The adventure continues with our hero currently slip, sliding his away towards an abandoned houses front door. A door that had earlier been the scene of strange going ons. With three men loading a van full of fake Christmas trees.
As I was heading for the front door I somehow managed to do a triple salchow and land perfectly with a little twirl of the hands to add a certain flair to the move. I was rather proud and this and was suddenly aware of clapping.
"Bravo", "splendid move", "really very graceful for such a gangly fellow" called some voices. Another said "Rubbish". Clearly I hadn't managed to get rid of the carol singers but their words of praise were rather pleasing to the ear, apart from the rubbish comment. "Come on we need a lead vocalist for 'Away in a Manger'. Your vocal talents seem to be, how should we say, a little immature. So you rather fit the bill for the classic children's song." one of the carol singers suggested.
"I can't sing! " I explained.
"Exactly, as I said, just what we need, someone with a high pitched voice that doesn't sound very good."
"But I...." Before I could finish I was dragged away by the carol singers and thrown into singing verse two and the finale of 'Away in a Manger'. It soon became apparent they had made a rather bad decision and hurried me through the second verse and drowned me out completely in the final verse. Clearly I would be unable to get myself away until the end of the evening, so the house investigation would have to wait and mince pies beckoned.
After a few more attempts at singing and them drowning me out even more, we arrived at the village hall where mince pies, mulled wine and some lovely nibbles were being served. I ate royally and drank rather a lot of the mulled wine. I ended up having to talk to old Mr Perth, who spoke gibberish for a hour, mainly about his colonic irrigation treatment he was currently having. Also his new hearing aid clearly wasn't working because he couldn't hear a word I was saying in return. Eventually I prised myself away, made my excuses to the carol singers and a little gingerly I headed back towards the house. The mulled wine was clearly going to my head but I was determined to accomplish my mission, whatever state I was in.
When I eventually got back to the house I creeped to the front window and peered inside. In the room was stacked dozens of Christmas trees, and on the floor were balloons, and lights. It all seemed a little strange. I decided to investigate further so went around the back of the house and noticed the back door was slightly open. The mulled wine had really taken effect and I was feeling a little giddy now. Unperturbed I entered what was the kitchen and found that there were more Christmas trees stacked up. All very odd. As I crept through the house it was the same, stacks of fake trees, decorations and balloons. What was that old man up too? As I walked into the living room I was greeted by a squawking voice. I jumped back out of sight, quick enough for whoever it was not to see me.
When I eventually got back to the house I creeped to the front window and peered inside. In the room was stacked dozens of Christmas trees, and on the floor were balloons, and lights. It all seemed a little strange. I decided to investigate further so went around the back of the house and noticed the back door was slightly open. The mulled wine had really taken effect and I was feeling a little giddy now. Unperturbed I entered what was the kitchen and found that there were more Christmas trees stacked up. All very odd. As I crept through the house it was the same, stacks of fake trees, decorations and balloons. What was that old man up too? As I walked into the living room I was greeted by a squawking voice. I jumped back out of sight, quick enough for whoever it was not to see me.
"Who's that?"
Rather hastily I replied "John Wilson."
"John Wilson, John Wilson, John Wilson." They kept repeating.
"Yes that's me. Who's that?"
"John Wilson"
"No I'm John Wilson." This conversation continued for a few minutes until I plucked up the courage to enter the room, mainly because I had had enough and with my head spinning even more from the mulled wine I needed to sit down. When I entered the room there in the corner was a parrot, surrounded by more stacked Christmas trees. Strange kind of guard for a house I thought. Until it hit me. It knows my name! It'll tell Mr Van Winddycke-Schmidt the next time he visited and he'd know who had been snooping. I had to shut it up. I looked around the room. Nothing but the Christmas trees and decorations. Then in the corner I noticed a bunch of what must have been helium filled balloons. I hoped that with enough gas inside it the parrot would eventually be knocked out long enough so that I could remove it and hide it somewhere. So grabbing the balloons I raced across the room got hold of the parrot who was still repeating my name, used its beak to make a hole in the balloons and tried to get the helium down its throat. After a bit of resistance it felt like my plan was working as the parrots voice rose in pitch sharply, however in the ensuing struggle some of the gases must have escaped and my voice also rose in pitch. I started laughing at my now comical voice, as did the parrot. After a brief exchange of pleasantries the parrot seemingly had had quite enough. The gas took effect and it went floppy. It had worked, although my head was in a right state.
I stumbled back into the kitchen. Putting the floppy parrot on the table. I needed to sit down and think of my next move. Noticing a kettle on an old gas stove I thought a cuppa would do me the world of good. I found some matches and a tea bag, filled the kettle and had just lit the gas when the parrot, who had clearly been faking its comatose state started to attack me again, still squeaking in a high pitched voice. I managed to get a hold of one of its wings and in the ensuing struggle the parrot passed over the naked gas flame and suddenly caught alight. It panicked and was flapping manically, flying into a number of the Christmas trees lined against the wall. They too caught fire. The parrot, now in a state of shock and looking for an escape flew into the hallway making sure that more Christmas trees caught fire. What with the gas still going it all added up to a recipe for disaster. With the fire spreading throughout the house and the parrot now in a blind panic I had to get myself out but the smoke and flames hampered my path to the door. The mulled wine and helium hadn't helped my cause and I had no idea what to do, other than snigger occasionally at my continued high pitched, panicky voice.
Could I get out? Would I become as burnt as the helium filled and slightly overcooked parrot? Had I sung my last Christmas carol? (Well probably yes but that's not the point.)
Could I get out? Would I become as burnt as the helium filled and slightly overcooked parrot? Had I sung my last Christmas carol? (Well probably yes but that's not the point.)
Find out in the final part of The Christmas Special - "I Saw Three Trunks Go Driving By" next week.
Authors note: No real parrots were harmed in the making of this story. Also can you guess the ending? Please leave your comments as I'd love to know what you think.
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