The last of the cookies lay scattered on the table. How many had I eaten?
“Time to tidy up”, I told myself.
I placed the uneaten cookies back into the cookie jar.
Crumbs fell silently from my jacket as I walked the jar back to the pantry. I stretched up, placing the jar on one of the higher shelves. I looked to where i’d walked across the floor. “Oh, Prime, you’ve trailed crumbs everywhere.”, I said to myself.
The broom was rather too large for me. I struggled to hold it and push it at the same time, but slowly the crumbs were set into a pile in the middle of the floor. Placing the broom to one side, I stared at the small mountain. “I should place this straight in the bin”, I said.
I swept the crumbs in to the pan, and tiptoed carefully towards the door. The handle is large, and stiff to turn. I almost dropped the pan as the door swung open. “Cold outside”, I said, but no one was listening.
I emptied the pan into the bin by the back wall, banging it on the rim. The air was cold, and the sound echoed from the walls around. No one else was silly enough to be outside in this weather. Or so I thought.
When i returned to the front door, a letter lay on the doorstep. I picked it up, and slipped it into my jacket.
I put the brooms away, and sat on the lounge.
The light from the fire flickered against the walls, picking up the gold flecks in the wallpaper. I was glad to be back inside, warm and safe.
I smiled, and remembering the letter in my jacket, I pulled it out and opened it.
It appeard to be an invitation. A celebration for Australia Day. I skimmed over the details.
The day arrived, and I wondered how I would stay warm in my hat and not much else. The instructions on the invitation made it quite clear that australian attire should be worn to the event. I shivered as I walked down the street, my fur standing on end.
Then I saw it. A great dome. The air shimmered above the curved glass. It would surely be warm inside.
And it was.
By the miracles of modern engineering, the heat of the australian summer had been replicated, and the inner surface of the dome glowed with the light of an australian sunset.
My little tummy was rumbling, so I thought I should find the eats. A bunny cant socialise on an empty stomach.
Thankfully, Australians sure know how to put up a spread. There was pavlova, and fruit, and shrimps on the barbie, and ample liquid refreshments. More than enough to fill this little bunny.
There was even some left over after I had finished.
Mr Edward Pearse had set up a cricket pitch in the middle of the dome. The dry grass crackled under my feet. The guests seemed more interested in dancing to the fine Australian tunes. And I must admit I was enjoying the Cold Chisel and Midnight Oil as it floated from the ether, coaxed into being by Miss Gabrielle Riel with her atheretic devices.
One of the joys of the traditional australian backyard is the rotary clothesline. Great for drying clothes. Even better for kids to swing on. A few of the guests were instructed in the simple pleasure of swinging on the clothesline.
Unfortunately, as sometimes happens, the wildlife began to spring up. A large crocodile slid from the mud of the riverbank. The ancient creature eyed the guests warily.
I stepped forward towards the mud covered reptile. Many of the guests were blissfully unware of the impending danger. The music and merriment drifted on the breeze behind me.
The creature lowered its huge head towards my little frame, opening its teeth filled mouth. My fur was ruffled, and my nose wrinkled at the putrid smell of the creature’s breath. I opened a chest and took out a rifle, ready to defend the group, hoping I wouldnt be required to shoot. The eyes of the crocodile glazed over as I stared at it, hypnotising the creature with a sweep of my paw, like some sort of Jedi version of Crocodile Dundee. Thankfully the beast was rendered asleep on its feet.
I breathed a sigh of relief, and prepared to return to the celebrations. My tummy was rumbling again, and it was getting late.
But the buffet table would have to wait.
As I wheeled around to walk back to the group, a flash of black caught my eye. “Oh 5hit!”, I exclaimed, “Spiders!”. Many of our readers would be familiar with the reputation Australia has for spiders. What most would be unware of is the sheer size that some of these creepy crawlies can attain. These specimens were easily 6 foot across.
The blasts echoed through the dome as I repeatedly discharged the rifle into the spiders. I didnt have time to muck around with these beasts. I was hungry.
After a time, the spiders withdrew back into the bush, and the party was safe once more.
I ate another piece of pavlova, and thought to myself how much I was enjoying the aussie cuisine and hospitality.
Very good hosts these australians.