Ridin That Sweet Hoss

It was Christmas Day. At last.

The geese had grown fat in anticipation of this fine celebration.

The Good Lady was uncommonly stressed today. It was most unlike her.

For the tenteenth time she asked me something nonsensical.

Daddy-Bear, isn't it time for you to put the meat in the oven?

She asked, looking frantically at the clock.

I switched my attention away from our family guests and gave her a raised eyebrow like a sexy Columbo.

Did somebody say, put some meat in their oven?

I breathed huskily out of my nose, the way that in my head, a stallion would do when scenting the flanks of a fine filly.

Once again today, the Good Lady sighed long and hard.

Yes, Daddy-Bear. The day is about more than drinking and entertaining the guests with tales of your band days you know.

She sounded peeved. As if she were one of those alligator teeth cleaning birds and I wouldn't open my mouth after eating some stringy chicken.

Au contraire, Mon Cherie.

I winked at the guests and wandered into the kitchen as if it were a Wild West saloon and I the infamous outlaw, Craw Lickin.

A few Shakira awooo's and the meat was in. Time to get back to the guests.

As I sauntered back, my brother asked if there was anything he could do to help.

No worries, brother man. A man don't need no help ridin that sweet hoss.

I tipped an imaginary hat at him.

WHAT DID YOU SAY!?

The Good Lady bellowed from just behind me, brandishing a wooden spoon as if my back Jeffrey were a bowl full of half whipped custard.

Just obeying that sweet boss. That's what I said?

I mumbled quickly.

For a moment my life hung in the balance then, magically the spirit of Christmas kicked in and everyone laughed.

Oh, you're an arse sometimes, Daddy-Bear.

The Good Lady chuckled.

I laughed too.

Oh yes. Yes I am!

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Merry Christmas everyone!!