Mona
Mona lived near the Mona Reef gold mine in Chewton. You
could hear Mona constantly as Mona and friends  walked down
to the soccer field. All you could hear was how long, how far,
what's the point if it hurts this much to get there. Everyone
could hear Mona talking for miles upon miles because
unfortunately for Mona, Mona seemed to have a wonderfully
megaphone voice that beamed and ricocheted across the hills
and bush surrounds like a cymbal.

Mona had the knack of making everything seem longer, more
over sized and dramatic than needed. By the time Mona and
friends had arrived at the soccer ground the rest of the soccer
team (who had been training for some time now) had decided
to take a rest. Their feet were hurting. Most of the kids were not
used to wearing the special boots that they had to play in. It
seemed every time Mona arrived at the ground Mona
managed, without realising it, to get the team to take off their
shoes and complain about the same sore feet that Mona had
been moaning about in a megaphone voice all the way to
practice.
Without realising it on this particular day Mona had led a
mutiny on the soccer field, a shoes -off strike impending. The
coach managed to convince the team that shoes were indeed
necessary for training, to which they reluctantly put back on
with Mona complaining the most.  
After half a lap of the oval Mona was behind all the rest once
again. You could hear Mona saying the same things over and
over.  Are we there yet? Haven't we finished? This takes so
long. When do we get to kick the ball?
Finally Mona got the chance to kick the soccer ball. While
trying to kick the ball Mona spent the whole time complaining.
About  what you ask? The cold. The ball was no good. The
grass was too long. The ground was too hard when you landed
on your backside. The coach shouted too much. The noise
from all the kids. The poor shots at goal. Anything that Mona
could moan about Mona moaned.
Enough was enough. The coach pulled Mona aside and asked
the really big question. The big question. The question that
required a truthful answer. "Mona do you really want to play
soccer"?  Mona answered. " Well I would if my feet were not so
sore, my back didn't hurt, my fingers weren't cold, my socks
didn't fall down, my eyes could see, my ears unblocked and my
clothes were warmer".
The coach sighed, ready to walk away. Suddenly coach had a
flash of inspiration. Thinking, where was a place or a position
that  wasn't cold, that no laps had to be done, that was warmer
and no training need to be done?  The commentary and
scoring box of course.
So unaffected by the cold and able to talk non- stop Mona
spent an enjoyable time scoring and talking week after week,
never making a mistake. Everything was fine, until of course,
Mona had to travel home after the match. Resounding
throughout the bush against the backdrop of the hills and the
gold mine workings you could hear the echo of Mona's
complaints all the way home.

Try to imagine what Mona might have looked liked. You can
either colour in the design done by Natasha on page 3 or join
the dots together to form a design (page 2) and then colour in
your finished art work.
design by Natasha
story by Amelia