THEN THE FLOOR COLLAPSED AND I WAS LEFT HANGING ONTO THE CHAIN!!!

I was standing vacantly staring out of the window, at a 12 stone Icelandic dwarf, who was standing on a crate of various woodland creatures, staring vacantly back at me.
I gave him the fingers. "Ah, Bird's Eye!" he screamed ebulliently and went on his merry, but if I'm any judge of Icelandic dwarfs,-sad and pathetic way.
Suddenly, I heard a dragging sound. I focused my twin occulars and beheld-Tommy, my little Tommy, my feline friend and bridge partner. Tommy was dragging a large brass bound chest up the street. Seeing no female attached to the said chest, I instructed my lungs to utter a sigh of relief and ran to the door, making full use of knees, ankles and feet. If you've got them,why not use them, I always say.
"TOMMY!" I screamed, "What treasure is concealed, contained and hidden in that brass bound chest?"
Tommy fixed his slitted, yellow eyes on me and said, "Aar Jim lad, this be a heavy chest. Don't stand there like a landlubber, avast-aye-avast may hearties, shiver me timbers and stone the crows, come forwa'rd and give me a hand."
I gave a funny high-pitched-yelp,skipped into the house like Giant Haystacks, grabbed the hand I found in the graveyard and helped Tommy drag the large chest into the house.
"Thanks for the hand," said Tommy, as he combed his perspirating Elvis quiff with it.
"Don't thank me." I said "Thank Ricky McGutts, born 1890 died 1959 and sorely missed by wife and grieving family."."I'll take him some flowers," said Tommy "And if the florist isn't open, I'll take him a fish supper. I wonder did he take salt and vinegar?"
"TOMMY!" I screamed, "TOMMY, what's in the chest? And where did you get it?"
"I got it at an auction." said Tommy with pride in his voice. Knowing full well, that pride came before a fall, I threw myself down the stairs, just so we could get the whole thing out of the way.
I was so excited, I clapped my hands, barked like a seal and danced a horn-pipe on the
mantlepiece. "You'll never guess what's in the chest." laughed Tommy,=. "Go on, have a guess."
"Oh, I don't know!" I screamed. "It could be anything, is it--a smaller chest for keeping things in?" "NO!." yelled Tommy and he threw back the lid....."Buttons?" I whispered.
"Not just buttons" crowed Tommy "BRASS-buttons, 509 brass buttons."
To say I was-speechless, would be quite correct. "Tommy!" I wailed, "Why did you spend your
whip-lash compensation money on-509 brass buttons?"
"Elementary my dear rat bag." said Tommy "You never know when someone might give me a-blazer."
Suddenly the scales fell from my eyes. I could see. I was reminded of the old adage,then my attention deficit kicked in and I thought of an old saying instead.
"For want of a horse, a nail was lost, for want of a shoe, a dog got tossed."
Tommy had been thinking ahead, thinking outside the box. The lad was as crafty as a fox. I know a little cat who won't be without a brass button for Rememberance Sunday, or picnics to the Somme. I ran out, bought a hat, ran back and took it off to Tommy.
509 brass buttons, why can something wonderful like that, not happen to me???
Steven Nolan and I were lying in a long lane with no turning,in a nest of chocolate bar wrappings. I looked at Steven in awe, the firm jaws, the steely blue eyes, the tide mark of chocolate around his rose-bud lips. The way his marrow-bone white gansy went up and down, with every wheezing breath. The vast acreage of his trousers, the stout zip, securly fastened with a combination lock. So this was-MAN, this was what God created, when he lifted two large handfuls of muck and clabber. This was the pinnacle of God's work. It didn't get any better than this. The marvel of nature, broke wind, threshed around in the grass until he could sit up and whispered in my wax dripping ear.
"Hey, honey bun, want to see my life time achievement?"
It's always the same, you wait and wait, then when it's there before you--I felt-well-cheated. I thought it would be larger, with a logo maybe.
But a girl's got to take what she can these days, with the high cost of fuel and the bustle threatening to make a come back.

NOW-wait, wait, not yet, now, go to.....
www. rosie-ryan.blogspot.com Where Rosie is just about to put the kettle on.