Thursday, 28 January 2010

Thursday 28 January 2010

With a weary sense of inevitability, I raised my eyes skywards.  "Why are you still alive?" I muttered.  The Buzzard cackled.
"Survival of the fittest, my friend." He rasped.
"Survival of the sneakiest, you mean."  I replied sourly, "And I'm NOT your friend."
"Well, now, that isn't very nice, is it?" simpered the Buzzard.  "Can we not let bygones be bygones?  Why don't you like me?"

Where to begin...?

"Because," I barked, "You are an execrable, pox-feathered, disease-addled abomination.  You stalk and prey upon the weak and innocent.  You have no moral compass whatsoever and you have all the wit, charm and scruples of a distended, cancerous rectum.  Plus, you smell revolting."
"Yeah, but apart from that?" persisted the Buzzard.  I could smell that I was wasting my time.
"You have nothing to say to me that I could possibly wish to hear.  Be gone from my sight."  As I said this, I turned and began to walk hastily away.  The foul raptor watched me for a moment or two, and then said:

"The Head Stag's dead."

I stopped walking and turned back.  You may remember my run-ins with this patriarch of the local deer herd from times past.
"When?"
The Buzzard grinned a sickly grin, his eye twinkling.
"Last summer.  He got challenged by a younger buck and lost.  Bit tough - but I ate well for a good few days there, hehehe..."
I shook my head, not wishing to know about any of the Buzzard's sordid misdeeds.  "New chap's pretty handy - but not too experienced.  I think I might fancy my chances with an unattended young fawn this Spring..."

"A-ha!"  I barked.  "And so we come to the point at last.  I'm not helping you.  The only time I would ever want to associate with you is when you are lying, plucked and oven-ready in a roasting tin, with an orange-segment in your mouth and a kumquat up your -"

"Just let me know when you change your mind, that's all." interrupted the Buzzard, taking wing and soaring away across the fields.

The git.

Other matters, equally troubling, have been afflicting my partner and I over the past 24 hours or so.  Yesterday, my partner came home early from work with some kind of vomiting sickness.  It wasn't pleasant.  However, that was merely the beginning.  After several hours of constant nausea and throwing up, my partner must have ruptured something because she started throwing up blood.   Not just spots or streaks of it, either.  Proper blood.  Lots of it.   The bathroom also smelled incredibly like the slab in a butchers' shop.  It was extremely disconcerting.

After a while of this, and having no other recourse (it now being nearly 2.00am), my partner telephoned the helpful NHS Direct service.  They advised an instant removal to the nearest Casualty department.  Alas, my partner could not drive as she felt so ill, and could not afford their next suggestion; a taxi.  They said that they would despatch an ambulance, but my partner begged them not to importune the emergency services, who have enough to deal with.  The nurse on the 'phone then became quite angry with my partner, trying to convince her that she needed to get herself to A&E.  She tried to explain that the only other presence in the house at that time was a Staffordshire Bull Terrier.  Eventually, the chap on the 'phone told my partner that it was up to her and put the 'phone down.  Alone and fearful, my partner decided to seek comfort from the most tried and trusted source.  I snuggled up against her as tightly as I could and let her fall asleep with her arms about me.  And so I ask you - what clearer indication is there that the time has come for me to learn to drive?  I think I'd be quite competent...

Most thankfully, the bleeding seems to have stopped and my partner has not been sick again.  She is sore and exhausted, however, and spent the day laid upon the sofa, wrapped in her warmest blanket.  Having no television, my partner set up some edifying documentaries on Youtube for us to watch whilst she napped.  I feel I have learned all I ever wish to know about Americans weighing half a ton, the sexual appetite of King Henry VIII and the Israel/Palestine conflict.  When my partner seemed to doze off, I attempted to surf Youtube for any clips of bitches on heat, barking mucky stuff.  However, I was always inexplicably detected in this mischief.  I don't know what it is about partners - they always seem to wake up or reappear from nowhere at the precise point when I am about to achieve any nefarious aim.  It simply isn't fair.

Although greatly weakened, my partner is feeling much better.  However, I prescribe some simple, light, wholesome supper (with which I am on paw to assist if my partner cannot manage to finish it) and then an early night.

Sometimes, life can be just that little bit too eventful.  Let us hope for better things tomorrow.  And a Buzzard-free future for us all.


Good night.
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