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Journey With Story

The Royal Snore Snuffers: E242

The Royal Snore Snuffers

The Royal Snore Snuffers

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The Royal Snore Snuffers

September 28, 2023

E242

Does anyone in your family snore?  Is it hard for you to fall asleep if you have to listen to someone snore?  Do  you try to do anything to stop the snoring? 

Hello everyone.  I’m Kathleen Pelley.  Welcome to Journey with Story.  So, if any of you have ever tried to get to sleep while someone else close by is snoring, then you probably know just how hard that can be. Today’s story is written by me for you and it is all about a very noisy king who begins to snore so loudly that his poor wife, Queen Fiona and everyone else in his entire kingdom cannot fall asleep.  I wonder how he is going to be able to solve this problem. Let’s take a listen and find out, shall we? 

But before we begin – this episode is especially dedicated to our beautiful Golden, FIONA, who is a very quiet dog, just like the queen in this story, and so when I was writing this, I decided to name the queen after our very quiet and gentle Fiona.   This is your story, Fiona. 

King Hamish was a very noisy king, loud and blustery like a blast of wind.  Everywhere he went, doors banged, windows rattled, walls shook, and armor clattered.  His wife, Queen Fiona, was a very quiet queen, soft and hushed like a whisper.  Everywhere she went, she glided and tiptoed and floated as silent as a snowflake.  But despite their differences, this noisy king and this quiet queen lived together in perfect peace and harmony for many a year and a day until…  

One night, King Hamish began to snore.  Now his snores were not just the piffling, whiffling kind of snores that most people make where soft puffs of air sidle out between trembling lips.  Oh no!  King Hamish’s snores were rip-roaring, whish-whooshing snorters of snores.  All night long his lips bounced and blubbered together as gigantic jets of air blasted out. 

Meanwhile, Queen Fiona tossed and turned.  She sighed and she tutted.  She poked the king.  She prodded him.  She even shoved him out of bed.  But nothing worked.  All around the chamber, through the castle’s nooks and crannies, up and down the chimney pots, the royal snores rattled and rumbled and roared. 

In the morning King Hamish awoke to find the whole castle in disarray.  Servants quarreled and bickered.  The queen scowled and scolded. The royal beagles snapped and snarled.  “Why is everyone so grumpy?” demanded the king. No one answered.  Only Taffy, the parrot gave him a screech and a squawk. “What a noisy nuisance you are,” cried the King.  Then he sat down to breakfast and roared in dismay, “What’s this?  No barley bannocks!  No fried kippers!  Only a bowl of lumpy porridge!” 

Queen Fiona stifled a yawn.  “It’s your own fault,” she whispered with a frown.  “Your noisy snores rattled down the chimney pots all night long, and no one in the castle caught a wink of sleep.  Now Cook’s too tired to cook!” 

“Oh dear!” wailed King Hamish.  “I will send for the royal physician at once.  Surely he will know how to stop this snoring.” 

That afternoon, bustling into the castle with his bag of potions and pastes came Dr. McSniffle Snuffle.  After examining the king, the doctor wagged his bony finger.  “Your majesty is too fat,” he scolded.  “No more raspberry trifles or sticky dumplings for you – that will snuff out your nasty snores.    

King  Hamish did as the doctor ordered.  In a few weeks, he grew as thin as a reed and as sour as crabapples. But his snoring did not stop.  Instead his snores grew thinner and shriller, warbling and wavering higher and farther than ever before.   All around the chamber, through the castle’s nooks and crannies, up and down the chimney pots, and across the courtyard, the royal snores rattled and rumbled and roared. 

“Whatever is the matter?” bawled King Hamish one morning as he flung open his shutters.  “My pipers aren’t piping!  My fiddlers aren’t fiddling!” 

A sleepy voice mumbled from below.  “I’m sorry, Sire, but now no one in the courtyard can sleep through your snoring and we’re all too tired to make music.” 

“Oh dear,” cried King Hamish.  “First the cook can’t cook.  Now my pipers can’t pipe, and my fiddlers can’t fiddle. I will send for Granny McMuckle at once.  Surely the wisest woman in the kingdom will be able to cure my snores. 

That afternoon into the castle bumbled Granny McMuckle dragging a dozen feather pillows and a sackful of thistles.  “We’ll just sprinkle your side of the bed with crushed thistles and raise up your head on the pillows,” she said.  “That should snuff out your snores.” 

But his snoring did not stop.  Instead his snores grew scratchier and bristlier, spouting and spraying higher and farther than ever before.  All around the chamber, through the castle’s nooks and crannies, up and down the chimney pots, across the courtyard, over the brae, down the glen, and across the loch, the royal snores rattled and rumbled and roared.   

In the morning, a messenger from the neighboring kingdom of Lochnaree stood at the castle gates.  “Unless this abominable racquet ceases forthwith, war will be declared,” he announced. 

“Oh dear, oh dear!” wailed King Hamish.  “We can’t have that.  I will call for Finlay McFiddle Faddle.  Surely he can stop this snoring.” 

That afternoon, the royal inventor, a willowy old man with a matted gray beard that trailed to the ground, hobbled into the castle.  In his hand, he clutched his latest invention – a nose-shaped pouch attached to a long wooden pole.  “Don’t worry, Sire,” he croaked excitedly. “Whenever your snoring starts, I will plop my pouch over your nose and snuff out the snore!” 

That night, when the first snorific snore rumbled out, Finlay McFiddle Faddle jumped into the air.  Up and up he leapt, thrashing his pole from side to side.  Down and down he crashed, tripping over his beard, capsizing the chamber pot, and flopping onto the royal bed with his spindly legs jangling in the air.  “Oops,” he muttered. 

“What a scunner!” shouted the king, and he sent the inventor packing with the royal chamber pot clamped over his head.  “Not to worry, my dear,” he told the queen.  “Go back to sleep.  It is time for me to find my own cure for this dreadful snoring” 

So the king clattered off to the kitchen to ponder his predicament.  As the cook dozed by the fire, and Taffy, the parrot snoozed on his perch, King Hamish sat at the table with his head in his hands. 

Maybe some kind of potion or paste would help, he thought.  Maybe a magic spell?  Some herbs perhaps?  Or, I could go and ive in another castle in another kingdome far, far, away.  But how lonely I would be withour my fair, quiet queen.  And the thought of such a catastrophe so perturbed the king that he burst into a bellowing sob.   

The cook jolted awake. 

“Sorry, sorry, cook,” wailed the king.  “I never meant to wake you, but….”  Suddenly King Hamish stopped talking and stared at Taffy, the parrot.  “How very odd,” he said, “that bird hasn’t so much as twitched a feather despite all the din I made.” 

“Oh, he’s deaf, Sire,”explained the cook.  “Deaf as a doorpost thest past ten years and more.” 

“Deaf!  Deaf!” screamed the kng.  “Why that’s the answer.”  And he scopped the cook up into his arms, kissed her soundly on both cheeks, and danced a merry jig all around the kitchen. 

By cockcrow King Hamish was pounding through the castle with a gagle of servants onhis heels.  He called for tailors and seamstresses, bales of cotton, spools of thread, dozens of needles and scissors.   After hearing the king’s orders, the tailors and seamstresses set to work cuttiing and tucking, rolling and folding and stitching.  Then messengers rode out to every corner of the kingdom and beyond leaving a package on every doorstep with a label that read: THE ROYAL SNORE SNUFFERS. 

That night when King Hamish went to bed, he began to snore as usual. 

But… all through the chambers, through the castle’s nooks and crannies, up and down the chimney pots, across the courtyard, over the brae, down the glen, and across the loch, the royal snores rattled and rumbled and roared. 

But no one in the kingdom or beyond heard a single piffling whiffle of a snore, because everyone was sound asleep with – an earplug wedged in each ear 

From that night on, despite their differences, this noisy king and this quiet queen continued to live in perfect peace and harmony for many a long year and a day. 

I hope you enjoyed this story – written by me for all of you- and if the words painted any pictures in your mind – do get busy drawing and send the to us at www.journeywithstory.com so we can share with others. 

If you want to see a photo of our lovely quiet Fiona, just visit my website at www.kathleenpelley.com  

or www.journeywithstory.com 

cheerio then join me next time for journey with story. 

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