A Good Night’s Sleep

By David M. Smith

“and they all lived happily ever after,” read Mum. “There now, that’s the end of the story. Snuggle down and get a good night’s sleep.”

Freddie snuggled down. The noise of traffic from the street didn’t bother him. He put Teddy at the bottom of the bed, his magic kettle on the left side of the bed and his red plastic phone on the right side.

“Good Night,” said Mum.

“Good night,” said Freddie.

But Freddie couldn’t sleep. He lay on his bed and looked at the tiny pretend stars glowing on the bedroom ceiling.

“I know,” he said, “I’ll make up a story about me in space. That will get me to sleep.”

But he couldn’t think of a story. He stared at the little moon on the ceiling. There were lots of stories about the moon. Surely he could think of a story about that? But he couldn’t. He tossed and turned in bed. Why couldn’t he sleep? He looked up at the pretend moon again.

“That’s strange,” he thought. “It doesn’t seem quite the same shape as it was before.”

He looked again. It was different. Very, very slowly something was moving behind the moon. It started as a little dot of light, but gradually it became bigger and bigger.

IT WAS A FLYING SAUCER!

He didn’t know what to do. Stories about space were all very well and could be quite exciting on the page, but real flying saucers in your bedroom were something else. What was he to do?

“I know,” he said out loud. “I’ll use my magic kettle.”

He rubbed it, and there was a flash of light. At the foot of his bed, right next to Teddy, stood a round, jolly-looking man wearing a red turban.

“Hello,” the man said. “I am Grock!”

“Gosh! Can you stop a flying saucer?”

“Yes. I’m strong. I can stop anything?” the turbaned man replied. He twirled his cloak around him and shot off into the air. There was a bang and a flash … and there stood Grock again at the foot of his bed.

“I thought you said you were very strong?” said Freddie.

“So are flying saucers,” said Grock. “I need help.”

From underneath his cloak, Grock took out a kettle just like Freddie’s kettle and rubbed it with his hand. There was a flash of light, and there appeared a thin, miserable-looking man dressed in red with a large blue S on his shirt.

“Hello,” he said, coughing from the smoke.  “I am Ighan.”

“Look. There’s a flying saucer,” said Freddie. “I need help.”

“Right,” said Ighan.

Both men twirled their capes and shot off into the air. There was another loud bang, and they both tumbled to the ground.

“You’re not very good at this, are you?” said Freddie.

“It isn’t easy being a superhero, you know,” Ighan told him. “And Grock hasn’t been well.”

The flying saucer looked quite large by now. Freddie rubbed his kettle one more time, and there was another flash of light. This time, sitting on the bed was a short, rather ordinary looking man with spectacles, eating an apricot jam sandwich.

“Oh! Hello,” he stuttered. “I was just having my tea. Can I be of any assistance?”

“I shouldn’t think so,” replied Freddie who was by now thoroughly fed up. “Who are you?”

“I am Ickle,” the man replied through a mouthful of apricot jam sandwich. “I am the greatest superhero in the world.”

“You don’t look it,” said Freddie.

“Well, looks can be deceptive. And anyway, I’ve been on holiday.”

“Don’t you even have a superhero suit?” Freddie continued.”

“This is it. It’s my ‘everythinger suit’.

“Why is it called that?” asked Freddie.

“Because I do everything in it, of course,” replied Ickle.

“Can you really stop a flying saucer?” Freddie asked.

“I should think so,” said Ickle, “but I might need some help.”  The thin man looked around the room. His eyes lighted on an electric train. He took off his spectacles, stared hard at it and said the following rhyme:

“Cut your finger, feel the lump,

Come alive with a big bump!”

With a flash of light, the train immediately turned into a robot.

“You can drive the ‘everythinger’ vehicle,” he told Robot.

“Can’t you even fly without a vehicle?” Freddie asked Ickle.

“Certainly not,” said Ickle. “Only birds can fly!”

“They can fly,” said Freddie pointing to the bedraggled Grock and Ighan.

“Yes, but they can’t do anything much else,” came the reply.

Ickle and the Robot climbed into the machine.

“Why is it called an ‘everythinger,’ Freddie asked.

“Because it does everything. Get in.”

Freddie climbed aboard, and the machine took off. The flight seemed to last for hours, but eventually, they came alongside the flying saucer. Ickle turned on his force field. The flying saucer turned on its force field. The bedroom ceiling glowed red hot. Robot flew the machine like a madman. Ickle pressed buttons on the control panel, and the everythinger shook from end to end.

“We can’t hold on much longer,” Ickle told them in panic.

Just then, the red plastic telephone next to Freddie began to ring. Freddie picked it up.

“Hello,” he answered politely.

“Hello,” said a little green voice. “Please, can we come and play?”

“What,” said Freddie. “Why didn’t you say you were friendly?”

“You didn’t ask,” said the little green voice.

All night long Freddie, Ickle, the Robot and the little green men played with Freddie’s toys. They seemed to like the cars best although Robot said he preferred the mouth organ. Eventually, Freddie fell asleep, happy.

In the morning, Mum woke him up for his breakfast of bacon and eggs.

“Did you have a good sleep?” she asked.

“Yes thank you,” Freddie replied, yawning. “I had a good night’s sleep.”

- Total nr. of readings: 3,073 Copyright © The author [2020] All Rights Reserved. This story may not be reproduced without the express written permission of the author except for personal use.