The Twelve Days of Christmas in one day? by Michael Casey (c)

The Twelve days of christmas
12pints of Stella Artois
11 bags of crisps
10 packets of peanuts
9  indian currys
8 kebabs
7 fish and chips
6 bottles of cola
5 packets of mints to hide your breath from the wife
4 missed phone calls
3 fallings over
2 bangs on your head
1 unconscious all christmas day in your bed
Merry Christmas Everybody and a Peaceful New Year
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I want to be on the radio a love stort

I want to be on the radio©

By Michael Casey

Michael was security guard at AllUWant  chain store, he’d been there a number of years, he enjoyed meeting people and helping out. Occasionally he’d have to run when a thief came a visiting, he was not very good at running as he was big, or fat if you want the truth. But he was good at improvising,  he always had a plastic carrier with him. So if a thief came he soon knocked them to the ground, he was a good shot, so he threw the plastic carrier at them. A thief cannot run if his legs are inside a carrier.

So Michael was held in high regard by the owner, the Old Forge and Singing Anvil store had the lowest theft rates in the whole of England. So everybody was happy, but Michael harboured a dream, he wanted to be a radio star. Well not a star, he just wanted a quiet corner to read out his stories, he’d been writing a long time, but nobody knew, apart from the girl at the stationary store where he bought his paper and ink. He’d shown her his stuff and she was his number one fan, if only he’d ask her out, she fancied him something rotten. 

www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com was his site and he’d recorded his stories there.

Doris would lay on her bed and listen to Michael reading his stories, he had 500 of them, she just wished he was lying on the bed next to her. Doris wanted Michael but she was too shy to say. She promised herself that one day she pluck up the courage to tell him

Michael had had a busy day and he’d caught 3 thieves, a family in fact. Sgt. Mulholland had taken them away with a smile. He’d have them playing chess against him while they were in the cells. Michael had managed to bang his head while he captured the thieves, a little blood was running down into his eyes.

Doris had been visiting  AllUWant when she saw the bulk of Michael, her heart skipped a beat, she noticed the blood trickling down into his eyes. Her maternal instincts kicked in, she ran towards him and grabbed him by the arm.

“Michael, you are wounded, let me take a look at that,” she said as she looked into his eyes. She took out her hanky and spat in it, then like a mother she wiped the blood away.

“This looks bad, you need to apply pressure and then put a bandage on,” she chided him. Then taking his hand in hers she led him to the first aid point. Her heart beat more, his heart beat more. Had it taken a beating about the head, for the drumbeat of love to be heard.  They made their way to the office.

“Here sit on the desk and I’ll apply pressure she said,” as she pushed him back on the desk. That push would change both their lives. For accidentally she had switched the tannoy on, the whole of AllUWant would hear everything.

“Let me look at that wound, just apply pressure then I’ll put a bandage on,” she cooed.

“You are really gentle, you’ll make a great mum someday,” replied Michael.

She pushed too much on the wound.

“Oow, “ that hurts screamed Michael, his screams echoing around AllUWant.

“Sorry, but I’d need a boyfriend before I could be a mum,” replied Doris as she looked deep into his eyes.

“I assumed you had one already, I mean you’re a big girl,” observed Michael.

“You saying I’m Fat?” asked Doris indignantly.

“ No, you’re perfect, I mean, I think you’re perfect,” replied Michael starting to blush.

“ I think you’re perfect too, when I listen to your stories on the computer while I lay on my bed at night, I think it would be so much better if you were on the bed besides me. The real thing, and not just a voice on the computer,” replied Doris

Cheers echoed through AllUWant, people had stopped to listen and enjoy an unfolding love story.

“Tell us one of your stories,” pleaded Doris. She had decided, he was going to be hers, she would be a mum, and he would be the dad.

“Which one?” asked Michael his heart beat going faster.  He looked at her and she looked at him, they twinkled even, twinkling said it all. It was like a comet across the night sky.

Michael told a tale or three, people in AllUWant listened, he really was a good storyteller, he actually wrote stories and could tell them so well. The tannoy echoed. Michael and Doris were in love, the urge was upon them.

“Kiss me,” whispered Doris.

“Kiss you where?” whispered Michael.

The whole store looked up to the first aid office, they could see Michael and Doris kissing. They could hear the heavy breathing too, this was true love.

Roger had been on car park patrol, he had a megaphone in his hand. He watched and listened from the store floor, just by the toilet rolls.

“Michael if you and Doris are going to make love, please turn off the tannoy first,” he laughed through the megaphone.

Doris slowly switched off the tannoy, she had Michael where she wanted him.

The next day Michael was summoned to the office, it must be the sack nothing else. Doris was by his side, she’d tell them it was all her fault, it was the urge and so on. Mr Blair was there, things didn’t look good.

“I heard about yesterday, and I only have one thing to say,” began Mr Blair.

“It’s all my fault Mr Blair, I just realised how much I love Michael  I’ve been listening to his stories for months, all 500+ of them.  Every night hearing his voice as I lay naked on my bed. It’s too much, a girl can only take so much, nature is nature,” explained Doris.

Michael realised he may have lost his job, but he had got something better in exchange, he had got Doris, or rather she had him.

“Michael, get a room, in fact just get married, I’m giving you 2 weeks off, I have this cottage in the Virgin Islands, your honeymoon will be there, but don’t make too much noise, Richard Branson is a neighbour,” ordered Mr Blair.

“That’s so generous,” gushed Doris.

“When you come back Michael, there will be changes. I want you to record all 500+ of your stories, we had feedback from the shoppers, they all want to buy copies of your stories, and AllUWant always gives shoppers AllTHEYWant,”  declared Mr Blair.

So Michael and Doris went to the Virgin Islands for their honeymoon, and as they lay naked on their marriage bed, Michael told Doris stories, lots of stories 500 times over.

Santa's stuck up the chimney

Santa is stuck up the chimney ©

By Michael Casey

There’s a noise upstairs, so I push the wife forward, while I watch her back. She grabs here cleavers on the way up the stairs, one Shanghai wife two meat cleavers. She stamps her feet to make noise to frighten the intruder, or is it to boast her courage.

Meanwhile I switch off Phoenix TV and a Date with LuLu, I want to watch the BBC news instead. Upstairs I can hear a scuffle, then a whoosh, 9 reindeer appear at the bottom of out stairs. Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donder, Blitzen, and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Quickly followed by Santa sitting in his sleigh, with Jing Jie sitting besides him.

I’ll bring your wife a new set of German knives for Christmas says Santa, the Zwilling J.A. Henckels ones, with the picture of the two men on. So smiling JJ sits down and switches back to Phoenix. So I have to play host to Santa.

I get Santa  a cup of  green tea with brown sugar in it, as I mention brown sugar Santa starts to dance, he’s a very old Rolling Stones fan. He got Charlie Watts a new drum kit ten years ago, Charlie had worn it out with too much Jazz. Santa just adores Jazz too. Keith Richards got an Atomic Rooster pace maker, how else could he do the 50^th anniversary shows.

Mick Jagger got a re-tread for his lips, and some new knicker elastic, with all his moves he needed it. The other one, he got a Donny Osmond album, his musical tastes are mind blowing eclectic after all,  just listen to his show if you don’t believe me.

As Santa enjoyed his tea the reindeer grazed on our carpet, we hope to replace it soon, so I wasn’t too annoyed. Besides if we move the glass table it’ll hide the bare patches, won’t it?

Santa looked around casually, “I know what you really want” he said. I nodded “ a new house.” I cannot promise anything said Santa, it is Friday the 13^th after all, maybe a dolls house for your daughter.” I laughed and  drunk my own green tea.

Jing Jie was laughing, Mr Zhou the comedian was on Phoenix, I laughed too, his body language is so funny, no need to understand Mandarin. Santa and the reindeer fell over on the floor laughing, they do of course know Mandarin. It’s the way Mr Zhou tells them, he may have watched a Frank Carson video in the past.

So I asked Santa what he was doing in our loft. Birmingham is so nice nowadays was the reply, the reindeer wanted to eat the plants from the roof of the new library. That’s the real reason the roof top gardens were added, the architect is a friend of Santa’s.

So if you want a visit from Santa make sure you have a plant or two growing on your windowsill, the reindeer do of course adore poinsettia. The reason why poinsettia is red is because Rudolph had an accident and it changed the plant forever, so blame Rudolph.

But why our house Santa? It was the sounds of carols being sung by my daughters, reindeer are attracted to carols, they home in on them. As the girls are in a choir and practice, not to mention Capital radio being on too. It was too much for the reindeer, they fell out of the sky into our house.

So I gave Santa more green tea with brown sugar, as for the reindeer they continued to graze on the carpet. I think I’ll have to move to sofa to cover the bare patch. My wife continued to laugh with Mr Zhou, the reindeer and Santa chuckled too.

It was nearly time for Santa and the reindeer to go, they had to visit a few lonely churches to cheer up the clergy, would people discover faith, hope and love this Christmas. As for our carpet Santa said if I Faith then on Christmas day a new carpet would appear with the book of Kells pattern.

I just hope Santa’s right, otherwise I’ll have to move the sofa.   

How to Handle a Client

How to handle a client (c)

By Michael Casey

A client is like a girlfriend who you wine and dine, and hope she’ll marry you. If you keep that idea in mind then the business relationship will work and pay dividends. If you treat a client like fast food you’ll end up getting gas, which is not what anybody wants.

It leaves a bad atmosphere literally. remember if you do good you’ll get x 4 more customers. 

If you do bad then you lose x 10 customers. Also you must change the sales pitch to fit each individual customer. It makes more work for you BUT the results are better.

A salesman must be a cross between a priest and a hairdresser, somebody who can be confided in. You are not selling burgers at a Red Sox match, you are inviting your customers to be part of the family.

And I don’t mean joining the Mafia either. That kind of close relationship, means your calls are answered and even looked forward to. If nobody is taking your calls then you’ve got it wrong.

Michael Casey

p.s. my play Shoplife “teaches” customer service, by showing you what NEVER to do.

Street Clock

Street Clock  ©

By

Michael Casey

I  love watches, I’ve told everybody this before, but today I want to talk about my Street Clock. A what? A Street Clock. What am I on about, I’m talking about my street clock. It’s not mine really, it’s my small daughters. The street clock tells us are we on time for school.

So is it a speaking clock in the street perhaps? No, its how the street tells us the time. In ancient times seamen looked to the skies to tell them the time and their destination. We have Stonehenge here in England, and it is an astronomical clock. Then you have the Mayan calendar and wasn’t it supposed to be the end of the world recently? Or did somebody overwind the Mayan clock?

No my Street Clock is how me and my daughter know we are on time. First we see the blue jaguar going into the works at the bottom of the road, it’s a car not a strangely coloured wild animal.  Then  there is my old workmate, we see him at the bottom of the road taking his small ones to school. Then there is a lady and her dog just before the zebra crossing outside the library.

These events are regular events, as regular as the day itself, we know if we are on time or not, just by how far along the road and how far on our route we have travelled. So no need to take our gloves off to peer at our watch, the street itself is our watch.

There is a steep bit next, slippy  with fallen Autumn leaves, but once past that piece of road it’s not too steep. We see the old man warming up his old car, we wave hello as we pass. In the distance we can see Mrs Mum and her son, depending how far up the road we are we can gauge the time. They are going to one school while we go to the big school on the hill next to the woods.

Then we turn right and meet the main road, which is more like a slide at a funfair as it bends and weaves down the hill so much. We see Mr Old Smoker, he must be 75, he has a funny walk and always has a roll your own cigarette between his fingers.

Then there is another bit of hill, Mrs Three Children appears, she has a pushchair and 2 older kids with her. We are nearly at the zebra crossings and Mrs Murphy the lollypop lady. All is well, now finally I take off my glove to show my daughter the time. We are  early.

Sometimes we are just in time, because of this or because of that. But we know the time already, because our Street Clock has told us we are running a bit late or not. The school bell rings, I watch Mrs Murphy stop the traffic and my small  daughter enters the school yard. I wave goodbye as my daughter enters the school. Now  time to go home for my breakfast, its all downhill now, downhill to my breakfast.

Is this a photo os a YETI footprint in  our garden?

From Shakespeare to the King's Speech

From Shakespeare to the King’s Speech ©

By Michael Casey

Today was a good day, a very good day indeed. I recorded 5 more of my Shorts plus a Silly Song and put them on www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com  Then as a reward I finished watching Shakespeare in Love, and later on I finally watched The King’s Speech.

The day had started with Mass and my confession to the priest about my arthritis, his reply was “its good,isn’t it.” And so it is, as you enjoy the good days and suffer the bad days. It’s not as bad as childbirth women will say, but you have epidurals, and I can only use gel. Though since the hip procedure things have improved.  But I’ll shut up about my weaknesses.

I could talk about pain, but I want to talk about words. Shakespeare’s and the scriptwriter’s. Shakespeare in Love was such a joy to watch, the rhythm in the words and the bounce of the script and the film itself. It reminded me that Shakespeare is so good, I used to understand all the old English. I even studied Shakespeare  at 3^rd level Open University, I got 74% for my 1^st essay, my tutor said I sounded like Shakespeare’s agent.

The joy of words, the power and love that is in words, all could be enjoyed in Shakespeare in Love. The King’s Speech was an eye opener for me. IF events were close to what was shown in the film, then I have a new found admiration for the Queen Mum, and I can understand why she hated Wallace Simpson’s guts, I heard this not directly from the film itself.

The King’s Speech shows the importance of words. Nowadays we’d switch off any Royal or Politician, but back then, the King would be listened to. The King’s speeches were an event and of great importance. The majesty of words is so important, and no I’m not making a joke. We all know of the power of Churchill’s words, but as a figurehead the King at that time, and at a time of war was so very important.

Enabling the King to rise to the occasion, to use words to spit in Hitler’s face if you like, to show the indomitable spirit of the British people in time of war and of great mortal peril, this was of such great import. So the speech therapist helped the King to use words as weapons.

The line I liked and my daughter noticed too, as she climbed the stairs to bed. I may not have the paper but I have the experience. Who does that remind you of?  You Daddy, was her reply.

So what of words? There is power and poetry in words, words can give us courage when we have none. Words can woo a maiden to our bed. Words can comfort the sick, and console the dying. Words can spit in the face of tyranny, I may die but my spirit will come back to haunt you. There is such power in words, there is meat in words.

Watching those two films tonight, reminded me of my deep love of words, well I do call myself a writer after all. Love of words means you experience them more deeply. Words come off the page to kiss me, to slap my face, words leap and bound from the radio to box my ears.

Words slip across the room from the speakers to gently touch my cheek to tickle me. Words from a film or from any source can bring tears to our eyes, to remind us we are not blocks of wood or made of stone. Words are our pulse, our very heart beat. Words are made from our very breath, but as breathing denotes life, so a word can bring death.

A word written down can condemn a man to hang, to the electric chair. Words have such power, words should not be used lightly. Words have so much beauty. Poets are dangerous, they hold your heart in the palm of their hand.

Go to www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com to HEAR 20 new stories with my new microphone 120 in total

hello I've just uploaded 20 more short stories to my typepad account  www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com   Thats 120 in total

So just bring your ears thanks