Thursday, 9 March 2017

The Bad Cat That Wasn't new story for children



The Bad Cat That Wasn’t ©
By Michael Casey

Totoro wasn’t a bad cat even though his owner thought she was, it was just that she got fed up of being a house cat, house cats led a boring life. It was nice being fed and having a nice litter tray by the back door, but Totoro wanted to see what was behind the back door. So she plotted to escape and have a look around the neighbourhood, she was allowed upstairs and down stairs and in the lady’s chamber, and if there was an attic or even a cellar she’d be allowed to go there too. But that was not enough for Totoro.

Totoro wanted to talk to the other cats and annoy that dog that lived over the hedge. She had watched all the goings on in the neighbourhood, but that was just through the window, she wanted to join in and be part of it. Cat tv was no good, she wanted to be part of the action. One day her owner Miss Lump who was rather plumb left the bathroom window open to let the steam out. Only the cat got out too, Miss Lump who was a teacher had lost her cat, though some of her students thought she was a witch who rode on a broomstick with a cat.

Miss Lump did not notice as she was busy making harder and harder maths tests for her Year8 students, they would thank her for it in the future, even if they called her Witch behind her back, or other words that rhythmed with Witch. In the morning Miss Lump heard a noise it was Totoro asking to be let in, Totoro was sitting on the porch canopy beneath Miss Lump’s bedroom window. Miss Lump was surprised to see her cat there, but she realised she needed to allow Totoro some freedom.

From that night onwards she kept her bedroom window half open, so Totoro could come and go as she pleased. Miss Lump did have a metal baseball bat under her bed just in case any burglars came along, she was 110kilos and knew how to swing a bat. Despite her size she was still pretty as she had red hair and a very nice smile, when she wasn’t setting maths tests for her students.

So Totoro became a night shift cat, coming and going as he pleased, she went to see the nasty dog first of all, she jumped out of the hedge straight onto the dog’s back, from that night onwards the neighbourhood slept better. This was the first miracle Totoro performed. Totoro visited the old ladies of the neighbourhood and tested their milk for them, just to make sure it was good enough for them. She didn’t want any of the old ladies to drink bad milk after all, she soon became the official milk tester for 4 old ladies.

Totoro spent more and more time away from her home and Miss Lump, but Miss Lump knew Totoro was ok so she did not worry. Totoro still managed to come back and finish his food and use his litter. Totoro may travel far and wide but she always poohed at home.

A little boy had come to the neighbourhood, he never went out to play, Totoro went to see him, Totoro looked at him through his window, for some reason the child slept downstairs with a bottle and wires connected. Totoro did not know what they were, maybe he was part Gerbil, he had a bottle and wires. If Totoro could speak he’d ask Miss Lump to explain.

One evening Totoro sneaked into the boy’s house to see him, the boy’s face was so pale and white, he had spilt some milk on his clothes, Totoro jumped on his lap and started licking the milk up. As he was licking the milk up, the boy smiled and laughed, his mother heard the laughter and came to see what was happening. To hear her son laugh was such joy for his mother, her son was sick so very sick.

Totoro became a regular visitor to Tomas’s house, Totoro had his regulars, Totoro was a travelling cat who was there to be stroked and loved by everywhere in the neighbour. Totoro seemed to know that Tomas needed him more than the rest, so she just moved in. She loved sleeping at the bottom of Tomas’s bed, and Totoro loved her too, she purred like a taxi when he stroked her.

Tomas’s mom rang the phone number on Totoro’s collar, Miss Lump understood, and when she discovered Tomas was in Year8 she shed a tear, he’d never finish all the maths test she set for her children. And Tomas never did, 3 months later he died on a Tuesday morning, still stroking Totoro, in her sorrow and pain Tomas’s mother rang to share the sad news with Miss Lump.

Miss Lump went to school and passed out the test papers, as the Year8 children did the biggest and hardest maths test of their lives Miss Lump sat there crying. The children looked up from their test papers and immediately they loved Miss Lump to death, they tried their hardest because they loved her. After the test was over Miss Lump explained about Totoro and Tomas, then it was the turn of the children to cry. A cat may have 9 lives but we only have one said Miss Lump, then they all cried together.

Tomas left a legacy all of Miss Lump’s maths group decided to live a bit for him as he didn’t have a chance to finish his life. In fact the maths group became the most brilliant maths group ever.  Tomas’s funeral was so sad with lots of children in attendance, Totoro’s friends also came as they all shared him and so they should be there for Tomas too.

Tomas went straight to Heaven, he was met by Saint Martin de Porres who handed him a cat, the cat looked exactly like Totoro. Had Totoro exchanged one of her lives so Totoro would not be lonely in Heaven. I don’t know, we’ll have to ask Saint Martin de Porres when we get there, if we are good.

Now there is evil in the world, now though Totoro was safe in Heaven with Tomas, here on earth there is evil. One night a burglar who had been looking around the area for somewhere to steal noticed Miss Lump’s open bedroom window. So with a hop and a skip he was in her bedroom. Luckily for Miss Lump Totoro and her 8 remaining lives was fast asleep at the bottom of her bed.

Totoro leapt and scratched the burglar’s face, the thief threw Totoro and Totoro landed on a tin of paint which Miss Lump had been using to touch up the paint in her bedroom. Miss Lump awoke to see an uninvited man in her bedroom. So she reached for her baseball bat and battered the thief till he fell out her bedroom window, breaking an arm and a leg.

Miss Lump looked at Totoro, she had saved her, though now Totoro was covered in paint. Tomas watching from Heaven begged Saint Martin de Porres to save Totoro’s life, even if it meant Totoro lost another one of his lives. Saint Martin de Porres smiled, he had a soft spot for animals after all, Miss Lump was desperate for a Vet to save her cat.

The Police came to take the burglar away, via hospital and an emergency RSPCA Vet arrived too. Covered in paint was a terrible thing for a cat, but Miss Lump wanted her cat to live. Several of Totoro’s other owners arrived all the noise of police and ambulance had woken them up. They did not care what it cost they would all chip in. Totoro had spread so much love they just had to thank her.

So Totoro lost another life, but the Vet gained a wife. Totoro was shaved and had to wear a cone to stop her from licking herself and the poisonous paint, but with love and care and despite the lack of hair she would survive.

The Vet’s name was Tomas Martin, no I’m not lying, his name was Tomas Martin. He immediately fell in love with Miss Lump, and he just loved maths too, multiplication was his absolute favourite. They went on to have 7 children the same number as lives Totoro had left.





Wednesday, 8 March 2017

Sława w ostatniej © by Michael Casey

Sława w ostatniej ©
Michael Casey
Dobrze, że w końcu się stało, jestem sławny, ok, nie bardzo sławny jak Brad Pitt i George Clooney. Podobnie jak grubasa widać na autobus codziennie, ten, który siedział obok raz, gdy autobus był pełny, jeden z przyjacielem BO You Gail spryskane jej perfum dla ciebie, gdy masz do pracy, aby uzyskać jego zapach z Twój nos. Cóż, jestem Załóżmy, że jestem jak ten grubas, niezapomniany, ale od razu zapomnieć.
 
Mamy wielką polskiego sklepu na rogu, więc postanowiłem to dlaczego nie umieścić polskie tłumaczenie jednego z moich opowiadań Internecie na mojej stronie, na https://butcherbakerundertaker.blogspot.co.uk/~~HEAD=pobj miejscu. Wtedy hey mam 8000+ trafień w ciągu 8 dni. Polacy lubią moje poczucie humoru, albo to, albo młodzi polscy chłopcy, że to strona porno i są bardzo rozczarowani, gdy tak nie jest.
Tak czy inaczej mam uderza w bród, a ja umieścić 6 albo tak kawałki online w Google tłumaczone na język polski. Myślę, że dlatego, że mój styl pisania i interpunkcji jest tak prosty, musi tłumaczyć dokładnie. Jeden z moich braci jest lingwistą i mawiał, że automatyczne tłumaczenia nie ze względu interpunkcyjnych itp Jednak sądząc po trafień przekład polski wydaje się, że działa.
 
Mam hity z ponad 20 krajów na całym miejscu, Japonia i Brazylia dołączyła do "fan klub", ale nikt nie zatrzyma mnie na ulicy w Birmingham prosząc o autograf. Mogli po prostu myślą, że jestem gruby śmierdzący facet z historią autobusowego, choć mam użyć nieco Ck, jak mi się podoba, że pachniał trochę Armani w aptece na drugi dzień, więc kiedy jestem bardzo znanych osób można wykastrować mi z tym, lub po prostu wyślij mi butelkę. Znając moje szczęście ludzie będą rzucać wiadra z niej na mnie, bo jestem tłuszczu śmierdzący facet z autobusu, to musi być prawda, bo pół czytać historię o nim.
 
Jak mówić do was słucham francuskiego albumu Celine Dion, "Je Volu etre artystą" śpiewa, a ja przyłączyć się, chcę być artystą też, choć pisarz nie piosenkarką. I zwiększyć głośność i pozwolić jej głos bagno mnie, tak samo jak wiadro perfum będzie, jestem śmierdzący grubas z historii autobusowego po wszystkim. Mam typecast się teraz.
To naprawdę miło zobaczyć dane Google Blogger i zobaczyć, które historie są tak popularne, nie, chyba, że to CIA sprawdzenie na mnie i wszystkie tłumaczenia. Czy jest to WikiLeaks sika na mnie i udaje moje dane, ktoś rzucić nieco Armani Code całego mnie Wiki wyciekł na mnie ponownie. Nie, chyba że morze CIA wysłała mokry zespół po mnie, mogę mieć ubranie na zmianę i kolejny kubeł Armani Code proszę.
 
Więc teraz, że Polacy miały swoje historie do serca, być może następnym razem jestem w polskim sklepie kupuje chleb, polski chleb jest świetny przy okazji, będę zatrzymany w kasie dać autografy. Pozować do Autoportrety obok polskich kiełbas, przytrzymaj 2,25 litra coli przy kasie. Polacy nie wierzą w 2 litrach to musi być 2,25 litra, więc jeśli lubisz pop kupić go tam.
 
Nie, to nie nastąpi, chcę tylko moje słowa być sławny, jestem bardziej niż zadowoleni z pobytu ducha, tak ja to głupie zdjęcie obok siebie historii, że tak ludzie nie mylić mnie z innym Michael Casey nie jestem mnich, ani USA, ani dziennikarz facet Dublin albo. Jestem Michael Casey z Birmingham tłuszcz facet obejrzałeś w autobusie, ten, który ma butelki Armani Code podanych do niego. Co jest lepsze od tego, co kiedyś się stało.
 
W sumie muszę podziękować Polakom wszędzie, z Japonii do Brazylii i wszystkich punktów na kompas do przyjęcia przez i czytając moje historie w moim oryginalnym angielskim i wszelkich tłumaczeń Google I zamieścić też. Daj jakieś perfumy do kogo kochasz, i powiedzieć poruszać się tak fattie jeśli ze mną spotkać w polskim sklepie, ale musisz to powiedzieć po angielsku, a może nawet pozować do autoportretów przy ladzie obok w pobliżu identycznych właścicieli braci bliźniaków.




please  tell Polish Radio and Press about my writing, I'd love a regular column  in Poland.... Its up to you. 


Proszę powiedzieć polskiego radia i prasy na temat mojego pisania, 
chciałbym regularne kolumny w Polsce .... to zależy od ciebie.



 

Fame at Last by Michael Casey



Fame at Last ©
By Michael Casey

Well it finally happened, I’m famous, ok not really famous like Brad Pitt or George Clooney. Just like the fat man you see on the bus every day, the one you sat next to once when the bus was full, the one with the B.O. You friend Gail sprayed her perfume for you when you got to work to get his smell out of your nose. Well I’m suppose I’m like that fat man, memorable but instantly forgettable.

We have a great Polish shop on the corner, so I decided why not put a Polish translation of one of my stories online on my site, the  https://butcherbakerundertaker.blogspot.co.uk/  site. Then  hey presto I got 8000+ hits in 8 days. The Poles seem to like my sense of humour, either that or young Polish lads think it’s a porn site and are really disappointed when it is not.

Either way I have hits galore, and I’ve put 6 or so pieces online in Google translated Polish. I think because my writing style and punctuation is so simple it must translate accurately. One of my brothers is a linguist and he used to say that automatic translations fails because of punctuation etc. However judging from the hits the Polish translation seems to have worked.

I get hits from 20+ countries all over the place, Japan and Brazil have joined the “fan club” but nobody stops me in the street in Birmingham asking for an autograph. They might just think I’m the fat smelly guy from the bus story, though I do use a bit of Ck as I like it, I smelt some Armani in the pharmacy the other day, so when I’m really famous people can spay me with that, or just send me a bottle. Knowing my luck people will throw buckets of it at me, because I am the fat smelly guy from the bus, it must be true because they half read a story about it.

As I talk to you I’m listening to Celine Dion’s French album, “je volu etre artist” she sings, and I join in, I want to be an artist too, though a writer not a singer. I raise the volume and let her voice swamp me, just as a bucket of perfume would, I am the smelly fat guy from the bus story after all. I’ve typecast myself now.

It is really nice to see the Google Blogger figures and to see which stories are so popular, not unless it’s the CIA checking on me and all the translations. Or is it Wiki Leaks peeing all over me and faking my figures, somebody throw some Armani Code all over me, Wiki has Leaked on me again. Not unless the sea of the CIA has sent a wet team to get me, can I have a change of clothes and another bucket of Armani Code please.

So now that the Poles have taken my stories to heart perhaps next time I’m in the Polish shop buying bread, and Polish bread is great by the way, will I be stopped at the counter to give autographs. Pose for selfies next to the Polish sausages, hold a 2.25 litre of cola at the checkout. The Poles don’t believe in 2 litres it has to be 2.25 litres, so if you like pop buy it there.

No that won’t happen, I want just my words to be famous, I’m more than happy to stay a ghost, yes I do include a stupid photo alongside each story, that’s so people don’t confuse me with another Michael Casey, I am not the monk nor the USA journalist nor the Dublin guy either. I am the Michael Casey from Birmingham the fat guy you saw on the bus, the one who has bottles of Armani Code given to him. Which is an improvement on what used to happen.

All in all I have to thank the Poles everywhere, and from Japan to Brazil and all points on the compass for passing by and reading my stories in my original English and any Google translations I post too. Give some perfume to the one you love, and say move out the way Fattie if you meet me in the Polish shop, but you’ll have to say it in English, and I may even pose for a selfie by the counter next to the near identical twin brother owners.





Portuguese Translations

Humour Writing by the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham England read in 167 countries so far https://www.amazon.co.uk/Micha...