This is how my mind wanders sometimes when it sets off on a 'word chain' 'rain, duck, cat, take away' (thinking about dinner)
There was once a small Persian cat who worked in a take away shop, ingeniously called ‘The Take Away’.
His name was 'Bluddicat'.
Well he thought this was his name because every time he got under his owner's feet, the man would shout 'Bluddicat, get out of here!'
His job was to keep down the vermin. The owner wasn't too nice to him and only gave him scraps of meat to eat so that Bluddicat wouldn't lose his 'edge' when hunting vermin as that was what he mostly lived on.
His favourite 'meat scrap' was duck meat. It was so delicious and full of flavour Bluddicat relished every morsel he could get his paws on.
One day the Take Away was so busy, meat cleavers where flying across the chopping boards and the kitchen was clouded in steam from all the boiling delicacies being served up to customers at the front of the shop.
The meat preparer, Dave, was cutting up a couple of duck carcasses when the soup chef, Russell, slipped on a discarded piece of Bok Choy on the floor.
(‘Russell’ wasn’t his real name. He was nicknamed Russell because he never shared the sweets he kept in a paper bag in his pocket. Every time they heard the paper bag ‘rustle’ as he took a sweet for himself, everyone in the kitchen would say ‘what’ve you got there Russell?’)
Russell threw his arms out to save himself, dropping the pan of soup he was holding on to the floor and careered into Dave.
Dave dropped his meat cleaver, narrowly avoiding cutting his toes off and was flung unceremoniously across the chopping table. His arms splayed out to save himself, but in doing so, knocked the two duck carcasses to the floor and they rolled under the chopping table.
Dave and Russell fell together to the floor in a tangle of arms, legs and aprons. Their hats where catapulted into the air and landed on the still alight hob.
As Dave and Russell scrambled to their feet and rushed to put out the now oven engulfing fire, our hero Bluddicat raced between the scuttling legs, ignoring the frantic shouts and chaos and over to where the two duck carcasses lay under the table. He had a moment of gluttonous thoughts where he tried to work out whether he could carry both ducks, but realised he wouldn’t be able to carry both and he may not get the chance to come back for the other duck. This was his only chance to grab a full duck for himself.
He grabbed a leg of one of the ducks and then dragging it alongside him, he ran off out the back of the shop to the alleyway where there was an outbuilding which doubled as a storage unit and his bedroom.
He sneaked into a corner behind a couple of sacks of potatoes (I didn't say it was hygienic!) to enjoy his swiped feast.
After gorging himself on the illicit duck plundering’s, Bluddicat settled down for good wash and a well-earned nap.
He grinned to himself, as only cats can do and thought:
'I am indeed, the most Duck-filled fattened Puss!'
And with a contented purr, he went to sleep.