Cyn hir, roedd Franz Kafka wedi clirio’r ardd o waed, ac roedd pawb yn llawn dop o bwdin du. Hepiai’r cathod, oedd yn awr yn rownd iawn.
– Pla nesa amdani, meddai’r pla, gan chwifio ei dentaclau.
– Beth? mwmianodd Daf y gath, yn dihuno’n araf. – Ni ddim ‘di dod yn ôl at ein coed ar ôl ‘run diwetha eto.
– Look, ti isie’r pla nesa neu beidio? ymatebodd y pla, yn anamyneddgar. – Mae rhestr hir i ni fynd drwyddo.
– Pla nesa amdani, te, meddai Daf, yn flinedig.
– Ti’n mynd i joio hwn. ‘Drycha.
Ymddangosodd cwpl o liffantod ym mhowlen dŵr Jeff.
– We ano ‘ny mor drawiadol, â weud y gwir, meddai Daf, gan godi ael.
– Aros am funud, meddai’r pla.
Ar ôl ymdrech mawr gan y pla, ymddangosodd dim ond un lliffant arall.
– Byddwn i’n rhoi’r gorau iddi, ‘sen i’n ti, meddai Daf.
– Am siomedig. Na i ofyn i’r madarch i’n helpu ni eto y tro nesa.
A bant â’r pla er mwyn paratoi ychydig o dincen.
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Before long, Franz Kafka had cleared the garden of blood, and everyone was full up with black pudding. The cats, who were now very round, were snoozing.
– Next plague coming up, said the plague, waving its tentacles about.
– What? mumbled Dave the cat, waking slowly. – We haven’t recovered from the last one yet.
– Look, d’you want the next plague or not? responded the plague, impatiently. – There’s a long list for us to get through.
– On with the next plague, then, said Dave, wearily.
– You’re going to enjoy this one. Watch.
After a great effort by the plague, a couple of frogs appeared in Jeff’s water bowl.
– That wasn’t so impressive, to tell the truth, said Dave, raising an eyebrow.
– Wait a minute, said the plague.
Just one more frog appeared.
– I’d give up, if I were you, said Dave.
– How disappointing. I’ll ask the mushrooms to help us again next time.
And off went the plague to prepare a few lice.
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