Wow, I haven't updated this since APRIL. No wonder my friend's been pestering me about it for ages. Sorry. Oh well. Next chapter.

Chapter 3 - The Letters from No-one

(Well, evidently they're from SOMEONE, because otherwise who would have wrote them? We just don't know WHO they're from yet. Unless of course the person they're from is actually called No-one, in which case they would be from No-one, but you have to find that out. I, of course, know already. But not telling. No, I'm not. No, take that briefcase of muffins away. I'm not telling! NOT!)

Over the next few months, many things happened, but none of them were plot developments, so they are not described. By the summer, Ally was slowly sinking into despair, and trekking the streets in the hope for a plot development. There was, however, no sign of one. Alas. Poor Ally. She sighed.

But at the end of the summer, she would be joining the local grammar school. Maybe, just maybe, there would be some kid there who knew something about her past. Or some teacher who had magical powers. There were several chances for plot developments there. But until then, the whole boring summer holidays. Days stretching ahead, where she could only wander in the sunshine, stay at home all day, or possibly go and pelt the ducks in the pond with bread. Gee. Don't you feel sorry for her? Don't worry if you don't, she's feeling sorry enough for herself to cover the both of you.

But one day, when Ally was only on her third sigh of the morning, they got letters. Amazingly, this isn't the exciting bit (although, I personally find the postal service amazing. You just put the letter in the red postbox, and then a few days later, bing! It's where you wanted it to go! Magic!) Ally got to her feet sighing and went to get the post. There was the usual multitude of advertisements, the usual multitude of bills, the usual multitude of catalogues, and – a letter for Ally.

Ally gasped. She didn't even know letters were used any more. She thought the post box was just a transmitting system, through which the government dispensed bills and for the rest of the time there was the commercial break. But no, here it was, a large red 'H' on the doormat.

She just stood there, gazing at the H in awe, as more bills etc fell from the too-high post box onto her head. It was only when the hardback catalogue from Next fell through the flap and hit her hard on the head that she came back to reality. "Ow," she said pensively, and then, after a moment, added, "Ow."

She looked at the 'H' with proper examining rather than just gazing in awe. It seemed to be made of some light metal, and glowed slightly. It was addressed to: 'Ally Heroine Rotter, The reasonably small linen, towel, flannel and bathmat closet opposite the toilet that gurgles all night, top of the stairs and turn right, 9 Pompous Street, Pompous Town, Pompous County, England, United Kingdom, Europe, Northern Hemisphere, Earth, Solar System, Milky Way, the Local Group, Universe #279, Third Dimension.'

"Maybe they delivered it to the wrong place," thought Ally. Turning it over, she saw that there was a small door in the back, sealed by a blu-tak seal which, just before Ally peeled off the blu-tak and added it to the massive ball in her pocket, she saw was imprinted with a large letter 'H' surrounded by a hamster, a guinea-pig, a rabbit and a capybara. 'Twas a pity that she added it to the ball in her pocket so thoughtlessly, because the inscription on the capybara in particular was particularly intricate, oh yes, simply lovely.

"Ally!" thundered Uncle Vermin (KERRACKABOOM thundered the clouds outside, obviously put out at having a rival in ominousity) "Bring in the post! Then vacuum the living room!" Ally sighed. "And recite pi up to 100 places!" he added for good measure.

"3.141592654..." began Ally, sighing, and headed back into the kitchen, still holding the letter H. As she entered, all of the family looked up.

"Ally has a letter!" said Milkdud, aka Captain Obvious.

"She does indeed!" said Aunt Petulant, "A letter H!"

"I know, there's hope for the Royal Mail network yet-" began Ally.

"Wait!" said Uncle Vermin, staring at the letter, "That's not just a letter – that's A Letter™!"

Dun-dun-DUN! played Ally's personal violin quartet.

"Not – A Letter™!" said Aunt Petulant in shock, "But they come with plot developments!"

"I want a plot development!" cried Milkdud. Sadly, it was in vain – he wouldn't have any change in character for the rest of the series. Well, actually, I don't know that, since I haven't read beyond the fifth book. But to the best of my knowledge, anyway.

"A – a plot development?" gasped Ally, staring at the large red H in her hands in amazement, "What sort of plot development-"

Before she could open it, Uncle Vermin grabbed it from her hands. He jumped up and down on it, set it alight, dumped it in the liquidizer and left it on there at full power for several minutes, attached it to a rocket and sent it blasting out of the window, where it exploded in bright golden sparks. He returned to the kitchen table, whistling slightly. He then noticed the entire family staring at him. "Oh, it was nothing important," he said.

Ally was watching at the sparks drifting down from the sky and setting alight to her neighbour's hedge. "That was MY H," she said sadly.

"Was it really? Had no idea," said Uncle Vermin, looking up at the ceiling innocently.

"You evidently DID," said Ally, tearing her eyes away from the window, where her neighbour was rushing out of the kitchen, shrieking and throwing buckets of water on the burning hedge. "I mean, you stamped on it, liquidized it-"

"No I didn't," said Uncle Vermin quickly.

"Yes you did!"

"You must be mistaken," said Uncle Vermin again, raising his voice against the neighbour's increasing shrieks as the inferno that was her hedge spread to her house, "Now go to your room."

Ally stomped upstairs, clambered into the linen closet and hurled herself onto her hay box, wearing a pre-teenage 'nobody likes me, everybody hates me, I think I'll just go and eat worms' pout. As the fire engines came wailing down the street, and the smoke from the neighbour's house rose into the sky, and the sound of the neighbour crying, "No! My player piano!" accompanied by the discordant tune of 'Bad Bad Lee Roy Brown' came drifting through her window, she thought things were certainly changing. Almost as though... it was a plot development.

xxx

The next day, more letters arrived. This time, there wasn't only an H, but also an O and a G. Ally discovered them waiting on the doormat when she came downstairs, playing dominoes to pass the time. The thought came to her that maybe they were spelling something. "Uncle Vermin, what's a 'Gho'?" she called.

"How do you spell it?"

Ally glanced back at the letters. "G-O-H or G-H-O, it doesn't really matter. Alternatively, what's a 'Hgo'? Or an 'Ogh'?"

This, of course, led to the discovery of the new letters. This, in turn, led to Uncle Vermin trying to flush them down the toilet. This, in turn, led to the toilet getting clogged. But that's another story. ('Percy the Plumber and the Chamberpot of Secrets'! Coming soon to whatever bookshops I can sneak it into!) That afternoon, Uncle Vermin set up a 24-hour surveillance team around the letterbox, guards with dogs patrolling the doormat, and sent several letters to the post office telling them not to deliver any more letters.

"I still don't see what's so important," said Ally as Aunt Petulant phoned the Post Office, clarifying just what kind of letters Uncle Vermin meant.

"Eh? Oh, it's not important," said Uncle Vermin, "Not at all important."

"Uncle, you were considering phoning International Rescue."

"Not important. Uh. Go away."

But all this couldn't stop the letters from reaching Ally. The following morning, Ally was woken by letters being hurled through her window. (Yes, her linen closet has a window. This story is about MAGIC, for muffin's sake. You really care about a closet having a window?) She quickly scrambled out of her hay box to look at them. They spelt 'H-O-G-M-A-N-A-Y-S-C-H-O-O-L-O-F-W-I-T-C-H-C-R-A-F-T-A-N-D-W-I-Z-A-R-D-R-Y.'

"What's 'Hogman Ayscho Olo Fwitchcr Aftan Dwizar Dry?'" thought Ally, "It sounds Swedish..."

Suddenly Uncle Vermin pulled open her linen closet door. "Did you just get more letters?" he demanded.

"Ummmmmmmmmm," said Ally, "No."

"What are they, then?"

Ally glanced down at the heap of letters next to her. "They're, uh, bonsai trees."

For some strange reason, Uncle Vermin didn't believe her. "Give!" he ordered.

Ally reluctantly handed them all over. Uncle Vermin only just managed to carry them all, eventually managing it by wearing the 'O's stacked on his head like a hat and shoving both the 'I's in his dressing gown pockets. "Hey," said Ally, "While you're here, could you change the hay in my box-"

He slammed the door in her face. "Ow."

xxx

It seemed that no matter what Uncle Vermin did, letters were still arriving for Ally. They were found in the dog kennel, in her hay box – even on the special post table in the hall, which no-one ever used. And even more were arriving. The last batch, just before Uncle Vermin detonated them with a home-made hand grenade, seemed to spell 'H-O-G-M-A-N-A-Y-S-P-A-C-E-I-S-S-P-A-C-E-A-S-P-A-C-E-S-C-H-O-O-L-S-P-A-C-E-F-O-R-S-P-A-C-E-W-I-T-C-H-E-S-!-Y-O-U-S-P-A-C-E-M-O-R-O-N-!-!-!' Though Ally had no idea what 'Hogma nayspa ceiss paceas pac escho olspa cefors pacew itches! Yo uspacem oron!!!' meant. It sounded more Spanish than Swedish now.

"That's it," said Uncle Vermin angrily – the last delivery had been from down the plughole, and a Y had hit him square on the nose – "We're going away! I'm not having a plot development in my house, we're not insured!"

"Where are we going to go?" ventured Aunt Petulant as Uncle Vermin ushered them out of the house into the car, in such a hurry that he even forgot to cancel the milk. Ally wasn't looking forward to seeing the lactose-feeding bacteria colony that would have settled in when they returned.

"The Pizza Hut on the Rock," said Uncle Vermin.

"The Pizza Hut on the Rock?" echoed Milkdud, "But Padre, that entvo is so not booshka right now, kapish?"

"Are you trying to use slang, or Spanish?" asked Ally.

Despite all of Milkdud's protests, Uncle Vermin drove at breakneck speed along the motorway until they finally arrived at the Pizza Hut on the Rock – a small Pizza Hut that had been built on top of a small pillar of stone jutting out of the landscape. Apparently, it was the only available to place to build one in that area, and even for that spot there had been competition from Starbucks.

Climbing up the precarious spiral staircase up to the top of the rock, they finally all entered the warm reassuring glow that only comes from a fast food restaurant. It being eleven am on a Wednesday morning, and since the restaurant wasn't even supposed to be open yet, they were seated quickly yet confusedly by the staff.

For the rest of the day, they sat there in the booth, ordering the occasional pizza. Pizza Hut staff, being reliable, courteous and helpful, didn't point out how unhealthy it was to only eat pizza, nor ask them to leave; they just whispered about them behind their backs, shrugged, and gave them a free Pepsi refill.

By around eleven pm, however, eyebrows were disappearing beneath fringes. But the Pizza Hut staff, not quite so reliable, courteous or helpful since they wanted to go home, dared not approach Uncle Vermin with the bill; his own eyebrows seemed threatening. Also, Milkdud was eating enough ice-cream to give them all very large Christmas bonuses. They gave up in the end and locked them in, warning them that they'd counted all the pizzas – however, Milkdud was welcome to the ones under the sink. "They're only marked with 'Extremely out of date, possibly harmful' to scare off mice," assured the manager, as the grumbling scaff set off down the spiral staircase.

Uncle Vermin, Aunt Petulant and Milkdud settled down to sleep in the booths, instructing Ally to sleep on the floor. "But there's still another booth over there-" said Ally confusedly, but was answered by a loud snore from Uncle Vermin.

Ally sighed and lay down on the floor. Outside the window, she could stars twinkling, which was a miracle in itself due to light pollution in that area. She saw a shooting star, then the star that it hit falling out of the sky. "That's two wishes," she thought, "So I guess I wish that some celebrity - not too big, but bigger than David Dickinson – could come and take me away... and for a Dairy Milk."

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

xxx

Ergo-Visavis – Well, it wasn't necessarily bad to me, but it made my musical friend hyperventilate. So to a musical person it would be. I guess.

Im a Brandybuck – (hangs head) I have a problem with LOTR references. In that I use too many of them. That was kinda obvious, wasn't it? Yes it was. Oh dear.

Theshiz – There's nothing wrong with being a tea druggie. My friend is a tea druggie. But then, there's definitely something wrong with her...

Alteng – Frodo turning into Harry Potter... well, for most of the film, the transformations nearly complete anyway...

Pixael28 – Parrots are nice! Paperclips are... unobtrusive.

Bev Baudelaire – (bows) Thank you, thank you. I'm here till Tuesday. And afterwards. Since I have no social life.

Bulma Greenleaf – How do you suffer Wob-Wobs? Unless they eat your sofa? Then you're not suffering THEM, you're suffering BECAUSE of them, due to lack of comfy places to sit. Ha HA.

Littlefurryscrubcreature – Ya hear that, Johnny Depp? HAIL MEEE!!

Black-dranzer-of-evil-Kai – (gasp) No muffins??? We English CAN be evil!

A Psychopathic Moron that comes from a Galaxy far far away – (watches you rolling across the garden) Right... Hi! (waves maniacally)

Rosalinde – Maybe because that would make Ally seem evil. And couldn't have that. No, not at all.

Freakanature – Thanks!

ArwenTurner – Thanks! Mirth and suchlike are always good.

Mustang Gal – Well, it's true. They can multi-task. So Frodo could have concentrated on his quest AND not been tempted by the Ring.

Hopefully a smaller gap between updates next time. Bye!