The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1453 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Simon came up to me and I felt very coy and flirtatious, I kept batting my eyelashes at him, he swept me up in his arms and we adjourned to a nearby room where we made the most magical loved ever experienced–the orgasm nearly blew my head off and I didn’t want it to end.

“You’ll be pregnant now,” he said, "women always are after a screamer."

“Screamer?”

“Yes, the way you were shouting, they probably heard you down at the chip shop.”

“Oh I could just eat some chips, could you get them to put some honey on them?”

“Honey?” he looked strangely at me.

“Yeah, I fancy some honey.”

“Fancying things, eh? I told you, you were pregnant.”

“So, what shall we have this time?”

“A white rabbit, we’ve got the dormouse and the Mad Hatter.”

“Good choice–where’s my chips?”

He left and came back moments later, “They didn’t have any honey, Winnie the Pooh had it all, so I got chocolate sauce instead, with mustard.”

“Lovely,” I licked my lips and wolfed down the chips. I slept for a few minutes and was then sick, vomiting up another baby.

“This is no good, it’s a brown rabbit,” declared Simon shoving it in his pocket.

“That’s because it was chocolate sauce.” I said and we both laughed.

“It was white chocolate,” he said laughing louder.

“So look again,” he put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a white mouse which bit his finger and turned pink. We both laughed, then it bit his finger again and he dropped it and the pink mouse ran out through the open doorway.

“Oh look,” he said, “a door mouse.”

Trish appeared–she was much bigger and presumably older. “I’m off to my interview now, Mummy.”

“Interview?”

“Yes, for the president’s job.”

“President?”

“Yes, Mummy, President of the United States–the salary is pretty good and lasts four years with a good pension scheme afterwards.”

“I thought you had to be American born?”

“No, not since the Chinese bought the franchise from McDonald’s, anyone can do it if they get past the interview.”

“Oh, maybe Daddy should have a try?” I queried.

“No, he was the last one and you can’t do it for more than eight years–don’t you know anything?”

“Apparently not?”

“Where’s Livvie?”

“She’s gone out for a ride.”

“I didn’t think she liked kangaroos?”

“This is a racing kangaroo, carbon fibre pouch–you know?”

“Did Daddy buy it for her?”

“No, she did some begging.”

“Good girl, we all have to earn a living.”

“What’s Mima doing?”

“She’s working as a female impersonator impersonator.”

“Run that past me again, will you?”

“She’s impersonating a female impersonator.”

“Oh, well that’s all right, and Danny?”

“Danny’s gone off, cycling to the moon for the weekend.”

“I hope he took enough water.”

“There’s water on the moon, remember?”

“Yeah, but it might not be any good to wash down the green cheese.”

“I’ll tell him to take some extra, though the pockets in his wet suit are pretty small.”

“Tell him to take a small bottle and his magnifying glass, then before he drinks it he can make it look bigger.”

“Why not get a big bottle and look at it the other way to make it smaller and then he’ll be able to carry it in his pocket.”

“I can see why you got ninety three degrees, Trish.”

“Ninety four, Mummy, I got a PhD in Cow Pats at the University of Slurry.”

“And Catherine?”

“She’s the new Pope, can’t you remember anything?”

“I’d have thought you’d have enjoyed being Pope, Trish?”

“Yeah, but she looks better in a white dress.”

“True, still you could always be an archbishop or something when you finish being president.”

“Nah, not challenging enough.”

“Well Catherine being the first Buddhist female Pope, is quite a challenge.”

“Gotta go, Mummy,” she kissed me on the cheek picked up her violin case into which she loaded some jelly babies and left.

I poured myself another bowl of porridge from the cement mixer and soaked my feet in it then fell asleep.

“It’s going to be alright,” said Simon.

“What is?”

“Damn, I’ve forgotten,” he said and scratched his head.

“You didn’t tell me you were president?”

“You didn’t ask me.”

“I wondered where you went for eight years.”

“I meant to leave a note, but there was no ink in my pencil.”

“Pencils don’t have ink, darling.”

“Ah, that might be why it wouldn’t write then, I couldn’t get the big rounded bit in the ink bottle.”

“Big rounded bit?”

“Here,” he pulled something out of his breast pocket.

“That’s a wooden spoon, darling.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Bugger, I just sent a case of them to the stationery cupboard in the office.”

“Stationery or stationary.”

“Both, it wasn’t moving when last seen.”

“It was stationed, then?”

“I suppose so, look I’ve got to go–help Dad make some more money at Monopoly.”

“What with hotels and things?”

“Nah, photocopier, we can make millions that way if you have the right coloured paper.”

“But that’s only toy money,” I said bemused.

“Yeah, but we own a bank, so the customers believe anything we tell ‘em.”

“Isn’t that a bit illegal?”

“No, the government said everyone is entitled to make some money for themselves, we’re just making rather a lot of it.”

“Oh, don’t be late for dinner then.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t like eating on my own.”

“What’re we having?”

“Roast sloth, once I can get it to the oven, they move so slowly.”

“I’ll be back next month, then.”

“Okay–don’t forget to bring me some more fruit.”

“Fruit–any particular sort?”

“Green berries.”

“Green berries?”

“Yes, like blackberries only green.”

“Why d’you want those?”

“To make phone calls–what d’ya think I wanted them for?”

“Internet?”

“No, I use my slippers for that.”

“Fine, see you next week.”

With Stella as ambassador to Yorkshire being held hostage by white rose growers, I’d have to ask Tom to get me some fresh gravy–the train had stopped running and without more gravy, it wouldn’t be on time to deliver the coal to the dairy. How they squeeze milk out of it, I’ll never know–clever these Japanese–perhaps it’s sushi coal?

God–everything hurt–which had I felt better might well have confirmed I was still alive. I felt hands pulling and pushing me–must be the milkman again–I wish he’d get another horse, pulling his cart is just too much hard work.

“C’mon, Lady Cameron–Cathy–stop struggling–we’re trying to help you.” How absurd, the voices–no one can help me, there’s only one pair of roller skates. “Give her a shot,” I think one of them said–I waited for the gun to sound but it must have had a silencer or something, because all I felt was a little pin prick in my arm.

Next thing, I was floating up towards the sunshine–like lying on a beach without the jelly fish in your crack. Oh wow, I could see the earth beneath me, the blue planet–only it was pink–duh, must be gay pride day–yeah, that would explain it. Oh, I feel sick...