Digital Ischemia

29/12/2018

The Twelve Days of Twistmas part 5/12

The Christmas song twisted into a series of linked short tales, fabricated around tortuous puns. Begins at part 1.

After yesterday’s excitement, I had silently subsided on to the sofa, fallen into a ninety minute hypnogogic hallucination, and woken with five squares of chocolate smudgily imprinted on my cheek.

This day I was looking forward to a bird-free encounter, at least after my rapidly-becoming-habitual rounds of the advent aviary. It’s not that I’m irritated that my time isn’t my own; I have absolutely nothing else in my schedule. Deliberately. The problem is I’m quite enjoying the game.

My traipsings in and out needed wiped up. I slightly overdosed the floor-mopping detergent. Nicole, Narcisse and Noelle (on day release) became fascinated with the bubbles. I had to physically restrain them from launching in and paddling against all evolutionary directives. I felt like I was dealing with a reverse oil spill. The indignant clucking reached a crescendo.

In the middle of this storm of froth and feathers, a phone rang. I say ‘a’ because I wasn’t aware there was one. By concentrating extremely hard and firmly blotting out the collective umbrage of Nicole, Narcisse and Noelle, I located the ringing to behind a full length curtain, in an upholstered basket, on the back of the front door. Never used it. Apparently there’s a letter box.

Basket found to contain: two colourful leaflets of unmissable offers on biscuits, fizzy pop and bog roll from the village shop (what more could I need?), a hawker’s card advertising roof/drive/tree-meddling (the hut has none of these; its roof is a ‘living sward’ or somesuch; probably not by design, but enough moss has established to enable a proper botanical succession to get going), a considerable amount of fluff, and … and a mobile phone. Ooh.

By the time I’d segregated all these deliveries into appropriate waste streams (what are the constituents of fluff?) the phone’s tootlings had long since subsided. The one missed call was just a meaningless number. I put it on the counter and returned to the foam party just in time to witness Nicole moonwalking at an increasing pace on the bucket’s drainer.

A splash, a fountain of foam, launched one impressively large soap bubble into serene orbit past my nose. My eyes crossed as they irresistibly tried to focus on the looming, shimmering, metallic, curved reflection. The bubble popped, the tiniest soap splash sailed into my eye, and the origin of the rectangular golden reflection hit me: I hadn’t been counting, but I would bet there had been five rings.

The Twelve Days of Twistmas continues at part 6

1 Comment »

  1. […] The Twelve Days of Twistmas continues at part 5… […]

    Pingback by The Twelve Days of Twistmas part 4/12 | Digital Ischemia — 29/12/2018 @ 17:53


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