tin cans, old nappies and strange sludge that is grey. But Mutt was content in his new home, the rubbish dump is kingdom which he was free to roam, rummaging about all day in the junk, he would always find something interesting to eat for lunch, A green moldy sandwich one day, a pork bone the next and even some bits of stinky fish left in a broken net, and at night he would curl up and feel content on an old stained mattress in which all the springs had bent. Now at first glance it looks like Mutt has good luck, but when ever any one saw him they would all say ‘yuk! – look at that manky smelly Mutt!’ and at this would feel a little sad so one day he thought he’d try and have a bath, but poor Mutt got it all wrong, bathed in a smelly puddle that didnt half make him pong.
and now his fur was sticky like a treacle tart and you couldnt go near him as he smelt worse than the smelliest of farts……(to be continued)


One Response to “Old Man Gedansk…. The Beginning By: Tom Wilson”

  1. bocadeserpiente May 16, 2010 at 4:54 am #

    Hi Hillary, my blog name is:

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