Category: Just for Fun

Byron the Quokka: Bell Mountain Trivia Question No. 6

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G’day! Here I am with another bicycle, which if Lee had any sense, he’d offer as the prize to the winner of this trivia contest. But no–he just wants to give out autographed books. He won’t listen to me.

Byron the Quokka here, and on with the contest! Here’s Question No. 6:

Who caused the avalanche that buried the Thunder King’s hall at Golden Pass?

Right, I know it’s hard to get a lot of people to play a trivia game that’s about some books that hardly anyone has ever heard of. Well, if you want to find out more about them, just click “Books.” Or visit amazon.com and read the Customer Reviews. He’s won awards for them, y’know–the first two books in the series, Bell Mountain and The Cellar Beneath the Cellar, both won awards. Why do you think us quokkas read these books over and over again? And we’re world-famous for our good taste in literature!

Kittens & the Romance of Paper Bags

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It never fails. You buy your cat a really snazzy (and probably expensive) cat toy, and all she wants is the paper bag it came in.

As you will see from this video, this romantic yen for paper bags is inborn in cats. Little kittens have it. I’ll bet if you rattled a paper bag near a pregnant cat, the babies in her womb would get rowdy. “Oh, we just can’t wait to be born! A world filled with paper bags awaits us!”

Bonus: Sweetest Cat Video You Ever Saw

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Patty found this on Facebook this morning, and I couldn’t wait till evening to share it with you.

Do you sing to your cat? I do. “Walk like a peep, talk like a peep” I sing to Peep the cat. This cat’s name is Bailey, and the little girl is Abby; and the song she sings is You Are My Sunshine. My father used to sing that to me if he had to walk the floor with me at night because I had gas or collywobbles–one of my very earliest memories, and one of the sweetest.

Abby, you are a glimpse into Heaven.

Cuscus and Baby

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Somewhere in the treetops in the jungles of New Guinea, a momma cuscus grooms her rather hefty child–that’s the big white thing scrunched up in her lap.

Byron the Quokka assures me that business will take off “like a bloomin’ rocket” if I hire a cuscus to assist him him managing my blog contests. He’s up to something, depend upon it.

Well, I remain open to persuasion. Toss in your two cents, anybody, if you want to. I have to get on to some nooze coverage.

Confused (and Confusing) Critters

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Why does that pet rat have a strand of spaghetti draped over his back? Where did that sheep learn how to herd a sheepdog? And why can’t dogs maneuver pole-shaped objects through a doorway, when parrots figure it out all the time?

Some of them, though, are just having fun.

Comment Contest? What Comment Contest?

Posted By: leeduigonPosted On:

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G’day! Byron the Quokka here–and if I ever knew it’d be so much trouble, running a comment contest, I never would’ve volunteered to do it.

Right–we’re shooting for 47,000 comments, we’ve got 46,335, so that leaves 665 comments left to go. I thought we’d be done by now. I blame Lee. He should’ve listened to me and offered a bicycle as a prize. But no, he has to stick to his autographed books.

And then there’s the Bell Mountain Trivia Contest, I have to come up with Question No. 6. Tomorrow, maybe. My mum says running two contests at the same time is fair dinkum loopy and I never should’ve let him do it–but that’s all “How d’you get to Sydney Opera House? Practice, mate–practice!”

Cozy Critters

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Some of these have appeared in other compilations, but that’s the breaks. They’re still good.

My favorite is the kitten gnawing on the dog’s face while the poor dog is trying to take a nap. Doesn’t he know the dog is 20 times bigger than himself? But then he probably also knows the dog won’t hurt him.

The pet I need now is a hungry chameleon to polish off these flies…

Encore: A Trick that Almost Worked

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Watch this while we’re at the doctors. We can all use a laugh.

How close these kids came to succeeding with this trick!

And if there’s a sadder word in the language than “almost,” I dunno what it is.

The Invisible Cat (Double Feature!)

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I wonder how many ghost stories got started this way–with a cat fumbling around inside the curtains, temporarily unable to get out. “There was no wind–how could there be? all the windows were closed–and yet the curtains moved hideously…” And the house gets an evil reputation for being haunted.

And then there’s the haunted bed. Betcha M.R. James was inspired by something like this.

An Important Message from the Author (‘Oy, Rodney’)

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In Chapter XX of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney—

What? Chapter XX? I thought we had Chapter CCCV last week! Why are we suddenly on Chapter XX? Violet Crepuscular explains.

“Dear readers, I am sure I have a Chapter XX in the appropriate place, between Chapters XIX and XXI, but I cannot recall that there was that much to it. So I might as well rewrite it here, and use it to help you to understand my difficulty in proceeding to Chapter CCCVI.

“In digging up my garden, the oafs from the police turned up some oddly-shaped stones with peculiar markings on them; and as a result, my whole back yard is now being dug up by all these men in pith helmets and I am forbidden to interfere.

“They say the funny stones are the ruins of some Carthaginian thingy and thus a major archaeological discovery–and the government expects me to fund their research! I don’t understand this. They say the squiggly marks on the stones are inscriptions of some kind, but all it seems to say is things like ‘Put this stone in such and such a place’ or ‘For a good time, visit Cindy.’ Meanwhile they’ve made a pig’s breakfast of my yard! I do not propose to invite them in for sandwich cookies.”

Moving on to Chapter CCCVI, what little there is of it, we find Archibald Cruxley, ace reporter for Upholstery World, rather cast down by his failure to interview Lady Margo Cargo about her upholstered wooden leg, the only one of its kind in all of England. He has not been able to stem the flow of Willis Twombley’s reminiscences of famous gunfights in America. Nor does he like the way Mr. Twombley waves his six-shooter every which way for emphasis.

“Man, I thought Ur was a rough town, all full of Chaldees who’d shoot you just to see if their guns was loaded!” Twombley believes he is Sargon of Akkad, on the run from Babylonian usurpers. “And there was fast times in Philistia, too! But there wasn’t none of ’em could hold a candle to Dodge City. You shoulda see what happened when Murderin’ Mike McGurk came to town! Did you know he was a Ghurka?”

On and on he goes. Lady Margo listens intently, lost in fascination. Lord Jeremy Coldsore listens somewhat less intently. And Mr. Cruxley isn’t listening at all. He is thinking he made a serious error in his youth, when he decided not to be a beggar.