Saturday, October 9, 2010

Buzzing from Offspring: The *Badger* Incident

There's no introduction to this that will do it justice...Kate and Lydia happily give you -- Offspring #1...


Dear Kate, Lydia and assorted other humans. Well, I assume they’re mostly human. Although you shouldn’t assume, so…

Dear Kate, Lydia and other people,

So, about this here badger incident. NO BADGERS WERE HARMED IN THE MAKING OF THIS INCIDENT. They may have accidentally been maligned and their good image tarnished by er… me, but if you happen to be a badger or know a badger or are planning to take over the world at the time, can you please remember I was actually about twelve at the time and therefore in no way responsible for my actions. Can I also apply that logic to what I will refer to as A Mild Debacle (LOVE. THAT. WORD.) that happened yesterday? Please? I’m twelve on the inside really! Well, ten then. Or six. OK, THREE, but in my defence I’m me. I am incapable of acting my age! Or my shoe size, actually, which is also mildly bigger than I am. Two years. And also not the same everywhere, which can lead to some fun shopping trips – literally.

If I were to ever visit Kate (whoa, that implies they’d let me into the country! Seriously, I’d be deported pretty much before I set a foot on The Great Soil Of Americaland, or tarmac or whatever it is they have in airports) she would have no need to fear for the safety of her shoe collection because my feet FAIL at shoes. They are oddly shaped, apparently! I dunno about clogs though, so Lydia might want to lock up her feet—WAIT SHOES SORRY TYPOCITY.

Although, Lydia, if you do choose to lock up your feet I recommend you are on something with wheels, like a very comfy office chair with a built in T-box dispenser and maybe a forcefield? OOH! AND it could be suspended in one of those things you can use for zorbing! Actually, can I have this thing instead? All I’d need to do would be to have chocolate milk instead of T-boxes and I’d be happy for life!

I feel this is a good point to mention that yesterday a concerned adult took me aside and warned me alllll about the dangers of LSD. (this wasn’t the debacle, by the way, this happened before the debacle, but anyway,) I cannot imagine how they got that idea, (also I wouldn’t know where to get LSD unless they had it next to the sherbet in Tesco’s) (just thought I’d stick that in there…) (not that there aren’t people who keep threatening to hunt some up just to see if I can surpass this level of random or whatever. I’m fairly sure they’re joking.) (not that you ever really know with my friends) I was just commenting on how the fairy lights in the classroom were really pretty, and the grass was springy! So using it as a trampoline maybe wasn’t one of my brighter ideas (YAY MUD!) it took me a while to convince them that my drug of choice is sugar (No, not a new-fangled euphemism, miss. Really. Sugar. Want a wine gum?) preferably in the form of sweets, especially red ones. The red ones are the best, and I don’t care if they colour it with bugs!

I mean, who hasn’t eaten bugs? Or mud. Or tried to work out what electricity tastes like? OK, maybe the last one was just me, but it should have tasted if SPARKLES! I’ll tell you what else tastes of sparkles. Boiled sweets, which I am told you do not HAVE in Americaland, and trust me, I understand now why coffee.

I might not like coffee, but caffeine itself is fun! Fun and BUZZY! Bzzzzzzzzzzzz do you ever wonder if bees will get bored of honey and decide to make jam instead? The bees are disappearing because they’re trying to make Jam now and they have to make the long and Dangerous journey to the land of the panda first. It’s like if you want to be able to make grass because you have cows or are having a cow or whatever, you need to first travel to the Goldilocks Planet they’ve found (which by the way is SO COOL! Life! Out there! In space! WE might discover time lords! THE DOCTOR COULD BE REAL. Why we’re not hanging out the welcome banners I do not know. HEY, how many times do you think they’d ask if they were nearly there yet?

Oops. INCIDENT. OK, so I have this friend who I will call The Animal-Fanimal, (going to be a vet! I know, she’s terrifying. She gets grades and everything.) who has been my friend since preschool, and we would have sleepovers pretty regularly mainly due to the fact we didn’t go to the same school at any point except preschool and NOW (which is awesome, even if we are in none of the same classes and hardly see each other in school, but it’s still OK WOW after YEARS of not!) and at these sleepovers we would do what kids do – eat too many sweets, almost destroy the house, stay up chatting till three in the am, annoy our parents by being as grumpy as all-get-out the next day, you know, all that jazz – and at this particular one we were both twelve. oh, and it was a dark and stormy night. RAIN WAS BATTERING THE HOUSE! Seeing as we live in IngerlandIngerland, a country renowned for its sogginess this shouldn’t have been any kind of problem. And The A-F’s parents decide to leave me and her alone for a short time while they go and get an adult beverage at the pub down the road (and probably steel themselves to deal with two hyped up teenage girls neither of whom (I SAID WHOM!!) is sleepy due to the consumption of roughly eight litres of cola. And about a truckload of gummy bears and celebrations. OK, so we felt sick and we were bouncing off the walls. In case you’re wondering, no, this situation still occurs.) (Amusingly, kids sometimes take the attitude to being hyper as adults do to being drunk. Except without the hangover. Well… the same kind of hangover…. *ahem* ANYWAY!) and so we’re leaping about, breaking priceless heirlooms and what not (I kid… mostly) when we hear a CREEEEEEEEEEEEEEPY SOUND. And we both stop dead, despite the action of huge amounts of caffeine and also sugar. “Offspring…” says the A-F to me, suddenly looking a little bit pale.

So we stare at each other. And we come to the same conclusion. That our lives are in imminent danger. So, armed with The Complete Oxford English Dictionary, and a large metal bowl – dual purpose, you can whack a TERRIFYING MURDERER around the head with it and if one of us actually threw up, we would not need to brave the horrors of the bathroom which was ALL THE WAY DOWNSTAIRS.
“It might just be a… badger?” The A-F stared at me some more.

“Badgers can be dangerous…. They can have RABIES or or or… I bet they can kill with their TEETH…” We both have the same visions of a massive red-eyed badger, on it’s hind legs maybe with a car crushed like a can in it’s paw. Maybe snuffling twenty times louder than any other badger. And MENACINGLY.

We barricade ourselves in The A-F’s room, imagining the horrific menacing sniffle (Well, badgers don’t roar, they just have to make do…) and clinging to each other and our respective weapons. And we hear the front door creak open. And we can practically see that ominous black-and-white striped head slamming through the door, ripping us to shreds and we both screamed so loud a nearby neighbour felt it necessary to fling open a window and demand to know if we were being dismembered.

AND THEN (Yes, it goes on. SORRY.) We decided the best plan of action might be to fling open our window and scream “IT’S A BADGER!!!” before realising exactly what that sounded like. Just as the A-F’s parents manage to shift the chair away from the back of the door, walk in to find their daughter and me brandishing a large book and a mixing bowl and ask what, for the love of Maude, is going on.

And what’s the only thing me and The A-F manage to explain? That we thought they were a badger.

And they’re all, oh yes… explains the terrified screaming. And probably considered popping out for a second adult beverage, simply to deal with the shock. In my defence, we are both a wee bit terrified. And I used the word WHOM up there, people. WHOM!! I might even have used it RIGHT.

I apologise for any damage that may have come to your home or someone else’s home or… anywhere as a result of reading this and your children MAY now have their head, or foot, or some other part of their anatomy, wedged inside a vase and are stuck, and if that happens, seriously, go to A and E, or whatever you have in your land where you are that is SIMILAR. ER! That’s it. I like ER on the telly, it made me laugh. Alternatively, smash said vase, but mind the kid. Just a little… advice, you didn’t need there!

Offspring #1

P.S Sorry it’s later than I said, there was a debacle.
P.P.S Anyone want to see my bruise?
P.P.P.S Sorry about the whole... not-short thing!

 (c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2010

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