It's only Wordzzles, but Wordzzles are all I have...

I have been the very quintessence of laziness the last couple of weeks, so it's high time to make amends.

Raven, the creator of Wordzzles, is still bravely soldiering on with them and her blog can be found here, please pay her a visit or, better still, JOIN IN!

Here are a couple of minis I did earlier.

Challenge words: keen, swan, organ, champ, brush

“It’s never a good thing to champ at the bit too much where this job is concerned,” said Master Gottfried to his newest apprentice, a keen young fellow by the name of Otto.  “A grand old lady like this one takes many months of careful patient work to restore her lest, like the fabled swan, she should sing just once and then die.” He chuckled at his own bon mot and then handed the brush to Otto.  “Now, up you go, my lad.”  Otto looked doubtfully at the rickety wooden ladder leading up to a narrow hatch, beyond which was dust, darkness and all the myriad organ pipes and actuators he was going to have to clean.  He shuddered.  There would be spiders up there the size of dinner-plates, he was sure of it.  Master Gottfried smiled to himself  The pipe loft with its dark, cramped spaces was always the acid test for any new apprentice.  Otto took a deep shaky breath and began to climb.

Challenge words: flaw, filling, filter, flattery, fashionable

The décor was fashionable and the waiters kept the obsequious flattery to the barest minimum, what was not to like about Chez Dez, the newest bistro in town?  Alex scribbled a few notes into his notebook and glanced at his pocketwatch.  The deadline for copy was 4 o’clock.  Plenty of time.  His order arrived served in Chez Dez’s signature gleaming white crockery - a cup of filter coffee and a slice of Chez dez’s homemade apple pie.  Alex took a mouthful of pie and chewed on it thoughfully, before frowning and scribbling a few more thoughts.  He took a sip of coffee and raised his eyebrows in surprise.   Next day, the local paper’s food section carried the headline: Tinned pie filling and instant coffee – the flaw in Chez Dez’s perfection.

And, of course, Harold...... Catch-up link is top right, if you need it.

No sooner had the words left her mouth than India could have kicked herself – really, really hard. Unbelievabley, she had just blurted out to one of the Fallen that it had hold of technology that could render it completely undetectable as it went about its wicked business. Brilliant work there India, she told herself severely, truly outstanding!

She half-expected Harold to pounce on her mistake with an evil cackle or something, but the stupid demon just tugged of the ski-mask and carried on drinking its coffee like nothing had happened. Maybe she’d got away with it after all.

One look at the suddenly thoughtful expression on Teatime’s face, however, instantly disabused her of that notion; the demon may have been too slow-witted to realise the strategic implications, but the monkey-thing clearly wasn’t.

When the little monkey spoke, however, it was not to gloat over her foolishness.

“That might well be jolly useful, actually,” he said.

“Oh?” said Harold.

“Well,” continued Teatime, “I was wondering how we were going to get around the fact that these wretched people seem to have a way of detecting your kind, and this just might be it. If Agent India’s gift doesn’t work when you’re in that ridiculous getup, then perhaps the Infinity Recycling people’s machines won’t either.”

Keen to keep the conversation going down this particular track, India said.

“We have two of these suits, so we could both sneak in, couldn’t we?”

“Yes,” replied Teatime, “But as I said earlier, we still have the problem of physical obstacles and guards to bypass. Magic suits aren’t going to get us through locked doors. We will need a diversion, as I said.”

“It would have to be something pretty big,” said Harold, “those guards seemed quite professional and well-organised.”

“Then it sounds like we’re going to need some help.” said India.

-0-0-0-0-

“No, we do not give him what he wants,” declared Prada, folding her arms firmly across her chest. “India and the demon are the only ones who know what’s going on and where we are. We cannot possibly allow Moon and his friends to get hold of them.”

“Assuming the demon hasn’t just run off somewhere, of course,” observed Othello, “If it was looking for a chance to get away from us, it’s just been handed the best one yet.”

“I don’t think it will do that, somehow.” Said Mercury. “It has been pretty helpful thus far, besides which, the Reckoner made it quite clear that he would take it personally if the demon betrayed our trust in any way. No I suspect it will follow the plan and go back to the -” He stopped himself and grinned ruefully. “Oooh, I nearly blew it then, didn’t I? Heh, I bet Moon’s got this place bugged in some way – I would if I were him.”

Moon did indeed have the place bugged, and could not help but smile at Mercury’s stopping himself from blabbing at the last moment. He leaned back in his chair, away from the security console. A small screen showed a grainy video feed from the conference room with the three OGS agents in it. It was clear they were not going to give anything away for free, but Moon had just that moment had an idea. He picked up the phone and dialled a number. He drummed his fingers lightly on the arm of his chair as the call went though.

“Hello?” came a woman’s sleepy voice. It was, after all, the middle of the night.

“Dr Flowers? This is RolexBoy. Can you come down to Infinity Recycling right away please?”