Michael and the Goblin

Discussion in 'The NAAFI Bar' started by polar69, Dec 30, 2009.

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  1. This is a true story, recounted to me at work this festive season.

    Michael had downs syndrome, he was Michael the Mongol. He lived at home with his divorced mother who looked after him and held down a full time job at the local balloon factory. She looked after him when she returned for work each day, after he was dropped off from the day care centre. Recently Michael had been working on a business plan for a window cleaning round ( the crayon made it hard to read ).

    Anyway, Michael's Mums only release was to go out with the ladies club every Saturday night, sometimes returning in the small hours with a sore fanny and a soppy grin with smudged lipstick. Life was ok, it wasn't great, her only son had an extra chromosome for fcuks sake, but it was bearable. Her faith in the little baby Jesus and sloe gin kept her sane.

    This Saturday was the annual Glass Blowers arms party for single mums, it wasn't really for the benefit of the single mums, more for the benefit of the bored middle aged married guys who frequented the snug, hoping for a quick fumble with Fiona or a swift shuftie of Susie. Michael's Mum had left home a couple of hours before leaving him in front of the telly watching the same old vhs tape of Rainbow, Michael felt attracted to Bungle and identified George the one armed homosexual pink hippo as a role model.

    Michaels mum was well into the second hour of the party, having made severe inroads into the last bottle of Advocat her head was beginning to droop slightly and she was getting that nice warm fuzzy feeling. Just then her phone rang.

    It was her mongoloid son.

    "Mummy mummy come home"

    "Mummys at a party Michael, why do I need to come home ?"

    "Mummy mummy there's a goblin and he's attacking me"

    Michaels mum rolled her eyes, a fucking goblin last time it was a monster - that turned out to be a giant stuffed rainbow coloured bear from the local fair. Michael hadn't won it, the man at the stall gave it to him when he went mental because the coconuts wouldn't fall down.

    "Mummys busy Michael, if he's still there in ten minutes I'll come home"

    Michaels mum put her phone away and cast her eyes around the crowded bar, Dodgy John from the bookies was in and either had conjunctivitis or was winking at her from the back entrance. Maybe her luck was in.

    But it wasn't to be, the phone rang again.

    It was Michael, howling down the phone. "Mummy mumy he's attacking me, he's chasing me round the house, help meeeeee"

    With the last "meeeeee" the phone cut off and the line went dead.

    Michaels mum wrote off any chance of a quick Jingle with John and went outside and caught a cab.

    When she arrived at the house everything seemed normal, Michaels bike with the clackers and stabilisers was still propped up by the gate, the telly could be seen from the drive and Rainbow was still on - the tracking was beginning to go bit by bit but you could still make out George and Zippy.

    But inside was pandemonium.

    Crashing noises and bangs came from inside, accompanied by mlaars and shouts of "I've got you Mr Goblin, my mummys coming home just wait and see"

    Michaels Mum threw open the door, and couldn't believe her advocat lubricated eyes.

    The place was a shambles, the lamp stand from the corner had been knocked over and there were coats and wellingtons all over the floor, pictures were askew and a vase had been broken.

    And in the middle of it all was Michael.

    With a dwarf in a headlock.

    "I've got the goblin Mummy, I got it !! !

    Michaels mum uttered those words that no mother ever wants to say.
    "Michael, step away from the dwarf"

    He released the rather disgruntled dwarf.
    The dwarf it turned out had been in the local area, delivering leaflet for a local takeway. He'd taken the job in the hope that he'd gain some respect, rather than selling out like his cousins did and working in santas grotto.

    As it turns out he'll never forget the night he met Michael, and Michael still tells the story of when a goblin came to his house and attacked him.

    True story, I only wish the dwarf had been in fancy dress

    Merry Christmas arrsers

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  4. _Chimurenga_

    _Chimurenga_ LE Gallery Guru

    THOUSANDS OF YEARS AGO, before the dawn of man as we knew him, there was Sir Santa of Claus, an ape-like creature making crude and pointless toys out of dinobones and his own waste, hurling them at chimp-like creatures with crinkled hands regardless of how they behaved the previous year. These so-called "toys" were buried as witches, and defecated upon, and hurled at predators when wakened by the searing grunts of children. It wasn't a holly jolly Christmas that year. For many were killed.

    I'm not finished. YOU should have gotten a snack.

    A war-like race of elves from the Red Planet landed on the ice-encased Earth, and they were immediately enslaved by the unevolved Santa Ape to make his confused toys using galactic elfin technology. Toys were made into recognizable shapes and given names like "train, " but these toys were also thrown at predators and defecated upon because they were so stupid.

    Christmas still sucked, in a big way.
  5. !
  6. What I'd like to know is why nobody these days seem to be able to spell "Michael" properly. I worry about these things.