Thank you Mister Toastmaster.
Evening all. I would like to tell you the story of when the cat from next door stole my prized Tina Arena ‘Don’t Ask’ CD.
It all started about a week ago. A Tuesday. I was just returning from my weekly trip to the moon to visit their cheese factory. Which by the way produces some mouth-watering morsels. Anyway, I could sense that something was not right as soon as I unlocked the front door. I, being a trained secret ninja, have a seventh sense about these things. Quickly going through all the rooms I saw that nothing had been touched or disturbed. That was until I got into my Tina room. Where I keep all my Tina Arena related products. All safely kept under lock and key. Or so I thought. I started to go through all my Arena acquisitions. Intensely investigating inconsistencies. Dutifully detailing discrepancies.
“Strong As Steel, In Deep, Reset, Eleven, Don’t A…hey wait a minute!”
Don’t Ask was gone. The greatest album ever made had vanished like a bone at a dog park. Prised from its glass casing. Grabbed by some gormless goon. My life had stopped. I was drifting like a cheap simile at a bookshop. I was about to ring the police when I noticed a stray cat hair. Now this may come as a bit of a shock to you all, but I consider myself a bit of an amateur detective. I have perused Poirot and marvelled at Marple. I knew how to abolish an alibi and catch a clue. Putting on my detective gear I set about gathering the evidence. I not only found that cat hair but a couple of cat paw prints and an album of the musical Cats. I knew it had to be one cat.
“Charlie! The fiend.”
Charlie was a cat who had just moved in next door from me. Apparently, from what I had heard, he had a reputation as a bit of a thief. With a hop and jump, I waltzed right over and knocked on Charlie’s red and blue polka dotted door. The sun was sleeping and the moon was weeping. It was a few seconds before he finally answered the door.
“Charlie?” I enquired with an air of repressed anger.
“Yes. It is I Charlie. Who are you?” The cat said as it licked its paws.
“I’m your neighbour reepbot. Give me back my album.”
“I do not know what you are talking about. How dare you ruin my beauty sleep with such nonsense.”
“Yes you do. The Don’t Ask album. You stole it.”
Charlie stopped licking.
“That is an outrageous accusation, Sir! I am just a harmless kitty cat, purring at this and meowing at that.”
With a huff and a hiss he slammed the door into my face, not doing the best to get into my good grace. A few choice curse words later I re-entered my home and started to think of a way to get my album back. Yes, I could have phoned the police. However thinking it over I had a much better idea.
The next day I knocked on Charlie’s door again. This time carrying with me a long piece of string.
“Oh it’s you again. I thought I told you to….”
Charlie spoke no more. His eyes transfixed by the twine. He gently clawed at it. I stepped back. He clawed at it some more. I then dropped the string and watched him play with it like it was some kind of vicious viper. Seeing my chance whilst he was in a trance, I grabbed my cat scan and started to look for my Don’t Ask album that I knew Charlie was hiding on him. It was not long before I found the sacred songs of satisfaction.
“You felonious feline! Hand me back that album at once.”
“Drats! I thought I had gotten away with it. I would have too if it wasn’t for this meddlesome string.” Sighed Charlie as he handed back the album to me.
“I’ll let you off this time Charlie. If you steal from me again Charlie I shall have no caution in contacting the cops. Now go.”
Charlie cattily cursed as he went back inside his house. His tail swishing like a branch in the wind. With that I satisfactorily sauntered my way home whistling a Tina tune, and waiting for the month of June.
That concludes my speech Mister Toastmaster.
