Southend U3A

December 2023

Twas the night before Christmas - Pete Norman

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a cat.

Mouse very carefully eased out just his nose and sniffed really carefully . . . but he could smell no evil.

Tentatively, he pushed a fraction further until his eyes emerged . . . but he could see no evil. Somewhat emboldened, he pushed his whole head out until his ears unfurled . . . but he could hear no evil.

A few minutes earlier, he thought he had heard that strange sound that killer cat makes as it performs its amazing magical disappearing act. One minute it’s there in the place and the next, the wall opens up and swallows cat whole . . . and with it there’s the sound – that dreadful sound . . . and then the wall is there again as if nothing strange had ever happened. Mouse held his breath as he crept further and further along the wall until he was able to peer round into the magic place. There was no sign of cat, only the lingering hint of it amongst all of the other normal smells. Relieved, he turned and moved carefully across the big place, his little feet sinking into the softness.

He stopped. He sniffed again . . . and this time, amongst all of the others, there was a smell, a very unusual smell, a very enticing smell.

In the far corner of the place was an absolutely huge green thing, it reached almost to the top, where the place ended and it was covered all over with all sorts of coloured glittery stuff that a small mouse would never be able to comprehend . . . however, the enticing smell was not coming from the green thing, it was coming from the big wooden thing in the centre of the place.

He ran across to it and quickly scrambled up the side. There, right there on the top, was something round, white and shiny and, there, right there on top of that was the thing with the enticing smell. He nibbled at the side of it – it tasted delicious. He nibbled away some more but then he stopped – there was another delicious smell coming from the big tall round thing next to it – and that smelled even more sweet. He stood up as tall as he could and looked inside – it was full of liquid. He leaned over until he could lick at it, tentatively. The taste was strong and sweet and utterly delicious. He lapped and lapped away at it until he started to feel a little giddy. He tried to climb back down again but his little legs gave way and he fell, a soft mousy giggle escaping from his mouth as his eyes closed.

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even that brat of a kid brother, Colin.

Stephen crossed over to the Christmas tree and quickly sorted through the presents. Their parents made it so easy for them, because every year followed the same pattern: the grownup’s were always at the back – dad’s to the left and mum’s to the right; the boy’s were always at the front – the brat Colin’s on the left and his own on the right.

The piles were unequal – as they always are – Dad had tried to persuade him that technology was more expensive than toys but he never fully believed him. ‘Situation normal this year,’ he moaned but his inquisitive fingers could read through the coloured paper disguise like braille and, to his satisfaction, he could make out the two main presents – and he could hazard a pretty good guess what they were. He slipped quietly back upstairs again, totally oblivious to the tiny mouse sleeping off his sherry on the table.

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even that annoying big brother, Stephen.

Colin had listened at his brother’s bedroom door and there was the soft sound of his snoring. He slipped downstairs and over to the tree. Using exactly the same formula as his annoying big brother had used, he isolated his own presents from the rest. There were about the same number as last year but every year his presents were getting smaller. He breezed through the larger ones but stopped when he saw a small, flat, quite heavy one which was – well – it was mobile phone shaped. He punched his fist in the air and suppressed the whoop of joy but as he did so, he noticed the present they had left for Santa on the coffee table. There was a big hole in the side of the mince pie and, on the plate, underneath the sherry glass, was a tiny mouse lying on its back. At first glance it looked as if it was dead but then it twitched. There might well have been a tiny burp or even a hiccup but if there was, then it must have been inaudible, for he never heard it. For some time, he stood, simply staring at the mouse, fascinated but unsure what he should do with it.

If his mother saw it, she would scream and tell his dad to throw it outside . . . where the cat would get it.

If his brother saw it, he would most likely feed it to the cat himself . . . so what could he do to protect it from their own pet feline vicious killing machine?

He got down on his hands and knees and searched along the skirting board until he found something that looked promising: behind the sofa there was a small gap where the boards met and, to his joy, traces of sawdust lay around the hole.

He took hold of the sleeping mouse as gently as he could and the creature wriggled as it surfaced from its alcoholic haze. Colin pushed the wriggling mouse towards the gap in the skirting, where it suddenly came back to life and, in a split second, disappeared through the hole.

Colin looked around the room; it looked absolutely normal except for the nibbled mince pie. He popped the mince pie into his mouth and quickly replaced it with an identical one from the pantry.

He slipped upstairs and, despite his excitement, he was soon in a deep sleep.

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse . . . except, that is, for the occasional snore and a faint hiccup.