Posted by: Sam Olsen | November 18, 2011

The Chronicles of Larry 13: sick home

So I’m ill. Some sicko at school must have infected me. Mum says it’s just a cold, but when Dad has these he has to go to bed. I’m taking his lead on this, I tell you. My Aunty Sarah once coft and coft and ben sek, and that’s how I feel now.

Mum doesn’t look to well either. I say to her, you’re looking tired and unhappy. She says her job is slowly killing her. I say, you should take the quiet life. Like Dad.

And as if by magic,  we’re off to some place called Fooket in a few days to see Aunty Cathryn and Uncle Jez for a nice little break.

But if you’re ill, what’s something that you really don’t want? Yep, injections. So what does Dad do? No surprises there: he takes me down to the doctors for them to put two bits of metal in me. Fantastic. He says it’s to stop getting ill. BUT, DIMWIT, I AM ILL! I hold my head in my hands.

To be honest, I didn’t say anything when the first prick happened, partly because I’m brave, but partly because I think the nurse wanted to see me cry and I don’t allow voyeurism. (Why else would she do a job where she instills pain on small children?)  But when she shoved another needle in my thigh, I thought, enough’s enough, and I really went for it. Almost made her ears bleed. No injections for that, eh sister? At least my bruises will heal.

So as I’m not really in the mood for any more writing, I thought I’d show you round my manor. Some of you may be interested. Personally, I’d rather watch cat litter being cleaned than spend my time going through photos of someone else’s gaffe, but there you are. Everyone’s different. Especially Dad, says Mum.

Such a pretty house, says Mum. Would be a pretty garden too, but we’re on the 20th floor.

So here is the sitting room/dining room. Well it would be a dining room, but as you can quite clearly see there are no proper dining chairs yet. Not sure if it’s penny-pinching or laziness on Their behalf.

House proud. My lovely helper Tessie is in the background

This is the view of the other end of the sitting room. As Uncle Riccy pointed out, with all the skyscrapers around us it’s like living in Blade Runner. And you can see my cage, where I go to keep Them out.

Futuristic prison

And finally, the most important room in the house: my lair. Welcome. And good-bye.

Where's my cat?

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Responses

  1. Uncle Jez and Aunty Cath looking forward to seeing you in Fooket Larry- Uncle Jez also has man flu so you can be ill together x


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