MUNCHIE ALARM
THE MUNCHIE IS a light-hearted jovial creature, that has an uncanny ability, even in the depths of deep dark depression, to make most folk smile. It does this, simply by being its usual silly, bouncy self with the look of an angel sculptured on its features and the defiance in its eyes that could probably make even the good lord above a bit cross!
Anyone who’s ever met it could testify to this…if they could get close enough to the house to voice their opinion. Why am I meandering? Well truth be told, I’m getting to the point round about now.
Just thought I’d praise the furry lump for a change, instead of complaining about it.
SPLISH SPLASH I was having a bath – yes we still have one. Wallowing, as I was in the wondrous aromatic smells of warm amber bath goo, I failed to hear the throaty choking sound of the Munchie yelling at the top of its voice.
This is not its usual modus operandi, definitely not. I knew there was trouble. Dripping, I rang my parents who said all was well with them. Then I rang the other neighbour, who I was rather surprised hadn’t rung me to complain, in his wonderful French, that the Munchie “Fait wowwow”
YES IT’S A recognised nuisance even among the French and German speaking communities. No one is safe. It’s a multicultural Munchie, no group need feel marginalised everyone is treated equally.
THIS WAS INDEED strange. It was then I discovered that the third set of neighbours had been burgled. Various reconnaissance missions were undertaken, but no clues were uncovered and all this to the continued alarm call of the Munchie who choked its way through at least another hour of alarm raising. When it finally banged on the door to come in it looked exhausted, but delighted with its efforts and promptly went to bed.
At this point I think I ought to mention a night six weeks or so ago, when my youngest son and I came home, after a great evening out, to find our house had been forcibly entered and left looking like the aftermath of Simpson’s of Piccadilly Sale – my sister will know what I mean.
Apart from the sense of complete impotence you feel, there’s nothing you can do to change the past, and getting right back to the job of smiling and trying damn hard not worry every time you go out, is in fact the only thing you can do.
I can hear you all asking, if I got robbed where was the Munchie? Round at mum n dad’s in front of the fire, but the moment it heard, smelt or felt something was not quite right it was out of their house rather quickly.
Unfortunately Dad thought the Munchie was cat chasing, one of its usual pastimes, but he was wrong! So now, the Munchie makes a point of going on and on and on to clearly state that all is not well with our little corner of the mountain. At this point I thought this article was complete, but the Munchie had other ideas.
Our friends came round for lunch. We were all in the dining room relaxing, chatting and eating, when the Munchie set up in opposition yet again. I looked out of the window to see our friend’s six month old puppy St Bernard sinking rather expertly beneath the green ooze in the pool.
THE MUNCHIE WAS still squawking like a demented violin while we, stomachs full and wobbling, were running to the rescue. One of my friends, seeing the panic on the young St Bernard’s face, climbed in to the freezing, green wetness as if she were taking a stroll in the park.
The St Bernard, Napoleon by name, who usually weighs about fifty kilos on dry land, was now extreeemely heavy. Did the Munchie stop its screeching? NO!
It treated the puppy to a continuous barrage of abuse for another five minutes, just to ensure he understood that the Munchie was not amused.
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