Winky

Winky woke up before the sun, the way Winky always does.

"Today," said Winky, winking at the window, "is the Morning Bounce Parade. The BIGGEST one ever. Let's gooo!"

Winky had planned every single part. Pinky would carry the banner. Dinky would tell jokes at the front. There would be bouncing, and music, and a very long line of fluffs bouncing in a wiggly row all the way to the Great Candyfloss Wheel.

Winky bounced to the door. Winky opened the door.

Drip. Drip. Drip-drip-drip.

Rain. Grey, fat, splashy rain, all over the parade route.

Winky's bounce went out like a candle. Winky sat down on the doorstep with a soft floomp and stared at a puddle. All that planning. All that excitement, whooshing up and up and up — and now there was nowhere for it to go.

"It's ruined," said Winky. "The whole day is ruined."

Tipsy tip-toed over, so softly the raindrops barely noticed.

"That's a big feeling," said Tipsy. "Shall we shake it out first?"

So Winky stood up and wiggled. Winky wiggled both arms, and both feet, and the very tips of all that fluff, for five whole seconds. Then Winky froze, still as a statue, and took one big breath in and one long breath out.

The whooshy feeling was still there. But it wasn't so loud now. Winky could hear the rain again, and it sounded rather nice.

"The parade can't go outside," said Tipsy. "But you never said a parade has to be outside."

Winky looked at the rain. Winky looked at the hallway. Winky looked at the rain again — and grinned.

That afternoon, the very first Indoor Splashy Parade marched from the kitchen, round the sofa, up the stairs and back again, twice. Pinky carried the banner. Dinky told seventeen jokes. Everybody stamped in one puddle on the way home, because that is the best bit of rain anyway.