Malcolm in a wig?

Me: What on earth is Dave doing?

Nell: Looking for Beefies. We’re trying to have our morning discussion and they are being annoying.

Me: Why is he opening his mouth so wide?

Nell: To catch mackerel of course. He’s caught three already.

Me: It’s an awful waste of fish.

Nell: Not always. Poppy checks them for freshness and if they’re acceptable she makes mackerel pate for the Farm Dogs. They love it on toast with a squeeze of lemon.

Me: Has everyone recovered from yesterday’s battle?

Nell: Yes. Malcolm was quite the hero. When Rock threw that crab at him I thought he was in trouble but he swung his baguette and…

Me: Scored a six?

Nell: It was not a game of cricket.

Me: A home run then?

Nell: Enough. He batted it away in a fearless manner hitting a Beefy in the process. Count Bingo is thinking of giving him a medal.

Me: Gosh.

Nell: There have been a few injuries. Gladys is on crutches after a mistimed high kick. Fortunately it’s only a sprain.

Me: Crumbs.

Nell: Yes. There were a lot of those. Apparently Romeo says his heart is broken and there’s no other seagull like Susan.

Me: Malcolm would agree.

Nell: He is even considering giving up the black wig.

Me: Well, he is a seagull, Nell. Wearing a wig is a bit odd, to be honest.

Nell: But it’s his trademark. It makes him stand out. Susan actually likes it.

Me: You don’t think Malcolm is going to wear a long black wig do you?

Nell: What are you talking about?

Me: Only, with his pink feathers and little glasses it’s going to look all wrong.

Nell: I worry about you sometimes. I really do. Malcolm in a wig? Whatever next?

Me: Yes. Sorry.

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