Sunday, December 7, 2014

Sir Poops and Hair Ball: Silly Santa Reports and Lucky-Clucky

It's Monday, folks. And I, Silly Santa along with my compadres: Lucky-Clucky, Penguin Phil, and Penelope Polar Bear had set out to search for Randy Riendeer and his whereabouts. But sometimes the best laid plans can go amuck.

So far, we have found absolutely nothing. However, we believe we found the suspect, Hair Ball's  food bowl.

So we searched out into the great unknown for more clues. This is when things began to heat up.

We encountered the suspect. He sniffed and then stared at our compadre, Lucky-Clucky. It made me a nervous-nilly.

"Lucky-Clucky," I said. "Whatever you do. Don't move."

My poor little friend shook, nodding his head. I know he was counting on me.

Everyone else froze.

Before our friend could even let out a cheep that beast knocked him over.

"Put 'em up! Put 'Em up!" Phil did a shadow box dance around the criminal, swinging his fists at him.

"Oh dear! Oh dear!" Penelope Polar Bear shouted.

Without notice, that Hair Ball grabbed up Lucky-Clucky.

His screams pierced my eardrums.

"Don't worry!" I hollered. "We'll save you!"

We climbed a nearby ledge, thinking we'd sneak attack him.

But the monster had Lucky-Clucky between his teeth. We couldn't tell if he was dead or alive. He had suddenly fell silent.
"He's dead. I just know it!" Penelope had a hard time being positive.
Phil crossed his arms. "Shut your pie hole up! Will you?" To me, he said, "Why in the world did you ever think bringing her would help?"
"We don't have time for this," I said. "Lucky-Clucky needs us!"

We were at a loss as to what to do. But we scurried down the ledge and followed Hair Ball into a strange room.   

We did our best to blend in with a bowl of fruit and come up with a plan.

"But I think he's dead," Penelope cried. Her fur cheeks were soaked. "Can't we just go home before we're next? I already know what happened to Randy Reindeer." The poor dear wailed herself into hysterics.

"I told you, we should've left her at Pets Mart." Phil gave me a scowl.

"But she's a fierce polar bear," I said. "She's our best chance."

"Ha! Look at her. She's a blubbering mess," Phil said. He was right. There was only one thing to do.

Hiding in the fruit bowl gave me some time to figure out what we were going to do. We decided since I was Silly Santa that I would be the one to confront the beast.

"Hey!" I stood tall and fearless before the wild beast.

To be continued on Wednesday...


  1. The Wild Beast is a lot bigger than you, Santa! Run! Run for your lives!

  2. Lucky Clucky wasn't so lucky. This may not end well for Santa.

  3. Hi, everyone!

    Thanks for visiting. I really enjoy writing these kinds of blogs. It doesn't take much to entertain me.


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