Pudding and Potato’s Christmas; Part Three of Four
“Written by Pudding the Cat: December 18th, 2013.”
Silly woofington! There he was, perched on the edge of the shelving unit above the legs into the air, and fireplace – where before him, the greedy green prickle monster stood helpless; moments away from finally being conquered by my most fiendish of intricate plans. All I required was one leap forward; a simple action of lifting those two chicken drumsticks he refers to as pouncing his way to guaranteed victory, leaving me free to finally collect my extra special shiny gift! However, when it comes to my silly sidekick, Potato; the suave and the sophisticated, is always reserved for fantasy…
The reality is a far different story. Potato – inches from pouncing, as I sat in position watching on in my Penguin costume, all of a sudden decided to turn around, hop off the unit, and then rush up the house stairs like his bum was on fire; in search of a “tasty smelling sausage” he later told me had wafted into his nasal implements, but couldn’t find… wally. I am fortunate to have seen him move, otherwise the prickle monster may have realised it was the royal one sitting beneath him – and not my clever disguise as Flappy; avoiding inevitable attack with his shiny balls of doom. It is frustrating, and time is running out, but I can only work with the tools I have – and Potatoes are hardly the most ruthless instruments of battle ever created by ceiling cat.
Of course, being a highly adept renaissance feline, I retained a collection of contingency plans inside my secret garden shed hideout – most involving Potato in some capacity. Unfortunately, through no fault of my own, every last one fell flat on its smelly bottom; leaving me down in the dumps – wondering if another prize-less year will pass my way. My only solace is that yesterday, Elvis the Goldfish welcomed a new bowl buddy for me to annoy; they call him the Colonel, and he keep Elvis from leaving the bowl. Regardless, none of this draws me any closer to what is rightfully mine.
My first back up plan was to throw a red hat and beard on Potato – disguising him as chubby Mince Pie man – who breaks into my house once a year, checks the gifts for boo-boos, and eats my food; without permission, I might add. I tried this in the hope Potato would be able to grab my gift; telling prickle man he had an administrative error – then hand it to me. But once I whipped that beard on his face, the smelly fool ended up believing he was in fact the real Pugster Claus; constantly running around barking at mummy and daddy servant – telling them he needs endless supplies of bacon slices, in order to deliver his goodies, to all the woofingtons who have been extra lovely this year – which, according to Potato, is all of them. The plan seemed foolproof – I guess I was wrong.
Then I tried myself; sneaking through my living room inside a paper bag – in one of my many master of mystery disguises. But this was a dangerous, close call. When I entered the war zone, one of the decoration monsters landed on my back and almost attacked me; until my razor sharp movements got the better of him. It was a scary moment, but I just about survived the ordeal. I later discovered prickle man has spies hidden around the building; when I opened a sock drawer and saw two shiny ball men silently hiding inside. There were other ideas we tried; the distracting Potato dance fell flat on it’s bum, as Potato kept falling flat on his bum, and the smelly sock attack went askew, when Potato decided to stop throwing them at the enemy, and start smelling them for himself. So with only a few days left, I remain in square one; and I don’t like square one.
I may have to admit defeat, come present unveiling day; where chubby Mince Pie man in red arrives the night before, and thanks prickle monster with more shiny gifts to guard; leaving everyone but Pudding, happy. My only hope now is how my continual meditations, will able my mind powers to make mummy and daddy servant know that this year, the gift must finally be mine. I tried using these skills on Potato, but I am not certain he even has a brain. I can’t help but wonder, what lies inside that shiny, shiny packaging…
Want to know how the story ends? Stay tuned…!
About the Author:
LEE GUNNELL IS A WRITER/AUTHOR FROM LONDON WHO ENJOYS WRITING ABOUT A PHILOSOPHICAL MIXTURE OF ANIMALS, POP CULTURE, AND POSITIVE THINKING. BE SURE TO LIKE LEE’S FACEBOOK PAGE.