Vanny recently had a dream about me. Vanny is brilliant. She is a gregarious woman with a gargantuan laugh. Her chuckle can be heard across the office and she will break into a spirited belly laugh at the slightest humours comment, which always makes me feel like a comedy genius whenever I talk to her.
Like Bronte, she makes life worth living and can brighten up any glum afternoon. Because of this I am happy that she spends her nights having bizarre dreams concerning myself and cats.
I bumped into her in the kitchen at work; literally, I spilt my coffee over my shirt. She shook her head and said, “You are a very bad man Nelson.” Taken aback I asked why and she described her dream.
Two domestic cats were having a fight. It was a vicious cat fight with scratches and hissing. Vanny was sat on a three legged stool watching the feline carnage. She discovered that she was unable to move her limbs so that she could rescue these poor pussies from their mutual destruction.
I entered, dressed like Ziggy Stardust era David Bowie. I wore a spangled silver cat suit, a multi-coloured robe and white platform boots. To Vanny I said, “Afternoon young maiden, are you having cat trouble?”
“Please help,” she cried as she was splattered with blood and spittle.
I descended on the cats, shadowing them with my flowing robe. Out of my pocket I produced a handful of catnip, the hairy aromatic minty herb. The two fighting cats stopped as they were strongly attracted to the plant’s aromatic oil. They became totally passive, laying on their backs and meowing merrily, licking their lips, desperate to taste the fragrance of catnip.
Vanny was so relieved that I had saved the two cats. “You are my hero Nelson,” she sang. Then I started battering the two cats with the catnip until they were a pair of unconscious bloody hairy bags. She woke up screaming.
“Sorry Vanny, but it was only a dream,” I protested. “I love cats me.”
She looked unconvinced, “I would never trust you around my pussy Nelson, oh no!”
“Steady on Vanny. Cricky!”
4 Comments
Cricky. That sounds like a come-on to me, Nel. Go get ‘em, tiger!
Two problems:- She’s married and obese. I could never have a relationship with someone who weighs four times more than me.
You didn’t say that when we found that stray donkey on the beach in Great Yarmouth.
Hush man. That’s a secret.