It's a good thing Georgie managed to get his beret back so he can finish tomorrow's latest instalment of "The Bee Who Knew Too Much"...
17/02/16 10:49
Wednesday, February 17, 2016
I think everybody probably already knows that it’s impossible for me to do any writing without my beret and a festively refreshing Umbrella Drink and Bendy Straw.
When my Editor sent that kinda hostile Buzz•O•Gram™ to me yesterday demanding the next part of my story, “The Bee Who Knew Too Much” and that he have it in his wings by the end of buzziness today, I suddenly realised I couldn’t find my beret. Of course, that meant it was impossible for me to write anything more about what happens next in my story.
Well, yesterday, when I was chatting with my Human Friend, Meredith, I suddenly remembered that, by mistake, I had left my beret at the fez shop (Fantastic Fezs), where Kevin and I bought our fezs when we first got here.
Lucky for me, I was able to buzz over to that place beefore they closed last night and there it was: my beret. The owner of Fantastic Fezs had it in a display and was offering it for sale. Geeeeeeze. That’s MY beret. And I told the guy so.
He just looked at me and pointed to a big sign he had hanging on the wall. It said, “Any unclaimed headwear left on these premises for more than 24 hours will bee subject to resale.”
“But it’s MY beret,” I told the guy.
“You certainly read the sign, did you not?” the guy asked.
“Well, yeah, but…that’s MY beret,” I continued to argue with the guy.
“Policy is policy,” he told me. “Would you care to purchase this item?”
“Buy back my own beret?” I asked. “How much?”
“100 pounds of honey,” the guy said.
“That seems way over-priced,” I told him. “I bought that thing in Paris for just a few pounds of honey.”
“This is not Paris,” the guy said. “And,” he added, “it just so happens that this particular beret is a collector’s item. It was once worn by a very famous author.”
“ME,” I said. “I am the author who wore it. It’s MY beret!”
The owner didn’t seem to care about that.
“So?” he asked. “Do you wish to purchase this item?”
“Fine,” I said.
“Very good,” he said. “And would you also like to purchase the extended warranty for this beret? It protects you against any malfunctions you may experience for a period of 30 days following purchase.”
“I’ve never heard of a malfunctioning beret,” I told him, but he just smiled and said, “You’d bee surprised.”
“Fine,” I said.
So I ended up buying back my own beret - with the extended warranty.
Here’s hoping my beret doesn’t malfunction 31 days from now.
Anyway, now that I have my beret back - and have fixed myself a refreshingly delicious Umbrella Drink with a Bendy Straw, I can finish writing the next part of my gripping story. Of course, that means I'll hafta work all night and send it my Editor before Midnight. (His tomorrow was my yesterday, or something like that…it has something to do with time zones or something).
So I’m gonna go do that.
I hope everybody has a gloriously satisfying afternoon or morning or day or night or whatever it is for you.
I'll see ya’ later!
I think everybody probably already knows that it’s impossible for me to do any writing without my beret and a festively refreshing Umbrella Drink and Bendy Straw.
When my Editor sent that kinda hostile Buzz•O•Gram™ to me yesterday demanding the next part of my story, “The Bee Who Knew Too Much” and that he have it in his wings by the end of buzziness today, I suddenly realised I couldn’t find my beret. Of course, that meant it was impossible for me to write anything more about what happens next in my story.
Well, yesterday, when I was chatting with my Human Friend, Meredith, I suddenly remembered that, by mistake, I had left my beret at the fez shop (Fantastic Fezs), where Kevin and I bought our fezs when we first got here.
Lucky for me, I was able to buzz over to that place beefore they closed last night and there it was: my beret. The owner of Fantastic Fezs had it in a display and was offering it for sale. Geeeeeeze. That’s MY beret. And I told the guy so.
He just looked at me and pointed to a big sign he had hanging on the wall. It said, “Any unclaimed headwear left on these premises for more than 24 hours will bee subject to resale.”
“But it’s MY beret,” I told the guy.
“You certainly read the sign, did you not?” the guy asked.
“Well, yeah, but…that’s MY beret,” I continued to argue with the guy.
“Policy is policy,” he told me. “Would you care to purchase this item?”
“Buy back my own beret?” I asked. “How much?”
“100 pounds of honey,” the guy said.
“That seems way over-priced,” I told him. “I bought that thing in Paris for just a few pounds of honey.”
“This is not Paris,” the guy said. “And,” he added, “it just so happens that this particular beret is a collector’s item. It was once worn by a very famous author.”
“ME,” I said. “I am the author who wore it. It’s MY beret!”
The owner didn’t seem to care about that.
“So?” he asked. “Do you wish to purchase this item?”
“Fine,” I said.
“Very good,” he said. “And would you also like to purchase the extended warranty for this beret? It protects you against any malfunctions you may experience for a period of 30 days following purchase.”
“I’ve never heard of a malfunctioning beret,” I told him, but he just smiled and said, “You’d bee surprised.”
“Fine,” I said.
So I ended up buying back my own beret - with the extended warranty.
Here’s hoping my beret doesn’t malfunction 31 days from now.
Anyway, now that I have my beret back - and have fixed myself a refreshingly delicious Umbrella Drink with a Bendy Straw, I can finish writing the next part of my gripping story. Of course, that means I'll hafta work all night and send it my Editor before Midnight. (His tomorrow was my yesterday, or something like that…it has something to do with time zones or something).
So I’m gonna go do that.
I hope everybody has a gloriously satisfying afternoon or morning or day or night or whatever it is for you.
I'll see ya’ later!
