ArtsAutosBooksBusinessEducationEntertainmentFamilyFashionFoodGamesGenderHealthHolidaysHomeHubPagesPersonal FinancePetsPoliticsReligionSportsTechnologyTravel
  • »
  • Books, Literature, and Writing»
  • Commercial & Creative Writing»
  • Creative Writing»
  • Humor Writing

chivs86 satire a tidy home

Updated on January 17, 2014

Chivs86 Satire - A Tidy Home.


Almost alike finding a needle in a hay stack...

I mean no matter how hard that I try - I’ll never find it,
and no matter how hard I’ll look - well there’s always just too much mess.

In fact it’s like that even if I do find this needle - in this barn full of haystacks.
Being the best way to describe it –
Well.... Knowing my luck it will probably end up stuck in my foot somewhere.

As if – all the drawing pins - broken glass and other ‘blood begging’ atrocities that my incompetent broom might fail to notice wasn't bad enough...

They miss the donkeys tail yet again. But jokes aside - fact is
that I will never find this needle in my haystack of home.

I mean I should tidy up,
but in this thrift shop of mine –
with more junk than an Afghan heroin dealer –
where do I start?

Not quite a palace as you can gather.
For a start there is no Queen.
It isn’t very posh,
and the only red carpet present is the one (accidentally) stained by the awol glass of red wine, or perhaps maybe if not -
the occasional blood drawn caused by the glass of awol broken red wine BOTTLES.

Although on the bright side of things I’m glad it isn’t a palace.
I mean - no disrespect to the regal lady, but
It’s just that i think that
i if I was stuck with the same sort of responsibilities
that she gives to some of her servants –
how do I put it? –
I would rather swim with great white sharks –
so purposely and prematurely covered in blood.

Perhaps after a short trip across my formerly white carpet – maybe?

Where even the most useful of all, and smartest of Womble’s wouldn’t find much
like the IQ of a potato...
Perhaps a few dirty socks -
which even they might turn there noses up at,
a bit of mouldy food?
if there lucky.

Well I’ll tell you the same thing as i tell them
“if it’s treasure you’re looking for - i suggest you stop digging”.

but then again if it's chopped toe nails, dirty laundry - pants etc. or cigarette ash -
than my friend you may have hit the jackpot"

...So definitely no palace. I shouldn’t say so, but it’s not.
Certainly no place for someone as important as the queen,
but it depends how you see things I suppose.

I mean myself –
I’m quite happy to live here –
the place is a bit messy,
but at least I’ve got my sign up on the wall -

No place like home!

Which I have to admit does make me feel a little bit more welcome.

Although that’s just me,
but personally I think I’d actually feel sorry for the one visitor that came passing by my flat
to use the toilet.
I mean –
surely I’d have to be the last person you’d want to go and see. I mean really???

And I can picture the scenario...

Tom, Dick & Harry are all away...
Possibly tying Dick up to a lamp post devoid of all garments.
Revenge for when he left Harry in a field full of sheep, in the land of frog eaters, and when he left Tom in the same sort of dilemma on his respective stag night...
with a big fat slap round the face from the scarlet lady bought for the nights entertainment -

who quite unfortunately turned out to be his new mother in law.

Anyway back to the situation... Tom, Dick, and Harry have all gone away,
and the only other person that’s about is me.
So literally it’s going to see me, and my untidy flat or sh**ting yourself.

Desperate times call for desperate measures!
and here you are - YOU can’t hold it in any longer
and right at that moment that you enter – my squalid palace
almost tripping up on a banana skin,
and nearly breaking your fall on the stacks of bin bags by the front door...

There In full view of the local roach population -
who all seem to be to be saying ‘don’t mind me sir’.
You start to think...
...and then... Oh dear!
Suddenly the only toilet available is the same toilet that makes you turn
from being one minute –
I’m Mr – “I’ll give it a chance - I’m from the outside looking in”
TO all of a sudden
Mr - “on second thoughts - it probably would have been better
if I went outside and took a s**t in the bin”.

Nothing a bit of bleach won’t solve though in my opinion!
And a good scrub.

...But then oh dear back to my squalid home, now devoid of my one rare visitor.

I notice that to avoid future diplomatic upset my tall bowl of washing up must be done.

Now where do I start?

a.) The cutlery.
*Rather important with draws as empty as mine.

B.) Plates in -
*although not too many at once -
as they do start to mount up - after a short while.

Then oh yuck!! C.) The bowls...
even more saucy than Pepe Le Pew (the French skunk out of looney toons) on Viagra.

(hmm) now I normally leave these till last. (The Bowls)
To soak up so I can get all the muck off a bit easier.
Only thing –
washing them is one thing, but remembering is another.

I think of the primordial ooze that gave birth to man.
Like if you look at it for long enough –
a bubble or two will pop up.

Pop, pop. Bubble, bubble.

Not a very nice sight really,
as my neglected tub of bowls has transformed in to a bubble-popping manifestation of gunk.

Almost alike the drain pipe has flowed the wrong way round,

but funny thing is - kind of like the primordial ooze,
if you watch it for long enough – up will pop a little baby Womble.

So no wonder Camilla and Charles don’t fancy popping over for dinner.

Not that I wouldn’t like their company of course,
but thing is if it did occur
that the grand old duke of York
and his pointy dame did come round for a cup of earl grey -
what would they say about all those letters.

I mean if anyone ever used to watch the TV show the crystal maze.
It’s a bit like when you put your hand in the thing, and try to find a gold ticket.
Like you never really quite know what you’re going to find....

For example
if I ever want to find a number for a take away and I can’t make my mind up –
in any one single way, shape or form.
Well the normal procedure is I’ll stick my hand in and just pick any letter out at random,
as of course that's where most of my menus are -
well that’s what I’ll eat.

I had a Jehovah’s Witness the other night – very nice.

Although i wouldn’t say living in such a pig sty is always such great news.
You see - it’s been a while since I’ve had any visitors,
as I might have mentioned and
I do miss it really, but on a more positive note...
It’s a nice thought –
the whole getting the front door open,
people coming round
and the idea of quickly tidying up before they notice what a tip it is...
Sweeping it all underneath the bed,
chucking stuff in the ward robe (or out the window).
Plus saying things like
“let me find this for you”
to get away for 1 minute.

A nuisance really, but the way i see it.
I have a messy flat so what? –
it’s nice having things clean and tidy, but knowing me’
I’ll never completely get everything done.
I might spend all day doing it, but I’ll look around and think – wow this is boring.
Now I’ve done everything – what else is there to do?

Apart from killing Wombles, and dreaming that one day i will live in a nice tidy home.


    0 of 8192 characters used
    Post Comment

    No comments yet.