Wednesday 20 May 2009

TOMMY THE CAT TAKES ON THE ESTABLISHMENT

As I hung from a hempen rope in the sitting room, pretending to be Tom Dooley, I glanced into the kitchen and saw Tommy my cat hack at his ear with a butcher's knife, Tommy was pretending to be Van Gogh. What a restfull creak and groan the hempen rope made as I swung in the wind like a flypaper. Everything was so quite, so silent, just the creak of the rope and a hissing sound, as gouts of blood spurted from Tommy's mangled ear. I smiled at Tommy, Tommy smiled back. I winked at Tommy, Tommy winked back. I danced a horn-pipe in the air, Tommy threw his feline legs around him as he lay in a pool of blood and gore. As I swung gently to and fro, I looked out of the window. What a lovely day it was. The rain was pouring down from a slate grey sky. A freezing North West wind knocked over wheelie bins and old age pensioners. People ran from car to shop, holding small children over their head to keep from getting wet. The raging gutters were full of crisp packets, cigarette butts, old socks and smiling cadavers who had been washed out of their graves. There was no doubt about it. It was Summer, Summer in Belfast. Ah, Belfast, the last bastion of ignorant, stupid-bastions. I eased myself up on the hangmans rope and croaked. "Imagine Tommy, some fools are sunning themselves in Spain, when they could be at home enjoying the temperate climes of Northern Ireland".
"Fools! cried Tommy, as he tried to staunch the blood by holding the national flag of Burundi to his bleeding ear. All good things must come to an end and at 27 minutes to four I called a halt to the fun. I lay gasping on the floor, looking at Tommy who was getting paler by the moment due to loss of blood. "Tommy old son" I said "We find ourselves in the direst of straits. We need to go to casualty and we need to go-NIGH!" "Shall we go together?" asked Tommy "No!" I said "It would not look good and might frighten the earwigs. Why don't you go first and I will follow". "Why don't YOU go first" yelled Tommy "Why is it always me that has to go first?" "Oh all right" I roared "I will go first, stand back until I get the big 196 page book that tells you how to open the door". "Not so fast!" yelled Tommy "There's something funny going on here, not funny tee-hee, but funny as in GIVE MY HEAD PEACE". "Make up your mind" I yelled "One of us must go to casualty first". "And by the same token" roared Tommy "One of us must go-last" "Listen Tommy" I said "You can run faster than me. Why don't you speed off to casualty, sign in and then run home and get me?" "At last!" yelled Tommy "The voice of reason". I watched as Tommy ate a three course meal, changed into a lovely three piece pin-stripe suit, with white shirt, red tie and Italian shoes and gallop off, post haste to casualty. I whiled away the time until Tommy returned for me, by trying to pull my lips over my head. Once again my attempt ended in failure, it was the ears, it's always the-ears.
"Well, well, well then" said the doctor. What happened here? One of you half hung and the other one with the ear hanging off" "It was a freak gardening accident doctor" I lied. "Ah, very common at this time of the year" said the doctor. "Do you see that pile of amputated legs in the corner? I cut those off only this morning. All the result of strimming accidents" said the doctor "and the funny thing is, all the accidents happened near lupin beds". "How queer" said Tommy. "Two decapitated men were rushed in here" said the doctor. "Both were trimming their hedge, one man at one side of the hedge and the other man at the other. Well blow me down" said the doctor "If they didn't go and cut the head of each other". "Did you patch them up Doc?" asked Tommy "Oh yes" said the doctor, "Nothing to it, a little stitch here, a little stitch there. But the real problem was knowning which head belonged to which man. Only one man was white and the other was black, I would have to resorted to, Eenie, meenie, miney, mo" AS tommy and I skipped out of casualty, we met Tubby Nolan limping in. "Greetings blubber boy" I yelled "What happened to you then?" Tubby groaned and muttered "I had a nasty-freak gardening accident. I was carefully pruning my sweet pea". "A dangerous thing to do, if you don't have a mirror" I said "Hey Tubby!" yelled Tommy "Did you lop off something? Eh? did you lop off something lard boy?" "I did not lop off something" yelled Tubby "I was admiring my handiework, stepped on the spade and got an awful dunt in the hollyhocks". Tommy and I jeered and laughed, as Tubby climbed the steps of casualty, holding the fork of his trousers in both hands. Then a doctor, dressed as a Dalek, grabbed Tubby and yelled, "AMPUTATE, AMPUTATE, AMPUTATE". Some of those foreign doctors have a cracking sense of humor.

Get my poems and Rosie Ryan's letters to Gerry Anderson from..
jpmcmenamin@gmail.com
And visit Rosie at..
www.rosie-ryan.blogspot.com

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