Wednesday, December 23, 2009

A Christie Pet Christmas Carol




Dude Where Am I? Presents:
A Christie Pet Christmas Carol



(based on A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens, who is rolling in his grave right now at this adaptation.)

Part I.
Scutch the Butcher Cat was dead, to begin with, for seven years since the birth of the first Christie child. Hell Hound knew he was dead, although every so often a cat tail would hover past the threshold of a room and retreat up the stairs to the second floor, or a sharp-toothed grin would appear in a dark corner. Was it a figment of Hell Hound's imagination? Perhaps it was a clump of undigested grass, or the dirty diaper she snatched from the garbage affecting her stomach.

"Rrr HumRug!" She growled.

"I'll believe in ghosts when dogs can whistle," she barked, smugly.
Besides, what would old Scutch want with me now? She wondered.
In life Hell Hound did not fear the great stray cat that the Christie family saved when they moved in. In fact, he had been her first furry adopted mother, teaching her the ropes of domesticated pet life, Yoda cat style.

"Young Hell Hound," he'd hiss, "The number one goal of your life should always be: GET MEATZ!"

Hell Hound learned this lesson well, becoming a master thief. She took a stuffed toy from a Christie child at least once a week in hopes that MEATZ might be discovered inside it. She helped herself to what was in the garbage pail when she thought no one was watching. She stole the roast beasts for several Christie feasts. This is how she became a Hell Hound, cursed by all Christies, but loved, nonetheless.

Loved so well was this Hell Hound, that the prayer of the littlest Christie of all, Baby Bigfoot, at dinner one evening, sparked angels in pet heaven to take action.

After the family had said prayers full circle, Baby Bigfoot folded his hands and added,

"and no take mine cookies, bad puppy! Amen"

A gust of brisk air ruffled Hell Hound's coat at the sound of the little voice, and she looked up, thinking a steak may have dropped from the table.

Outside, Hell Hound double checked the contents of her secret stash. Two kidnapped stuffed toys, a chewed wallet, an old cell phone and a police badge she found on the lawn were still intact behind a drain pipe near the side of the house.


Scutch appeared suddenly, in full form, and tapped her on the shoulder.




"Hell Hound!" He wailed.





The dog spun around as fast as her chubby body could turn and barked. Upon discovering it was her old mentor, Scutch the Butcher cat, in ghost form, she rolled on her back in submission, whimpering,

"What do you want with me, flea bitten spirit?"

"Meow!" Scutch howled. "In life I was your mentor, Scutch the Butcher cat. I became the toughest stray in the neighborhood, stealing meatz from barbecues in all of these yards. When your lady domesticated me, I did not learn my lesson. I taught you my bad habits when you were an impressionable puppy and now you're a Hell Hound dog! Oh, MEOW!" the specter cat whined.




Hell Hound shivered.




"But, Mr. Butcher, you took me under your wing. You were always good at the business of securing meatz."

Scutch screeched even louder.

"MEATZ! MEATZ? Gratitude is a pet's business! I should not have taught you to steal food and toys from the children. Once I was adopted by your lady I had no need to continue my stray cat ways, and I should have never have passed them to you. There is no rest for me now. I roam this property wishing I could return and change my reputation." the cat cried.

A long chain of missing objects and meat bones appeared and encircled the cat. It wrapped him tightly and lifted him up into the atmosphere, where a multitude of wailing specter cats appeared. Then Scutch spun off into the evening sky, hovering near the Christie windows with a look of longing and regret.

"You will be visited by some pet ghosts. Expect the first tonight. The time has come for puppies to whistle, Hell Hound! Heed my words. If you do not stop stealing food, you will die of obesity," warned the cat, and then he was gone.

"Rrrr Rumbug!" growled Hell Hound. Then she sneezed.

Hell Hound trotted back into the house at the sound of her lady's call. In the den, a frightful sight on the television made her stop in her tracks.









Photo Credits: Not many pics exist of Scutch, so the first cat image is a close look-alike taken from Yahoo Flickr, and the second is from lolcats. There is a real picture of Scutch in my photobucket pictures at the bottom of this blog.
Whistling Puppy @ Yahoo! Video

7 comments:

Putz said...

i can't wait until manday, how can anyone wait for monday?????that puppy was howling

Loren Christie said...

Hello Mr. Putz,
I had a sad morning. I had to put Princess Leah to sleep.

caitysparkles said...

I'm so sorry to hear about Princess Leah. :(

Loren Christie said...

hi Caity. thanks

Daniel said...

oh dear that is sad, so so sorry

Loren Christie said...

Hello Daniel, Thank you for the comment.

Putz said...

the whole tone of my next year 2010 is summed up in my very last post

Dear Internet Traveler,

Welcome to my writer's blog, started about six years ago for fun. Over time, the writing I have posted has ranged from personal reflection, to Long Island history research, to tall tales for my own amusement, to feature articles for local newspapers. As you can see from topics listed here, I travel in many mental directions in regard to interests. Click on the tabs and labels to explore my strange mind which senses that you may be having a criss-cross day. If so, perhaps this blog will distract you. However, please note that if you tell me my blog is beautiful just to get me to advertise rhinoplasty surgery and cheap drugs from Canada in your comment, I will ask the gods to give you a tail that cannot be concealed.

Fondly,

Loren Christie

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