Three Little Words

My daily challenge continues – to contrive a piece of writing from three random words given to me. The words were Bike, Scone and Battery!  This time I’ve produced a short poem and a short story.

Charlie Davidson, Baker


A motorbike biker called Charlie

Was also a baker, you know.

When not whizzing round on his Harley

He was busily mixing up dough.

His bread was the best in the village,

So were his muffins and scones.

His only failures were rock cakes,

Which tended to turn out like stones.

He diversified – invested in chickens,

A battery farm bought, just like that!

But chickens are tricky, while dough’s merely sticky.

In the end Charlie’s battery went flat.


Charlie Davidson –The Biker Baker


Charlie Davidson loved his motorbike a lot, and he also loved baking. In fact, he loved baking so much that he had a bakery in the village where he lived. He baked bread and buns and scones and crumpets and muffins and cakes and all types of biscuits. He was such a good baker that everyone wanted to buy the things he baked and his shop always had a big queue. Usually everything was sold by the afternoon. This was good for Charlie who was then able to take out his bike and ride around the country lanes for the rest of the day.

But not everyone was able to get to the shop early enough or quickly enough to be able to buy the things they wanted. For instance, old Mable Applethorn, the retired post lady, was not able to walk very far and had groceries delivered from the big supermarket in the nearest town, and she so wanted to hold Charlie’s warm buns in her hands.

One day the local vicar, Reverend Wright, was in the bakery and he said to Charlie, ‘Charlie, have you ever thought about deliveries?’

‘Deliveries? Why? I don’t need to deliver. Everything I make I can sell here in the shop.’

You may not need to deliver,’ said the vicar, ‘but there are people in the village who cannot get to your shop and would love to be able to have the things you bake which other people have told them about.’

This made Charlie think. ‘But how would I deliver things?’

‘You have a motorbike, don’t you?’ said the vicar.

Charlie had never thought about using his bike for anything other than having fun riding around the country lanes, and he felt very ashamed for not having thought enough about other people less fortunate who could not even walk very far.

He realised that Reverend Wright was right and began that night to make a big box to fit on the back of his bike in which to carry an assortment of breads and cakes and other goodies from his bakery. The next day he made sure that he baked more than usual so that he would have things to put in the box, and in the afternoon he set off feeling very pleased with himself. He was still able to ride around the lanes in the sunshine and feel the breeze in his face, but now he had others to think about rather than himself. His first stop was at the home of Mable Applethorn, whom the vicar had told Charlie about.

‘Hello, Mrs Applethorn, I’m Charlie from the bakery. Would you like to buy any of the things I have on my delivery bike?’

Mrs Applethorn’s face lit up. ‘Oh, yes please! I should like a couple of your buns.’

Charlie went to the box on the back of his bike and returned with a couple of his best buns which he handed to Mrs Applethorn. But the old lady looked disappointed. ‘They aren’t warm,’ she said.

‘No, but that’s because I have had to bring them from the shop,’ he explained.

‘Well, I don’t want them,’ and she handed them back to him and closed the door.

Charlie did not want to give up on his delivery idea, and that night he thought and thought how to keep his bread and buns and scones and muffins warm. Charlie spent many hours looking after his motorbike and he was very good at taking care of the engine and wheels and the steering and the lights and the battery. ‘The battery! That’s it!’ he thought. ‘I’ll fix a warming plate in the box, wired from the motorbike battery, and that will keep everything warm.’

The next afternoon he set off for Mrs Applethorn’s house again. He knocked on her door and when she answered he presented her with two warm, fresh-smelling buns.’

‘Oh, that’s lovely, Charlie,’ she said. ‘I’ll have a fresh cream chocolate éclair as well, please.’

‘Ah,’ said Charlie.



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