Creature Features Part 9

Argy-Bargy at the Barbie

Ned was a horse with a mind that was methodical.

He could fix cars and trucks and anything mechanical.

His bookshelves were filled with lots of Haines manuals

And everyone agreed he was the brightest of animals.

But today he wasn’t thinking of engines or bearings

Or fuel pumps or wheel nuts or radiators or fairings.

Today he was feeling happy and hearty

Because today was the day of his birthday party.

A guest of honour was invited to his celebration,

To join in the fun on this joyous occasion,

He would be arriving in a well-oiled machine

That had one previous owner – a mouse called Maureen.

The tables were set and the barbecue lit

And a chair was positioned where his guest of honour would sit.

Two horses arrived and ordered drinks at the bar –

Uncle Dobbin and Jack (who knew nothing about cars).

Aunty Doris came next, followed by a donkey called Piers,

Who went straight to the bar and ordered two beers.

More horses and donkeys arrived on the scene

Before the arrival of that elegant machine.

“He’s here!” shouted Ned. “He has a lovely deportment.

He was once, I can tell you, a Member of Parliament.

He’s charming and wise and the very opposite of foul.

He the venerable, Right honourable Mr Owl!

Welcome, Mr Owl, to my birthday party

You’re looking so dapper and awfully hearty.

My friends would all like to say how do you do

While I go off and tend to the barbecue.”

The barbecue was in the barn next to some sacks of dried pasta

(Which everyone told him was inviting disaster).

Although Ned was an expert with cars and their complications

He was hopeless when it came to Health and Safety Regulations.

Owl was made welcome and the party was swinging –

A disco was blaring and there was dancing and singing.

The food was served up on plates made of steel

And everyone agreed it was a wonderful meal.

Songs were sung and strong beer was flowing

And Owl’s flat face was positively glowing.

But then Dobbin did something he should never have done –

He started to talk about Carl Gustav Jung.

Now there are four things that should never be mixed, I fear –

And they’re horses and donkeys and psychoanalysts and beer!

At parties like this, one should really avoid

Any mention of Jung or his arch-rival Freud.

Dobbin quoted something from Jung’s Symbols of Transformation

And the donkeys all looked at him with incredulation. 

“Freud was useless,” he sneered, “and his Theories of Sexuality

Alienated him from contemporary psychiatry.

A donkey was enraged by this remark. “It seems

You obviously haven’t read his Interpretation of Dreams –

Freud was a genius,” he cried, looking perplexed,

“Without him we’d have no Oedipus complex!”

“Jung was much better than Freud!” Dobbin said with vexation.

“That man had a serious mother fixation!

And there was something I saw last night on cable

About a donkey who had feelings for his Great Aunty Mabel!”

“That’s it!” yelled the donkey. “Let’s dispense with this pleasantry!

Carl Gustav Jung was not the father of modern psychiatry!

You’re going to regret making that ill-informed slight,

So put up your hooves and let’s have a fight!”

The horses and donkeys all charged at each other –

Even Ned’s parents joined in and his aged grandmother.

But not one of them knew this would end up so dire

When the barbecue was knocked over and the pasta caught fire.

The pasta burned quickly and set fire to the hay

And soon the whole barn was blazing away.

The air filled with smoke in a very short time,

And Owl asked politely, “Has anyone phoned 9-9-9?”

Soon the wailing of sirens was heard from afar

And PC Bear arrived in his Panda car.

The fire engine came next and drove into the inferno

“Those firemen,” remarked Owl, “must be awfully gung-ho.”

The blaze was put out quickly by the fire engine’s crew

And PC Bear said, “That was terribly brave of you.”

“Not really,” said the fire chief. “I feel a right berk –

The engine didn’t stop because the brakes wouldn’t work!”

Even after the arrival of the emergency services

The horses and donkeys were still arguing their differences.

They were shouting and yelling at the top of their voices

About who was the best at psychoanalysis.

“Quiet!” yelled the PC. “Who caused all this bother?”

And the horses and donkeys all accused one another.

“This won’t do,” said the bear, “and I have a notion

That something serious has caused this commotion.”

Owl spoke up and said, “The cause of this clobbering

Was a simple remark made by Ned’s Uncle Dobbin.

He said something about Freud that annoyed all the donkeys

And just after that it all went a bit wonky.”

“That’s typical of donkeys,” said Bear, “they vote with their fists

Whenever the subject gets round to psychoanalysts.

As for Freud and Jung – well, I suppose they’re just fine –

But if you want my opinion – I prefer Wittgenstein.”

Dobbin snorted, “You ignorant officer –

Wittgenstein was an Austrian philosopher!

He got everything wrong when he wrote Tractatus Logico

And had to start again and have a second go!”

The fire chief stepped up and said, “I heard your conversation

And I have someone else for your consideration.

I don’t understand how Freud and Jung caused all this tussle

Because neither are better than Bertrand Russell.

Then all eyes turned to Owl, who was perched on a rock,

And Ned said, “I think only you can break this deadlock.

You are wise and noble and possess great intelligence –

Please tell us, who is the best, in your experience.”

Owl thought about this for quite a long time

As he ummed and aahhed over his lager and lime.

Then he finally spoke, his noble voice trill,

“There is only one book that will fit this bill.”

“Within its pages are emotion and philosophy,

And it also contains wisdom and psychiatry.”

“What is it?” asked Ned. “It sounds really super!”

“It’s Riders,” said Owl, “by that nice Jilly Cooper.”

Everyone gasped and nodded in reverence

At Owl’s intelligent and brilliant inference.

They were all busy memorising the name of the book

When they heard the screeching tyres of a very large truck.

“That’s him!” cried the driver. “That’s the rapscallion

Who ran over my foot outside the Red Lion!”

It was Gnu that cried out from that lumbering truck

That was loaded to capacity with his fine smelling muck.

PC Bear arrested Owl and read him his rights.

“It’s prison for you,” he said, “and for quite a few nights.”

He led him away, past the smouldering fire

And threw him into the back of the Black Mariah.

“Good riddance!” growled Gnu. “Now justice is served –

And, you know, he would have missed me if only he’d swerved.

Now that he’s cuffed and looking so pale,

Just get out of here and chuck him in jail!”

Ned watched sadly as Owl went off to prison,

And Dobbin said kindly, “You should have done your revision.

I could see he was a wrong ‘un, but it was really subliminal,

But I clocked him straight off as an inveterate criminal.”

The horses and donkeys nodded their heads

And asked Gnu to join in their celebrations instead.

Gnu grumpily turned down their polite invitation

And offended them all with a short dissertation –

“I wouldn’t stay here if I was completely unconscious,

Because you are – like this verse – really pretentious.

I’ve got better things to do than interact with your sort,

Like delivering this truck load of muck to The Court!”

He started the engine and gave the equines a look

From the cab of the vehicle that was carrying his muck.

He didn’t give a hoot that his statement was rash –

All that concerned him was getting some cash.

For Mr Gnu had a business to run,

On his truck he delivered manure by the ton.

He delivered to farms, to gardens and the like,

And when his truck wasn’t working he delivered by bike. 

The End . . . or is it?