Sir Poops and Hair Ball: Randy Reindeer's Christmas Wish

Hi, my name is Randy Reindeer. And I have problem.

As you can see, I've lost my nose, my antlers, and the top of my hat. And the heels to my shoes.

You see, this really nice lady picked me out of bin of a million other squeaky toys to go home with her.

I was so excited because sharing a bin with a million others gets pretty tight. Not to mention, all the ga-zillion germy hands that handle me. Why the other day some little boy coughed all over me and used my hat to pick his nose. What's wrong with parents these days? Don't they teach their children any manners?

Anyway, I felt as if this lady was my savior. She told me that I would make a new friend and that he would love me. I was so happy to here that. It had been a long time since someone actually loved me. The last time was when I had to go through quality check on the assembly line. I believe her name was Amanda. She had twinkly eyes and a nice smile.

(If you're reading this Amanda...I...think ...I love you and miss you terribly. Take me back. Please. Life has been horrible without you.)

Guess I'm getting off track again. Sorry. So the nice lady, Mummsy...that's what they call her, brought me home.

Once we were inside, I heard her call, "Hair Ball! I brought you someone special!"

Rapidly clicking nails, skittered toward the bag I anxiously waited in next to a bag of Paul Newman Peanut Butter Dog Treats(I was so hoping that whoever this Hair Ball was, he or she would share some with me-they smelled delicious). Sorry, I need to stay on track. Thoughts of cookies make me a bit unfocused, you  know. They don't feed you in the bin.

Okay. So the next thing I hear is heavy breathing and something starts poking at the bag with something blunt.  And then Mummsy says, "Did you find your friend, yet?"

Not longer after, something sharp but wet grabs me up. I did my best to glance around at my surroundings. "Aaaaaaa!" I screamed. A large set of fangs had me.

The next thing I knew, this thing threw me up into the air. "Whoa! Mummsy help me!" And then I landed with a plunk and a squeak. 

Within seconds, this giant apricot-colored monster began shoving me with his gi-normous snout. "Aaaaaaaa!" I glanced only for a moment over my tiny shoulder. Hot breath blew into my face, and the creature's fangs dripped with saliva. 

After, he scarfed me up into his mouth again. Then, he walked us under a table and it was there...he...(sniffles and sobs) bit into my antlers and tore each one off. All the while this Mummsy person says, "I'm so happy you like your new friend."

Torture is the sign of friendship? Is this what Christmas and sharing and giving is?

I'm so confused and at a lost right now. If it weren't for the white giant monster, named Sir Poops, I would have been torn  into bits. He says, "Hair Ball has no manners and is stupid." Anyway, this guy has been keeping me safe since Hair Ball ate my nose, my hat, and the back of my shoes. 

Sure hope Santa brings me new ones.

Saturdays with Sir Poops-A-Lot: Waking Up Late

SPAL: Mummsy woke up real late this morning. It’s not like her to do that.

HB: Yeah. She’s up by 5:30-6 am. She didn’t get us outside until about 9 this morning. What’s up with that?

SPAL: Well, Tuesday on her other day off she had a hard time getting up and going. She didn’t get up as late like she did today.

HB: She even watched an hour of a movie this morning and now she’s watching The Great Muppet Caper.

SPAL: Miss Piggy and Kermit are trying to act like Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. That’s really strange to see.

HB: Looks more like someone’s trying to swoon Miss Piggy away from Kermit to me.

SPAL: You’re sooo stupid.

HB: You’re suuuuch a pansy!

SPAL: Whatever.***he shakes his head***How are we going to help Mummsy today. She doesn’t want to get out of bed. She’s got writing and editing to do for herself and others today.

HB: But I like it when she hangs out in bed. It’s the best thing ever. Just lying around. Sleeping. Sniffing. Sleeping some more. Watching T.V. Sleep some more. Sniff some more. And repeat.

SPAL: But Mummsy’s got a lot to do today and we have to help her. Remember she’s got laundry, cleaning, and grocery shopping to do, too.

HB: What’s more important than lounging around in a nice fluffy bed all day. It’s her day off.

SPAL: But it’s a beautiful day out.  The sky is blue. Birds are flying.

HB: Which reminds me. Where’s breakfast?

SPAL: You missed it. I was starving and couldn’t help myself. I mean you were lounging around upstairs with Mummsy. So I helped myself to your bowl and mine.

HB: I’ll let you get away with it this time but the next time I’ll bite your butt and steal all your treats. And at night, I’ll head butt you off No-No’s bed.

SPAL: Whatever, stupid. We still need to figure out how to make Mummsy feel better.

HB: You sure you want to do that?

SPAL: Why do you say that?

HB: I hear she plans on putting you into the Great White Watery Abyss of Torture today.

SPAL: Really?

HB: Yeah. Really.

SPAL: ***swallows a lump*** and cowers into a corner.

HB: You’re such a pansy. ****he belly laughs***

SPAL: You’re stupid. Taking delight in another’s demise. How could you be so insensitive?

HB: It’s a form of brotherly love. If I were you, I’d beg No-No to hide you out in her room somewhere. There’s lots of great piles and stuff to hide in. ***he walks away, smirking***

SPAL: Where are you going? You have to help me! SAVE ME!

HB: Not in your life, pansy-boy. You’d do yourself a favor if you kept Mummsy in bed. That’s where I’m going. Where it’s cozy and safe and I can dream about your torture.

SPAL: But---

HB: ***continues to walk the other direction***

The Great White Watery Abyss of Torture: Sir Poops-A-Lot

I must write this before mummsy and daddy-o awake from their slumber. And, my little brother comes galloping down the stairs. He ruins everything. Stupid little hair ball. Don’t know why mummsy insisted in bringing him home for me.

Anyway, onto my story.

Monday, I was sitting on my favorite chair besides mummsy. She was typing away on her keyboards muttering to herself as usual. Every now and then she’d look at me and ask my opinion on something. I’m the smartest between me and the hair ball. One can’t be too intelligent when they roll in dirt and eat mummsy’s panties. The little creature has no taste in fine cuisine.

Back to Monday. I proceeded to answer mummsy’s question. I speak telepathic, you know. She must’ve been happy with my answer because she scooped me up into her arms and kissed the top of my head ( I like it when she does that ). After a few kisses, her sniffer got stuck on the top my head. “You smell like a dirty sock hamper,” she said.

The dirty part insulted me so I wiggled myself free from her arms and went immediately to my house. Socks? Hamper? I love those things. They smell delicious. Dirty, I’m not. Cute and fluffy, I am. Hmmf…

“You need a bath,” she said.

I left my house after I heard those horrible words and retreated to the dining room, then to the living room, and then to No-No’s room looking for a safe place to hide. By then, my bones shook. They rattle loud. I thought about using the toity but that’s where the great white abyss of watery torture abides. It’s mouth is always open, waiting for me.

The little hair ball laughed at me. Torture him, I thought. He’s the dirty little beast. Not me.

After a good thirty minutes of running and hiding, mummsy caught up with me.

Hair ball laughed again and called out, “Pansy-carrot-eater!”  What’s wrong with carrots? They’re good for you, and I love them. He’s a beast, I tell you. A  little beast.  Don’t know why mummsy brought him home for me.

She picked me up and did one of those ‘ha-ha-ha’ and ‘I’ve got you now, my little pretty’. I hate that when she does this. It makes me shake more.

When we got into the room of torture, she closed the door. It sealed my fate. No way out after that.

After, she set me on the floor and grabbed my brush. Now this, I like. Especially on my belly, I melt into the floor, loosing all control to this wonderful instrument. I could lay there all day and let those sensuous bristles pull at my hairs. It gives me chills when I think about it. But at the same time it’s terrible. It’s deceptive, making me think all will be well, putting me into a state of ecstasy only to be dropped into a pit of watery torture. It’s like the last meal before you’re executed.

Once I’m inside that thing, she chains me to it. Dumps water on my cute little head. Scrubs my face with some white soapy thing and pulls at the hairs around my eyes. Next, she pulls out a blue bottle of smelly stuff that reads: Essential Oils. She squirts it all over me and scrubs me with this brush-thing. All the while telling me,’you’re going to be so pretty and smell so good’. I beg to differ. Socks and hampers smell delicious. This stuff smells like ‘bug spray’.

After, she soaps me up, hhis thing from above spits out water. It pelts my entire body. Water every where. It runs down me. Into my eyes. My mouth. My nose. I cry for help but she ignores me.

Is this what they call water-boarding? Watched a special on T.V. one night while daddy-o and I munched on pretzels. This is against all living things.

What do you think? Should I start a petition against what mummsy calls a bath?

Very Truly Yours,

Sir Poops-A-Lot