The Baby Jabberwock

The Baby Jabberwock

Everlasting Sweet Pea

A baby Jabberwock was found in the Wabe. He was clonking and bleething,. A Kloggle found the baby Jabberwock, he drew his vorpal sword and cringled to himself. “What am I doing, Jabberwocks have gone to Klongcountry. What is this specimen doing here in the Wabe. I will not strike him with my vorpal sword, but take him home to the borogrove.”

“Kloggle what are you doing with that Jabberwock. Put him down, he might begin to grunge.”

“Oh, Mrs. Kloggle I did not think.”

“Kloggles do not think, they are programmed to clangle. I think he is beginning to grunge. Give him some plonkle, he is so alone.”

“Of course he is alone, wife, Jabberwocks come alone. Who wants more than one Jabberwock?”

And the Jabberwock continued to grunge and now he was stamping his jangle feet and shuwing his glovey.

“Quick give him to eat, otherwise he will dwindle” said the female Kloggle.

The male Kloggle looked in the clum and found some cooked boggles. The Jabberwock stopped grunging and snapped the boggles all at once. Wonder, oh Wonder, the Jabberwock did a beamy all over his mang. He was a happy Jabberwock.

“Chumple Kloggy, Chumple Kloggy” the Klogkind were home from the mimsy borogroves, and were glad to see Pappykloggy.

“A baby Jabberwock” said Chumple Kloggy number one. “How straddy! Can we spazle with him mamakloggy?” and the Jabberwock gumpet with frer.

“Ok chumple kloggys, but be vorsickle. He is a baby Jabberwock and can only woggle. “

“OK we woller with gluckle. Come Jabberwockle, geh spazlen .

The Jabberwock was a gluckle Jabberwock. The chumplekloggys were vorsickle and they spazled in the wabe near the borogroves. A jubjub bird flieged, the Jabberwock sprongled and there were only swarmy feathers left. The chumplekloggys clanged their poddles. “Gaschel Jabberwock” they called.

The Jabberwock licked his plaggle and grunged.

“No Jabberwock” said the Chumplekloggy number one, no grunging. We have to pulit the Jubjub feathers and klong the trot. Mamakloggy will schlog and Pappykloggy pline. Yes, a Jabberwock in the family was no easy task, but Pappykloggy and Mamakloggy were good Kloggles and felt sorry for the little lost Jabberwock.

That night he slumbed together with the eight chumplekloggys, hugging each one with his poddle and snarking with his Schnuf.

Daily Prompt: Flangiprop

Invent a definition for the word “flangiprop,” then use the word in a post. 

Flangiprop: An inevitable solution for flanging, especially when gunged onto chumby props.

Machine for pumping out water

It was a lugubrious day when the grunges decided to flange the boggles. The boggles were crimbling and muldiferous clumples were sprouting into a zang. The grunges were flambled with the trundles laying on a shlodded frange.

“Let us dring the klobble” said a boggle and all began dringing as fast as they could.

“No, this is leading nowhere. We must flangiprop.”

There was a grundiferous crungle in boggled voices.


“Yes, with all the pling that you can quadify” said the compled boggle.

“But the quoogles are venting and the klogs are strooding”

Then appeared a klug of quoogles carrying their noggles, breathing trings of flange. Klogs trumpled on the zilg. The boggles galumped to their klongs. The quoogles strang the volgs and took the flangiprop in their wilgs. The boggles approached glinkled and crimmed.

“Flangiprop” shouted a quoogle

“Prop the flangis” answered a boggle.

They joined forces and retired to the croogle for a chump of groth.

It was a lungled sprang but the flangi was propped. Quoogles and boggles retired to their milgs and were slooged with their flangi. Propped it was and a wongled moon shone down on the crims. A murmer of shlangs could be heard. All was trimbled.

Daily Prompt: Flangiprop

The Bog Cringled – A Nonsense Story based on Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll

It was a calliguous evening as the Bog made its way to the tringle tree. The Frams were glinking in the plims and there was a crusting crim sleaning below.

“Danger is in the air” was its thought and it covered its head with a woggle for protection. The noises of Brungles could be heard from a distance. It prepared itself for a fight, and took its drumble gun in its hand, loading it with plips.

As it approached the tringle tree it saw a Gonk quickly disappear in a groog.

It stood its ground “Gonk, you are safe, it is I the Bog.“

The Gonk appeared from the groog, wiping the floggle from its brow and chaucering globbles.

Bog was watching “Gonk there is a Brungle in the tringle tree, be careful.”

Gonk saw it coming and bridged its Vloo across its shoulder. The Gonk aimed and the Brungle fell.

Bog was relieved, one Brungle less, it thought. Bog and the Gonk walked on together wading through the strogs underfoot.

“Tis now a golumptuous evening” he said to the Gonk. The Gonk agreed, nodding with his bardered beand and taking a slub of frimming for strength.

They heard the vingle of a Clongle behind a crockle bush.

“We must be still” said the Bog “Clongles are dangerous, even worse than the Frams or the dreaded Brungles.

It was then that a yaggle was heard in the air.

“Time to cring” said the Bog and the Bog and the Gonk began to cring as fast as possible. There was another yaggle sounding and they knew they were safe.

The Bog looked once more into the depth of the sligs but twas brillig, and the slithy toves did gyre and gimble in the wabe.