I know that there’s a lot of trouble in this world, and a lot of people are under a great deal of stress, but sometimes I wonder why everyone has to be so tetchy with me all the time, especially during the festive season, which I love. I was receiving a tutorial in flute-playing from my good friend Stung last night, when all of a sudden he stormed out of the music room, shouting “You freaking llama, how am I supposed to teach you how to play the flute when I have to hold the damn thing and press the freaking buttons for you, while at the same time trying to get you to breathe out! I’ve had enough!” Now, certainly, Stung has a point, and my disability does weigh on my mind constantly. I mean, of course it’s hard for me to play the flute – I only have hooves to work with! For my mind, he could have said it a bit more nicely, that’s all. Is it too much to ask for people not to be mean to me? I wish you all a merry Christmas anyway: Stung, Pixel Mouse, Brad, Quito, Penny and, of course, my master and personal inspiration, Davey Dreamnation. Now, where did that Christmas hamper get to?
Category: Scaramouche (page 2 of 3)
Scaramouche is an incorrigible llama who has a fondness for neenish tarts and quiche lorraine.
He began his entertainment career as a stunt double in such feature films as Around the World In Eighty Llamas, Stop, Look And Listen: a Moving Tale of Three Homeless Llamas and, of course, Clint Bo Dean In Wigs and Pictures, before finally landing a major role in Scaramouche: My Story, after which he never looked even slightly ruffled. Born under the sign of the three-toed sloth, Scaramouche has more recently turned his hoof to singing, scoring a hit with his first DNRC release, Scaramouche’s Theme. Forever meddling in other peoples’ affairs, he can sometimes be seen emerging from his custom-built cage inside the Camp Davey compound in order to scoff meringues and wizz fizz. Scaramouche is currently planning to revive his own personal blog, written entirely in Esperanto.
Until last night, I had never been inside a hospital for humans. Unfortunatetly for me, there was no other option available when I came down with a serious case of food poisoning over the weekend. There is a veterinary surgery at Camp Davey but our vet, Pixel Mouse, is currently away on holidays, while Stung is left to fend for himself, Brad and of course me, in the lonely confines of our master’s compound (also AWOL, it seems). My fever became worse and the green bile being expelled through my nose became gluck. Stung took decisive action, carrying me to the Camp Davey Casualty ward, where I received proper care for the first time since I got trapped inside a 3D viewer, all those years ago. The nurse performed a stomach pump on me, which managed to clear out most of the ham. I also received a suction pump of my throat, which removed the shards of hambone that had been blocking my airways. I am now on a strictly herbivorous food and lemonade diet.
Davey, I don’t feel well this morning. I know you said not to over-indulge in Christmas ham but how could I help it? The ham-bone was glazed with some delightful honey and cinnamon, which I licked off to my heart’s content. Then what could I do but eat the whole ham, bone and all? I felt sick immediately afterwards but managed to keep it down for a few hours, before I forced myself to eat some grass (how horrid!). I know I have been a bad llama, but now I fear I may have been poisoned, or something. Please tell me I am going to be okay. I can barely bleat. It is lucky for me that my Internet terminal has wheels on it, because otherwise I do not think I would be able to manage the short walk from my compound to the Internet cafe. I have been receiving some strange comments on my blog too, suggesting that various people want me dead. While it is very encouraging to receive comments from some old friends (Chris de Burgh, Julian Lennon, David Lynch – but where’s Peter Styvesant?) I must admit I find it a little unsettling. To top itoff, I decided to do a web search for carnivorous llamas and it seems that there are others like me, out there somewhere. I feel very homesick for my species right now. Dear Davey, please tell me that I am going to be all right, and that this pink and green bile foaming at my nostrils is just a normal part of growing up. Master, where are you?
Now that I am coming to grips with the English language, I am at last in a position to say that my favourite word is “hamper”. Now, I hope you all know what hamper means – for me, anyway, it means oodles of ham, lashings of cream and piles of neenish tarts, which I love. It also means sandwiches, more sandwiches, cream buns, donuts and cheese. My ideal hamper, therefore, would be a very large one indeed. Fortunately for me, I no longer need to dream of such a hamper, because my master informed me this morning when he let me out of my security compound that this Christmas, in addition to my very own ham bone, I will be receiving a giant hamper, which has been donated by a large corporation. They are apparently trying to woo Davey into agreeing to be the face of their new advertising campaign. Ethical issues notwithstanding, I can inform you that this hamper contains all of the things mentioned above. Unfortunately, it also contains a quiche. Eugh. I shall give that to Quito, if he is still alive on Christmas day. I will be spending the rest of today in a song-writing workshop with Stung, who is a gifted flautist.
Did I mention that I am beginning to get very very excited about Christmas? Christmas is my favourite time of the year, because this is when I get to open all the presents that Davey’s fans send him. He is so lucky. He gets presents from all over the world! Like the Goulburn Valley, Greenland, Kirribilli, Denpassar, Molvania and Paris, Texas. It really is a time of great joy at Camp Davey on Christmas morning when the gigantic skip is unloaded! Davey says “Okay Scaramouche, get to it!” Of course, I do need some help, because of my hooves but I am becoming quite adept at ripping the wrapping paper off with my teeth. Last year I got a present from Russell Crowe and his gorgeous wife Danielle! It was a great big water pistol! How exciting!!!