“Don Perambulator the third, stop taking your bow off!” Io insisted, grasp just failing to catch the Harpup as it rolled away for what must have been the twentieth time that hour. Doing his best to suppress a giggle, he reached forward to grab the discarded cyan fabric, before pushing himself up to his feet to begin a leisurely ‘chase’ after the mischievous imp. Laughing would only encourage it’s antics, but how could he not? There was something rather en...
