"The 'End' of Polly the Spotted Gelert" by ballerinafaerie "Yes, sir?" I asked politely. "You can't hog the bench. Others need to use it. Now get yourself home!" He was growling now, his voice low and menacing. I felt quite scared. I hopped off the bench and scurried down the street before he could realise that I had no home to go to. To be honest, I would have expected that to be obvious in the first place, what with my newspaper duvet and wooden bench mattress...