Eamon in Abbyland -- part III

Well, here it is: the long awaited and intensely anticipated finale of the adventures of Eamon in Abbyland.

Enjoy!

Eamon in Abbyland -- part III

Eamon waited . . . and waited . . . and waited . . . but still Abby didn't come back to him.

He had no idea where she had got to and he didn't know
where to start looking for her. Too late, he began to wonder if he
had been wise to knock back all that Lost Sheep Chardonnay. It had gone straight to his head. So much so that he was no longer feeling horny. In fact, his brain was starting to feel a bit woolly.

He was quite forlorn all alone in the bed that might not have been as big as the bed in Kate's hotel room, but it was still very big and
very empty for an Eamon all alone, without his Abby. He felt so sheepish just sitting there waiting for her. How could she abandon him like this? And who had she gone to instead.


After a while he ventured out of the bedroom and as he did so he caught a new sound. One he had never heard before.

Tap tap, it went. Tap, tap, tap. Suddenly it slowed noticeably . Tap .
. . t-ap . . t-a-p . . .

It was very puzzling. But then, as he listened at a door, he heard the sound again – much quicker this time. Taptaptaptaptap . . .

And to his shock and horror he also heard Abby's voice – his Abby's voice! 'Oh yes, Sebastio! ' she said. 'Yes! That's the way!'

Sebastio! Eamon thought in shock. Who was Sebastio! Had he given his
little woolly heart only to have it broken as Abby gave her affections
to someone else – to some foreign old goat?

'Abby!' he called in despair. 'Abby!'

Abby came to the door and saw him.
'What is wrong, my little lamb?' she asked.

'You are being unfaithful to me!' Eamon flung at her. 'You are in
there with some foreign Baaa .. . .baaast . . .Some other love called
Sabaaaastio.'

Abby smiled and patted Eamon's woolly head. 'Don't worry your little sheepish heart,' she reassured him. 'Sebastio is not a real lover. He's a character. In my book.'

'In your book ? What book? Have I read it?'

Abby smiled again and laughed a little. 'Not a book I'm reading you jealous little ram – but a book I'm writing. Like Kate I am a romantic novelist and the book I'm writing is a romance. I'm writing it to earn some money for both of us so that we can stay in this nice house in the Emerald Isles and be happy together.'

'And drink Lost Sheep Chardonnay?' Eamon asked, brightening a little.

'Lots of Lost Sheep Chardonnay,' Abby assured him. 'But if I am to earn some money by writing you will have to be a sweetheart and let me work. I have to finish this book by my deadline or there will not be any money coming in.'

So Eamon promised he would wait and he would let Abby
work. At first it was easy. He put on the TV and he watched the news. But there was nothing on about the Wool Exchange, only stories of some people being fleeced by conmen.

So Eamon read the paper from cover to cover and learned all about the
sheepdog trials – though he couldn't quite find out what the sheepdogs
were on trial for. Worrying sheep, he suspected. He had always found
sheepdogs pretty worrying after all.

But soon he'd read every word in the paper and he was bored again. It
was then that he spotted a book lying on the table beside Abby's bed.
It was a bright pink book with a handsome couple on the front. But
not as handsome a couple as he and Abby made together. For one thing,
the man just wasn't woolly enough. And he didn't have any horns.

But it was the name on the book that caught Eamon's eye. The Kouros Marriage Revenge it was called and it was by Abby Green – his Abby! It was set in grease apparently. This was the sort of book that Abby was writing in order to keep a roof over their heads and to keep him in Lost Sheep Chardonnay.

Eamon was overwhelmed with curiosity. Just what sort of a book did his beloved Abby write? Opening the book, he settled down on the bed and began to read . . . Time sped by as he became totally absorbed. He didn't hear the tap tap, taptap tap of the keyboard in the other room as Abby worked.

Chapter One . . . Alexandros Kouros was bored . . .

Chapter Six . . . 'For better or for worse . . '

Chapter Ten . . . Eleven . . .'Kallie, don't turn away from me. You
want me . . .. . . . . . . . Twelve . . .

Chapter Sixteen . . . She felt the tears slip down her cheeks. But
they were tears of joy . . .

Oh my! Eamon found that he had come over all peculiar. This was the sort of book that his Abby wrote! His Abby had a secret saucy side. This was the sort of thing his mother had warned him about! Still, it was just as well that as someone had said – at least it wasn't a mint saucy side.

For a long while Eamon lay stunned and overcome. In the distance he could still hear the tap tap tap tap.Taptaptaptaptap .

Then suddenly there was a joyful cry of The End! And Abby came rushing in.

'I've finished, Eamon dear,' she said. 'Sebastio has his happy ending - I've met my deadline – and now I'm all yours! Eamon are you all right?'

'I don't know if this will work!' Eamon managed weakly. 'I'm just a little woolly sheep and you are a brilliant – and saucy lady novelist– who dreams of tall, dark, handsome Greek Adonises. Or Hugh-in-a-towel.'

'Oh Eamon, you silly!'Abby chided him gently. 'I may write about Greeks or talk of Hugh-in-a-towel , but the truth is that my personal private fantasy is a small, woolly, crossed-eyed Eamon. And if he's a little rough and ready then so much the better. You are the only man –I mean ram – for me!'

'Do you mean it?' Eamon asked.

'Of course I mean it!' Abby assured him. 'Heroes may come and heroes may go – Frenchmen, Greeks, Italians - even Hugh-in-a-towel – but they are just passing through my imagination on their way to the pages in a book. You my dear Eamon are my one true hero – the only one who
shares my bed at night and stays with me each and every day. Here – let me prove it to you.'
And she gathered up Eamon into her arms and held him tight, promising that she would never ever let him go. Not even if Hugh-in-a-towel
walked into the room without it (the towel that is).

And, as all good love stories should end . . .

They both lived happily ever after . . . .