Last week I said that we would be telling you the story about Roger Rhino collecting a rather drunk Buskar Bear from the pub.
However due to unforeseen set construction problems (someone keeps tearing them down)...
"Ahem! Well, maybe if they weren't so poorly constructed, flimsy and inviting." Iona interjected.
Quite.
Anyway, I will instead be telling you a short story about How Reggie the Cat lost his Hat, and then got it back again.
"Why is it called 'Tragic Tails'?" asked Iona "Isn't a tail the thing on the back end of most of my animal friends that I like to grab?"
"Well, in this case it also happens to mean a story too." I said. "Now they're tragic stories because if it hasn't become clear to you yet, they all end rather horribly for at least one of the characters involved."
"And that makes it funny!" clapped Iona.
"To most people, yes."
And with that, here is How Reggie the Cat Lost His Hat, and then Got it Back Again:
Reggie was taking a long walk alone to think about the little thoughts than ran through his head (as was his fashion every afternoon at two o'clock), when he bumped into one of the new friends that had come to live in the Toy Chest.
His name was Sagan Tiberius Tirpitz (which Reggie thought was a lot of funny names for someone who took himself so seriously). Now, most of the friends had just taken to calling him 'Tirpy' for short, which of course, Sagan Tiberius Tirpitz did not appreciate at all.
"When you have three names like that," reasoned Tirpy "People should call you by all three."
Naturally, such a pretentious git wasn't particularly popular. Now, we shall call him 'Tirpy' from here on in, in the interests of brevity.
So, Tirpy was sporting a new pair of boots and a new hat which Reggie felt were in fact not quite so new at all, and in fact, looked distinctly out of place.
"Howdy Pardner!" waved Tirpy.
In fact, the more Reggie thought about it, the more if became evident that the boots and hat were quite familiar to him.
"Like ma new boots and hat?"
The reason the boots and hat were very familiar to Reggie, was in fact because they were Reggie's. It often takes Reggie a little while to push all the little thoughts bouncing about his head back into a quiet corner so he could concentrate on the problem at hand.
"Those are my &@$% boots and hat!"
There we go. We knew he'd sort it out.
"Where'd you %@$ get them?"
"Well," said Tirpy "I just found them laying around. And as I always say," (he was always just saying), "finder keepers, loser weepers."
Tirpy slipped his thumbs into the straps of his dungarees, looking rather pleased with himself and the progress of the discourse.
"Well, that being the case," growled Reggie "and you being such a $%@&, AND that you've left me no $%#& alternative, I'm going to have to tear out your &%$@ throat."
"What?" asked Tirpy.
And with that, Reggie leaped upon Tirpy with lightening speed (in a way that only cats can) and proceeded to tear out the throat of Tirpy.
Now, as Tirpy's larynx and sections of jugular found themselves outside of their normal locations, Tirpy decided that the discourse had not gone quite the way he though it would and was thinking that it should have decidedly lasted longer and ended decidedly better. As was the case though, he didn't have long to think about it and about the time this sentence ends, we find that Tirpy wouldn't be thinking much of anything ever again.
Now that Tirpy had finally stopped moving, Reggie tore off the boots, picked up his hat, put them on and sat upon the face of his fresh kill (there is no greater insult to your victim at least as far as cats think, than placing your arsehole on their faces following a victory). Feeling rather a bit more fetching and very much chuffed with himself, Reggie proceeded to clean his paws.
Justice in the Toy Chest is often swift, and usually very final.
However due to unforeseen set construction problems (someone keeps tearing them down)...
"Ahem! Well, maybe if they weren't so poorly constructed, flimsy and inviting." Iona interjected.
Quite.
Anyway, I will instead be telling you a short story about How Reggie the Cat lost his Hat, and then got it back again.
"Why is it called 'Tragic Tails'?" asked Iona "Isn't a tail the thing on the back end of most of my animal friends that I like to grab?"
"Well, in this case it also happens to mean a story too." I said. "Now they're tragic stories because if it hasn't become clear to you yet, they all end rather horribly for at least one of the characters involved."
"And that makes it funny!" clapped Iona.
"To most people, yes."
And with that, here is How Reggie the Cat Lost His Hat, and then Got it Back Again:
Reggie was taking a long walk alone to think about the little thoughts than ran through his head (as was his fashion every afternoon at two o'clock), when he bumped into one of the new friends that had come to live in the Toy Chest.
His name was Sagan Tiberius Tirpitz (which Reggie thought was a lot of funny names for someone who took himself so seriously). Now, most of the friends had just taken to calling him 'Tirpy' for short, which of course, Sagan Tiberius Tirpitz did not appreciate at all.
"When you have three names like that," reasoned Tirpy "People should call you by all three."
Naturally, such a pretentious git wasn't particularly popular. Now, we shall call him 'Tirpy' from here on in, in the interests of brevity.
So, Tirpy was sporting a new pair of boots and a new hat which Reggie felt were in fact not quite so new at all, and in fact, looked distinctly out of place.
"Howdy Pardner!" waved Tirpy.
In fact, the more Reggie thought about it, the more if became evident that the boots and hat were quite familiar to him.
"Like ma new boots and hat?"
The reason the boots and hat were very familiar to Reggie, was in fact because they were Reggie's. It often takes Reggie a little while to push all the little thoughts bouncing about his head back into a quiet corner so he could concentrate on the problem at hand.
"Those are my &@$% boots and hat!"
There we go. We knew he'd sort it out.
"Where'd you %@$ get them?"
"Well," said Tirpy "I just found them laying around. And as I always say," (he was always just saying), "finder keepers, loser weepers."
Tirpy slipped his thumbs into the straps of his dungarees, looking rather pleased with himself and the progress of the discourse.
"Well, that being the case," growled Reggie "and you being such a $%@&, AND that you've left me no $%#& alternative, I'm going to have to tear out your &%$@ throat."
"What?" asked Tirpy.
And with that, Reggie leaped upon Tirpy with lightening speed (in a way that only cats can) and proceeded to tear out the throat of Tirpy.
Now, as Tirpy's larynx and sections of jugular found themselves outside of their normal locations, Tirpy decided that the discourse had not gone quite the way he though it would and was thinking that it should have decidedly lasted longer and ended decidedly better. As was the case though, he didn't have long to think about it and about the time this sentence ends, we find that Tirpy wouldn't be thinking much of anything ever again.
Now that Tirpy had finally stopped moving, Reggie tore off the boots, picked up his hat, put them on and sat upon the face of his fresh kill (there is no greater insult to your victim at least as far as cats think, than placing your arsehole on their faces following a victory). Feeling rather a bit more fetching and very much chuffed with himself, Reggie proceeded to clean his paws.
Justice in the Toy Chest is often swift, and usually very final.
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