Saturday, 4 September 2010

The Monster that Swallowed a Hairball

I started off yesterday morning by beginning to work on story for Tricia Ander’s The Monster that Swallowed a Hairball Giveaway and finished it tonight (complete with run-on sentences - but as I haven't written anything short and eperimental for a while I hope I can be forgiven).

Check the monster out – I think he’s adorable but I think my story might be getting a teensy bit too cutesy. But I think that’s me all over – I take after my Nana too much.

The hairball immediately made me think of my brother’s old girlfriend who had a crazy number of furball pets.

It’s been quite a while now since I last wrote a short story but I had so much fun with it. It reminded me of all the little bits of detail I like to put into stories that I completely forgot about whilst working on editing my novel-length story.

At the last count Lucy owned 7 rabbits (2 angora, 1 English giant, 3 dwarves and an American fuzzy lop), 8 dust bunnies (of varying sizes and countenances), 3 guinea pigs (2 of which were long-haired and regularly needed bathing and brushing), 9 cats (3 Persians, 2 Siamese, 1 tortoiseshell, 2 tabby cats and a ginger tom), 11 white mice and 2 puppies (pugs of course).

Lucy would sweep her tiny cottage from noon until twilight and still she would sneeze from the wisps of fur tickling her nostrils.

She would spend the rest of her time in the garden whilst the rabbits nibbled grass with the guinea pigs (fighting over the dandelions - whose heads would grow enormous and yellow like the sun and later make the most amount of seeds which would add to the fur balls in the cottage), the cats would stalk imaginary foe along the weedy flowerbeds, the white mice would nest in Lucy’s hair and the puppies would roll around the long grass, making grass pugs (like snow angels but with less snow and more pug) and scratching their backs on tree roots.

The monster arrived one evening when Lucy’s sweeping duties were over. Her broom had swept so much it was close to spontaneously combusting from the friction of its bristles on the William Morris tiles that Grandma Flowerpot had laid in place throughout the cottage (she had been an avid gardener and “Flowerpot” was an easier name to say than “Grandma Eustacia Eulalia Eugenia” which was her name).

“Oh!” Lucy was surprised by her uninvited guest who at first she had mistaken for a piece of fudge brownie (the kind that has extra large chocolate chips and icing sugar) that she hadn’t swept up.

The monster’s tummy grumbled with the strength of thunder on a hot summer afternoon, scaring away 5 of the cats and 3 of the rabbits which had been sniffing at him.

He put his hand on his belly and the bits that Lucy thought were his cheeks flamed a cherry colour.

“Oh dear,” said Lucy. “What do you eat?”

“Marf!” he said, which Lucy rightly took to mean that he ate fur-balls.

“Excellent,” she said and the very next day he was put to work eating the fluff balls that were whipped up by Lucy’s broom.

Lucy’s cottage was swept clear in no time at all and she could greatly reduce the budget she set aside for the shea butter quilted toilet tissue that she used to wipe her nose after every violent sneezing session.

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