“… the chocolate factory with Charlie. At first we would have been extremely good and not stuck our greedy little tongues in the chocolate river like Augustus Gloop. Do you remember what happened to him? But when we reached Mr Wonka’s glorious chewing-gum invention … Oh dear! Before Mr Wonka could say a word, we would have snatched a piece of gum and started chewing.
I would have a five-course meal of fish. My favourite. Sardines. Sardines. Sardines. Sardines. Sardines. I would have been in heaven. Not that I’m a greedy cat. Don’t go thinking that!
You would have Indian butter chicken, curried vegetables and naan bread followed by a big slice of gooey chocolate cake. Absolutely delicious. Not that you’re a greedy teacher. I’d never go thinking that!
But where would our greediness get us? Like Violet Beauregarde, we would turn bright purple because we were so greedy.
We would have puffed up into a big puffy ball and we would have floated up into the sky. Think of that! You and I! Big and puffy and purple. We would float in the sky far away from all the delicious treats in the chocolate factory to somewhere absolutely horrid.
Wherever we floated, everyone would laugh at us and say, ‘They were greedy pigs at Charlie’s chocolate factory.’
We would have floated around the world as a lesson to greedy children. We would have felt wilder and wilder, and we would have looked sillier and sillier. A big puffy purple cat floating around the world with a big puffy purple teacher.”
The cat looked at the teacher with a long, hard stare and said, “Now that would be WILD!” He turned and walked to a corner of the classroom to investigate the library books. He sniffed a few and admired a few more.
“Not a bad selection. I love Boy Overboard and I love Holes. Good choices. Not many books about cats though. What about a good book with a cat hero?”
He sniffed the books a bit more and said, “I do love the smell of a good book. Delicious!”
Miss May smiled at the cat’s comments.
“I am sorry,” she said. “Are there any good cat books? I seem to remember there are a few cat villains but cat heroes? Perhaps I could write one.”
Miss May seemed miles away as she tried to think of a cat book that would please her guest. Then she looked out the window and caught sight of the wild night. The wind caught hold of the playground rubbish bin and whipped the leftover lunches through the air. Bits of soggy ham sandwiches, mushy banana skin and squishy peach pelted against the windows.
She gave another tremendous sigh. “Oh, what a terrible, stormy, wild, windy night,” moaned Miss May.
“It could be worse,” said the cat in a very polite voice. “We could be out in the playground with all the children at playtime …”