One day (Sunday), Mr Taylor went out for a walk in the park.
"The walk will do me good", he said to himself, but actually he said it out loud, which drew the disapproving looks of a number of passers by, totalling five.
Mr Taylor was recovering from a slight accident after falling off his horse, which he had been using to stand on to fix a bulb, and so needed to recuperate (recover).
It was a very hot day, due to the sheer temperature and the abundance of the sun in the sky. Mr Taylor thought it rather strange that, what with the sky being blue and the sun being yellow, it didn't make the sky turn green, as when the two colours were mixed together (blue and yellow) they produce green, except when red is added, to make brown.
Mr Taylor sat down for a moment upon the warm, cool grass, when he heard a tiny, little voice.
"Hello there man". Came the voice.
Mr Taylor looked around - but could he see from where the voice emanated? No he could not. However he looked around again and then he did.
"Hello there man".
It was a small, brightly covered moth, wearing a tiny top hat and a purple scarf. The initials 'G.H.L.M' were embroidered mysteriously in turquoise in its wings.
"Hello", said Mr Taylor.
"Hello" said the mini winged beast.
"You're a moth", added Mr Taylor, rather confused (he had never met a talking moth before, although he had read about them in a friend's diary when the friend was out of the room).
"Yes, and I am also a talking moth", came the reply.
"That is self evident" said Mr Taylor.
"Yes". Said the moth. "Well, goodbye, I better be off".
And with that, the slightly-less-attractive-than-a-butterfly creature flew off, whistling a merry tune as he went.
"Wait - you left your hat!" Shouted Mr Taylor.
He had indeed. He had left his hat.
But it was too late. The moth had gone.
But then the moth came back and collected his hat.
"What's your name?" Asked Mr Taylor.
"Guntaarsyan Hip-Lun-Mivvin" replied the moth
"How is it spelt?" he enquired.
"As it sounds".
Luckily Mr Taylor was a very good speller.
"I'm Mr Taylor" said Mr Taylor
"How do you spell that?" asked Guntaarsyan
"Also as it sounds".
Sadly Guntaarsyan was a very poor speller. He had once been asked by a teacher to spell the name of the great moth emperor, Tivantium Bal-Hun-Flavantium. Unfortunately Guuntaarsyan spelt it 'Jhuisjdg Nuk-Lkk Thiahjhsjtyo' and received a nasty clip round his 14 ears.
And so, after Mr Taylor had spelt out his name repeatedly for half an hour, Guntaarsyan was satisfied, and with a jolly wave of his wings he flew off again, whistling his merry tune.
"Come back!" cried Mr Taylor. "You've left your hat again!". It was true. He had left his hat again.
But again, it was too late, Guntaarsyan had gone.
However, just like before, he came back.
"Sorry, I am rather forgetful at times".
And with that, Guntaarsyan was off, and he didn't need to return for his hat because he had taken it with him, although he did need to come back momentarily for his scarf, which he had forgotten. But then he flew off and was definitely gone.
"What a strange incident" said Mr Taylor to himself, but actually said out loud, drawing the same disapproving looks of the same number of passers by, totalling the same (five).