Note: In an effort to improve my creative writing I like to write about something that would otherwise be boring. It’s an interesting exercise and I invite you to try it. Try writing about the meal you had for dinner last night, or about your favorite color and they way it makes you feel. If you do this let me know about it so I can read it. Some of my favorite authors that can turn anything mundane into a fascinating read are: Dean Koontz, Augusten Burroughs, and even Sandra Brown. I don’t often re-read my material and normally I only write things for this blog once and then hit publish. Good writers will read and re-read and edit until is really flows, rich and creamy, like a piece of Dove chocolate melting on the tongue.
Twas the Night Before Christmas an updated version by Eddo
I laid there on the couch excruciatingly tired. Little Christmas Elves are supposed to appear after midnight and sit on your eyelids forcing them closed in order to keep you from seeing Santa Claus. I didn’t care to see Santa Claus and I gladly kept my eyes closed and prayed for sleep, but it did not come.
If sleep were a person I would bribe him with loads of cash and ask him to come and visit me upon my command. I’d make appointments in my Outlook Calendar with sleep and I’d make sure that both of us kept those appointments. Unfortunately, Mr. Sleep or the Sandman is not a person and if he is, I am sure that he didn’t come visit me Christmas Eve because he is not a fan of cats and neither am I.
I am a light sleeper. I cannot sleep if I hear the sound of water dripping, crickets chirping, dogs barking, or if a cat comes and sits on my neck and tries to smother me with it’s breath. Everyone I am sure has heard the Urban Legend that cats will smother babies while they are asleep, I don’t know how this rumor got started, but it probably got started because adults were indeed being smothered by large Garfield colored cats that weigh no less than 30 pounds and have furry coats that tickle rather than comfort.
This particular Christmas Eve the cats were apparently sensed the impending uninvited visitor. Cats, like some humans, have a sixth sense wherein they can not only sense things that most humans cannot sense, but they can also see what we cannot see. I believe cats are psychic and if they could talk there never would have been a Miss Cleo or a Nostrodamus – there would have been no need. However, God didn’t not allow us humans to understand cat language or cats in general and so their knowledge of the netherworld will forever be a mystery to us.
So the cats were restless and instead of falling to sleep they waited for Santa by climbing all over my body. Apparently this was there way of communicating to me – “IMPENDING DANGER – FAT MAN IN RED SUIT APPROACHING!” A sort of cat Morse code that like the real morse code I could not interpret and only frustrated and annoyed me.
After a time I stole away to the ground floor of the house where I knew the cats would not venture. These particular cats are very intelligent and both of them know that Chihauha’s live on the first floor and the only thing worse than Santa slipping down the chimney is a yappy and annoying dog. But dogs, unlike cats, are good bed partners. They will cuddle next to you and sleep like corpses allowing you to move them without the slightest showing of irritation.
I plopped my 6 foot plus frame on the less than 6 foot couch and covered myself with a mustard colored blanket. I looked like a long hot dog in a short bun, but not nearly as comfortable.
Finally and without my knowledge, sleep came and visited me. It was a nice visit but not nearly long enough because sleep never stays with me when the light returns and so I was awake as soon as the sun came up. Did Santa come? I didn’t care. All I wanted for Christmas was my own bed and a solid 8 hours of uninterrupted bliss. Maybe if I am a good boy it will come next year.