Friday 9 March 2007

George's Fourth Birthday

Time. What is it? Some say it is the continuum of experience in which events pass from the future through the present to the past. Others are completely baffled by that last statement and just use it as a rough guideline in which to boil an egg. Whichever way you look at it (put that egg down a moment would you please?), there comes a time in every little orange man's life when he is in good need of a decent knee's-up, or as the locals like to call it a "birthday" (party).

It was the summer of 1984, beards were at an all time high, hippies were extinct, and Steven Seagal was doing press-ups in my Living Room. George awoke suprisingly early that morning, considering the previous evening's milkshake-fueled bender. He rose from his bed at about 7:05am, rubbing his eyes gently with a yellow flannel given to him by Bill Cosby. His vision was still slightly blurred due to over-tiredness, but he continued to the bathroom with success.

I would like to use this moment to try and explain how magical George's bathroom really is. You see, unlike most bathrooms built in the 14th century, George's contains two toilets covered in purple glitter that face each other and a vortex to an alternate dimensional reality of Skegness. The crazy golf course there is even more insane than usual, where people are forced to use scotch eggs as balls against their own will.

After some "brief relief" in the magical bathroom, George went down to the kitchen where his mother prepared him a "full-english birthday breakfast" consisting of two fried eggs, sausages, three hash-browns, four slices of toast, and a reasonable portion of baked beans. It all went down rather well, even with the struggle of using a knife and fork due to his unique thumb proportions. He even ate the plate, of which was a great suprise to his mother. More suprisingly however was the fact that George had not even been born yet.

This caused much confusion to his mother (Linda). She spent hours, days, months, even years trying to understand how she was a mother eventhough technically she didn't have a son yet. Why did she make him breakfast? How did he manage to eat it? Why did it take four years to realise he didn't exist yet? She thought she would never find the answer, and to be fair how realistic is it that she would be able to find such an answer? Exactly.

In 1990 Linda gave birth to a small, orange boy. She named him "George" and got over the whole situation.

1 comment:

Unknown said...

lol Wow this is great!