‘Twas the night before Christmas
And all through the house
Not a creature was stirring
Not even a mouse.*
You reckon? You think we have an easy time of it? Look – the message of Christmas is supposed to be ‘good will to all men’, ennit? Don’t say nothing about meesses though, do it? And do you think these yoomans show us good will? It’s alright, I’ll answer that for you. No. They don’t!
How hard would it be to leave out some tasty food for us? No, not cheese. Meesses don’t go much on cheese. That’s an old-wives’ tale. No. Seeds, cereal, maybe some fruit and nuts. You know, the stuff they put in them little packets, only preferably not laced with warfarin!
The only time Christmas is good for us is when the yoomans eat too much and don’t clear up after themselves because they’re too stuffed. While they fall asleep in front of the telly in the evening we can grab whatever they leave lying around. It’s even better if they’ve got young. They spill and drop stuff all over the place and if they don’t have a dog, it stays there until one of the yoomans, usually an adult female, tidy it up.
That’s true – it’s not always the female, but lots of alpha males don’t see that sort of thing as their job.
What time? Night-time is best. Bright lights hurt our eyes and they yoomans can see us easier. After dark we can find – wassat? Are we nocturnal or crepuscular? Look, I can’t spell either of those words so I’ll say we’re both. That’s true, actually. Dusk and dawn are good for us – a little bit of light to see by – but we cope at night.
Yeah, I know it’s daylight now, but I’ve got young kids to feed and they need to eat regular, like yooman kids – well, all young’uns I s’pose.
You bet it’s dangerous. What do you suppose these yoomans would do if they saw me? You don’t know? Okay, I’ll tell you. The good ones would catch me up and let me go somewhere miles from anywhere; miles away from the missus and the kids. The bad ones? I’ve heard they have lots of ways of ‘dealing with’ meesses, and they all end up with yoomans one, meesses nil.
Anyway, I’ve enjoyed our little chat, but I need to grab some food for my brood before I’m spotted.
Oh, and as Tiny Tim said, “A Merry Christmas to us all; God bless us, every one!”**
** Charles Dickens
This was written in response to Kreative Kue 242 published on this site.