THE NEW YEAR

Well, it's a new year so what are you going to do with it?

“What on Earth have we here?” asked the Bimbom, looking very surprised at what loomed in front of him. “I've not seen one of these for quite some time!”

“It must be a year,” yawned the Mobbag, “It's just got to be.”

“What has?” asked the Bimbom.

“Since we bumped into one of these,” smirked the Mobbag. “And it's bigger than I remember them being.”

“A little bit bigger, maybe,” conceded his friend.

“I didn't realise the last one was worn out,” murmured the Mobbag. “The last time I looked at it there was quite a lot left in it.”

“We've been a bit circumspect,” agreed the Bimbom. “We've not peeped here and there as often as we might have.”

“There's been too much other stuff going on,” nodded the Mobbag. “There were holidays and stuff. Remember that time we went across the Sundering Seas to Wibble-wobble-land?”

“That was quite some trip,” sighed the Bimbom. “If it hadn't been for that trip we both might have caught the dreadful lurgi that was going round at home, and ended up in bed for all to see.”

“But we went to Wibble-wobble-land, and caught nothing,” grinned the Mobbag. “I'd have hated being in bed for all to see! Sweating and soaking the sheets with all that lurgi dripping out of every pore of my body!”

“Instead we basked on the beaches of Wibble-wobble-land and almost learned how to wibble-wobble!” laughed the Bimbom. “It was great fun!”

“Then after we came back home we climbed the mountain,” reminded his friend. “We saved all out spare pieces of string and made a rope and climbed the mountain!”

“And missed catching the Plague,” remembered the Bimbom. “Everyone at home, those who'd just got over the lurgi, that is, caught the Plague, and got red spots all over their whatsits and green spots on the other-ends.”

“And a lot of them cried,” sighed the Mobbag. “They cried real tears, as I recall.”

The other nodded. “Real tears,” he agreed, “while we slipped and slided in the snow and ice up the mountain, laughing and joking and screaming at all the fun, and catching no plague.”

“Anyway, that's all besides the point,” whispered the Bimbom. “Now we've found this thing, what are we going to do with it? It's here: we can both see it and as far as I'm concerned neither of us can avoid the darned thing.”

“We'd best tread carefully,” advised the Mobbag. “I've heard tell they can be treacherous things.”

“The last one was okay,” recalled the Bimbom. “We went across the Sundering Seas and climbed the Mountain. We did stuff. We had quite a good time.”

“Ah, but we did tread carefully,” said the Mobbag, “we trod very carefully indeed.”

“Best do it with this one, then,” laughed the Bimbom. “Best grab hold of it with both hands and take real care of it.

“Across the Sundering Seas?” asked the Mobbag.

“And everywhere,” whispered the Bimbom. “And every single where!”

“Happy new year then,” sighed the Mobbog.

“And to you. Happy new year,” grinned the Bimbom