I bring to you festive salutations, regardless of the country of your origin (contrary to a recent report in The Lancet, I am not a racist) - for I am K-Max, The Spirit of Christmas.
As is tradition, this December 24th children the globe over will be tucked up in their beds, shivering and revolving in terrified anticipation of my annual appearance at their windows - hammering on the glass as I scream and convulse in agony.
In order to get this Christmas ball rolling (in its grave?), I bring to you an initial gift for your Christmas coffer: the cheery, seasonal tale of a lovely young lad called David Belt, and his harrowing brush with a real big plant.
And just to say: sorry about the smell - that always seems to happen around this time of day (in case you need it spelled out... the smell is coming from my bottom).
David Belt’s Mother is frantically rubbing her hips, knees slightly bent, as David Belt rides into the room, excruciatingly slowly, on a small cow. Eventually, this happens:
BELT: Look, mother – my mother. I am riding our cow as an illustration of how much I love it, and how I hope it will never leave us. It's a real good cow, and I have never felt so empowered or scared.
BELT’S MOTHER: I’m really happy to see what’s going on with you over there, but I have terrible news for you, my son - David Belt. We are so terribly poor that we can't even afford no stuff.
BELT: So what? That doesn't matter.
BELT'S MOTHER: Get a load of this: In lieu of sausages we must have crayons for supper, and I have had to sell our toilet and replace it with an old Segway that I found. It doesn't even have a bowl, so you can probably imagine the mess I've already made in there.
Grinning madly, David Belt starts drooling and prancing around in step with some internal beat.
BELT: Totally random, dudes!!!!
BELT'S MOTHER: Furthermore, we cannot even afford power. See how I am generating all of our energy through the means of static electricity? I have generated just enough to make my hands bleed.
BELT: Here. Let me lick them better.
David Belt drops to his haunches, and frantically licks his mother’s hands all over.
BELT’S MOTHER: Mm. That’s really nice. It makes me feel loved. Unfortunately, it has done little to distract from the issue at hand: we must sell the cow for funds.
BELT: For fun? Ok.
BELT’S MOTHER: For funds.
BELT: I have a better idea! You could pay me to lick your hands again! The taste reminds me of my birth.
BELT’S MOTHER: A lot of what you just did reminded me of your birth, but the fact remains: the cow must go.
Suddenly, Belt's Mother begins scuttling back and forth like a crab, eyes rolled up towards the ceiling.
SCENE 2 – THE MARKET
David Belt leads the cow through the marketplace, looking hither and tither.
BELT: This is real depressing. I don't want to sell the cow, and yet here I am: about to sell the cow. It's the greatest irony of all time!
A Trader drops abruptly from a tree branch on a bungee cord. He speaks in a shrill, undulating lilt.
TRADER: Why don't you swap it instead?
BELT: What the...?! Where did you come from?!
BELT: Urgh. What's that massive stench?
TRADER: My ghee. I dropped it in a urinal. But never mind that right now. I read about your troubles on Mumsnet, and came all this way to suggest you swap the cow for this: a magic bulb.
The Trader produces a bulb, and starts eating ghee from his hand.
BELT: That's the worst bulb I've ever seen - it's all brown and covered in mud. That'll never fit in a light socket.
TRADER: That's because this is the other type of bulb. The type of bulb you'd buy in a garden centre.
BELT: I don't know what that is.
David Belt looks around: the trader has gone and so has his cow. All that remains is his bulb, and a little puff of smoke, hanging in the air like a buzzard.
SCENE 3 – DAVID BELT’S HOUSE
David Belt hangs his head in shame, as his mother repeatedly wags her finger at him.
BELT'S MOTHER: A bulb? A bulb? A bulb? A bulbulbulbulbulbbulbulbulb -
Belt's mother starts spinning out of control, a white milky fluid erupting from her mouth. David Belt knocks her head off using a spatula, revealing a mass of bio-organic wiring inside. He gasps.
BELT: She was an android all along! That explains her metal skin, and the fact I had to plug her into the wall at night, and the fact that she looked like a robot, and the fact that everyone kept referring to her as a robot, and the fact that all evidence pointed towards her being a robot, including the fact that her eyes were little LEDs. And now? And now I wonder aloud what's going to happen next...
TO BE CONTINUED...