F#ck Festive Day

In a short 12 hours Waterside Queeff and all its inhabitants we’re now talking about the impending ‘death match’ that was to take place and how much money they could put on the sides playing. Bookies were rubbling their slippery fingers together knowing that the odds against Mittenglitters mob were high as they were considered the underdogs straight away and there was going to be a blood bath instead of the usual blood bath rugby match that the Waterside Police Station were involved in. It seems that Dhobit’s letter was similar to kicking a hornets nest and repercussions were now echoing around the entire Kingdom instead of just Waterside Queeff.

Word even came to the wax filled ears of his cousins who were coming to the ‘Festive Day’ and in return the whirl wind started 100′s of miles away and gained some serious momentum...with vicious letters being sent to the Waterside Queeff Police Station and its Chief in rebuttal to the outrageous claims made by their Police Chief. The war of words was snowballing out of control.

Where was Dhobit while all this was festering around his town? He was fishing off his jetty and doing really well pulling in 5 large fish he knew would be fantastic for dinner that night and he was really happy.

Where was Fizzle while all this was festering around her town?

She was cooking in her kitchen. Her face was glowing from the last frantic sexual liaison 1 hour ago with her mutton bunny, and she was totally oblivious to the war that was coming. She thought it was a way of stopping bad relatives from being in her home but it was rapidly encroaching into 3 kingdoms with huge amounts of money moving from hand to tentacle very quickly and highly illegally. Tickets were printed and admission to the game was advertised in the local paper 3 days after Dhobit handed over his letter to the desk troll at the police station to give to their chief.

It was rapidly selling out.

Dhobit and Fizzle were completely oblivious to all that was happening around them....that was until they received their mail after Dhobit sent his letter to his cousins. It came in a huge truck that emptied dozens of mail bags all over their front yard much to their collective surprise and shock.

As they waded through the mail they got they soon realised the enormity of what Dhobit had started and instead of being two happy dwarfs deeply in love with each others company they were scared stiff and speechless instead.

After getting through just one of the mail bags it was apparent that not only were his family agreeing to be at the match but 3 Kingdoms of cousins were coming as well...as back up. There was a sinister element of ‘hate mail’ amongst the ‘Festive Day’ acceptance letters as well. Badly written and hard to understand but chilling none the less. All this from just two letters innocently penned in his lounge room, copied and mailed swiftly and now an all consuming war was about to begin in his town and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

“Tea Sugar Smacks?” uttered Dhobit almost under his breath and instantly he regretted his utterance...yet again.

“YOU STARTED THIS DHOBIT...IT'S ALL ON YOUR FURRY HEAD ARE WE CLEAR ON THIS?”

“Yep”

“WE WILL BE LUCKY TO GET OUT OF THIS WAR THATS COMING ALIVE!!!”

“Yep...I know”

“DO YOU HAVE A WILL?”

“Yep...left it all to you”

“DO YOU HAVE AN ESCAPE PLAN FIGURED OUT NUMB NUTS?”

“Nope....but I do think we have a chance at winning the game Cherry Blossom”

“WHAT????”

“Yes I think we could win....you don’t know our cousins...they are evil little pricks who play dirty and cheat aggressively”

“YOU ARE KIDDING RIGHT?”

“No I’m not...I like our chances Fizz so take a chill pill and relax its just a game of Rugby ok?”

“NO IT’S NOT GAME ANYMORE...KINGDOMS ARE INVOLVED DHOBIT AND THEY ARE ALL COMING HERE TO WATCH AND PARTICIPATE DON’T YOU GET IT???” shrieked Fizzle turning on her heavy padded feet and slamming the front door behind her as she ran into her bedroom and flung herself on to her bed...crying uncontrollably.

Dhobit just sat back down on the porch sifting letters into 3 different bundles.

1. Acceptance to venue change = 245,483 returns...so far.

2. Hate mail = 12,968 and counting.

3. Death threats = 1,252...and counting.

It would seem that a sizeable amount of family were coming and there would be no shortage of fit, lethal players able to take the field.

Dhobit got through the last bag of letters and then just curled up in a ball on the porch and slept deeply...with his head resting on the pile of death threats for comfort. All was not good in the Mittenglitter household.

“It may be a cliche, but it’s true – the build-up to Festive Day is so much more pleasurable than the actual nightmare itself.” Author