Posted by: Sam Olsen | August 17, 2011

Master Red Clothes

I am not happy. I woke up at 7. I think Mum and Dad wanted me to get out of bed around 9. But I wasn’t having any of that. Being a Briton by birth I have certain standards to maintain, and this meant making sure the whole household got up with me. I tell you, I can scream if I want. Real loud. So Mum picked me up, changed my nappy, then had the cheek to put me back in bed with some milk. If I wanted to be in bed I would have stayed there. Silly woman. At least the TV was on so I could hear some intelligent chat.

So next thing, Mum gets into the bath. Except the water isn’t in the bath, it’s in the sky and coming down quite fast. Looks weird to me. I’m never going do that, just like Dad doesn’t.

I’m now in my chair, the one that’s taller than the rest so I can look down on everyone, which I do of course. Dad gives me porridge but I don’t want to eat it. Much better to smear it on my face, arms, hands, legs, carpet. Don’t understand why he doesn’t agree. Bread is good. I used to have a little, but a little wouldn’t do, so a little got more. And then more. Mum goes off at this point. Not sure where she goes each day but she always looks smart, unlike Dad who looks worse than me.

I’m now sitting in a taxi with Dad. He’s talking to the man in the front who’s moving his head a lot and shouting. Dad whispers to me that he has something called a tick, but he looks like a weirdo to me. Every time he jerks his head to the right – and he does this a lot – he moves the big wheel to the left. The cars coming in the opposite direction seem to like this because they make a beeping noise and move a bit too. Dad feels wet. I think this is fun.

Next thing I know, we’re in a building with lots of lights. Dad says I’m here because of my Grandparents, because he reckons they miss me. Not sure about this. At least it’s better than the museum, so far, but that’s not hard. A fat Chinese man has a big black thing in his hand. There are two Chinese women with him, one who has a very high pitched voice and sounds like a doll. A China doll perhaps. The other has glasses and I don’t understand anything she says. Like I care. Dad puts me in some ridiculous clothes and then plonks me on a white sheet. The fat man starts flashing his box at me. Dad keeps saying “Smile for the camera” but I don’t understand him either. Not sure anyone does. I think they want me to perform my new tricks, which I do just to keep them happy, the simpletons. So I start crawling with my arms straight, not like the leopard crawl I am very, very good at. But someone distracts me so I trip. Not my fault, naturally, but I cry anyway. Just to annoy them all. The Chinese women run off quite quickly. This is fun. I soon cheer up, but then it’s all flashing again. Someone stop that man.

Dad makes me change my clothes again. I now have some ridiculous red costume with dragons on. Dad says I look like Bruce Lee, the Chinese woman says I look like a cliché, I don’t know who is right. I feel like an idiot but I still smile for them. Standards, standards. The doll starts shaking something at me. She is driving me out of my mind. I wish I’d never met her. I can’t wait to leave these people behind. Let’s go Dad.

Peace at last. Now I’m at the club. Dad looks tired. I’m just hungry. Think I’ll have a crawl. Yowser, what a day, and we’re only half way through. Roll on bed time.

Me on my shoot. They panda to me.

 

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Responses

  1. Fantastic! More from the mind of Larry please! He’s a funny little chap! Be careful though or he might turn out like Stewie from Family Guy!!


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