A Winter’s Tail

 

Pt VII

The Most Wooferful Time of the Year

 

‘Twas the night before Christmas, a night long and dark,

A night for good cheer, a night for good bark.

 

Ice had been up all night, he couldn’t sleep an minute, had been planning the way to make all his wrongs right.  For Tag, the ducks who are now dead, Stinky, Bobby, and countless others, it was going to need a big effort.

 

He was prepared commando style, cock over, blacked-out,  armed up four fathers with a lifetime’s worth of guile, he hid outside the pound, waiting for his moment.  The guard was still writing his blog so he slipped in.

 

Once inside, Ice ran up to the cages and set about flicking the latches open as fast as he could.

 

“Stinky, run!… Bobby, run!  No time to explain!  Run dogs run, one and all run!”

 

He flicked them all open he did, flung the cages ajar, wide open, joyous wide open, Ice bounced down the hall, til every cage was open, bar one.   Ice approached Tag’s cage, the last one in the pound.

 

“I’m sorry Tag… no time to explain… run!”

 

Tag looked shocked, but the energy of thirty dogs bounding down the hall dragged him out of his fog, and he upped and ran with them all, tongue and tail wagging a hundred wags, he could taste the air, it tasted free.

 

They ran out the room and easily dodged the fat security guard again – he had grown bulbous from writing his blog too much and not getting out and patrolling his rounds.  It is dangerous stuff, writing a blog.

 

The dogs all jumped over the low security barrier except for Stinky who ran under it.  They packed down the street, the empty Christmas Eve streets, until one of them stopped and asked the immortal question, the question that makes a mockery of all our plans:

 

“Now what?”

 

But Ice had that covered.

 

“To the zoo!”

 

The dogs hurtled towards the zoo and broke in by tunneling under the perimeter fence.  One of the elephants in the zoo had recently committed suicide, and so Ice broke in to the enclosure and set out about recovering the bones, the biggest, juiciest bones imaginable, that was his plan.

 

“This ones for Tag” he said, as he passed him the biggest bone ever seen by a dog.

 

“Wow, thanks Ice!”

 

“You’re welcome.  I’m sorry about everything before.  I didn’t realise what I was doing.”

 

Later on that night Tag gave Jennifer the bone, and yes, she was happy, she was very happy, oh indeed she was happy.  She loved it.  And then she realised, she quite liked Tag too.

 

Tag then went back to see his owner Dave, who was over-whelmed to see him again, and Dave’s girlfriend – who was staying over that Christmas Eve – started crying with happiness.

 

“But what’s this?” said Dave.  ”You’ve brought a friend along?”

 

Ice came out of the shadows onto the doorstep and wagged his tail extremely hard, and held his tongue out as far as it would go, and then Tag went and stood next to him and also wagged as hard as he could, wagged so hard he was worried his tail would fall off.

 

“Does he have a collar?” said Dave.

 

“No… he must be homeless… poor thing” said Dave’s girlfriend.  ”Well I suppose… I don’t have a dog anymore… I could take care of him!”

 

Ice was so happy he did a backflip, it was quite impressive.  And so Ice and Tag, Dave and Dave’s girlfriend came in off the porch and enjoyed Christmas together.  It was then that the blue ghostly specters of the ducks of Christmas screw-ups appeared, they watched the scene and they were happy.  They were no-longer screw-ups, they had saved Christmas, and now that they were dead they could come back as proper ghosts with proper festive powers, and it would be their destiny to save Christmas each year, just like in the fairytales.  And lo, everyone was happy.

 

The End.

 

Musically, going out with a bang:

 

JB!  Go Power!

 

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Ray Charles, lovely:

 

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One of my favourites, King Stitt aka The Ugly One – for some nice nice nice dancehall:

 

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Tag’s own song:

 

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And if you want some proper storytelling – I hand it over to Antonio Fargas, aka Huggy Bear from Starsky and Hutch, for this Christmas Eve boogie burner:

 

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I’m signing off.  Thanks to everyone’s comments, it’s been fun.  I’ve just watched my favourite Christmas film, Bad Santa, and am now tucking up to bed to enjoy Chrimbo eve + the day itself.  I’ve quite enjoyed these writings so I’ll be starting some sort of endeavor in the new year.   Merry Christmas everyone!

 

James. x

 

p.s. I couldn’t help it – here’s one for the new year.  Seriously, dangerously funky, an unknown funk band called Black On White Affair from mid 70s.  Brilliant.  Roll on 2012:

 

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A Winter’s Tail

 

Pt VI

I Saw Three Ducks Come Floating By

 

 

It was two nights before Christmas and somewhere in Town, Ice the dog awoke with a frown.

 

Trying to forget to events of the past few days, he wandered off into the shopping district to see what was going on.

 

He mingled down the Christmas market, smelling all the chestnuts and mulled wine and bottoms – it’s beginning to smell a lot like Christmas, he thought.  A department store Santa was hohoho-ing his heart out, trying to sell dreadful perfume.  Fake bells hanged everywhere, electric candles burnt, and many Grandmas stood solid, failing to work out what the hell this computer game was that their grandson wanted.  It was Christmas, and music danced in the air.

 

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But then, out from behind the bins stepped the third duck.  Ice saw him straight away and froze.

 

“Duck of Christmas screw-ups yet to happen, it is you I have feared the most” said Ice.

 

The duck was silent, just looked at him quizzically.

 

“What are you going to show me?”

 

The duck remained mute.

 

“Speak, duck!  I’m sorry your friend died.”

 

The duck just looked deep into Ice.

 

“Well I’m sorry.  Please duck, show me what you are going to show me!”

 

The duck waddled off and Ice followed nervously behind.

 

Now these ducks – unlike the fairytales of Christmases of olde – have no special powers.  They are just regular ordinary ducks, there were three and now there are two, and the duck of Christmas screw-ups yet to happen had no way of inspiring a future vision in Ice, so he had to be figurative instead.

 

The duck took Ice to the dog pound.  The guard was busy writing a blog in the guard hut so they walked straight in.  The duck led Ice to the cages – row upon row of cages, with many melancholy dogs lying on the floor, deep in the doldrums.

 

Ice was horrified.  Then it dawned on him, that he recognised many of them.

 

“There’s Stinky!” Ice exclaimed.  ”He had a really big bone.  And there’s Bobby!  He always finds excellent bones!  What’s happened to them?  Why are they here?”

 

The duck waddled on further.  He brought Ice to a cage that contained Tag, now slumped on the floor.

 

“Tag!  Oh no… now I get it.  I’m sorry duck… make this go away.  I get it, I get it duck…”

 

The duck shook his head.  He went over to an open cage and did his figurative attempt to show Ice the future.  He took a bag of Fox’s Glacier Mints into the open cage.  The logo for the mints features a polar bear standing on an ice cube.  This was supposed to represent Ice.

 

“Duck… I’m scared now.”

 

It was then that the guard came in, saw Ice and chased after him, thinking he had escaped.  Ice bolted, got outside and ran away to safety.  The duck flapped his way outside, past the guard took flight, rather badly, and slammed into a fence post which broke him, he fell the ground, lifeless.  Ice saw this, and ran ran ran away, he didn’t want to go home, he ran and hid beneath the flyover.

 

He went to sleep, it was dark now, but he knew what he had to do in the morning, he knew what he had to do to make it right.

 

p.s. the duck of Christmas screw-ups past also died that day, he was drowned when David Hasselhof’s modified joy-filled muck-spreader malfunctioned and sprayed muck everywhere instead.  David was arrested for this, and for driving without a license.

 

 

Here are some tunes:

 

Feeling reggae?  There are absolutely loads of reggae Christmas songs, check out the excellent three disc box set of Trojan’s Christmas songs.  Here’s the Silvertones:

 

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Need a little bit of sunshine in this deepest mid-winter.  Well, we’ve just had the shortest day, so we’ve been through the worst – the only way is up now.  Huzzah.

 

This is probably my favourite Christmas song, and the song that started this collection back in 1998.  Herb Alpert  & the Tijuana Brass:

 

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And a message from Herb:

 

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Tomorrow will be happier, promise, the final day.

 

RAUNCHY SPECIAL

 

NOT FOR KIDS

 

 

I’m feeling very un-raunchy at the moment.  I’ve had a cold for the last three weeks and fully expect my nose to actually completely detach very shortly.  But I’ve a load of super-randy, candy-cane songs to get through so buckle up and grin and bear it.

 

This one makes me blush.  It’s really quite awful/brilliant/deranged:

 

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A great funky remix of this old classic:

 

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Love this one.  Kay Martin & Her Body Guards.  She did a bunch of novelty songs such as this, she’s the fairy godmother of randy chrimbo tunes.

 

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And this monster from Nerf Herder – the band most famous for the intro to Buffy the Vampire Slayer.  This song is amazing, just be careful who you play it around.  That’s all I’m going to say.  Enjoy!

 

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Oh – how can I forget.  Dick in a Box – Lonely Island ft Justin Timberlake:

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W9HloS9Ukto

 

Also youtube fans – and thanks to Marc for this one – this is dvery non-raunchy but it’s very clever so worth checking out.  You remember Cassetteboy?  Dan Cowing certainly does.  But regardless, here is his Chrimbus mash-up:

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ZmtJCOe4Os

A Winter’s Tail

Pt V

Carol of the Bills

 

‘Twas four nights before Christmas and down by the bog, now lived poor Tag, our runaway dog.

 

The duck of Christmas screw-ups present had led Ice on a long journey to the top of the flyover, where they could look down and see the pond, the lonely frosty pond where Tag had been slumped, slumped there since the day he ran away.

 

“Duck,” said Ice, “you’ve bought me all this way to show me a stupid frosty pond.  Typical silly duck.”

 

“Look harder” said the duck.

 

Ice looked harder and saw disheveled Tag, a dog he recognised – he had lifted a particularly massive juicy bone off of him once.

 

The duck continued: ”This was a dog who used to have a happy home, used to have lots of walks and as much weird meat in a can and biscuits as he liked.  He used to be stroked at least nine times a day – up to thirty times when his owner’s girlfriend came over.”

 

“Why, what happened to this dog?”, asked Ice.

 

“You did, nasty dog – you took his special massive juicy bone, which he was saving up to give to the [lady dog] of his dreams.  Now look at him – he is but a shell of a dog.  Too timid to even fetch a stick, just sits there watching leaves decay.”

 

“Yeah well so what?  I never had those things.  My owner is so mental he feeds me Special K, that’s when he remembers to feed me at all.  He never pays me any attention, just sits naked in front of his webcam for hours, he never gets girls to come round to stroke me.  He only got me in the first place to try to impress some girl, and that was ridiculous because he was trying to sue her for slander at the same time.  Why am I supposed to feel sad at this?”

 

“Fine, nasty dog, fine” said the duck.  ”Come with me, I’ve something else to show you.”

 

They waddled down the road a short distance.  They were stood at the bottom of a lamppost.

 

“Look up” quacked the duck.

 

Ice scanned upwards and he saw it – a handmade poster ‘MISSING’, a photo of Tag and a phone number.    Tag was being missed.

 

It was then that Ice felt the rushing pangs of craving wants, the thousand papercuts to the heart, the ecstasy of life with the desperation of helpless defeat.  Ice knew not what to do, he bolted, legged it away from the poster, across the road, cars and buses be damned he ran and ran oh how he ran.

 

The duck ran out after him “Come back, nasty dog, come back!”

 

Splat.

 

The duck of Christmas screw-ups present was pancaked by a lorry.

 

Ice go to the other side of the road and turned and saw what had happened, that the duck had now gone to ‘the other side’. Ice went home sulking, didn’t smell anything or urinate once, and at some point he flipped out and went on a riot, smashed a few wooden fences, knocked over some plant pots, and set fire to a bus.

 

Meanwhile what was happening of Jennifer, the object of Tag’s affections?  She was being courted by a new dog, whose large juicy bone was very tempting.

 

It’s always darkest just before the dawn.

 

Happy Christmas!

 

Now for the songs.  This song got stuck on loop in July this year on my music jukebox.  I was so engrossed in what I was doing I failed to notice the looping, but I must have listened to it six times in a row.  I felt like my brains had gone gloopy:

 

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And this one, courtesy of my friend Vince who runs safety at a nuclear power plant in South Carolina:

 

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I don’t know who made it, but it’s pretty fun.  Check out Vince’s international podcast http://bmoviecast.com/ where he talks about b-movies and the like, this week talking about that awful Finnish Christmas film from last year “Rare Exports” which my friend Jussi did the sound for.  And there we go.  Merry Christmas!

 

A Winter’s Tail

 

Pt IV

In the Beak Mid-Winter

 

‘Twas the fifth night before Christmas and deep in the valley, Tim Buzzard was drunk at the bowling alley.

 

Ice was left alone again, as usual.  Tim had left the remote control on the top shelf, so he had gone out looking for bones instead.

 

He was still a little shaken by his meeting with the duck of Christmas screw-ups past, two nights ago (the episode ended jut before the duck’s tapping managed to get Ice’s attention – it was bad timing really, but the story had to end, and the duck’s tapping wasn’t loud enough to get Ice’s attention in time.  Shame, but the duck is a screw-up, as we know.  We might be able to fit a summary of their conversation in if there is time).

 

Ice prowled on, looking for bones to nab, when he heard a sound that gave him a massive shiver, like bbrbrbrbrbrrrrrrrr.  It was this:

 

“Quack!”

 

Ice jumped up startled, stiff as a plank,

When the second duck walked out of the bank.

 

“Duck” said Ice, “you must be the duck of Christmas screw-ups present.”

 

“You guessed right”, said the duck.  ”For this Christmas is an almighty screw-up, bigger than the England football team, I tell you.”

 

“Why, duck, why?  What have I done this year?” asked Ice.

 

“Many things, nasty dog, many things.  Come with me, I shall show you.”

 

Dog and duck walked side by side down the street, headed for the overpass.  Many people saw them walking together, but no one actually believed their eyes.  Old people saw the pair and thought that they must be going senile, it can’t really be happening. Kids saw the pair and thought that they had just been watching too many cartoons, it can’t really be happening.  Adults saw the pair and assumed they were having an acid flashback.  But all the humans were wrong – Ice and the duck walked together down the street.

 

However this short trip of a mile and a half took just under a day to complete.  Ice stopped every two minutes to smell some bins or bottoms or discarded wrappers or lampposts, and the duck stopped every thirty seconds whenever he thought he saw an acorn, and he isn’t the fastest walker by any means.  So it took them friggin ages to get to the overpass, which is fine, because that’s the next part of the story.  See you tomorrow.

 

nearly there…

 

Desperately Funky:

 

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Oh crumbs.

 

It’s the most busiest time of the year.

 

Sorry about the late post… panicing now… here’s Chet Atkins:

 

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If you know TV show South Park, you’ll know it’s written and directed by the most prolific and extraordinarily talented dude in Tinseltown – Trey Parker.  He makes every 20 min episode in a week, and he’s made well over 200 of them, along side making countless films, musicals etc.   He also does most of the voices, along with his producing partner Matt Stone.  In series three they made a Christmas special, knocking off ten songs with disgusting ease.  It’s amazing how much life he gets out of a character’s voice designed to be monotonous.  But then again, he is a remarkable talent.

 

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Reader’s Letters:

 

Dear Jimbo,

 

I must complain about the depiction of my dog, Ice, in your story running this week.  Sure he may be a little cheeky, but he has never hurt anyone or any other dog, is totally non-violent, and doesn’t lie all the time.

 

I know Ice is very hurt by what you wrote.

 

For instance the other day, a duck had been trying to get access to my house, had been tapping on the window with it’s bill, he had a small chat to Ice and Ice has been terrified ever since, hiding under the bed.  I’m pretty sure it relates the nasty treatment you have been giving of him in your stories.

 

It is for this reason I am issuing you with a libel writ, and shall see you in court.

 

Yours sincerely,

 

Tim Buzzard,

The town where the story is set.

 

 

Thanks Tim.  Wow I had no idea this story was having this affect on Ice!  Well, you should check your facts.  The council of the dogs hearing is well documented, he was summoned to appear before the dogs and answer the accusations leveled against him.  Remember the dogs didn’t find him not guilty… they just decided there wasn’t enough evidence to convict him.  No smoke without fire.

 

That duck that scared Ice was probably the duck of Christmas screw-ups past.  He came in to help Tag – a dog that has suffered at the hands of Ice.  He was probably telling Ice about all the screw-ups in Christmases past that have happened through laziness, negligence and selfishness.

 

I’m not sure why Ice was so scared of what the duck said.  Maybe we’ll find out!

 

You should take better care of your dog.  He wouldn’t be so nasty if he had some loving care and attention, probably, I’m just speculating.  See you in court!

 

Hope this helps!

 

Jimbo.

 

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Each year the North American Air Defense team track Santa with their radar as he passes around the world.  They also used to put out LPs with this tracking summary each year, and the airbase’s old resident brass band would perform on it.  But not these days.  They just put something up on facebook each year.  Modern technology huh?

 

And here’s the band.  Pretty swish:

 

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And Twisted Sister if you feel up to it:

 

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I love it when it goes double time at 3:10.  Ahh.

A Winter’s Tail

 

Part III

Silent Night, Howly Night

 

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Was the eighth night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even the mouse.

 

Tap tap tap

 

Normally the mouse would be loose at this time, bursting for cheese, but not tonight, for he had come across Tim Buzzard’s herbal sleeping pills, and was turned tortoise on the floor and deeply, deeply coma’d.

 

Tap tap tap.

 

Ice was laying on the carpet in front of the TV, having fallen asleep watching X-Factor behind the scenes on ITV4.  Tim had knocked himself out with an overdose on herbal pills and was fast asleep on the kitchen floor, the pills spilled everywhere, and that was how the mouse found them.  Ice was deeply unimpressed with his owner.

 

Tap tap tap.

 

He lifted one extremely heavy eyelid, as it peeled off the eyeball it made a small ppprrffffff sound like the tearing of sticky tape from packing boxes.  Ice’s eye scanned the room with the suspicious alert of a schoolmaster.

 

Tap tap tap.

 

Nothing.  Must be his imagination.

 

Tap tap tap.

 

No, surely nothing.  Best get some sleep, heaps of hacking to do tomorrow.  And so with the TV gently purring telesales yuletime bargins into cold living room air, Ice dreamed of sausages and bones, dancing the fandango together, in a meaty heaven, evermore.

 

Goodnight.

 

 

A Winter’s Tail

 

Part II – click on yesterday to read the first chapter.

“Bark, the Herald Angels Sing”

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‘Twas nine nights before Christmas and all through the land, the lights were all twinkling, spreading joy all around.

 

Well, everywhere except for where young Tag was.

 

Poor Tag was adrift, bad luck with the dice
He left his warm home, he slipped on the ice

 

Yes the Ice, Ice the dog.  Ice, definitely the nastiest dog in town, probably the nastiest dog in the country, and perhaps the nastiest dog in the world.  Who knows – it’s impossible to tell so we’ll be agnostic about it.

 

On this night there whipped up a storm
So Tag went to the pond to try to keep warm

 

Tag had often come to the pond to retreat into the dense bushes whenever he wanted to hide from his master, Dave, whenever he wanted to hide from it all, and think, think about all the wonders a dog could smell in this world.  Think of the smells, exotic smells, gauzy misty caramel dreams for such a dog – a panda bear, a panda bear’s bottom, a penguin, a penguin’s bottom, a mango, the bottom of a mango – oh what wonderful mystical smells.  On this night though the tempest blew and blew and Tag ran and ran across the hearth, fast, fast, thunder lightning, bother bluster blow hole he ran and dived head first into the densest bush he knew.

 

“Watch it, peanut head!” he heard a voice call out.

 

Tag was surprised, he thought this was his hiding spot.

 

“Yearrrhh, what you playing at, wafflebrains?”

 

Tag looked around and saw six eyes starring angily at him.  He looked a bit closer – the eyes belonged to three rather furious ducks.

 

Tag was too scared, not ready to ruck
What can you say to calm a sore duck?

“I’ve run away from home” said he.
“Well why didn’t you say so, poor thing” quacked two of the ducks in unison.
“I just did” said the pup.

 

Tag told them everything, about the special massive juicy bone, about Jennifer, and about Ice.

 

“Well it sounds like you need our help!” offered the ducks.

“Who are you guys?” asked Tag.

“I am the duck of Christmas screw-ups past” said the first duck.

“I am the duck of Christmas screw-ups present” said the second duck.

“He doesn’t speak, but he’s the duck of Christmas screw-ups yet to happen” they both said.

 

“Oh ducks – I don’t know this means, but if you can help I’ll be grateful indeed.”

“Quack!  Happy to help, happy to help.  We are super helpful and wise, and oh don’t worry about the fact we are called screw-ups, that’s not true, it’s completely defamatory and libelous!”

“Wow – you guys are great!” said Tag.  ”You are angels!”

“Some might say, dog, some might say.  Quack!”

 

Tag had found friends to fight against Ice

But he should have paused, took time to think twice

Use caution, Tag, in other words;

Your fate now rests with these ridiculous birds.

 

And so on this nox, Tag and his new allies, the wacky quackers 3, huddled warm in the bush and talked long and hard all night.  Tag told them about all the smells he dreamed of smelling, but the ducks said they can’t smell and so have no idea what he was banging on about.  The ducks talked about all the varieties of bread they dreamed old ladies would throw to them, but Tag said he doesn’t like bread, only biscuits and chunks of meat he can’t tell what type of meat exactly but he’s pretty sure it’s meat, that’s what he likes.  But regardless, they talked like that all night, that night, the ninth night before Christmas…

 

to be continued… Jimbo.

 

Now listen to this masterpiece by The Staples Singers:

 

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Man I swear if that don’t make you shake your booty til it falls off, then you are most certainly already dead.  It’s so fine I want to cry.  It might even be my favourite piece of music ever.  The tension and release is poetry, and the build up to the chorus is such sweet nectar.

 

Come ‘on baby daddies.

 

Until tomorrow… stay clean dogs, and stay away from my bins.