CAKES, CATS, CRACKERS AND CHRISTMAS

I was sitting at the kitchen table, cutting the top of my egg with a chainsaw when Tommy my cat walked in. I looked at Tommy and yelled.
"Hello, you mangy, old flea-ridden excuse for a cat"
Tommy smiled and yelled back.
"Hello to you, you old hump-backed, duck-arsed old slapper"
I smiled and yelled.
"Hello-again, you foul-breathed, stinking, bleary eyed, knock kneed filthy feline"
Tommy stuck his tongue out and yelled back.
"Shut up, you hairy faced, toothless, cross-eyed, pot-bellied, wart covered, ugly, crazy, old bag".
"Well" I said "That's the pleasantries over, but now, down to the serious business, what do you want for Christmas Tommy?"
"I demur" said Tommy, and he did, right there in front of me and he never even lifted his tail."I demur" said Tommy "I think old ugly bags should go first, so-what do YOU want for-Christmas?" I was caught on the hop, I didn't expect to go first, I mused in my muesli, it dilutes the taste of the nuts and replied. "What I would like this Christmas, what I would really, really like, is to appear younger looking". "No trouble" said Tommy "I'll get you a 90 year old man, then when you take him for a walk, you will look-younger"
"Now, that's what I call thinking with a capital-THI" I yelled. "But Tommy, if you do get me a 90 year old man, please make sure he has all his faculties--and elbows, I like-elbows".
"Faculties I can guarantee" said Tommy "But not teeth".
"Don't worry about teeth" I said "He can use my late daddy's teeth".
"Are you not making a lot of work for yourself?" said Tommy, with a worried frown.
"Not at all" I yelled "It's just a matter of getting two shovels, cycling to the graveyard, digging my dead daddy up, opening the coffin and reaching in to get the false teeth. It's simple, even a child could do it". "I suppose you're right" said Tommy. "The hardest part will be getting on to the bicycle while carrying a shovel. Now" said Tommy, clapping his hands, "That's you sorted, now, do you want a bog standard 90 year old man,or would you like the deluxe model?"
"Bog standard" I said "But I would like him to be small and compact, with working elbows that can carry the morning newspaper, none smoker with flat cap and if at all possible, easy on the juice". "I'll just make a note of that" said Tommy and he dipped his finger in soot and began to scrawl on my newly painted jet black wall.
"RIGHT" I yelled, turning to the left and banging my face against the wall. That's me taken care of, now for you, what would you like for Christmas? What would my little Tommy-Pommy like for-Christmas?". Tommy flushed bright red and began to dance from one paw to the other. "What's wrong?" I said "Need a slash?". "I certainly do NOT" yelled Tommy "and I do wish you would stop going on about-slashing and you know, the-other, number two".
"It's a fact of life Kid" I said "as natural as eating, breathing or sticking two corncrakes under your oxters and pretending to be the Queen of Siam". "I know" said Tommy "It's me, I just don't like talking about things like that, I'm sensitive you know, anything to do with-toilets--well, it turns my stomach". "It's a good job you're not George Michael then" I screeched. "Now, come on Tommy, don't be a big girl's twinset, what do you want for-Christmas?" "Oh, I'm too shy to say" giggled Tommy "can I hide behind the curtain and tell you from there?" "If you must" I yelled "But hurry up, that Greek ship docks at ten o'clock tonight and I must be there to greet the little Greek sailors with a smile on my face and a ripcord on my drawers". I stood for five minutes watching the curtain, then, the curtain began to speak. "This Christmas" mumbled Tommy "I want something I have wanted for a long,long time" I heard the hidden feline-gulp then he went on. I want a--Barbie doll, a-boxed-Barbie doll, with blue eyes, a peaches and cream complexion and long, long-blonde hair". I stood there, open mouthed and-transfixed, my trans had been broken for a long time, but now it was-fixed! I felt a thump on the mouth and realised that I had also been-gobsmacked. Transfixed, open-mouthed and gobsmacked I gazed at the quivering curtain. I found my voice under the blacksmith's anvil and yelled.
"And what colour dress should this Barbie doll have?"
"Pink" whispered the voice from behind the curtain.
"And what colour shoes?" I said
"Pink" whispered the hidden voice.
"And what colour--under-things?" I roared.
"Pink" whispered the voice, in a sibilant, sinister Scots/Irish dialect.
"Come out" I yelled "Come out from behind that curtain, you-you-disappointing, discommodious, discomforting, disembodied-dir'tee,lit'le cat".
"Tommy crept out from behind the curtain, with his tail between his legs. I towered over him and yelled, "I have just one thing to say to you, if I let you play with my 90 year old man on Christmas day, will you let me play with your Barbie doll?" "YES" yelled Tommy "Oh, yes, yes, YES!" Then Tommy and I clasped hands and danced the Walls of Limerick to the sound of police batons thumping off little hoodie heads down at the corner. Irish Culture? sure it's all we have left, along with a million pigs that no one wants to eat! Kay-ME-AH-Fault-Yah! Paddy and after you with the shamrock painted PO.

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And if your cat-or indeed-dog asks for a doll this Christmas, don't worry, it's just a sign of the times.