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Rose's comedy
Hi. My name is Rose. Yeah a bit cheesy like the flower. I live in the small town of ChutterButter somewhere in the South..... Or maybe North.... Doesn't matter I don't think. My Geography teacher would probably be disappointed. As he always is. But you are not. Let me guess you are bored. Don't give me that shocked look. I know I'm good at mind reading... I guess it is one of my many talents. But let me tell you a trick I used to guess that you are bored. Wait a moment. This is a secret, make sure no one can see it. This is between you and me, a master does not often reveal his secrets to his art. The reason I know you are bored is because.... Are you sure you closed that window. I'm being serious here. Anyway: Because the only person who would read one of my stories is someone who is bored. You have to be very, very, very bored to read this. Very..... That was a lot of verys in one sentence but you get my point.
So today I'm gonna tell you one particular comedy that happened in my home a few years ago but first I shall introduce the characters that shall entertain you for this short story. Unfortunately though these characters are my family..... To be completely honest with you.. Well.. I guess you can say that not everyone is born for well civilisation. In my case I try to keep my family from shocking normal human beings. Firstly there is father, Mr Butlock. Yes Butlock. I Know. I get teased all the time you know. He is well... One could say a bit of a stout man.... Well fed. Good appetite. Very good appetite. An appetite that causes a strain on his front shirt buttons. Then there is Peter, my 17 year old brother. I believe that of all my family, he is the least crazy...Outwardly. I'm not even gonna start about what goes on in that head of his. He is kinda quite, cat obsessed and always muttering some stuff about inventions he wants to make. Dad says his room is a site of inventions that shall change the future.... I'd say it's a rubbish dump. But I think you get the picture. And then there is Edna, my Grandma. Before you begin to picture an old lady with spectacles humming and knitting a scarf in an armchair.... Like most of you will be doing right now because you are bored.... Not because you are Grandmothers. I didn't say that. Don't glare at me. Anyway back to my Grandma. She is.. let's say one of a kind. Unique is one word for it. Another word for it is: Chatterbox, choleric, busy bee. Basically I think that at the age of 70, she thinks that she is 25.
This story is set in my house on a warm evening sometime in July. Father has just finished his office work and enters the kitchen to find a small filled dish on the table. “Oh! Edna made me dinner!” he exclaims running his hand over his broad belly and grinning in delight.
At that moment I walk in and smile at father who is sat at the table about to eat. He beckons me closer to the table “Hello Rose dear, would you like to try some?”
“Yes please” I smile, picking up a spoon.
“Mmm... A bit dry but will do” Mr Butlock mutters, chewing thoughtfully.
Meanwhile Edna, comes in carrying dinner from the kitchen “Dinner's ready!” she bawls, as if she hopes the rest of the village will hear and come to try her 'delightful meals'. Peter enters also and stares at us all in confusion. Then there is a silence. A big silence. A terrible silence. Literally a sickening silence.
Peter blinks again in utter confusion and slowly points a trembling finger at the dish in Mr Butlock's possession “ That's..... That's my cat's litter tray...”
And I'm being honest here. Like totally honest, me and father are sick in absolute unison. Absolute.
Mr Butlock then makes a hasty exit with a sickly cry of “ I'm sorry..... but I'll miss dinner today.”
Peter gives me another baffled look, turns and leaves the kitchen to search for his cat, Nala. Oh Peter. He is just over obsessed with his cat. How many litter trays do they need? A normal household has 1. Well we have 10.. For one cat... See, exactly.... One in the kitchen, one under his bed, one in his cupboard, one in my cupboard. The list goes on. How many places does a cat need to go to do his duty?
I stare at the ceiling. It's what I always do when I don't know what to do. Edna bends her head back too in an attempt to see what I'm looking at. “What are you looking at?” I stand dazed, can't hear her. There's a pause.. “Rosabell!” Edna shrieks, making me jump with fright.
“Ummm... The ceiling.... Have you ever noticed how... Flat it is?” I continue gazing at the ceiling, mystified.
“Quite” Edna too begins to observe the ceiling.
“Oh look there's the dead rat,” I point up.
Edna gives me a bewildered look “Where?” she searches the ceiling, sharply.
“And the piece of poo Peter flung over 2 days ago... Oh and the pancake dad tried to flip over on Shrove Tuesday,” I laughed. Edna shakes her head and drags me back to my room.
In the meantime Peter is still searching for Nala. In the living room he find a pack of cigarettes, and with a short glance around he lights one. Mr Butlock marches into the living room. “Peter” He bawls “What have I told you about taking cigarettes.... Without offering me one?” father puts out his hand. Peter hands him a cigarette and they smoke.
I come in shocked. My asthma a fire, I start coughing... Well maybe it's my asthma... Maybe... Then I roll my eyes and drop to the floor to make a pretend faint.
Father gives me a short glance and then shrugs “She is just overreacting.”
Edna suddenly comes flying into the door yelling “How could you smoke! You know it's against the law to smoke in!..”
Peter interrupts her by handing over a cigarette. She lights it. They all smoke. After a few moments of suffocation I get up and glare at my family in disgust as they hide their cigarettes. Edna in an attempt to obviously distract the uneasy silence decides that we all want to hear her sing.
She bursts into “Twinkle Twinkle little star”
Father also decides to join in, but with “Ba ba black sheep”
And, as me and Peter stare at them in confusion they make a weird compromise of “Twinkle Baba Diamond Black sheep.”..... Two squeaky not tuned violins...... No, two cats screeching...If you can imagine that... Or maybe don't it's too painful to imagine it, let alone hear it.
And then comes more... Do you want to hear it? No you don't but I'm bound to finishing this story.
After having decided that a combination of two songs is indeed not a melody pleasant to the ear they form on this merry tune “Mary had a little cow, little pig, little lamb. Mary had a little lamb who's housemate was annoying!”
So... since this was a comedy. Wait a sec. No. Let me rephrase that. Since this was a tragedy. I will end with some jokes. I stayed up all night thinking of a nice sunny joke and then it dawned on me.
How does the solar system organize a party?
A: They planet!
How do you stay warm in an empty room?
A: Go stand in the corner—it’s always 90 degrees.
I hope I didn't bore you.
© All Rights Reserved
So today I'm gonna tell you one particular comedy that happened in my home a few years ago but first I shall introduce the characters that shall entertain you for this short story. Unfortunately though these characters are my family..... To be completely honest with you.. Well.. I guess you can say that not everyone is born for well civilisation. In my case I try to keep my family from shocking normal human beings. Firstly there is father, Mr Butlock. Yes Butlock. I Know. I get teased all the time you know. He is well... One could say a bit of a stout man.... Well fed. Good appetite. Very good appetite. An appetite that causes a strain on his front shirt buttons. Then there is Peter, my 17 year old brother. I believe that of all my family, he is the least crazy...Outwardly. I'm not even gonna start about what goes on in that head of his. He is kinda quite, cat obsessed and always muttering some stuff about inventions he wants to make. Dad says his room is a site of inventions that shall change the future.... I'd say it's a rubbish dump. But I think you get the picture. And then there is Edna, my Grandma. Before you begin to picture an old lady with spectacles humming and knitting a scarf in an armchair.... Like most of you will be doing right now because you are bored.... Not because you are Grandmothers. I didn't say that. Don't glare at me. Anyway back to my Grandma. She is.. let's say one of a kind. Unique is one word for it. Another word for it is: Chatterbox, choleric, busy bee. Basically I think that at the age of 70, she thinks that she is 25.
This story is set in my house on a warm evening sometime in July. Father has just finished his office work and enters the kitchen to find a small filled dish on the table. “Oh! Edna made me dinner!” he exclaims running his hand over his broad belly and grinning in delight.
At that moment I walk in and smile at father who is sat at the table about to eat. He beckons me closer to the table “Hello Rose dear, would you like to try some?”
“Yes please” I smile, picking up a spoon.
“Mmm... A bit dry but will do” Mr Butlock mutters, chewing thoughtfully.
Meanwhile Edna, comes in carrying dinner from the kitchen “Dinner's ready!” she bawls, as if she hopes the rest of the village will hear and come to try her 'delightful meals'. Peter enters also and stares at us all in confusion. Then there is a silence. A big silence. A terrible silence. Literally a sickening silence.
Peter blinks again in utter confusion and slowly points a trembling finger at the dish in Mr Butlock's possession “ That's..... That's my cat's litter tray...”
And I'm being honest here. Like totally honest, me and father are sick in absolute unison. Absolute.
Mr Butlock then makes a hasty exit with a sickly cry of “ I'm sorry..... but I'll miss dinner today.”
Peter gives me another baffled look, turns and leaves the kitchen to search for his cat, Nala. Oh Peter. He is just over obsessed with his cat. How many litter trays do they need? A normal household has 1. Well we have 10.. For one cat... See, exactly.... One in the kitchen, one under his bed, one in his cupboard, one in my cupboard. The list goes on. How many places does a cat need to go to do his duty?
I stare at the ceiling. It's what I always do when I don't know what to do. Edna bends her head back too in an attempt to see what I'm looking at. “What are you looking at?” I stand dazed, can't hear her. There's a pause.. “Rosabell!” Edna shrieks, making me jump with fright.
“Ummm... The ceiling.... Have you ever noticed how... Flat it is?” I continue gazing at the ceiling, mystified.
“Quite” Edna too begins to observe the ceiling.
“Oh look there's the dead rat,” I point up.
Edna gives me a bewildered look “Where?” she searches the ceiling, sharply.
“And the piece of poo Peter flung over 2 days ago... Oh and the pancake dad tried to flip over on Shrove Tuesday,” I laughed. Edna shakes her head and drags me back to my room.
In the meantime Peter is still searching for Nala. In the living room he find a pack of cigarettes, and with a short glance around he lights one. Mr Butlock marches into the living room. “Peter” He bawls “What have I told you about taking cigarettes.... Without offering me one?” father puts out his hand. Peter hands him a cigarette and they smoke.
I come in shocked. My asthma a fire, I start coughing... Well maybe it's my asthma... Maybe... Then I roll my eyes and drop to the floor to make a pretend faint.
Father gives me a short glance and then shrugs “She is just overreacting.”
Edna suddenly comes flying into the door yelling “How could you smoke! You know it's against the law to smoke in!..”
Peter interrupts her by handing over a cigarette. She lights it. They all smoke. After a few moments of suffocation I get up and glare at my family in disgust as they hide their cigarettes. Edna in an attempt to obviously distract the uneasy silence decides that we all want to hear her sing.
She bursts into “Twinkle Twinkle little star”
Father also decides to join in, but with “Ba ba black sheep”
And, as me and Peter stare at them in confusion they make a weird compromise of “Twinkle Baba Diamond Black sheep.”..... Two squeaky not tuned violins...... No, two cats screeching...If you can imagine that... Or maybe don't it's too painful to imagine it, let alone hear it.
And then comes more... Do you want to hear it? No you don't but I'm bound to finishing this story.
After having decided that a combination of two songs is indeed not a melody pleasant to the ear they form on this merry tune “Mary had a little cow, little pig, little lamb. Mary had a little lamb who's housemate was annoying!”
So... since this was a comedy. Wait a sec. No. Let me rephrase that. Since this was a tragedy. I will end with some jokes. I stayed up all night thinking of a nice sunny joke and then it dawned on me.
How does the solar system organize a party?
A: They planet!
How do you stay warm in an empty room?
A: Go stand in the corner—it’s always 90 degrees.
I hope I didn't bore you.
© All Rights Reserved
