AUTHORS NOTE:
Hi! Wow, it's been a while. I am now in Year 8 and all my free time seems to be spent either doing homework, playing sport or sleeping. Allow me to enlighten you on how little free time I have: I hope to have the next Reality TV: Lower Elements Style chapter up by easter. No promises, lol. And, of course, I'm working on something a little different, a little more complicated, requiring a little more preparation and a little more hard work – hehehe, excuses. Anyway, I wrote this ages ago and I wasn't even going to post it, but then I thought. 'well, I've been in-active for so long… why not just post this up?' Anyway, so this is slightly short, strange and pointless, but so is most of the stuff I do!
Reasons why no one invites Mulch Diggums to weddings:
The priest cleared his throat. "You may now kiss-"
A loud sound exploded from somewhere in the middle of the audience, interrupting the priest. A small individual levitated up, propelled by gas, and landed back on his chair.
"Excuse me," Mulch Diggums apologized, surreptitiously buttoning a bum flap on his tuxedo. The guests held tissues over their noses. The bride shot Mulch a dirty look.
The priest sighed and began again. "You may now kiss the-"
Another loud noise. People were starting to edge away from Mulch. The bride was regretting her decision to invite him.
"Hey, that was not me!" Mulch yelled, jumping on his chair. Not that it made any difference. "I swear!" He looked at the sea of faces around him. "Whoever did that, own up!"
"Look," said the priest, tired of this, "Just go to the bathroom already."
The bride sighed. "Shut up and kiss me," she told the groom.
He better have given us a good wedding present, she thought.
Reasons why no one takes Mulch Diggums out for dinner:
"My shout," said Mulch's new underworld contact, Bert, reaching for a menu.
Mulch smiled and beckoned a waitress.
"Okay, I'll have the pasta, the pizza … does the risotto come with the lamb? No matter, I'll have that too. What the hell, give me one – no, make that two - of every dish!" Mulch commanded, feeling a little like Noah from that Bible story. "And make the chicken a la carte."
Mulch had a feeling he'd pronounced the last phrase wrong, and he didn't know what it meant, but it sounded good.
Bert was looking nauseous. This wasn't exactly a cheap restaurant.
"Nice restaurant, isn't it?" Mulch asked, lounging back. "We'll have to come back sometime. You know, to celebrate our successes together."
The excursion was never repeated.
Reason why no one hires Mulch as a house keeper while they're on holiday:
"The pot plants are dead … And, where'd all my jewelry go?"
SO WHAT MAKES YOU THINK HE'LL BE A GOOD BUSINESS PARTNER, HOLLY?
Report compiled by Foaly, technical consultant of the LEP.
